#and wrap up packages but ... that was so easy. everything else was just smile and wave boys

[theloveinc]

always finkin about bein’ dilf!bakugo’s secretary hehe <3

i thought of him every day at the desk job i had, too🙏🏻

i feel like ... he sees you before he meets you. and it's not any kind of personal thing until it is. all non-hero hires are approved by him, yes, but he doesn't go through the actual hiring process with anyone cuz he assumes he's never gonna meet them aside from dropped off papers and few phone calls here and there when required.

but then you appear on his floor, right there next to the nurse station and the break room with the nicest coffee machine, and for some reason it's not like any of the other times new secretaries have been hired and sat outside his office.

and he always sees you, stares at you when he thinks you aren't looking, pondering just why and how he thinks you're so pretty, though you can always seem to tell and turn to talk to him like you pity him just a little bit. but his rusty heart flutters nonetheless (much to his chagrin) because he thinks you're the sweetest thing since kiri's daughter (which he'd never admit, not with how many diapers he's been made to change) to include him in your conversations with other team members.

and because he's older now, often remembers that even denki got married a couple years ago, he needs someone to daydream about at least to make the time pass since he's started thinking about all kinds of old man shit (see: his lonely ass bachelor pad). but he doesn't want that void filled with the pregnant florist from around the corner, nor the ditzy, young barista boy who once spilled chocolate syrup on his boots (he doesn't even like chocolate syrup).

but who does that leave except you? for him to think about when he passes by nice restaurants suited for romantic dates, or beautiful bouquets and liquors when he's sending flowers to his parents, OR even kids who get in his way when he's patrolling in family neighborhoods.

your job is already soooo domestic, and you always put little smiley faces and doodles on the post-its filled with reminders you leave for him, wave at him so sweetly from across the hall even though he's heaving and scowling; that has to mean something, doesn't it? DOESN'T IT?????

especially when he's at home and his dick is hard and god damnit, you wore those pants the other day, with the shirt that shows a lil bit of your cleavage and he needs a wank so bad and there is no one else he wants to envision :((((

so if he thinks about the (green? orange?) sliver of thong he saw the other day or maybeeee wedding and pregnancy sex and then comes in the next day with donuts pestering you more than usual about this and that, that's none of anyone's business.

(until, that is, you have your own little squirt running around the agency).

[gvnvks]

acts of service they do for you… !

> pairings: non-idol!zb1 x fem!reader

> warnings: not proofread, lowercase intended, pet names

> song recommendation: not another song about love by hollywood ending

> a/n: literally nothing to say … so so so sorry about disappearing for so long 😭 im begging on my knees for any reqs… i literally have 0 ideas

// 김 jiwoong. PUTTING THE DISHES AWAY W/O YOU ASKING

you found yourself standing in front of the sink, staring at a mountain of dishes that seemed to have multiplied overnight. with a sigh, you rolled up your sleeves, resigned to tackle the chore.

just as you were about to plunge your hands into the soapy water, jiwoong entered the kitchen, "hey there, need a hand?" he asked, already reaching for a dish towel.

you couldnt help but smile at his offer. "i was just about to start, but if you're offering…"

"consider it done," your boyfriend replied, flashing you a grin as he began to gather up the dirty dishes. he moved with practiced efficiency, stacking plates and bowls with ease.

"you really didn't have to," you protested, though secretly grateful for his help.

"i know," jiwoong said, shooting you a wink. "but i wanted to. plus, its the least i can do after you cooked dinner last night."

as you worked side by side, scrubbing and rinsing, the conversation flowed effortlessly between you. you talked about everything and nothing at all – from your plans for the weekend to the latest episode of your favorite tv show.

at one point, jiwoong paused to inspect a particularly stubborn stain on a plate. "looks like this one needs some extra attention," he remarked, reaching for a sponge.

you chuckled, shaking your head in amusement. "youre so thorough."

"its all in the details," your boyfriend replied with a shrug, scrubbing away at the offending spot until it disappeared.

before long, the pile of dishes dwindled down to nothing, thanks to jiwoongs efficient work. with a satisfied smile, you leaned back against the counter, admiring the clean kitchen.

"thanks for the help," you said, genuinely grateful for him being so altruistic.

"it was my pleasure," jiwoong replied, drying his hands on the dish towel. "besides, anything to make my favorite person smile."

// 장 hao. GETTING YOU YOUR GUILTY PLEASURE SNACK

you sat at a small table, your fingers tapping rhythmically on the surface as you waited for your boyfriend, to arrive for your date. he was always a little late, but you didnt mind. it gave you time to people-watch and soak in the lively atmosphere around you.

finally, hao appeared, a sheepish grin on his face as he approached your table. "sorry im late. traffic was insane."

you waved off his apology with a smile. "no worries, hao. ive been enjoying the view."

taking his seat across from you, your boyfriend reached into his bag and pulled out a small package, wrapped in colorful paper. "i got you something," he said, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

curious, you eagerly tore into the wrapping to reveal a box of your favorite snack. "oh! how did you know i was craving these?"

he shrugged. "just a lucky guess, i suppose."

you laughed, leaning across the table to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. "youre the best, you know that?"

hao grinned, his cheeks flushing slightly at the praise. "i try."

as you indulged in your snack, the two of you fell into easy conversation, discussing everything from work related to literally anything else, letting the hours fly by.

eventually, the sky darkened and the café began to empty out as patrons headed home for the night. reluctantly, you and hao gathered your things and prepared to leave.

as you walked hand by hand through the bustling streets, the glow of the city lights casting a soft halo around you, you couldnt help but feel grateful for your boyfriend.

"you know," you said, squeezing his hand gently, "i think this might just be the perfect night."

hao smiled down at you, his eyes sparkling with adoration. "with you, every night is perfect."

// 성 hanbin. BUYING YOU GROCERIES

today was the worst day you could imagine. not doing well at job, getting yelled at by your boss, just starting your period… it hit all at once. as you approached your apartment building, you noticed a familiar figure waiting for you at the entrance. it was hanbin, his hands filled with grocery bags. his face lighted up as he saw you.

"hey there," hanbin greets you with a gorgeous grin. "i thought id surprise you with some groceries. i know how busy youve been lately, so i took care of it for you."

you chuckle at his thoughtfulness. "youre too good to me, hanbin. thank you," you say, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

together, you make your way up to your apartment, your boyfriend regaling you with everything and nothing — hes always been a natural storyteller.

once inside, he set the bags down on the kitchen counter, taking stock of the contents. "woah, you really went all out," you remark, impressed by the assortment of fresh produce and pantry staples.

hanbin shrugs modestly. "i just wanted to make sure you have everything you need," he says, flashing you a grin. "plus, i may have or may have not indulged in a few snacks along the way."

you playfully roll your eyes at him before reaching for a bag of apples. "well, i appreciate it. you always know how to take care of me," you say, leaning in to give him a hug. "how much do i owe you?" you ask, looking up at him.

he brushed off your question with a smile, his eyes softening as he gazed at you. "you dont owe me anything, sweetheart. seeing you happy is payment enough for me."

// 석 matthew. SPOTTING YOU AT THE GYM

as you entered the gym, you spotted matthew instantly, his buffed frame standing out amongst the crowd. with a warm smile, he waved you over, his eyes brightening as you approached.

"hi," matthew greeted, his voice carrying a playful tone. "ready to crush those weights?"

you chuckled, feeling a surge of affection for him. "absolutely, especially with you by my side."

you both headed towards the weights section, where your boyfriend always offered his unwavering support. as you began your workout, he stood beside you, offering encouragement and spotting you whenever needed.

"come on, youve got this," matthew cheered as you lifted the barbell, his hands ready to assist if you faltered. "youre stronger than you think."

with each rep, you could feel your muscles burning, but your boyfriends presence gave you the motivation to push through. his words of encouragement were like fuel to your determination, propelling you to new heights.

after a challenging set, you took a moment to catch your breath, leaning against the bench. matthew stood beside you, a proud smile on his face.

"you killed it," he praised, giving you a gentle pat on the back. "im always amazed by your strength."

you smiled, feeling a surge of pride at his words. "thanks, but i couldnt do it without you. your support means everything to me."

as you moved on to the next exercise, the two of you engaged in a light joke war, exchanging lighthearted jests and teasing each other about your progress. with him by your side, the gym felt less like a daunting challenge and more like a fun part of the day.

after a grueling workout, you and matthew retreated to the stretching area, where you relaxed your tired muscles and enjoyed each others company.

"im beat," you admitted, letting out a contented sigh as you stretched out on the mat.

matthew chuckled, sitting beside you. "you did amazing, as always. we earned ourselves a post-workout treat, don't you think?"

you perked up at the suggestion, the thought of indulging in a delicious meal together making your mouth water.

"absolutely," you agreed, shooting him a witty grin. "as long as you promise to spot me while i devour whatever were eating."

your boyfriend laughed, his eyes sparkling with affection. "deal. anything for you."

// 김 taerae. LEARNING HOW TO COOK YOUR FAVORITE RECIPE

as you trudge through the door after a long days work, the aroma of something delicious envelops you, instantly lifting your tired spirits. you kick off your shoes and follow the tantalizing scent to the kitchen, where you find taerae bustling about, apron tied securely around his waist, his sleeves rolled up and a focused expression adorning his features.

"welcome home!" taerae greets you with a warm smile, his hands busy chopping vegetables with practiced precision. "how was your day?"

you sigh contentedly, the stress of the day melting away at the sight of your boyfriends earnest expression. "long, but seeing you here makes it infinitely better. whats all this?" you ask, gesturing to the array of ingredients spread out on the counter.

taerae beams proudly. "i wanted to surprise you with dinner tonight! i know how much you love that one particular recipe of yours, so i thought i'd give it a try."

you feel touched by his gesture. taerae isnt that much of a cook, but the fact that hes gone to such lengths to learn your favorite recipe speaks volumes about his love and dedication.

"thats incredibly sweet of you, taerae," you say, crossing the kitchen to wrap your arms around him. "im sure itll be amazing, no matter what."

he chuckles, returning your embrace with a gentle squeeze. "well, i hope so. i may have had to watch a few youtube tutorials to get the hang of it."

you laugh at his admission, imagining him furiously scribbling notes while trying to keep up with the pace of the video. "im sure you did great. is there anything i can do to help?"

your boyfriend shakes his head, his focus returning to the task at hand. "nah, ive got everything under control. why dont you go relax for a bit? dinner will be ready soon."

reluctantly, you release him from your embrace and make your way to the living room, sinking into the comfortable embrace of the sofa.

time seems to slip away as you lose yourself in a book, the minutes ticking by until taerae finally calls you back to the kitchen. you enter to find the table set with candles flickering softly, casting a warm glow over the room.

your boyfriend stands proudly by the stove, a steaming pot of your favorite dish bubbling away in front of him. he grins as he sees you, gesturing to the chair hes pulled out for you.

"ta-da! dinner is served," he announces, ladling generous portions onto your plate. "i hope its as good as you remember."

you take a bite, savoring the familiar flavors that dance across your tongue. it may not be perfect, but its made with love, and thats all that matters.

"its delicious, taerae," you say, beaming at him across the table. "thank you for putting in the effort to make tonight special."

he beams back at you, his eyes shining with love. "you know id do anything for you, love."

// 리키 ricky. CARRYING HEAVY THINGS FOR YOU

you and ricky were on a mission today - a shopping spree, a day dedicated to finding the perfect pieces to add to your home. you wanted to go alone, but ricky insisted on joining you, his enthusiasm evident as he happily trailed beside you.

as you entered another store, a quaint home decor boutique, your eyes widened with excitement at the array of items displayed. ricky, ever the gentleman, offered to carry the shopping bags. "let me take those, baby," he insisted, reaching for the bags already laden with your purchases.

you chuckled softly, gently pushing his hand away. "no, ricky, ive got it. you dont have to carry everything."

"but i want to," he countered, his eyes dripping with determination.

you couldnt help but smile at his sincerity. "alright, you can carry one bag," you relented, handing him the lightest one.

your boyfriend grinned triumphantly, accepting the bag with a nod of thanks. "deal."

as you moved from aisle to aisle, ricky stayed true to his word, diligently carrying the one bag while you browsed through the shelves, examining each item with care.

after a while, your arms began to ache from holding the heavy bags. "okay, maybe you can take another bag," you conceded, unable to hide the strain in your voice.

his eyes lit up with delight, his lips curled up in a smirk, and he eagerly accepted the additional burden. "told you. wanted to see how long you will last."

as the day progressed, your boyfriend kept bothering you with his tender gestures - whether it was carrying the bags, fetching you a drink, or offering his opinion on decor choices, he was always there. was, and forever will.

// 김 gyuvin. DOING THE CHORES, EVEN IF ITS YOUR TURN

coming back from college, you found yourself standing in the kitchen, staring at the sink full of dishes. it was your turn to do them, but after a long day at school, you were feeling drained and exhausted.

gyuvin, always attuned to your moods, entered the kitchen and immediately noticed the tired slump of your shoulders. "hey," he said with a soft smile, crossing the room to wrap his arms around you from behind. "rough day?"

you leaned into his embrace, grateful for his comforting presence. "yeah, it was pretty hectic," you replied, letting out a tired sigh. "i just... i dont have the energy to tackle these dishes right now."

without missing a beat, your boyfriend pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "dont worry about it," he reassured you, his voice warm and soothing. "ill take care of them for you."

you turned to face him, a mixture of surprise and gratitude in your eyes. "but it's my turn," you protested weakly.

he shook his head. "i know, but youve had a long day. let me handle this, okay?"

you smiled softly at his kindness. "okay, thank you," you said softly, reaching up to cup his cheek affectionately.

as gyuvin rolled up his sleeves and got to work on the dishes, you leaned against the counter, watching him with a fond expression. it wasnt just this one kind act that made you fall for him all over again – it was the countless little ways he showed his love and support for you every single day.

after a few minutes of silence, broken only by the sound of running water and clinking dishes, gyuvin glanced over at you with a soft grin. "you know, if you keep staring at me like that, i might start to think you're falling for me all over again," he teased.

you chuckled softly, shaking your head. "as if i could ever stop falling for you," you replied, your voice filled with affection. "youre too sweet, gyuvin."

he paused in his task, setting down a plate to walk over and wrap you in a warm hug. "and youre too amazing to not spoil."

// 박 gunwook. LETTING YOU EAT THE LAST BIT OF A DESSERT (this one is such ass im so sorry)

you and gunwook had made it a tradition to visit this one cute café every saturday evening, savoring the delicious treats and enjoying each others company. tonight was no different, as you both settled into your usual spot by the window, the soft light casting gentle shadows across the table.

"hello, welcome to bean bliss cafe," you heard a waitress, greeting you cheerfully. "what can i get for you today?"

glancing at the menu, you and gunwook quickly decided on sharing a slice of their famous chocolate cake, a decadent treat that you had been craving all week.

minutes later, the waitress returned with a generous slice of chocolate cake, adorned with a scoop of velvety vanilla ice cream. your mouth watered at the sight, and you couldn't wait to dig in.

after a while of eating and sharing stories, you reached for your fork again, wanting to take another bite of the cake. your face fell a little however, as you noticed that theres only a small bit left.

"theres only one a little left," you pointed out, furrowing your brow.

gunwook simply smiled, pushing the plate toward you. "its all yours," he said, his voice soft but determined.

"but what about you? dont you want it?" you protested, feeling a pang of guilt at the thought of eating the last bit of dessert all by yourself.

"dont worry about me," your boyfriend replied, reaching across the table to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "id rather see you enjoy. it will bring me twice as much joy."

// 한 yujin. HELPING YOU WITH SCHOOL ASSIGNMENTS

as you entered the school library, you immediately spotted yujin sitting at a table near the window. his eyes were focused intently on his notebook, lips slightly pursed in concentration. his hair, messy as usual, added to his endearing charm.

"hey, yujin," you greeted, sliding into the seat across from him. "thanks for agreeing to help me with this math stuff. i swear, im hopeless without you."

yujin looked up, a warm smile spreading across his face. "hi, baby. dont worry about it. well do this together, okay? whats giving you trouble?"

you pulled out your textbook and notes, laying them out on the table. "its these calculus problems. i just cant seem to wrap my head around them. like, seriously, why does math have to be so complicated?"

your boyfriend chuckled softly, reaching over to squeeze your hand. "i know it can be frustrating, but trust me, once you get the hang of it, its not so bad. lets start with this one," he said, pointing to a particularly tricky problem. "do you remember the chain rule?"

you nodded, grateful for his patient guidance as he walked you through the steps, breaking down the problem into manageable chunks. his explanations were clear and concise, making even the most complex concepts seem simple.

as you worked through the assignment together, the hours seemed to fly by. occasionally, youd get stuck on a problem, but yujin was always there to offer encouragement and support.

"youre doing great, baby," he said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your temple. "i know its tough, but i believe in you. if all else fails, we can always grab some ice cream afterwards."

you laughed, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. as the afternoon sun began to dip below the horizon, you finally finished the last problem, feeling a sense of accomplishment wash over you.

"i cant believe we actually did it," you said, grinning up at him. "i seriously couldnt have done it without you."

your boyfriend smiled back, his eyes sparkling with pride, smiling playfully. "thats what boyfriends are for, right? to help their pretty girlfriends through the tough math stuff."

© gvnvks 2024. do not copy or translate any of my works.

[grandlinedreams]

Wait I just thought of another one. Imagine doing absolutely everything in your power to keep Law in bed with you one morning so he can't get up and start working yet.

Oooh that'd be so very cute 🥺🥺 I hope that I can do this justice for you!!

[Heads up!: nothing but fluff, early mornings are the absolute worst]

Sharing a bed with someone is one of the most intimate things that you can do. A shared space of vulnerability and trust, cocooned in the weight of blankets and tangled limbs, soft breathing and separate dreams.

You can't remember the last time you slept in a bed that was truly yours, mutual space of your crewmates traded for the singular presence of another body, no matter how rare it is that he actually joins you. Even for that, you've grown accustomed to Law's habits in this space he's opened to you.

Which is why all it takes is the slow groan of springs under determined movement to pull you from the deepest seat of dreamland, flinging a hand into open space to connect with an arm that isn't yours.

Warmth against your fingertips, answering flex of muscle and the faintest, barely there raise of inked skin. Your fingers curl, tugging even as your eyes remain closed. "No."

You hear it, the soft sigh of exasperation that precedes the press of Law's hand over yours, trying to free himself. This too is a regular occurrence, and you slip your fingers into the spaces between his, interwined as you tug again.

"No," you repeat. "Too early."

Law scoffs. "I have to get up." He doesn't fight you though, protest more performative than anything else as he looks at you. "Are you going to be difficult today?"

You debate, listen to the rumble of life within the hammered metal walls of the Polar Tang, the heartbeat of the submersible you call home.

"No," you answer and this time there's a smile in your voice, the flutter of eyelashes as you peer at him, lines of your face made softer for the halo of sleep mussed hair and continued pull of your joined hands towards you.

Law lets himself follow the pull of your silent siren song, made of the plush of blankets and pillows, the curve of your mouth that meets his cheek as he settles over you.

Warmth radiates from him, seeps into your bones as you accommodate the weight of his body over yours with a soft sigh.

"You're horrible." The insult lacks a barb, bounces off harmlessly when he pairs it with the movement of his own lips in your hair, kisses to your crown and temple that end at your forehead.

"Am I?" You untangle your fingers from his in favor of drifting a hand down his back, admiring the flex and twitch of muscle beneath.

"You never let me get anything done."

Your lips meet his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. "What a shame."

Law hums. "Truly," he murmurs, then kisses you properly. It's slow for the early morning hour, wrapped in the drowsiness of you both, though Law delights in the soft hitch in your breathing when he nips at your bottom lip before pulling away. "We should get up."

You squirm under him, throwing a leg over his hip to lock him against you. "Do we have to?"

You truly are a menace, packaged in sweet smiles and easy affection, soft indulgence he craves more and more. He tracks a thumb against your eyebrow, slope of your nose, your lips. And then he answers.

"No."

[madridfangirl]

Star crossed lovers (Jude Bellingham fic)

Chapter 6

(Series Link)

Jude * female reader. Mature Language in parts.

Synopsis: A chance encounter in a tiny Madrid cafe with the newest superstar of her fav club. The two couldn't be more different, yet both feel the pull toward the other. Would this girl be the one he finally falls for? Would she make him change his ways? Even though she resists him every step of the way, would he fight all odds (& her) to have her in his life? Or would life come in the way of these star-crossed lovers?

...........................................................................

‘Jude Bellingham, Jude fucking Bellingham was in our house?’

Ananya was plopped onto Roma’s bed, enjoying her friend’s frantic outburst. While holding on to the black RM leather jacket he had left behind. 

‘For the zillionth time, yes.’

Roma paced around the room, delirious with excitement & borderline rage.

‘And I was right here? 25 feet away? And you couldn’t call me?’

‘He was only here for like 10 mins, and….we were otherwise occupied.’

And I wasn’t really in my senses. Well, this bit she didn’t say out loud.

‘Oh my fuckin lord. Think my brain’s gonna explode. You kissed him. You kissed Jude Bellingham. Should I be happy for you or throttle you in jealousy? Fuck man!’

She continued her frantic pacing which amused Ananya further. Yes Roma had a crush on Jude (everyone did) but she had been with her college boyfriend for over 3 years. The crush was quite harmless. Borderline horny at times but generally harmless.

‘He kissed me.’

She clarified plainly, lips curving into a smile as her friend burst into another rant.

‘Yeah yeah. Lover boy couldn’t resist snogging you. I got it. But he could have said hi after.’

Ananya pulled Roma on to the bed, next to her, and hugged her tightly.

‘Next time, promise.’

That cheered her up. Her attention then went to the jacket in Ananya’s hands. When Ananya confirmed it was indeed his, she grabbed the jacket, sniffed it and hummed appreciatively.

Ananya smacked her arm in mock admonishment.

‘What? You get the whole package and I can’t even get a whiff? How’s that fair?’

Ananya just pulled the jacket back in response, wrapping it around herself.

‘Behave. Or I am telling Chris.’

Roma dismissed the false threat regarding her boyfriend. 

‘Yeah yeah. Tell me, would lover boy be open to a threesome? My birthday is in a month and you’d make the Guinness book for being the best friend ever if you serve me that sweet piece of ass.’

Ananya gasped and hit her with a pillow, both bursting into a fit of giggles.

That ugly voice inside her did wonder if he had done something like that before. Also, how easy it would have been if he had met someone as easygoing as Roma. Instead of her.

But, two nights in a row, he had asked for a chance. And she wanted to give him one. So she nipped the thoughts in the bud and let Roma distract her with all the plans she was making with the three of them together.

Monday morning brought her much needed normalcy and routine. The office was still buzzing with the Classico excitement. 

It hit her how nuts her weekend had been. When she left work on Friday evening, she had never met him. He had stormed into her life 2.5 days ago and turned everything upside down, inside out, consuming every waking moment of hers.

She opened her laptop, somehow zoned out of everything else, only checking her phone at lunch. Smiling at the notification. 

Jude: Lads are saying am buzzing today. Wonder why.

She smiled at his insinuation. Then pictured him being a nuisance in training. 

Ananya: No clue. Classico hangover? Hit your head in a tackle? 

He came online when she sent the message, probably having lunch too.

Jude: Need me to come over and give you a reminder? Your office desk instead of your dining table? 

He cut to the chase straightaway. Her whole body jerked as she pictured what he was implying. He wasn’t one to concede, on or off the pitch. She was starting to see that. 

He also was a shameless flirt. And she couldn’t afford to let him get her all riled up in the middle of work.

Ananya: Fine, you win 🤷‍♀️

Jude: Good girl :)

They both said goodbyes soon after, returning to their busy schedules.

In the evening, she sent him a quick message to wish safe travels. He responded with a relaxed selfie of him onboard the flight, making his patented ‘say cheese’ face. A sweet, goofy, handsome face. 

Next evening was Madrid’s away match. It was also Ananya’s most stressful day at work since she joined 5 months ago. She ended up missing the match but caught the highlights when she finally got a breather after sending her report. They looked rough - tackles, yellow cards, clashes all over the pitch. Madrid had drawn and missed out on 2 crucial points.

She checked her phone. The match had ended 90 mins ago. Where would he be and what to even say to him right now?

Ananya: Hey!

She dropped the message and quickly checked her laptop to see if there was any response from the New York team on the report yet. No new mail. It was already 10 pm but she would just have to wait in the office till they give an ok, or for 45 mins, whichever was sooner.

Her phone flashed.

Jude: Horrible day. Wanna punch someone.

Ananya: Punch my New York team, they pissed me off nonstop today. On your way back?

Jude: Oh nooo. Fuckin runway is down in this fuckall city. Red-eye flight tmrw then straight to training. Fuck my life.

Ananya: Wanna talk?

He face-timed her instantly. She rushed to find an empty cabin and answered his call.

It was quite a scene. It looked like someone had robbed him & trashed his hotel room. 

He was sat on the table, in front of his laptop, head resting on his forearms. That’s how she found him.

‘Hey Jude’

‘Hmphh.’

He groaned, still keeping his head buried.

‘Want me to sing it like the fans do?’

He whipped his head up. And she saw how upset he really was. Frown lines all over that pretty face. Sparkle missing from the coffee-brown eyes. Her heart yearned to comfort him.

‘Why should you? Why should the fans? I didn’t give them any reason to cheer for me today. I let them down. Let my team down. My coach, the staff, my family. I let everyone I care about down with that horrendous display today.’

She knew he wasn’t done, so she waited patiently while he gathered his breath and continued ranting.

‘We lost two crucial points because I fuckin missed sitters. SITTERS Ananya. Not one but two. Like I can score them with my eyes closed but nope. Had to be a total wanker today. When my team needed me.’

He stood up agitatedly and paced around the table. She could see he was still fully dressed, so was probably moping around in his room since he came back.

‘Did you speak to your mum?’

He took off his watch & jacket, throwing them on the bed. His shoes flew to some other corner of the room.

‘Yes. She says I wasn’t bad & that I should stop blaming myself. But she’s my mum - of course she would say that. I know I was fucking shit not just bad.’

He wrestled with his belt, peeling it off and was midway through pulling his jumper off when she spoke next. 

‘I would have to agree. Offensively you were poor today.’

Silence at the other end. He paused for 2 seconds, then took the jumper off in irritation and sat in front of her. Bare-chested. No one had said this to him tonight, even from the team or coaching staff. And obviously not his family. 

She kept her eyes firmly on his face. 

‘You wanted honesty right? So there you go. You didn’t make enough meaningful runs in the box, the link-up with the front line was not clicking and yes the finishing was unlike you. Should have scored at-least one of the two chances.’

That stung, especially coming from her. He wondered if it was the Madridista talking or the girl he was fascinated by. But at-least she wasn’t giving him any rosy crap.

‘Hmm.’

He stared at his hands. Eyes not meeting hers.

‘At the same time, I will also say that you were damn good defensively. All the tracking back, tackles, work rate, interceptions - on point. That’s a key part of your role and your team knows that. The fans can see that. Plus they smothered you every-time you touched the ball. Very physical tussle throughout. They really went for you. And the ref should have intervened sooner.’

He looked at her with such understanding and helplessness. The urge to hug him grew stronger.

‘The ref - what a stupid fuck. They should have had two red cards. See this?’

He pulled up his joggers to show her his badly bruised calf. And then his shoulder, where they had elbowed him twice. She felt like wrapping him up in a protective blanket. 

‘Oh Jude. Just put something on this ok, don’t let it be. But here is another thing - it will happen. They will come after you coz you are a key threat now. The refs won’t always intervene. You’ll need to take it in your stride and not be agitated on the field. That squaring up with the centre back - it was a yellow, you got away. Can’t react like that, can’t bump into them so aggressively. Don’t let it get to you, don’t let them win.’

He nodded absent-mindedly, still kicking himself for all his stupidities today. Her observations were bang on though. He was almost proud of her football knowledge. Not just smart in her work but an all around star. 

His grumpiness started to go down and the stiffness dissipated from his posture.

‘One last thing - what you have been doing so far is not normal. It’s the honeymoon period. You won’t score every game. A dip will come. But you will bounce back and still be great. Know why? Coz of how much you care, how much you want it, and how talented you are. If I can see it from the outside, then you must know it in your heart. Think about it, you’re 20. Last few months have been nuts. Absolute bonkers. A Ronaldo like debut even!’

That last line had the desired effect. His lips curved into a sweet smile. He knew she won’t use that analogy lightly, even for him. 

‘There he is - there’s the notorious happy boy I know.’

She smiled right back and he blew her a kiss, sending her heart reeling.

While she steadied herself, he finally noticed her surroundings.

‘Ur in office? It’s 10:30 pm.’

She groaned loudly.

‘Yup. Just sent my report. Waiting for a go ahead, then I can push off.

‘Agnes can pick you up if you want. It’s raining there no?’

‘Thanks for offering. But I will take a cab, no bother.’

‘It’s not a bother, really.’

‘Jude - I am a big girl. I’ll manage.’

She said it sweetly but firmly. He got the message. Starting to depend on him for any of these things was not what she wanted to do, so she was going to protect that space.

Ananya checked her mail again. Still no reply. She only had to wait 30 mins more then she could leave. He offered to be on call with her for that time. They spoke about random things for the next few mins - the distraction really helping them both.

Some time later, a knock on the cabin door startled her. She quickly minimised her video call screen when Arjun walked in with a cup of coffee and some cookies. Seeing that she was on a call, he left them on the table, waved at her and walked out.

Ananya watched him leave, and prayed to all gods known and unknown that Jude hadn’t seen who it was. But the silence on the line was deafening. She sighed and maximised the screen again.

The happy boy was gone. Replaced by a serious, hard face. Like someone had fouled him with a two-legged sliding tackle & run away with the ball.

‘The fuck was that?’

Jude said in a low, cold tone. Sending a chill down her back. She kept her tone steady & even in response.

‘Nothing. He’s my direct supervisor on this project. Both of us were working on this report and now we are waiting to hear back. He would have gone down to the cafeteria so just got me some coffee. That’s it. Nothing more.’

Jude only focused on a few words there - rest fell on deaf ears.

‘It’s just you two there right now?’

‘Well, on other floors there are more people. It’s investment banking after all. But on this floor, yes. Just us.’

Just us. Those words stung more than all the fouls on him that night. 

‘Does he know you are taken?’

The way he said taken sent shivers down her back, for entirely different reasons than a minute ago. His calculated, authoritative tone wasn’t helping either. 

‘We said we won’t tell anyone. So how could he know?’

‘You don’t have to tell him you are with me. But why can’t you say you are with someone? Off limits?’

He threw the logic straight back in her face. She thought about it for a few seconds. 

‘It will just invite too many questions. Too many asks for me to bring along the person at parties, get togethers blah blah. Can’t make excuses all the time, so easier to say nothing I guess.’

He turned his face away, frustrated but trying to keep a lid on it, as he thought of what to say next. But he whipped his face back at her when another unpleasant thought hit him.

‘Does he drive to work?’

She knew where this was going. He was too plain to read when he got like this. Myriad of emotions took over - she was feeling guilty, frustrated & tired at the same time. 

‘Yes. And before you ask, no, I wasn’t planning to take a ride back with him.’

‘But he has offered before, hasn’t he?’

She knew he had her beat. She wanted to protest that he was overreacting but logically and factually, he had her there. 

‘I knew it. Fuckin hate his guts I swear!’

Ananya wanted to hold him, shake him, even kiss him to make him stop talking and thinking like this. If only they were together right now.

He was thinking the same thing. If they were together, he would have grabbed her and kissed the living daylights out of her. Pouring all his frustrations into her lips.

‘Jude - you asked me to trust you. And I did. Do you not return the sentiment?’

He wanted to slam his fits on the table, but somehow held back. Didn’t she get it still?

‘Oh I trust you. It’s HIM I don’t trust.’

‘What could he do? Even if he asks me out, I will politely refuse. And we get on with our lives. How is it different from the zillion women who come on to you all the time? This is just one person.’

She was really pushing his buttons now.

‘Oh it’s different. Because that leech would be with you day and night and would think he can grow on you. Wear you down. Make you fall for him. He won’t stop trying, till he knows you are mine. Men operate like that, sweetheart. Wake up and smell the coffee.’

‘Gosh, you can be so thick. Just like all men.’

‘Excuse me?’

Was she trying to piss him off on purpose? Testing him was not a good idea tonight. 

‘Excused. Can’t you see I am not attracted to him? What will he do, some kind of voodoo to magically change my mind? In these 5 months, I have never once thought of him. Even casually. Never looked at him. And yes on paper he’s a great match for me but god damnit I don’t feel any spark there. He doesn’t make me go weak in the knees like y..’

She stopped herself just in time. His eyes watching her like a hawk. 

‘Go on.’

‘No. You don’t deserve to hear it right now.’

‘Disagree.’

‘Well you can shove your disagreement where the sun doesn’t shine.’

He smiled smugly, almost appreciatively, and leaned back in the chair, moving both arms behind his neck. Giving her a full view of his bare upper body - muscles & veins flexing & bulging at all the right places.

She knew what he was doing. And tried really hard to keep his eyes glued to his face. But her gaze wandered, making him more smug.

‘Gotta do something about that mouth of yours, no dove?’

Her lips opened and closed in vain for a comeback; he had thrown her off. 

‘Have half a mind to come straight to you when I land, wake you up in the middle of the night & keep you up. What say?’

Her skin started to feel hot and her hands gripped the edge of the chair to steady herself. 

‘Behave, pls. I am in the office.’

‘Not so sassy now, are we?’

‘As if you don’t like that.’

She whispered under her breath. 

‘Oh I love it. So much. But baby I want the sass to remain when you are wrapped around me, not just from afar.’

She sighed loudly, hating how she seemed to have no control on her senses every time she was around him. How easily he flustered her. 

‘Gosh you are just non-stop aren’t you.’

‘In every which way. You’ll find out soon.’

‘Juuuuude.’

She groaned warningly. Wondering how flushed she had gotten and how she would leave the cabin now. This boy was just too much.

At least he was smiling now. Smug, proud, conquering smile. Even that looked endearing on him, damn that prick. 

‘Okay okay. We are on for tomorrow night? My place?’

‘Yes - if no surprises at work.’

‘Cool, cya then. Let Agnes pick you up tmrw? Will be easier to enter the compound.

That seemed fair. She also noticed how he had framed it differently from earlier.

‘Ok, I will ping him directly.’

‘Great. And dove?’

‘Yes?’

He leaned in close to the screen. Soft expression. Genuine, sweet smile. Warm twinkling eyes. Handsomest of handsome face. She forgot she had been mad at him 30 seconds ago. 

‘Thanks for everything tonight. I…it was a rough day.’

She smiled from ear to ear, fighting the urge to stroke the screen of her phone where his face was. So near yet so far. 

‘Glad to see you are feeling better. Go talk to your mom now, she would be happy to see you are not in a foul mood anymore.’

45 mins were up some time ago. Still no new mail from NY, meaning she could leave now. But he somehow didn’t want to let her go. She didn’t seem to mind that either. 

It surprised him how quickly she had lifted his spirits. Just with a conversation. In the past, he would have found other outlets to channel his frustration, and a heart to heart talk would not have been in the consideration set.

But she was different. And he was also different with her. 

What he did next surprised both of them.

He leaned forward, smushed his lips against the laptop screen and kissed the spot where her face was, while making kissing noises.

Her heart skipped a couple of beats at the tenderness of the moment. And her hand went up involuntarily to stroke his face. Neither wanting to hang up still. 

But it was getting late and she wasn’t letting him arrange a ride back. So, he had to let her go.

‘Good night, babe. Ping me when you reach?’

‘Will do. Good night, Jude.’

They hung up grudgingly. Yet, neither moved from their seats. Reliving some of the moments in their heads. Tomorrow night just couldn’t come soon enough. 

...................................................................................

There you go. All this Jude content last few days drove me to write. As always, would love to hear your thoughts / comments / feedback. Hope you are liking the story & these two, lots more to come :)

[leclsrc]

Could you maybe write a blurb for Charles . Just like the trend on tiktok, that you are having a argument with your boyfriend and during the argument you are flashing him with your tits?

my own doing – cl16

genre: smuuut, 2k celebration, toxic relationship bec i listened to pnd and care package so much tn

auds here... title from this (but also listened to this while writing), also this is not funny its just smutty anon i am sorry.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... penetrative sex, praise/dirty talk as per auds law, angryish sex, unprotected sex too (wrap it before u tap it)

“Didn’t you used to date this guy?”

The newspaper rustles, is turned to you, and Charles Leclerc’s flushed face is in yours displaying a championship-winning smile. It takes a lot for you not to visibly react, your lips still pursed and eyebrows still furrowed when you face your friend’s curious face again.

“Huh. Used to,” you chuckle. “I haven’t heard from him in forever.”

The only thing you’re used to is lying—and not only are you accustomed to it, you’ve also grown good at it. You lie to your friends, who ask where your flights are headed; to your dates, who ask if you’re committed to anyone; your mother, who asks you if you’re involved with anyone. You gulp, watching your friend’s interest fade away as she flips the page and reads the horoscope.

“Today, you will…” She hums, searching for your zodiac sign. “Hmm. Fall into old habits.”

—

“So wet for me,” Charles murmurs behind you, fingers toying with your clit. “So good, yeah? Missed me that much? Come on, cum for me.”

“Y—yeah,” you keen desperately. “So good, fuck, I’m gonna—!”

You grind back onto his cock when you cum for the third time tonight, legs shaking with overstimulation. As always, he cleans you up, presses gentle kisses to your hair and forehead, blowing softly over your sticky face.

“Flight tomorrow?”

“First thing. I have work Monday,” you say, turning over to face him. Your lips move softly against his neck, his jaw. His hands roam over the expanse of your bare back, tracing circles on your favorite spots; the ones that feel good, aren’t too ticklish. He knows every spot. Every inch. He’s the only one that does.

“Wish you didn’t.” 

You snort. “Wish I could believe that.”

—

Charles has high tolerance to just about everything. The worst type of drunk he gets is goofy drunk, which isn’t bad at all—he dances like crazy, starts telling the worst jokes, moves around a lot, is unnecessarily noisy, but all that takes him a fuckton of alcohol. It’s jealousy he falls into easily—and when he does, it’s almost a whole different Charles.

“I saw your post with Matt, or whatever. Pensais-tu que je ne verrais pas? Why post with some guy then fly economy just to see me?”

You roll your eyes. “You’re full of it. Matt and I—just friends. Don’t act like you’re not linked with every other girl in Monaco.” The conversation you’re having seems out of place when you’re on top of him making out, but alas.

“You are mine.” He says it, doesn’t ask it, no softness to his tone. He’s not angry, but he has something to prove. He licks hungrily into your mouth, his hand unbuttoning your jeans, sneaking into them. “No one else’s.”

“Yeah?” You smile into his lips. “You sure about that?”

He grunts, irritated, taking both hands and tugging at the collar of your tank top to eventually pull it off of you. The room smells like weed and sex, two of his favorite post-race pastimes. You arch into his touch, wait for his hand to make its way to the clasp of your lace bra and pull your jeans off.

“Can anyone else fuck you this good?” He bites on your lip. “Huh?”

Your kissing grows hungry, desperate, aggressive. He thumbs at your nipples, drags the cups of your bra down to tweak them and get them hard. You whimper his name and it sounds like music. You grind onto his cock in his pants, denim to denim, awaiting more friction, more pleasure. He walks you through it, slow, easy.

“Answer me.”

“No,” you say, lip caught in between your teeth.

“I know,” he says, kissing up your neck. “I know.”

“You’re so fucking”—you claw antsily at his shirt, at the hard abs underneath—“full of yourself.” But you love it. 

“Keep whining and you’re not getting fucked.” He cups your jaw, faces you toward him so you fully grasp his instructions. You groan, the noise teasing and petulant, but you nod anyway, letting him maneuver you out of your jeans even if it takes a few moments.

“Stop it,” you insist when his eyes are stuck on you, features shy. It’s always a reward for Charles, undressing you, so he can see your matching lacy sets (most of which he’d bought for you) and inadvertently realize how bad you want him to praise you.

“You just wait in my room in your pretty underwear hoping I fuck you?” He asks wickedly, his accent extra thick, sliding in and out of vowels and syllables slowly. “You want it that bad. Even when you say you don’t care about me. Even when you’re on dates with other men, no?”

“I don’t,” you lie, gritting your teeth as he pulls your panties to the side and slides a thumb over your slit. There’s something about being practically naked and him being fully clothed, with just enough room to tug his dick out.

“Couldn’t even wait ‘til we were in the same city, yeah?” He grabs you by your hips and pulls you downward, onto him, hot and tight, letting the stretch simmer. “Flew out here in fucking economy. Needed my attention that bad.”

“Charles,” you sob, guttural. He fucks up into you slowly. His words are too honest, too hard-hitting.

“Tell me,” he demands, pounding into you. “You can tell me. I wanted this too, baby. Was just gonna cum thinking of you but I got the real thing instead. Je ne peux me lasser de toi.”

You clench around him, giving in to the words, the persuasion, the pleasure. “Yes,” you confess, overwhelmed. Fuck, he’s splitting you open. “M’gonna cum. Wanna cum, wanna cum.”

“No. Wait.” He says firmly, and you curse, nodding, needing to follow his orders.

You’re tense all over, your orgasm brewing right at your stomach, and finally he’s throwing his head back, whining, releasing inside you. You follow suit, moanin, pushing back against it, your fingers playing with the damp curls at the nape of his neck.

Your foreheads collide, breaths mingling.

“I didn’t fly economy,” you protest. “First class only.”

“If we got back together,” he argues, “it’d be a private jet.”

—

“We have to stop this,” he says. Your mental tally chalks it up to six—six iterations of this exact conversation. Sometimes he starts it, sometimes you do. Today it’s him, because last night he cheated on his fling with you in the backseat of his car.

Is it really your problem? “Fine,” you say simply. “Stop it then. Block my fucking number and everything.”

“Ah, putain.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do you really think it’s that easy?”

“Jesus. How many times are we going to fight like this?” You roll your eyes.

“Until you and I realize the sex is awf—”

But you’re fed up. You take the hem of your flimsy tank top in two hands and pull it upward, showing him your tits underneath. “This is awful?”

His eyes darken. “You’re such a brat.” But it’s the same brat he’s pinning up against the wall and fucking dumb anyway.

—

You’re greedy. You broke his heart, but you want him to yourself. And he’s stupid. He’s broken up with girls just for one fuck with you.

“They’re not even together,” you tell Pierre when a picture of a random girl is shoved in your face. “He said so himself.”

“When?” His eyes narrow.

“I meant—I meant, he never confirmed it. You know what? That’s besides the point,” you say, face warm with embarrassment at being caught in a lie. “Which is that he’s single.”

“Why do you care? You broke up with him years ago.”

“I don’t,” you say. And this time it’s the truth. The sex has been off the table for almost five months now, and both of you seem to finally be moving on from the viciously toxic cycle of fucking and crying and considering getting back together and fucking friends to get the other jealous (you don’t speak of Carlos.)

It’s healing the way you’ve both been mature enough to forgive, to grow up and stop hurting yourselves and each other. Your phone buzzes and you lower the brightness, lest Pierre attempt to take a peek.

Room 1903 baby.

Be there in 5. And hey, your lying’s gotten really good recently.

[callmewrinkles3]

Anti-hero - DR3 x Fem!OC

Masterlist.

Summary: 2021 hasn't exactly been the best season, and Dan's struggling with the car not driving how he wants it to. But he didn't realise that Emmy was struggling with her own work.

Warnings: Zak Brown, McLaren era in general, smut (piv, kink behaviour (marking, domination, praise kinks, light choking, consensual pain by pinching and spanking) that are in the context of a long term already defined relationship but are not explicitly discussed on the page, fingering, teasing. They're kinky kids who love it), explicit aftercare, mentions of race crashes (Monza 2021).

Words: 11k

A/N: We're baaaaaack! This is a bit of a departure for us, and we really hope you like it. As always let us know what you think, we love hearing from you!

September 2021

Dan couldn’t admit it to anyone, but the fact that Em was travelling with him everywhere was probably the best thing in his life right then. Most of the time he was miserable and he fully admitted it. McLaren meant his days were hard, the car felt weird, and it sucked. At least in Zandvoort he’d been able to have some fun in the orange cape, cheering Max on. As much as a clusterfuck that championship battle would be a part of.

The one he’d been assured he’d be a part of next year. He didn’t fully believe Zak anymore. He wanted to but something yelled at him not to.

They were sitting in the private terminal waiting to be told the McLaren jet was ready to go, Dan watching as Em worked for the few minutes before they were called. The VIP area had become normal to him, but for her it was new. It was bright and shiny and he still remembered the first time that she said she didn’t feel like she belonged there.

They’d been in bed in Italy in 2019, flying to Monza from Belgium with Max and Christian in one of the most awkward flights of his life while Em was her usual sweet self. She’d told him that private jets were for important people and she was just Em. It led to his joke that her middle name should be Humble, not Charlotte. But she deserved the world, and the world included that she deserved to be in the jet with him and everyone else.

He loved every piece of her, wanted to tell the world that he loved her but they’d agreed to keep things to themselves. He didn’t know how much longer he could do it. They were down to days until Italy and he was going to say everything, he just had to keep it in till then. He had a plan and he was sticking to it.

He pulled out the carefully wrapped package Max had slipped him after several requests with a “Vicky said these are the best.”, smiling at the still crisp treat.

“Em, here.” He held the stroopwafel out carefully, caramel nearly dripping from the edge as she shook her head and took a sip from her Pepsi bottle. “You don’t want one?”

“I’m not a caramel fan, Danny.”

“But this whole week?” Every time someone gave him one he’d take a bite and offer her one, grinning while she smiled and took a dainty bite in between checking things on her tablet. It became easy to pass it over to her.

“You looked so happy feeding me bites, I didn’t want to break your heart by telling you I don’t like caramel. Toffee yeah, but not caramel.” She smiled at him before turning her head back to work, Dan staring at the woman he loved and her pure ridiculousness.

He watched as she stared at her tablet and frowned at it not doing what she wanted. But he wanted to curl up with her on his lap the same way they were when they flew separately. But instead they’d be separated in the luxurious white leather seats, she’d have her head buried in a book with her earplugs in and trying to ignore everyone around her. It’d be fine. It had to be. Even if they were spending it with people she didn’t feel comfortable around.

Before Dan started with the team he knew she didn’t have anything against Lando. He was a kid who’d joined the grid and was fine. Dan didn’t want to know a whole lot about him after the awkward moment of Lando’s best friend asking Em for coffee in the middle of the paddock when he was a Renault junior and Em was there as Dan’s guest. It took time for Dan to let his jealousy go and Em giggled at it, but he’d finally chilled out. Then Em couldn’t totally chill out about Lando after Monaco.

The “I’ve no sympathy for him” was burned into her brain, she’d had more than one nightmare about it. That kid who didn’t know what he was talking about, who hadn’t ever had to experience anything, saying that? He was showing how privileged he was having walked straight into a team that was expected to be at the top of the midfield. Dan had told her stories about the four day warning he had before his HRT debut, she knew how it had been for him. But Em would take anything that anyone said about her - and God knew she had this year - but if you said something about the people she loved then you were essentially invisible to her. And Lando Norris had reached the invisible stage.

She was always unfailingly polite, saying good morning and good night and making small talk as they were in the same group, but other than that it was radio silence between them. Dan had tried to convince her that it was all fine, Lando was just a kid who needed to learn, but she couldn’t let it go. Months later it was still the same.

She got on the plane just ahead of Dan, smiling at the flight attendant before taking the window seat that Dan pointed her at. He took the seat beside her, Blake and Michael slipping into the seats on the other side of the table. He watched as Lando sat in on the other side, Jon and Lando’s parents there too. Someone pulled an Uno deck out and everyone except Lando’s parents and Em started playing it.

She was sat quietly in her seat, one of the cloth bound classics he’d gotten for her birthday in her hand as she read. He could see the tiny loop of her earplugs just visible, knowing she could hear everyone but was tuning it out to concentrate and it broke his heart a little bit. He wanted to pull her onto his lap, kiss the top of her head and tell her to take a nap because he knew she’d slept badly the last few nights but he couldn’t. She’d have killed him if he tried.

Nobody in McLaren knew anything about them. He wasn’t stupid, he knew there were debates on what he and Em were, but nobody knew the truth. He’d told a mechanic on Lando’s side of the garage to shut up when he made a comment about Em’s ass before. There were rumours all around the paddock and online, he wasn’t blind, but they wouldn’t confirm what they had. He wanted to keep Em safe, and nobody being able to prove that she was the love of his life was easier. Everyone in Renault knew about them - he was convinced Cyril had deliberately started a fight so the cameras were away so he could kiss her at the Nurburgring - and even in Red Bull Christian and Simon had made jokes about Dan’s heart eyes whenever Em was at a race. But it was never public, it was always between them. And in McLaren it just didn’t feel right to tell them.

Em was having issues clicking with them, the constant “if you need an assistant” comments from Zak and Andreas just pissing him off. Em was his assistant, she did a fucking great job and she was getting no respect for it. Zak had insisted that it was teething problems and it’d be fine but it had been going on for nearly nine months now. It was like his driving style and the car, it just couldn’t click right.

So they were avoiding sharing planes whenever possible. He’d organise his own charter, or go with a different driver, or anything. They’d even gone with Fernando at one point, Nando quizzing Dan on the clusterfuck that was the Renault upper echelons while they flew. Or they’d book commercial and deal with looks and selfie requests, because even being on a plane with 150 strangers was better for her anxiety than a tiny jet with people who she didn’t like. Which made no sense to Dan because people at every other team had liked her. There was a reason that she had a standing invitation into multiple hospitality suites if she wanted it.

But they couldn’t help it going to Monza. It was the final leg of the triple header, everyone exhausted and wanting more sleep. So it was easier to say yes and go so they got to the hotel earlier and actually got some sleep. But it meant that he couldn’t cuddle her, he couldn’t even hold her hand and snuggle with her to forget the world existed. Instead she sat there curled in on herself as she was halfway through Pride and Prejudice, a frown on her face and Dan unable to kiss it away.

After a torturous half hour of flying without touching her Dan was tired of it. Friends got to be affectionate with each other, he’d hugged her in public before. He could be touchy with his best friend. He laid his hand over hers, fingers lying in the gaps. She’d put one hand on the armrest as her other hand held her tablet, half looking out the window at the dark night and half paying attention to her screen. She barely even reacted to him, just her fingers loosening and then lacing with his to squeeze for a moment. It said more to him than a thousand words could have.

He knew her well enough to know she’d be silent during the flight, but he wanted to make her smile instead of the small frown on her face. If they were alone he’d have pressed kisses across her cheeks and nose to make her laugh, asking him to stop because his stubble was scratching her. But that wasn’t an option until they were in the hotel in a few hours. The next best option was texting, watching as the notification of his text appeared on her tablet.

The sky should be really jealous.

???

Because it’s pretty outside but it’s nowhere near as pretty as you.

Cocky. Should be jealous of you though, black looks good on you.

You look better on me than black does.

You’re gonna say we can test it out when we get to the hotel, aren’t you?

U know me so well.

Nobody else noticed the tiny smile that appeared on her face, but Dan did. It was there for barely a second but it was enough. At least until he could make sure she was smiling when they were fully alone.

It wasn’t until they were in the car on the way to the hotel and away from the airport that he could hold her hand and press a kiss to her fingers. There were no questions about where anyone was sitting or who was driving, he got straight into the back seat with Emmy, gripping her hand across the middle seat.

“Can we go for pizza after we check into the hotel? I’ve been waiting for one.”

“Already thinking about pizza?” Michael asked it and Dan frowned at his tone, taking it as exhausted.

“I’m never not thinking about pizza in Monza. This pizza keeps me going through the year. Plus, I didn’t throw anyone off the plane or start an argument so I deserve it.”

“You kind of do,” Dan affirmed, lifting their joined hands to his lips to kiss her knuckles.

Emmy’s wishes were his command so if his girl wanted pizza he wasn’t saying no. The fact that her favourite pizza place was also his favourite was an extra point in their relationship. After they checked in, left their things in rooms and Dan pulled her to his room for a quickie to prove his theory of the best way he looked, they left the room to have dinner.

He loved Italy. It was his family’s country, it was the first place that he’d lived on his own in Red Bull supplied housing, he had thousands of memories there. But his favourite ones were Em in Italy with him.

She always seemed happier there, more carefree. The first time he’d brought her to Italy was that first week in Monaco, eating pasta and showing her places he loved. Even when they were busy with work at races she carried herself differently there. When they had their post Monza vacation every year she was always completely relaxed. He grinned just watching her.

He could feel her relax against him as they got out of the car a few streets away from the pizza place. It always felt like he was a little bit of a spy in a foreign land when he was in Monza, the Tifosi out in force. But she was so chilled out that she didn’t say anything when he reached for her hand and held it tightly. Any time they were in public she always gave him her Dan, we’re in public face because they didn’t need any more rumours or people on the internet asking what they were. They didn’t need more people whispering about them.

He didn’t care about it. He couldn’t care less if people talked about him, that came with the territory of his job. But he couldn’t handle people talking about Em and gossiping about her. So he tried to keep his hands from her even when he kept reaching out to take her hand walking anywhere. That night he couldn’t stay away from her and she didn’t say anything about him holding her hand walking down semi familiar streets, or his hand on her lower back as they were brought to their table, or his arm around her shoulder pulling her in for a hug. She didn’t give him a little look or a gentle nudge in the stomach, no whisper to leave her alone while they were in public. It was completely the opposite, after a sip of his beer she was fully leaned against his side and half snuggling him.

“You know what we should do?” Dan whispered in her ear, only half listening to the debate that Michael and Blake were having about the Black Widow movie.

“I’m scared but curious. Tell me,” Em answered as she ignored her lemon drink in favour of another sip from his one allowed beer before a race week fully started.

“Buy a house in Italy.” He watched as her eyes lit up and her face started to move to a grin before she forced it down.

“You’re the most ridiculous man in the world. When would you have time to spend in Italy?”

“We totally could. A cute little house, a couple of bedrooms, a garden, by one of the lakes. It’d be perfect. We should do it.”

“You’re insane.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Of course it’s not!”

She was saying no but the smile she was fighting to keep off her face was enough to make Dan know it was an excellent idea. After they got engaged and found a place in London he was gonna start trying to find somewhere for them. And hopefully some kids. Showing their kids where their family was from, even if it wasn’t Sicily.

They spent the rest of the night chatting and laughing, eating pizza and joining in the conversation with their friends. Em pretended she was sticking to just soft drinks, stealing a sip from his beer every now and then as Dan winked at her and tried so hard not to kiss her wrinkled nose. The four of them walked back to their hotel as Dan forced himself not to take her hand and kiss her on the street. He had a plan and he was sticking to it. This time next week he'd be on a proper date with her, kissing her and then asking her the question that had been burning a hole in his bag since the previous Christmas. It was going to be perfect.

**

Em loved lazy Wednesdays in Italy. The fact that she'd had enough of them to know that was a magical feeling. It was the end of their triple header, just one more race to go and then they got to relax and spend a couple of days on the shores of Lake Como. Dan had taken control of booking their trip, a cute villa slightly outside the main tourist area. They spent the day relaxing for most of it. Dan had given her a list of restaurants to look at and they mapped out where they’d eat for the three days. They would have killed for longer but it just wasn’t possible in the middle of the season.

That evening was a sponsor dinner that she had to dress up for and look appropriate to be on Dan’s arm. She hated those nights with a passion. She had to be in a fancy dress and full makeup, talking to the rich men who wanted Dan at events. At least this one was for Google Italy, it was more fun than some of the other events she’d been at. A particularly boring DeWalt shoot came to mind on that.

It was Google shmoozing their own clients, using Dan and Lando to do it. Em stayed on Dan’s arm for the entire night as she smiled and shook hands. Halfway through Zak found them and stopped to talk, his own wife there with him. It was Em left with Tracy for a few moments while Zak took Dan around to speak. The two women had wine glasses in their hands and looked around the room.

“Having a good evening, Emma?” Tracy asked, Em nodding.

“It’s Em, but yeah. These events aren’t always fun but it’s nice to see Dan in his element. It’s part of the job.”

“I suppose. Not every assistant does what you do.” Em took a sip of her wine, careful not to knock the glass back like she really wanted to.

“Dan and I were friends before I started working for him. If it means that Dan can enjoy events a bit more then I don’t mind.” Tracy watched her closely for a few moments but nodded as their respective dates for the night returned.

“Sorry about that, I had to double check some things. Daniel, you’re in with Valtteri for the press conference tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, I am. Should be fun. We’re gonna head off, it’s a busy day tomorrow. See you at the track?”

He took Em’s arm and pulled her along out of the room, the two of them getting into the car and heading back to their hotel. She was tired from the busy room and having to be on around people but she kept it together as they drove on. Dan held her hand on the way back, fingers locked as he pushed a kiss to them. She smiled, looking forward to getting into bed and out of the dress she was in. Even if Dan looked excellent in his suit.

She started pulling pins out of her hair to take it out of the undo she’d managed, Dan standing beside her and pulling them out too. Once they were out he started kissing along her shoulder as he pushed her dress down. Em threw her head back to give him more access before they made it to bed.

Thursdays were weird now. Instead of press conferences it was all digital, the journalists in their hotel rooms asking questions. It meant more setup meetings, more talking, more everything. She used Dan’s meetings as a way to get the weekend planned. But it didn’t seem as busy as normal. Her calendar was half empty. Again.

At Zandvoort she thought it was a mistake but it wasn’t. It didn’t feel right. Em put her worries aside, taking a deep breath as she looked. There had to be an explanation and she needed a moment.

“I’m getting a coffee, anyone want anything?” It was just her, Dan, and Blake upstairs. Michael was out doing some checks and making sure the kitchen was stocked and ready.

“Green tea please Emmy? You make it best.” She laughed at Dan’s puppy eyes, nodding as Blake gave her his order and she went down to the main hospitality area. It didn’t take long to have everything and she went to go back upstairs when a security guard stopped her.

“Sorry Miss, drivers and support only.” His arm blocked the narrow staircase and Em stared at him.

“I am support. I’m Daniel Ricciardo’s assistant, I need to get this up to him.”

“No entry.”

Em sat watching until the guard was called outside and ran upstairs, smiling and pretending it was fine. It had to be fine. There was no other option. The drinks got handed and she watched as they were getting ready until Blake’s phone chimed.

“Shit, Dan, you’ve got a sit down we’ve got to go. Did you not see it Ems?” Blake asked, Em checking.

She stared at her tablet, the realisation hitting her. She wasn’t on any of Dan’s meetings. She looked at Blake’s calendar and his filled up with meetings, things he was in. But hers had a couple of things - the press conference, the race, practices. One of the engineering meetings. A fanzone appearance. But that was it. It was empty and she hated it. Her usually perfectly colour coded calendar was mostly blank and worried her. She was getting blocked out.

“Sorry I must have missed it. My calendar hasn’t synced, I’ll sort it.” Dan and Blake left, Em sitting staring.

She didn’t know why, she didn’t know what had caused this to happen but it was. How? Dan had promised that it was in his contract that his team had full access to all of his information and everything they needed to do their jobs. But she’d missed a meeting and he was nearly late and that was supposed to be why she was there. She had to keep that going. If she didn’t then why was she there?

The evening was half a blur as the realisation she was being pushed out hit her. Security stopping her going up to Dan and Blake. The way McLaren acted in general. All of it. They were pushing her out and forcing her away and she couldn’t keep going like this. It wasn’t fair to her or to Dan if she couldn’t do her job.

“You ok?” Dan asked at dinner, watching her barely touched food.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just been a long, long day. I’m tired.”

“We can go back soon.”

When they got back to the hotel room Em curled up beside him, feeling the warmth of his body around her and the way he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before whispering goodnight. If this was her last race she was going to enjoy it.

**

Em was always the last one to get up in the morning. She was a night owl, getting up at seven because he had a race was the last thing she ever wanted to do. It was usually him waking her up with kisses and promises that he would bring her for food after that helped. Or early sleepy sex to wake her up. Both were fun for him.

But the bed was never empty at five in the morning. He could count on one hand how many times he’d woken up alone when they’d gone to bed together. The room was dark and silent, Em’s spot cold. She had to have been gone for more than a few minutes.

It took a few seconds for his vision to adjust to the quiet darkness and he slipped out of bed and searched for her. Her clothes were laid out where she’d left them the night before. Her shoes were there by the chair. She had to be either in the bathroom or the adjoining room that was hers in name only.

The worry in his gut turned to cold fear as he opened the bathroom door to discover her missing. His girl was gone and she had to be next door but why was she? What had she done to head to her room? It felt wrong. She should have been beside him. He eased open the adjoining door and spotted a ray of light spilling out from the bathroom. The fear eased. She was there, they could fix everything. It’d be fine. But her quiet sobs got louder as he padded across the carpeted floor to her. It was gut wrenching and painful and he pushed the door open to see his girl curled up on the floor beside the shower, her arms wrapped around her knees as she cried.

Em was in one of his oversized shirts - his in name only because he was pretty sure it was the shirt he’d given her over two years ago to help her sleep when he was travelling and she was still in London - hugging herself. Now that he was in the room her sobs were all encompassing and he had no idea how he didn’t hear her the second he woke up. She looked like a scared child, not the woman who shared his bed and his life and heart every day. This wasn’t the Em he knew.

She looked broken. He sat down beside her and pulled her into his arms, feeling how she tensed until she realised who he was. He wanted to hold her and fight against the world, but he needed to know which of her ghosts he was going to fight that night. But it felt like this time it was a whole haunted mansion. He pushed kisses against her forehead and rocked her gently, telling her how it was gonna be ok no matter what.

“I’m right here, Emmy, I promise. Whatever’s going on we can fix it. I promise. I’ll fix it for us.”

Her tears began to ease and he could look at her face. Her eyes were swollen and red, her cheeks flushed but the rest of her face so pale. He’d never seen her this bad before. She was shaking and trying to pull herself together and he knew she wasn’t gonna have the words to discuss what caused this for a few minutes.

“When you’re ready talk to me, ok? Whatever you need. But tell me what’s wrong so we can fix this. I’m worried about you.” His thumb wiped the tears from her cheeks, but he wasn’t quick enough to get them before more came. Slowly they eased and she could take breaths without sobbing. He kept rocking her until she was ready to speak.

“You need to get ready, D.” She went to get out of his arms but he held on and waited till she looked at him with an angry pout on her lips.

“I’m not going anywhere until we talk. There is nothing more important than you, Emmy. Nothing. You’re crying in the bathroom at five in the morning and you came in here so I couldn’t hear you. What’s going on, Wrinkles? Talk to me.” He stood up still carrying her, bringing her into the main hotel room and sitting on the bed. She was playing with the hem of her shirt nervously but Dan gave her time until she was ready to speak.

“I… Dan they’re pushing me away and they’re stopping me from doing my job. And if I can’t do my job at the track then I shouldn’t be travelling so why am I even here? There’s nothing for me to be here for.” He kept his face calm as she spoke, anger filling his veins. What the fuck.

“What are you talking about, Baby?”

“They didn’t want to let me in your room today. I went down for your tea and when I went to go back upstairs they didn’t let me. I snuck past when he was distracted. It’s why it was cold.”

“Who did that?”

“Some random security guard? I’ve never seen him before, I don’t know his name. He said it was drivers and support only and I wasn’t support.”

“I’ll find out who.” Or at least Blake would. He wasn’t letting them get away with this. He couldn’t.

“Danny they’re not letting me do anything. The meeting you nearly missed wasn’t on my calendar. I’m blocked out from everything and I don’t know what to do anymore. There’s no reason for me to be here now, but I don’t want to be away from all of you. I can’t lose you, Danny. I don’t want to be stuck alone and I don’t want them to keep us apart.” He could see the worry hitting her, and he held on, kissing her forehead while rubbing her back.

“You’re not going anywhere, Emmy. You’re not gonna lose me. I’m not letting you go anywhere you don’t want to without me. You’re the one who keeps us all sane and you can’t do that if you’re at home. When did all this start, Baby?”

“Hungary? Slowly but surely. Spa it was worse and Zandvoort was bad. I didn’t know how to talk to you and Blake about it. I thought maybe I could fix it.” She looked even more nervous, jumping as his phone alarm went off in their room.

“Just my alarm, it’s alright. You did nothing wrong Baby, you hear me? Nothing at all. I’m gonna talk to Blake and we’ll fix it. I promise you, you are perfectly fine and didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Thank you.” She went to stand up but Dan squeezed her tighter before letting go, kissing her cheeks to remove the trace of tears.

“Don’t thank me. You know, right?” He squeezed her hand as she stood.

“I know.” A watery smile filled her face. “I need to get ready, I think I need a shower to fix my face before I’m in public.”

“Grab one. I’m gonna run into Blake for a couple of minutes. Are you ok if I do?”

“I’ll be in the shower, don’t worry.”

“I will anyway. I’m gonna take my phone, if you need me call me and I’ll be back in two.” He made sure she was ok before he shrugged into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. He picked up his phone and key before heading out, grabbing Em’s iPad as he did. Blake was a couple of rooms away and answered the door looking tired and annoyed, hair sticking up. When he saw Dan’s face he calmed.

“What happened?”

“Inside. Now.” Blake let him in and Dan handed Em’s iPad over, her calendar open to today. There was practice and qualifying in it and that was it. He saw how Blake raised an eyebrow.

“What the fuck?”

“I heard her crying through the wall. She’s getting left out of everything.”

“I know you share a room, I’m not a fucking idiot.”

“She went back into hers.” He laid out the little information that Em had given him, comparing her calendar to Blake’s. The missing meetings, how she was kept away. Zak asking when he wanted his new assistant to start. Dan had to stay calm but Blake could be angry then.

“I’m getting a meeting before practice. She’s gonna be fine, Dan. She’s not going anywhere. We know this. It’s Em, she keeps us alive half the time. Go back, have a shower, we’ve got breakfast downstairs for eight and then we’ll go from there.”

Too much time had passed since he got up to find her, but Dan pushed himself to get ready and get his head in the game. It was going to be a busy, chaotic morning but Em came first. The four of them ate breakfast together and he watched as she barely ate her yogurt. He stood and went over to the buffet, coming back with a Nutella croissant and a hot chocolate to put in front of her. She never really ate when she was anxious so hopefully something would be better than nothing.

On the drive to the circuit he held Em’s hand. Blake drove, Michael in the front seat beside him. Nerves thrummed through his body as he linked fingers but Em kissed his hand and he relaxed. She was there. She was right there and it was all ok.

When they finally made it into the circuit Michael went to do some checks while the other three went to his driver’s room. Em sat there staring into space while Dan stretched out. Finally it was time to go down to Zak, Blake tapping his shoulder.

“Emmy we’re heading, ok? I’ll be back in a few. If you need anything call me.”

“I will.” She still looked nervous so he leaned over to peck her lips, smiling as they separated.

“It’s gonna be fine. I promised you. Focus on holiday plans, which beach are we going to first?” She smiled at him and nodded, safe in his room. Nobody was going to remove her from it, nobody was going to kick her out. She belonged there.

He went down the stair with Blake, ignoring the look that his friend gave him.

“So you and Em?”

“Nothing.”

“It didn’t look like nothing.”

“We’re nearly there.”

“Nearly?”

“I’m trying to make it work.”

“Mate, I’m saying this as someone who loves both of you. She loves you. Just tell her.”

“We’re nearly there.” By the time Dan spoke they were outside Zak’s office and he shook his head to end the conversation. A knock on the door and they were inside, Zak standing ready to end it.

“Guys can we talk later? I’m heading to a meeting, but after qualifying we can-“

“We’re talking now.” He sat down, watching how Zak sat too. Blake followed suit.

“What’s going on?”

“Why is Em being kept from my calendar and everything she’s supposed to be on? She’s been removed from everything. She’s not supposed to be removed. It’s in my contract. What’s going on?”

“I don’t-“

“Emma isn’t able to do her job. She’s missing things because you’ve been keeping her away from everything she needs. She needs access.” Blake took over and Dan was fine to let him, he ended it. He couldn’t keep himself calm for this. He let the words wash over him until Zak got his laptop up.

“We need to keep our information safe. Having someone not employed by McLaren affects this. It’s why we’ve been asking about getting you a new assistant.”

“And Blake has access to my calendar. He’s not employed by McLaren. I trust Em with everything, you need to trust her too.”

“Fine.”

It took another two minutes before Zak closed the laptop, looking at them. “She’s there. If we lose anything I will blame her for it.”

Dan stood and left, too angry to talk. He had to get into the car soon and he wasn’t going to let it affect him. He couldn’t. Em was most important.

Emmy was still sitting where he’d left her, staring into space. It was clear to him now how much this was affecting her, she hadn’t even opened her tablet and her makeup was heavier than he ever saw it. All he wanted to do was make it better for her and fix things. This he could fix. He could make this better for her. There wasn’t a whole lot he could always fix but this he could fix. She looked up at him when he arrived and Dan smiled.

“Check your calendar.”

It took all of ten seconds for her to see that everything was back in her calendar and he watched her relax into her seat. If Blake wasn’t there he’d have kissed her, but they both had jobs to do and practice was an hour away. It was squeezing her shoulder before he went downstairs to talk to Tom.

After practice it felt like things might go ok. He went over data and grabbed lunch before getting into a fresh race suit for qualifying. Like always Em was the last person he spoke to before he got into the car. She kissed the side of his helmet and smiled with a whispered “Go fast and be safe”.

For the first time in McLaren his qualifying felt like it went right. He got out of the car just six thousandths behind Lando. It was good. Em was grinning from the back of the garage with her headphones still on when he arrived in.

That evening as soon as he could get out he did, wanting nothing more than to get to bed. The early morning had done him in, and Em was dead on her feet. It was a quick dinner in hospitality and back to the hotel, Michael and Blake in the car with them again before going up to their rooms. He watched Emmy get changed and set out her clothes for the next day like she always did. Once they were curled up in bed he pulled her closer, desperate to hold onto her as tightly as he could.

“Apart from the obvious, how was today?” He couldn’t feel her tense up at least. That was a good sign.

“Weird. But ok. Blake was like my shadow today, I was beside him the whole day. There was a weird security guy who kept looking at us but other than that it was good.” Dan felt his stomach clench but he made himself stay calm. He’d noticed extra security but that couldn’t have been why. There was no way there was extra there for his Emmy. Not at all.

He watched her eyes close and her breathing even out, his thumb rubbing circles on her back. Three more nights after this. By this time Tuesday evening he’d have said everything, and Emmy would know all of it. The ring sitting in his bag would have a home on her finger. He had so many plans for them. He wanted to marry her over Christmas when they were in Perth, make it all official. She deserved every moment of happiness he could give her and this was the start of it.

Saturday arriving to the track was different. The security had definitely lessened, and coming in realising that it had was a kick in the teeth. But he had to concentrate and work, as much as he’d rather do anything else. Two days till they were on holiday. Two days. They could do it. He was gonna get a good result and decent points and then he and Emmy were going to Lake Como for a strictly clothing optional holiday and he couldn’t wait.

Practice was shit. There was no easy way around it, no way to make it sound better than it was. It fucking sucked and he hated that it did. He hated that every time he thought he was improving he wasn’t, that he was stuck in a tractor of a car that was worse than he was promised and maybe he’d made a mistake. Maybe he shouldn’t have left Renault, maybe he should have been in the blue and pink Alpine instead. Then the bullshit wouldn’t have happened.

The anger fuelled him as he made his way upstairs to his driver room. He was tired and pissed off and fed up. What he thought was a good decision for his career had fucked him and more importantly it had fucked Em over. He never wanted to see her like that again. Ever.

Emmy was sitting on the couch upstairs, her head jolting up as he arrived in wearing his race suit. Not even seeing her calmed him fully and he knew she could tell.

“What’s wrong?”

“Guess.” She stood up and he wrapped his arms around her, feeling himself ease up on everything. She was there and it was going to be ok.

“What do you need, Danny?”

“I don’t even know.”

“Ok, rephrase. What do you need from me? What do you need to get it out?” She leaned up and kissed him and Dan caught her lips, pushing her against the wall as they made out. She was perfect. Absolutely perfect. He could feel the way that she pushed against him, her hand gripping the back of his neck.

“I think I just need to fuck you against this wall, you know that? Make you scream and have the whole paddock know this is exactly where you belong. Right here with me. But I’ve to change and go to another fucking meeting. Much less fun than what I want.” He could see the way she shivered at his words and he completely knew if he moved his hands she’d be there with him. Instead he just watched her swallow and look up.

“I’m not saying no. I’m saying not here and now.”

“You deserve better than that.”

“Danny when we get back to the hotel I want you to push me against the wall and fuck me, understood?”

His brain short circuited. Emmy was asking him. Emmy. His Emmy who before was too afraid to tell him she hadn’t had an orgasm because when they started sleeping together she thought she’d be left high and dry without one. Asking him to fuck her exactly how she wanted with no thought for anything else? He was a lucky, lucky man.

“You are amazing.” He pecked her lips one last time before just holding her. He didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want to say goodbye and go to engineering and stretch out and everything. He wanted to spend time with his girl away from the world. But he changed his clothes and went downstairs, kissing Em goodbye before he left.

The meeting was boring, getting told to protect Lando off the starting line, as if there was no chance he could make it off himself. He’d won seven races, he could beat Lando off the start line. Even with this car. He knew he could. Finally it was time to start stretching and getting ready, Michael holding out tennis balls and helping him prep.

“You need to concentrate, you’ve got a good chance this weekend.” His trainers words were quiet but Dan could hear the full force of what he meant in them.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean you need to clear your head, mate. Worrying about Em isn’t gonna change anything.”

“Oh fuck you.” He stepped back, shaking his head while flapping his arms out to loosen them. “I’m focused on driving, that’s what matters. I have a life too.”

“I’m just saying.”

The pit lane was about to open and he stepped back, staying out of the camera view. Netflix were with them that weekend to make it worse and he had to keep a smile on his face when he didn’t want to. Em was at the stairs up to his driver room, smiling at him and quickly kissing his cheek.

“Drive fast, be safe, I’ll see you at the checkered flag. You’ve got this, Danny.” He squeezed her hand before letting go, desperate for the words to be right. It was going to happen. It had to.

Going back to the garage he zipped up his suit and ignored his name being called. Nobody spoke to him until he was in the car after Em did, it was his rule. As he stepped into the car the music changed to Stayin’ Alive, Dan looking around.

“This DJ should get fucking shot though!” He called out, staring at the team. Seriously? This bullshit again. But when he put his helmet on he forced it out of his head, determined not to hear it. He was gonna do this. He was gonna qualify well.

The start felt like a dream, and the fact that he kept going even with the touch with Pierre was important. Somehow he ended up behind Max and he wasn’t sure what had happened until Tom came over the radio.

“Good job Dan, P3. Lando’s just behind and will protect.”

Monza was fun to drive. Every moment of it was fun, the swooping curves and fast flowing corners leading to the straight where he let the throttle fly. He knew he wouldn’t beat Max, but that moment going around the parabolica knowing he was third was beautiful. The screaming of the fans, Tom congratulating him in his ear, he’d fucking done it. He’d come third in the sprint and yeah maybe it wasn’t an official podium but he’d done it and he could be proud of that. He had to be.

Seeing everyone cheering for him meant everything, Em standing with Blake’s arm around her grinning and he wanted to kiss her in front of the world. She was right there but he just grinned. It was everything.

After the interviews he was on his way back to the garage when Max stopped him with a wide smile. The paddock had cleared and it wasn’t unusual for them to walk together.

“I’m going to fight you, but if you get the start I’ll hold Lewis back.” Dan stopped and stared at the younger man, raising an eyebrow.

“Max, what?”

“If you beat me. Only if, and I’m going to fight for it. But if you do I’ll hold Lewis off for you to get the win. We both know you’re good enough for it.” Max smiled and Dan replied with one, looking at his former teammate. Sometimes he regretted leaving Red Bull more than he could ever admit. It was the right move to spread his wings, but he missed the support he used to have.

“Don’t tell Christian you said that.”

“Christian would be glad if you won and I came second. Better if I win and you come second, but he still likes you. Stop by some time, Daniel. You won’t be run away unless you try to look at our data.”

“Ah Maxy, you know me too well!” He grinned and turned into his garage, immediately welcomed by applause and cheering. It had really happened, and it was glorious.

After a stupid number of meetings and discussions they were finally ready to leave. Em was tired, her feet trudging alongside him until he bent down.

“C’mon, hop up.”

“What?” She asked, Dan indicating for her to get on his back.

“The paddock is empty, nobody’s around. Piggyback to the car, c’mon.” She held on and he walked down while talking to Michael and Blake, Em pushing a kiss to the back of his neck every few steps. He knew she knew what she was doing and he squeezed the back of her thighs, making his girl tense slightly as they walked. It wasn’t long back to the hotel and heading to bed to relax. Or in his case get all of the adrenaline out of his system.

They didn’t even do the mock of having Em go into the room that was supposed to be hers, instead he pulled her into their room, bags dropped just inside the door as it was kicked shut. Em was right there with him, her arm around him until he pinned her against the bathroom door. It was his hand in her hair to pull her head back as he trailed kisses along her jaw. It held her still as his knee split her legs and ran up to push the seam of her jeans against her. She gasped into their kiss as he held onto her.

“What did I promise you I was gonna do tonight?”

“F-fuck me against the wall.” Her words were gasps as his free hand was everywhere, teasing and pinching. It was easy to get her shirt off, exposing the pretty blue sheer lace bra. He couldn’t help himself, bending down to lick at her nipple through the barely there fabric.

“Danny…please…” she groaned and he loved every noise she made. Clothes went everywhere as he lifted her up, pulling the matching underwear down and settling her onto the barely used desk. Her legs were spread as he stood between them, sucking marks into her skin while he made his way to his ultimate destination.

Any man who wouldn’t eat his girl out was a coward as far as Dan was concerned. It was one of his favourite things to do. Em’s hand running through his curls and pulling on them, his fingers and lips and tongue working to bring her to the edge. If he was feeling particularly mean he’d leave her right there for a few moments and watch his girl beg him to move.

Tonight though he wanted to ruin her. He wanted to leave her boneless and well fucked and knowing that he was the one who did this with her. He’d leave it all behind if it meant that his Emmy was happy and he was going to slowly prove that to her.

It didn’t take long for him to feel her first orgasm come up, Em grabbing his hair and biting her lip as he took his mouth away to look up at her.

“I want to hear you. I’m the one who makes you feel like this, let me hear you. C’mon.” Her moans got louder as he dove back in, his fingers hitting the spot he knew was her everything. Once he was satisfied with the hickey he’d bitten into her inner thigh Dan moved back to her clit. He kept licking at her clit while she came, desperate to taste everything he could. It was just them in that hotel room and he was desperate for everything.

When Emmy finally stopped shaking he stood up, watching how she was flushed down her chest. She was absolutely fucking perfect.

“You ok, Baby?” He asked, leaning in to kiss her and hold onto her.

“I’m good. I promise. But you promised me a wall, Mr Ricciardo. Gonna make good on your promise?” She was grinning up at him and Dan stood, pulling her off the desk and her legs wrapping around his hips. His lips met with hers as he got them to the wall, pushing Em against it to give them more support. His fingers grabbed her hips as he finally slid into her, watching as Em looked up at him with wide eyes.

“All mine, Emmy. You’re all mine and I’m gonna make sure you know it.” His hips set a blistering pace against her and he watched as her fingers slid to where they were joined, feeling the way she tightened around him as between his pace and her fingers she came to another orgasm. She was harder to hold up after this one, tiredness taking over but he needed another.

“Third place today so I want to see three orgasms. Can you do it for me? Gonna give me that third so I can see my pretty girl? You can do it Baby, I’ve got you.”

Instead of keeping her there he took steps back towards the bed, still inside Em as he set them down carefully. His girl was right there in his lap riding him and she felt so perfect. He watched her move her hips carefully, suddenly realising how hard he’d been pushing her. There was the start of marks and bruises along her boobs and stomach and Dan moved his hand away, looking at her.

“I’m good. Danny, I’m good, I promise. If I wasn’t I’d have told you to stop. But you told me you were gonna fuck me hard against the wall and I wanted it. And right now I want you to tell me what you like.”

He looked into Em’s eyes and saw the absolute truth of what she was saying, even though part of his brain didn’t fully get it. They were rough, they’d go further kink wise than they intended sometimes, but not like this much. He knew Emmy could see the unsureness in his face and he watched as she picked up his hand and put it at her neck. It was their favourite thing in bed, and he used the feeling of comfort he knew it gave her to keep going. If she wasn’t sure she’d have called red and stopped him.

“Gonna be my good girl? Gonna let me watch you ride me and put on a show? Is that what my Emmy wants to do tonight?” He didn’t have to thrust, his hand keeping Em steady and feeling her move under him. She looked so perfect like that, chest bouncing as he watched her fuck herself on him. His perfect Emmy. He was so close to blurting everything out but not now, not till they were alone. He couldn’t do it during sex, that was just cruel. He needed to do it when they had no distractions.

“Please Danny. Please. Make me feel good.”

“Such a greedy girl for me. Do you deserve another orgasm? Are you my good girl who gets another?” She nodded desperately as she bounced up and down, Dan pulling her lips closer to him.

“What are you, Emmy? Tell me and we’ll see.”

“I’m yours. All yours, Danny. You’re the only one who makes me feel this good. Please let me feel good.”

He could never deny her, pulling her in for a kiss as his fingers went straight to her clit. Between his thrusts, her bouncing, and his fingers she came in less than a minute, Dan following her straight over. He held her as aftershocks went through her body, Em’s head buried in his shoulder while he rubbed her back, unwilling to slip out of her. That meant the moment was gone and he wanted every second of it. He wanted Emmy in all the ways that he could have her. He was so fucking far gone it terrified him. But he was so blissfully happy.

Eventually they had to move, Dan pushing a soft kiss to her forehead as she lifted off him. He hurried to the bathroom to wet a cloth before coming back to clean Emmy up. She was pouting as he did and he couldn’t help but press a kiss to her to wipe it off her face before she went into the bathroom. While she was gone it was a quick call to room service for a strawberry pana cotta and a small cheesecake to be delivered. Dan slipped a robe on to answer the door, clearing their clothes away. He was delighted that he hadn’t actually ripped Em’s underwear getting them off her. One good thing.

When there was a knock on the door he answered with a smile and took the plates while giving a tip. Just as he had them settled on a table Em came out of the bathroom, showered with her hair tied up.

“You doing ok?” He asked, pulling her in for a kiss and running his hands over her.

“Yeah. I think I need some cuddles though.”

“And sugar. I got you dessert. Don’t tell anyone about my cheesecake.”

He shared his cheesecake with her and got bites in return before they curled up in bed together. He didn’t know how, but somehow she was fast asleep against him in about an hour. Emmy’s breathing evened out and he watched her sleep as the bruises he’d left on her chest were darkening. She always grinned every time she spotted a new mark he’d left on her and he hoped this time was the same. Whatever magic was there he didn’t want it to end. But sleep came calling and he had a race to drive the next day.

Em was the one who woke him up the next morning. Her kisses were nicer than his alarm clock, Dan’s hands immediately on her back and pulling her up. He heard her groan, opening his eyes to look at her.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, just sore. It’s good sore, Danny. I promise.” He raised an eyebrow and she laughed. “Honestly. I’m fine. You worked me good last night and every part of it was perfect.” She leaned down to kiss him and Dan smiled into the kiss, chasing Emmy’s lips as she got up.

“You need to shower and I need to get dressed. C’mon Mister Front Row, it’s going to be great. I have faith in you.”

That was all he needed to hear to get out of bed. It was one last kiss to Em before he went into the bathroom to shower. He nearly convinced her for five more minutes of cuddling before they had to get ready but he didn’t get away with it. Instead he showered while she got ready, putting on a McLaren shirt and jeans to be dressed. Once he was done he came out to find Emmy ready to go and he stopped in his tracks.

She was in skinny jeans and vans like usual, but every single part of her dripped his. Her three necklace hanging from her neck, the earrings with three stars he bought her. Her entire outfit was clothes he’d given her as presents and he was nearly sure if he checked her underwear was too. She was a dream and did he really have to leave for the track? It’d be fine to do the race without him. Who’d care?

Instead he pulled her in for a hug and a murmured “thank you” to Em, looking as she smiled up at him.

“For what?”

“For being you and amazing. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Walking into the circuit felt different that morning and he didn’t know why. Things were good and he was going to do his best. He was going to be on that podium no matter what. He could do it.

The time before getting in the car was a blur. He had no idea. He wanted to soak in the moments but he couldn’t, he was focusing on driving. He could drive this place blindfolded. He could do it.

Putting on his suit and boots he took a deep breath before heading downstairs. Em caught him just before he went into the garage. It was another kiss on the cheek and telling him to be fast and safe, but Dan kissed her properly for the briefest of seconds.

“You’ve got this. I’m gonna see you at that barrier.”

He walked in and picked up his balaclava to put it on before getting in the car. But before he could step in Zak caught him, an arm around his shoulder. Nobody ever did that. Emmy was the last person he talked to before he got in the car, always. She was his good luck charm. Even Michael knew not to talk to him when Em had talked to him. He’d get in and connect his earbuds for the radio and then he’d talk to Tom.

“Good luck. It’d be good to have a trophy to show around the MTC on Tuesday along with that medal, wouldn’t it?”

“Tuesday?” His blood ran cold.

“Yeah, we need to celebrate your sprint medal. Did Nicole from PR not tell you yet? Full day in the MTC then. Your calendar was empty so it looked good.”

His calendar was empty because they’d removed Em from access. Without his girl there to block the days out then its looked free. Which meant that their vacation was gone because he had to be in fucking Woking instead.

“See you at the flag!” He wanted to punch Zak’s fucking face. He was so angry he wanted to scream. But instead he got into the car, settling down and putting his helmet on and connecting it to his HANS. The radio connected in while the guys strapped him into place and he had the go ahead to bring the car to the grid. Bring it in, get out, let everything happen.

He had to blank his mind out. It’s was the visualisation crap that Michael beat into his head that he kept going with.

Finally it was the anthems and he bopped along to the Italian one, the texts of good luck from his parents floating in the back of his head.

Waiting for the lights to go out was terrifying. Seeing the five red lights made him nearly forget everything that he’d known for so long, but as soon as they blinked off he was gone. Never ask him how he made it around those first corners but pretty soon he was leading the fucking race.

It was the fastest race of his life. The only time he worried was when the safety car backed everyone up after Max and Lewis crashed, the realisation that he didn’t have Max backing things up worrying him. But he forced himself to stay calm and pushed through, Tom giving him advice on the radio. It was obvious Lando had been ordered not to attack but Dan didn’t care, too focused on making it to the flag.

“YEAH P1! You bloody did it!” Tom was celebrating over the radio, Dan screaming his lungs out. He did it. He fucking did it. Fastest lap and first place and fuck it he did it.

“Deep down I knew this was gonna come, so…thanks. Thanks for having my back. And for anyone who thought I left, I never left. Just moved aside for a while.”

Pulling into that beautiful number one podium spot felt so sweet. He won. He actually won. It took a moment to realise what was happening as he shut the car off, pulling the steering wheel out and standing atop the halo. He fucking did it.Em was there at the barrier, sandwiched between Blake and Michael and he could see tears streaming down his girl’s face in pride and he grinned behind the helmet before tapping his chest three times, watching as she realised.

The jog to the team was sweet, jumping into them in celebration. He hugged Michael and Blake before Em wrapped her arms around him. All he wanted to do was pull his helmet off and kiss her in front of everyone but that wasn’t fair. He couldn’t. So instead he let go and realised she’d been FaceTiming his parents for the race. He took off his helmet and grinned at the camera, a murmured “I love you” escaping before he got pulled back to be weighed and interviewed by DC, a grin on the Scot’s face and the promise of a drink at some point once the cameras were switched off.

He was on the podium. On the top step in Monza. He’d done that and it was a heady feeling to be back up there, the Tifosi cheering because while he might not be a Ferrari driver he was half Australian and for them that was a big moment.

The chaos of interviews and discussions and debriefs and eating were constant, he didn’t have a second to himself for hours. It wasn’t until nearly nine that they were finally done, Zak sending him away to get changed before the party that had been hastily organised for the team in celebration. He bounded up the stairs two at a time, spotting Em in the room before she’d even realised he was there. She stood, grinning and pulling him in for a kiss.

“I am so proud of you. So fucking proud of you. You did that and you proved it to everyone and you are amazing. Well done, Danny.” He pulled her for a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as he got the courage to say that they had to cancel everything.

“I need to get in touch with the villa to-“

“I called them earlier to cancel. Turns out the owner is a F1 fan and had put two and two together for when you rented it and your surname. He said congratulations and to call back whenever to rent it out again, there’s no problem. And I cancelled the flight back from Milan to London on Friday. Anything else you need?”

To tell her that he’s completely in love with her. But Emmy deserved better than that. She deserved better than when he was still sweaty after a race because he’d only had a rinse off shower to get the champagne off. She deserved a big gesture, but one somewhere private because if he did it in public she’d be too embarrassed. Just because this plan was ruined didn’t mean it was all bad.

Maybe Austin, the two of them in a city they loved. They were staying back an extra night or two to enjoy it. Or at the farm over Christmas when they got to go home together. After a day of seeing their family. That would be the right way to tell Emmy everything. He’d get down on one knee in their living room with her ring and she’d say yes, he knew her.

“You know, right?” His voice was thick. The tears he wanted to let out were close but he couldn’t start crying or he wouldn’t stop.

“I know. You know too?”

“I really know. C’mon. There’s a party in a couple of hours, let’s go change and shower and maybe nap for an hour.”

He pulled a clean shirt on before picking up his bag, holding his hand out for Emmy to take. At that time of night the paddock was deserted and he didn’t care who saw. If he didn’t get to tell his girl everything this week then he definitely got to hold her fucking hand leaving. He didn't care about the McLaren cameras in his face. He'd already had to give up enough with her this weekend, they didn't get this too.

-

Taglist.

@dr3lover @sabrinaselina55 @majx00 @tall-tanned-tattoo @lovingdennishauger @lauehr @msolbesg @f1medlife @idkwtfimdoing2 @leclercsbae @hiphopdancer101universe @mehrmonga @lewispool @saintandrea-droidsmuggler @coldheartedmar @sugarbabygirlofdaddy @nonsensical-nonce @a-distantdreamer @tita010 @leslizzle @javden @mloyer @magical-imagination-kgp @danarysstormborn @kakorrhaphiphobia @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @elizanav @neiich @luckyladycreator2 @scotlynaurora @belledawnidk

[familyvideostevie]

𝟭𝟮 𝗱𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗰𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗺𝗮𝘀: 𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗲𝗹𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 

day eleven: secret santa with steve | fluff, friends to lovers, 1.8k 12 days of christmas masterlist

Steve opens his front door and his smile makes your face feel hot immediately. It's getting really tedious, being in love with him, And the holidays haven't made it any better -- everything you do together as friends feels like a date and you've dodged so much mistletoe you never want to see a sprig again. 

"Am I the last one?" you ask him as he gives you a brief hug and takes your coat. Your gift is hidden in a bag dangling from your fingers. 

"Yeah, but I've only just got them all to sit down, so you're just in time." This is your first year participating in the Secret Santa exchange with everyone else, and you're a little nervous, not in the least because it's his name that you drew. And in addition to the holidays exacerbating your feelings for Steve ,your friends haven't been a great help, either. Everyone has been teasing you about it for months and on days when you're feeling optimistic you're pretty sure Steve is getting the same treatment. You allow yourself to consider that he likes you, too. But most days the thought of confessing to him and being rejected and losing your friendship is too much, so you keep your mouth shut and swallow your affection.

"How did you manage that?" you ask. He purses his lips and runs a hand through his hair. The sleeves of his sweater are a little too long for him, the cuffs dangling to the edges of his fingers. You want to hug him again. 

"Promised them hot chocolate after it's over." You laugh and Steve beams like you've given him a gift. "Which you're going to help with," he adds, trying to sound stern. You scoff and make your way into the living room where the rest of your friends are in a wonky circle. Small bags and wrapped packages are piled in the center, each addressed to someone in the room. You shuffle them around and try to bury yours in the pile without showing it too much.

"You took forever," Mike says. "Eddie won't stop guessing who has him." The metalhead shrugs from his place on the couch, unbothered. 

"Not my fault you're easy to rile up, Wheeler." Steve appears behind you, letting his hand rest on the small of your back for just a moment before you head to a spot on the floor next to Robin. She eyes you and you refuse to meet her gaze. 

"How are we doing this?" Nancy asks.

"Someone starts and opens theirs and then guesses who gave it to them," Will says. "And when they get it right that person goes next."

Max is eyeing a very round package on the edge of the pile with a furrow in her brows. "Who goes first?"

"Steve," Robin says, a little too innocently. "Host goes first." Everyone titters a little but no one objects. 

"Uh, sure," he says. He digs through the pile in the middle before pulling out a square wrapped in blue paper with his name on it. "I think it's a baseball," he says, getting laughs and groans. 

"That was terrible, Harrington," Eddie says. "Truly awful."

"Bite me, Munson," Steve shoots back, taking his package and plopping on the couch across the circle from you. 

"Not my job," Eddie mumbles. The kids dissolve into giggles and you suddenly find your fingernails fascinating as Steve opens his present carefully, sliding his fingers underneath the taped seams to avoid tearing the paper. You didn't know he'd be so careful with it, so methodical. It makes your stomach flutter. 

"Oh, shit," he says when he sees what it is. "No way!" 

"Well, are you gonna show us?" Max asks. Why is she looking at you like that? She's going to give you away! Steve holds up the now-unwrapped album: Bruce Springsteen Live: 1975-1985. It's more a box than a sleeve, considering it's got five LPs inside. 

Jonathan whistles. "Didn't that just come out?" he asks. Steve nods, eyes raking over the cover as he turns it over with careful hands.

"Those are impossible to get," Eddie adds. "Record shop has been sold out for weeks."

Eddie is right. You had to beg the guy at the store to save one for you over a month ago. It cost more than you'd like to admit but you knew that Steve would love it and you were right. The look on his face is worth every penny. And then he looks up and right at you. You have no idea how he can tell you got it for him, but he's right. 

"You," he says. His tone makes you feel hot all over. The room seems to hold its breath and then you nod and everyone cheers. 

"Got it in one," Lucas says. "Wonder how he did that." Max elbows him. 

"Your turn," Robin says. You stand and dig in the pile for yourself until you find a soft package wrapped in green plaid with a kind of droopy white ribbon bow. You hold it up as you settled back into your spot and everyone oohs and awws appropriately. 

As soon as you tear the paper you feel your throat grow thick. 

"What is it?" El asks. You rip off the rest of the paper and inhale sharply as you realize what you're holding. 

"It's my scarf," you say quietly. Well, it's a newer version of the scarf that you wear all the time but lost a few weeks ago. 

Steve is the only person you told that you lost it. 

"Don't you have one just like that?" Dustin asks. "Kinda lame to get another."

"No," you say, clearing your throat so your voice sounds less hoarse. "No, I used to. But I lost it."

"It's pretty," Nancy said kindly. "Do you want to guess?"

You don't hesitate. "Steve," you say. You finally look at him and see that he's leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, watching you intensely. He blinks a few times and then rubs the back of his neck. Is it blushing?

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I'm glad you like it--"

"Crazy how you guys got each other, right?" Lucas says. Max elbows him again. "Who goes now?"

You realize then that it's been rigged. You and Steve were supposed to get each other so that your friends could see what you'd do, could watch this embarrassment play out in front of them. But they aren't cruel, so the only reason they'd do that was if they thought you both needed some nudging. So, that must mean...

You wish you could say that you pay attention to how the rest of the exchange goes. But you don't, not really. You just stroke your scarf and try not to stare too hard at Steve and fail for the most part. Your stomach feels full of butterflies and you can't believe he figured out how to find a scarf that looks exactly the same and you want to kiss him so badly you wonder how much longer you can bear not telling him so. 

Lucky for you the opportunity to do so arrives quickly. All the presents are exchanged and everyone is toying with their new items and gossiping, so when Steve stands to say he's going to start the hot chocolate, no one even blinks. And when you stand to go with him to the kitchen to help, no one says a word. 

And then you're in the kitchen, alone. 

You don't help much, instead hopping up to sit on the counter and watching as Steve pulls out a huge sauce pan and pours milk into it, setting it on the stove so that it'll warm up.

"So," he says, turning to you once he's done and crossing his arms. "Thank you for the records. It's too much, but--"

"It's not too much," you interrupt him. "I know you've wanted them ever since it was announced they'd be doing the collection." 

"You kept the secret pretty well," he says. "I don't even remember telling you that." He steps forwards and you move your knees so that he can stand in the v of your legs. His gaze is so intense you swallow. 

"You kept yours pretty well, too," you say, softer. Your hands tug on the hem of your sweater. You're starting to get worried that you'll reach out and touch him if you don't keep them occupied. "The scarf, Steve--"

"Is such a good color for you," he says. "I know you loved the other one." You hum and look away from him. "So, we're good at keeping secrets. Got any others you want to spill?"

He steps even closer, his hips hitting the counter and your knees brushing his belt. He keeps his arms crosses, still, but he's so close you can see his pupils dilate. You look down at your own hands. "Cause I've got one," he says. "I think it was rigged."

"You do?"

"I do," he says. Laughter trickles in from the other room but Steve doesn't move.

"Why?" Your words sound more like breath than anything else, but Steve understands. He always does. 

"I can think of a few reasons," he says softly. Then there's a slight pressure on your chin and you realize he's guiding it up with the knuckle of his pointer finger. "Can't you?"

"Yeah," you admit. He doesn't move his hand, keeping it touching your face, and you feel him put the other one on your knee. You cover it with one of your own and it's his turn to gasp a little. But he quickly recovers and smiles softly, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

"Wanna share with the class?" The Harrington charm is softer than it once was, and it worms its way into your heart and makes you feel like a million bucks because it's directed at you.

"You don't want to guess?" you say lightly. Steve is leaning forward now, inching closer and closer, but he's doing it so slowly.

"I don't think I have to," he says. "Do I?"

"Steve," you breathe. His hand moves from your chin to cup your jaw, thumb running over the corner of your mouth and up your cheek. You close your eyes and gently squeeze his hand. 

"Okay," he says softly. And then he's kissing you. He's kissing you right there in his kitchen, your knees digging into his hips, milk boiling on the stove, and everyone you love in the next room. He's kissing you and kissing you and kissing you and you clutch at his arm with your free hand and he pulls back a little before touching his forehead to yours. 

"Milk's probably ready," you say, eyes still closed. You feel his huff on your skin. 

"Just a second." His nose rubs against yours. "I'm enjoying my gift." A laugh bubbles out of you at his shameless flirting and you pull him in for a hug, burying your face in his neck. 

"They're gonna be smug," you say. You feel his chest rumble.

"Not as smug as me," he says. "I've got you."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here!

[mariaofdoranelle]

The Courtship Deception - Part 5: Hope

Fic masterlist

Written for @throneofglassmicrofics

I’m posting the next chapter tonight because it depends a lot on this one to make sense lol I need everyone’s memories fresh

Warnings: none

Words: 695

Rowan’s POV

“YOU SAID WHAT?” Fenrys screeched in Rowan’s kitchen, a bruschetta halfway into his mouth.

He shrugged. “I said no. I’ve known her for a week, Fen.”

His friend put his food back on the plate, eyebrows raised at him. “You don’t think she’s marriageable?”

“She’s very marriageable,” Rowan defended himself, two hands up in surrender. It was curious how protective Fenrys was of Aelin, so he asked, “Do you think she’s marriageable?”

“Very much, yes.”

Interesting. “Do you wish you were one of her suitors, Fen?”

He snorted. “Fuck, no. I mean, she’s great, but I’m not in love with her or anything like that.”

“My point exactly.”

Yes, Rowan would love to get to know her better and see where it goes, but he’s not marrying Aelin after knowing her for a week. Especially not after finally fleeing from his royal duties.

“Bullshit.” Fenrys had a shit-eating grin on. “You’re half in love with her already.”

Lies. Rowan was approximately one-fourth in love with her. Half in love was too much for a week. Aelin was incredible, and she definitely fucked him like he expected his future wife to do, but it was too much too soon.

He wanted to get to know her better, wait until the thought of not having her by his side was absolutely unbearable; then, he could see himself popping the question. Not in a storage closet, and out of a sweeter sort of desperation.

Rowan liked her—way too much. It was even safe to say that he was smitten, as much as he hated this word. But apart from a title he barely had, Rhoe also wanted an amount of money invested in Gala Airlines that Rowan definitely didn’t have.

He wasn’t a proper suitor, he didn’t feel ready to marry her so soon, but if he let this go, he’d lose her—it’d be torture to fall in love with someone else’s wife.

After objectively explaining his thoughts on the matter to Fenrys, the man sighed as if he carried the world on his shoulders.

“Fucking Mala, do I have to do everything around here?!”

Rowan tilted his head, trying to understand his friend’s distress. “What—“

Fenrys held up a hand to shut him up, halfway out the kitchen already. “Just leave it with me.”

˜˜

Fenrys’ POV

The next day, Fenrys got to work to a full desk of poorly-wrapped gifts.

He called his co-worker instantly. “Seriously, Lor?”

Lorcan grunted, already knowing what this is about. “Not my job, Pup.”

He groaned, getting to work before work even started. Every single one of Aelin’s packages were to be checked before sent to her, but would it kill Lorcan to re-wrap the gifts nicely? You don’t send a half-closed Louboutin shoebox because you won’t bother to fit the shoes back in nicely, for Mala’s sake.

Fenrys works like a dog day and night, and does everyone ever recognize it? Absolutely not. His coworkers thought he had it easy because he let Aelin do things she wasn’t supposed to. As if. Guarding her regularly was hard, but imagine trying to protect a heiress gone rogue.

While he worked on the gifts, Fenrys did a little inspection to check which ones she’d like, and which ones would give her the ick. He removed the cards from the few ones that would certainly be her favorites.

Brimmed with designer bags, he managed the stairs to Aelin’s room, but had to knock on the door with his feet. “A package awaits your reception, Your Highness!”

When Aelin opened the door, her smile faltered as she notices the gifts—or who they were from. She opened one by one before asking, “The ones without the name tag?”

He grinned. “You’ll have to guess, Princess.”

From the way her eyes lit up, Fenrys made a mental note to slap Rowan later. He was penniless, yes, but he needed to up his game asap.

Fenrys cleared his throat. “I won’t be available for brunch today, but I’m sure Lorcan will love to gossip over macarons with you,” he joked.

“Oh.” Aelin frowned. “What’re you up to?”

“Just something I need to fix.”

You can get notified when I update by either turning notifications on for @mariaofdoranelle-fics or entering my (sometimes glitchy) tag list!!

TAG LIST

I couldn’t tag the people in bold, sorry!

@aelinchocolatelover

@autumnbabylon

@bookcide

@booksandteaonarainydayislife

@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks

@courtofjurdan

@dreamer-133

@elentiyawhitethorn

@elizarikaallen

@emily-gsh

@empress-ofbloodshed

@fangirlprincess09

@goddess-aelin

@gracie-rosee

@leiawritesstories

@lululululululuop

@renxzs

@rowanaelinn

@s-uppertime

@sarahjswift

@staghorn-mountains

@superspiritfestival

@swankii-art-teacher

@thegreyj

@throneofus7

@violet-mermaid7

@wishfulimaginings

[anarcoqueer1994]

Still on a Steve likes Barbie kick and I'm going to keep putting that into the universe.

When Steve was 5 years old, he used to go to the store whenever his parents were in town, where they would buy him toys to make up for the fact that they were never there. It was back when they would still pretend they cared, feigning love between long bouts of absenteeism and moments of his fathers violent temper. He could get any 'boy' toy he wanted. Over the trips, he had gotten baseball stuff, a Fisher Price Farm set, a toy plane, Matchbox and Hot Wheel Cars; honestly, he had any toy a boy could want. But he wanted something else.

He would always pass the pink aisles filled with toys that were supposed to be for girls, and he was enthralled with one toy in particular. Nestled between the baby dolls and the easy bake ovens were pretty Barbie dolls with fantastic outfits and soft brushable hair. And he wanted one so badly. He would always ask for one and every time he was met with harsh words from his father. "Steven, don't be a pansy. Boys don't like Barbies unless they are sissies. Are you a sissy, Steven? Do you want your friends at school to find out?"

Steve always shakes his head, dejected. He then goes and picks out a boy toy, a toy his dad won't be mad at him about. But one day, something changes. One of the nice women who worked at the store, Mrs. Munson, had watched as Steve continuously was shot down by his father . She felt bad for him, so that day, as she checks them out, she slips a Growing Hair Barbie into the bag discretly along with the Lincoln Logs, before handing little Steve the bag, winking kindly at him as she does.

And Steve immediately goes home and runs up to his room, hiding the packaging under his bed before playing with the doll. He loved her hair and dress, and everything about her. She was glamorous and beautiful, everything Steve wanted.

He would sneak her with him everywhere, even slipping her in his backpack when he would go to the playground. Today was one of those days, going to the park with his nanny, as his parents were in Chicago. He would run and hide behind a tree, out of sight from his nanny, where he could play quietly with the doll.

He is so wrapped up in his game that he doesn't notice someone walking up next to them until they sit down on the ground beside them. Steve looks over to see a boy from his school in the grade above him. Panic fills his face as he tries to hide the doll. Even back then, his father instilled shame in him whenever he was doing something that wasn't traditionally masculine.

But boy smiles at him, one tooth missing from where the baby tooth fell out. "Hi, I'm Eddie. Can me and my dragon," he motions to the plastic figure in his hand, "play with you? Your doll looks cool and maybe can be a princess. Or knight, or a knight princess." Eddie starts to ramble.

Steve scrunches up him nose, confused that the other boy isn't making fun of him. "Wait, you wanna play with me and my Barbie, even though I'm a boy?"

"Yea! It gets lonely playing by myself and you looked like you were having fun!"

"Oh." Steve looks down, unsure how to feel. He really wants to play but what if the other boy just is playing a joke on him. "My dad says Barbie is a girls toy."

Eddie laughs. "My dad says that junk too, but my mommy says toys are for everyone, no matter what. We can play with whatever. So can we play, um...I forgot to ask your name?"

Steve can't help but smile at the kind words. "Sure! And I'm Steve. Oh and Barbie is definitely a princess knight and she is going slay your dragon!" He giggles.

The boys spend the rest of the afternoon playing together until his nanny calls for him. On the bench near her, he sees the lady from the store and watches as Eddie leaves with her.

They play again the next few times they are at the playground, always hiding the Barbie from the nanny so he doesn't get in trouble. But Steve loves it, making up adventures for Steve’s Barbie and Eddie’s dragon. Steve thinks Eddie could be his best friend.

One day, though, his parents are actually in town, and they make a show of taking him to go and play instead of the nanny. He doesn't think anything of it. They do this all the time to show other people they care. Steve and Eddie fall into their regular routine, but Mr. Harrington seems far more observant of Steve than the nanny, always acutely aware of Steve's actions so he can meet sure his son does not embarrass him.

He can see Steve's legs sticking out from behind the tree and the legs of another boy. He decides to walk closer to "check on" (read: make sure he isn't hanging out with the wrong kids). Steve does not notice until he is being yanked up by the back of his collar, fear filling his eyes as he looks at Eddie. He drops the doll out of panic.

"Steven Michael Harrington, what the fuck are you playing with?" His voice is low but stern.

"I...I..." Steve begins to stutter, a tear forms in his eye.

"You're not that stupid boy, answer me." His father is still speaking with gridded teeth.

"A Barbie, sir." He whispers.

"Where did you that?" His dad presses

"I...." Steve looks around, doesn't want to get Eddie’s mom in trouble, and is unsure what to say as he stands in front of his father scared.

"I gave it to him. It's mine." Eddie lies before Steve can say anything, watching what is happening, seeing the same fear in Steve’s face that he has felt when his dad has one too many drinks.

Steve goes to speak, but before he can, Mr. Harrington is pulling Steve away, leaving the doll abandoned on the ground. He yells out "Do not talk to my son anymore." Steve tries to protest, but his dad just grips his hand tighter around his wrist, shutting him up.

Eddie goes home with the doll that night, knowing Steve won't be allowed to talk to him anymore. He spends the night crying on his mother's lap, as Steve cries alone in his room over the loss of his first friend and his special doll.

~~

Years passed, and they don't talk, Steve too scare when he was younger to disappoint his dad, and by the time he is old enough to stand up for himself, he thinks iits too late. Things change, the Harrington parents being around less and less, Eddie’s mother passing, and his uncle Wayne taking him in. Steve grows into the all-American boy his father wanted him to be, and Eddie leans more and more into letting his freak flag fly.

But then the upside-down happens, and Steve grows some .ore, and then there was Spring break, and he is running with Eddie’s near lifeless body out of there, barely getting him to the hospital in time. But Eddie recovers, and they grow close again.

Everyone around them can see their mutual crush, but it is Eddie who makes the first move. Nearly 5 months after Vecna, Steve finds a shoe box wrapped in newspaper on his front porch. The note attached reads

"Would you still be my princess-knight? Maybe we can try our play dates again, except maybe we make it a real date?-Eddie"

When Steve opens the box, inside is his original Barbie from all those years ago with a pretty pink rose. Eddie had kept it all this time. He can feel a tear rolling down his cheek. Eddie cared enough to keep her.

It doesn’t take long before Steve is heading to Eddie's, ready to show him how appreciative he is.

[fragileizywriting]

she is nearly the splitting image of her mother, with dark hair and shining eyes, and when she first approaches, hands hidden behind her back, mischievious in a way that reminds him so dearly of adrien, luka can't help but smile.

"hi, emma."

"hi, bampas!"

he picks her up before she can duck out of his grasp, and just like the old man he is, a grunt comes out of him when he moves back to sit in his dining chair. laughter peels out of her like it's the funniest thing she's ever heard.

she's a squirmer, made a little bit harder to hold because her dress balloons out similar to the shape of a cupcake— her shoes are shiny and rather tough on his pants, with tiny ridiculous buckles that he spends a good time fussing with to get on her in the mornings when it's his turn to dress her, and emma wants to choose to wear a dress. it was adrien's turn this time, which is why her socks are frilly and her mary janes are polished and she's wearing a plastic hairband, because adrien doesn't know how to fix her bangs in a way that marinette makes look simple.

"what are you up to?" he asks her. she's still small enough where she only needs to sit on one of his thighs. "are you hungry? it's almost dinner time."

"not yet! i have something for you!" her voice is tinny like a house sparrow, and one of her hands touches his wrist. in her other, a little package, wrapped hastily with tissue paper and a significant amount of clear tape. "i gave presents to papa and mama, already. i couldn't find you, but mama said you'd be in here."

the princess is never alone. not only is it dangerous to her, but it is also dangerous to everyone else; she's not in control of her magic, not yet, and though she's good at glamour, she's not good at everything else. a sneeze could make something catch fire. they've already gotten the unfortunate problem where adrien's books will disappear if she says something innocuous. which is why when luka looks up, there is a caretaker all the way at the doorframe, attempting to be quiet and out of the way— but luka wasn't raised in a place where servers blended into the landscape of a room, so he greets them, and all the while emma continues to stir in anticipation.

"where'd you get me a present from? school?"

"today was money day! i learned how to use money."

"oh, yeah?"

"it was fun!"

she goes on to explain the little room the class had been taken to, with many colorful books and low tables filled with baskets of stuff. pencils, rulers, erasers, shiny things that caught her eyes— all of it were accessible provided they had enough money— he doesn't recall ever seeing this letter from the school, but then again, it was probably marinette that filled it out. he knows that if adrien had seen the envelope, he would've sent far too much money, because he spoils their child like the princess she is. then, they would take their little basket to the cash register, where every cent is counted, right up to the total.

all that to say... "i got you something!"

"what'd you get me?"

"open it!" she says with a giggle. "please? i want you to open it."

i want bampas to open it!

well, that's an easy contract.

he struggles a bit, because the tape is sticky and the tissue paper is lilac colored— her favorite color, because it's the color that jules has in her wings— but inevitably he finds himself unwrapping it to reveal a little, tiny, plastic kalimba.

oh.

"oh," luka says, picking it up. it's smaller than his palm, child sized, with bigger tines made for children learning a new instrument, rainbow colored to get their attention. it's perfect. "emma... this is beautiful."

she's glowing like a star. "do you like it?"

"i love it."

[pupyr0arz]

more random Gaz food. He’s trans btw. Is this dubcon? Probably. TLDR Kyle wants you two to have a baby and figures it’s best to ask forgiveness than ask permission. Also he doesn’t plan to ask for forgiveness. Accidents happen

You’re so trusting, so open and earnest. Kyle finds it beautiful, the way you lean into the relationship with a sigh of relief, settling down so easily he knows you feel the gentle intertwining in your soul just the same as he does. It’s really the only difference between the two of you, you offer everything about yourself up on a silver platter for Kyle, Kyle who is made a drooling, ravenous beast at the sight of you, and he hides himself under the bed and in the bug he tucks into your clothes. You’re just too naive, Kyle has seen too much of the world to let you get hurt by it. 

He doesn’t plan to lie to you forever. He tucks away his claws and dulls his teeth. He’ll mask the smoke and stench of blood with lavender. He would for every day of his life without a hint of regret for you, but Kyle is going to tell gou everything one day, but people jump to conclusions. He doesn’t blame you, he doesn’t not trust you either, he just understands that you’re not working from a fully informed position and you might, god forbid, do something rash.

Kyle has a day or two when he begins preparations for the first attempt. He’s let you out of the house, off to complete errands with a cute smile on your face and a kiss to both your cheeks, and he waits at the door with baited breath until the sounds of your footsteps fade away. When the hallway falls silent he shuts the door with a click and takes a deep, steadying breath. 

The two of you keep your condoms in the dresser besides the bed, and he combs the house in search of any other, even a stray one between the couch cushions. The extras are tossed out, wrapped up in toilet paper and hidden in other trash in case he doesn’t get the chance to bring it to the dumpster himself. He takes a safety pin and sits on the bed, cross cross apple sauce, and pokes holes in them, seven in each in a little star shape. You haven’t bought spermicidal condoms in a while now, Kyle’s persistent complaints about getting uncomfortable pains and horror stories about UTIs and rashes had made you toss out the whole package out of worry.

It warms his heart to see you so considerate of his health and comfort, and he doesn’t see the harm in indulging a reward for you, swallowing until you tear the sheets with your nails. You don’t notice, too preoccupied with the way Kyle is cleaning your cock with wide sweeps of his tongue, but he finds it cute anyways.

It’s pretty simple for him to lie about his own fertility. He usually takes his pills before his morning run while you putter around in the kitchen. Poor, sweet, trusting you, you don’t even think about touching the bottle, or keeping track yourself. The app he kept on his phone is deleted without fanfare, and honestly it just drives home how necessary this all is. How easy it would be for someone else to take advantage of you, and your sweet easy nature. Kyle is just planning for both of your futures.

[growup-thatbeautiful]

little bitty jovie love 🥺 with tan looking like this pre-bullet proof. this was not what i was planning on writing, it wasn’t supposed to be soft dad tan loll

warnings: reader is a mom, being tired, cuddling, sharing a bed

the bedroom is lit gently by the lamps on your bedside table, a golden glow casting light shadows across the walls. tangerine’s reading in bed, his favorite scratchy blanket tossed over his shoulder. the thin fabric of his tank top is riding up above his sweatpants, exposing a strip of skin that you soak in.

“hey,” you greet him softly. “she’s not going back down” you had gotten out of bed a few minutes ago to check on a crying jovie, only to find that she had no intention of going back to sleep without being fed, burped, and properly doted on. luckily, no one is more willing to do that than tan.

tangerine hums and looks up at you, his eyes softening when he sees you carrying jovie in your arms. she’s fussy, like it seems she always is, but he doesn’t care one bit. he simply reaches his arms out and takes her, cradling her against his chest.

“how’s my girl?” he coos, grinning at her. it’s a smile that’s reserved just for those who really know him. you’re lucky enough to be one of those people. “givin’ mum a headache yet?”

“she could never,” you protest. “not our little angel.” you don’t have to convince tan; he sees no flaw in jovie already.

“did you feed her?” he asks.

you nod and settle in bed next to him, squeezing yourself underneath his unoccupied arm. instinctively, he kisses you on the forehead and leans into you. there’s a tired edge to your voice when you speak. “she’s just angry for no reason.”

it’s not like you thought it was going to be easy, but it’s still harder than you thought it would be. sure, you’ve taken bullets through your stomach and knives to almost every blood-filled part of your body, but this is different. it’s a different, personal level that you didn’t know you were still capable of. one that even tan, for all that you love him, never brought out.

before you actually met jovie, you severely underestimated the lengths you would go to keep her safe, though. now, it’s almost all you can think about. call it a hazard of your profession, but everything feels so unsafe now.

everything except for him, that is.

that’s not to say it’s easy with tan. he’s stubborn (just like you) and he gets angry (just like you) and he’s got a hell of a short fuse (…just like you) but he’s always there at the end of the day. when it matters. when you and jovie need him.

it may seem naive to think that he’s a good man. you know for a fact that he isn’t; you’ve seen proof that he’s violent and angry and fucked up. but you’re all of those things too, just wrapped in a different package.

the thing is, there’s no one else you could have this with. no one who’s as violent or angry who could actually do what’s needed to be done to protect someone like you. so, when you fall asleep underneath his arm, your cheek pressed against his chest, you can sleep easily.

he may not be a good man, but he’s a good father and good husband. what more could you want?

taglist loves: @venusthepirate @shadows-of-nyx x @syd-vixious @thefloatingpickle @sallyp-53 @fictionalcomforts @s-haa @the-bisaster @phoenixhits @wee-little-mouse @cupofstarss @eefos @slut-f0r-u @lotustv @kpopgirlbtssvt @amyg1509 @tangerinesgf @earth-elemental18 @theredvelvetbitch (also if you guys don’t want to be tagged anymore cause i’m posting a lot of bullet proof stuff just lmk!)

[mistydeyes]

Hallooo :DD I wonder if your pairings are still open so could I gracefully have a COD pairing? Ty<33

Pronouns: She / They

Appearance: Medium black hair with dark brown eyes(almost looks like black—) a thin like hourglass body shape. 5'5(HELP...) Mostly wearing turtlenecks, hoodies, n' oversized stuff.

Personality: I am an introvert and sometimes panics when ever I talk to someone I don't know. I keep myself reserved and dislike going out as much. When you get to know me better I lean onto the extroverted side and likes showing you stuff I made. A very moody person at times and my friends, based on what they say, I am a chaotic yet mother like friend. I am very easy to talk to and easygoing, I overthink a lot which usually leads to panic attacks. My friend say I laugh at the wrong time and I am not so proud of that—I am also easily distracted and place my focus on something I like rather than something I dislike. I could be manipulative at times as well as having trust issues because of past trauma :')). I sometimes have a flirting demeanor and tons of playful flirting to my best/friends and sometimes I come off as secretive based on my friends words. I prefer to care for my friends other than myself, once again trauma, and I seem to be a trustworthy friend. I have a goldfish memory which shocks me hoe much I know myself despite forgetting everything from the apat 3 hours. Also I'm very artistic! But I still suck at it smh 😔

Hobbies, Interests, work(?):

Drawing, Listening to music, Singing, and dancing! My interests are probably painting, collecting random stuff I found, playing the piano, and learning new languages! (I wanna be bilingual) I favor dogs a lot and probably adopt every dog i see which is a problem cause I can't handle so much 😭 I am currently studying in psych! Becoming an actual therapist because my friends need help, so do I.

John Price

How you met: Civilian You weren't sure what to tell people when they asked how you and John met. Technically, you didn't meet face to face until about three months after you stayed talking. You were connected through a friend of a friend due to your hobby of painting and him wanting to have a new landscape piece of artwork for his flat.

When you first heard of the request, you thought it would be simple commission. However when you talked to John and he revealed his laundry list of details, you knew this would not be something you could complete overnight. He wanted a specific landscape of a lake with trees and rolling mountains but also asked for details such as a man fishing in a boat and wildlife poking through the trees. If that wasn't bad enough, he also wanted it to be gigantic, a piece that he could display in the main foyer. If he wasn't so kind with your timeline and also the payment wasn't lucrative, you would have referred him to someone else. But unfortunately, you found yourself continuously buying paints and moving furniture around to fit the gigantic canvas in your flat. After exactly three months, you sent John a picture and agreed he would pick it up the following week. The day came and you heard your doorbell ring. You excitedly ran down the stairs to see your client in person. "John, so nice to finally meet you," you greeted as he shook your hand. "Can't thank you enough," he continued with a smile, "it was exactly how I remembered it." "Oh so this wasn't just something you found inspiration for online?" you questioned as you led him to the wrapped and packaged painting. "No, it was actually something I remembered when my Grandad used to take me fishing as a young lad," he said as you helped him to carry the large item to his car. "Well, I was happy to make that a reality for you," you replied and you both shared a tender moment. When you finally managed to get it secure on the bed of a truck, John asked if he could treat you to a meal. Maybe it was because you wanted to learn more about his past, but you readily agreed and the rest is history.

A peek into your relationship: "Y/N, we can't," John said as he tried to lead you away from the window. "But sweetheart, look at their eyes," you pleaded as you leaned down and held a hand to the window. The absolute sweetest English terrier was looking back at you and excitedly wagging his tail. John knew he was doomed as you looked at him and practically pleaded just to stop in the shop. "It's just to say hi," you promised as you entered but that was a complete lie as you fell in love with the excited puppy running around you and almost jumping into your arms. John tried to supply you all the reasons why you couldn't adopt a dog. "You don't time!" "Yes I do, I'm done with uni and plus I specialize in virtual therapy." "What if you forget to feed him?" "John, I have a goldfish memory but I would like to think I would remember to feed a pet that's right in front of me." "It doesn't make for a good guard dog" "Okay fair, but thats why I have you." No matter what he said, you always had an answer. Plus, your fiancé could deny that he loved the small pup as it pawed at his leg. With a sigh, he said you could adopt him and you peppered him with thousands of kisses. While John had to now buy all the amenities for a new pet, it was a noble sacrifice to see you so happy.

[paperrretro]

LIGHTSTRUCK | pt. 11

Pairing: Merlin x Reader

Word Count: 1,960 words

Warnings: None

Summary: Your father accepts a position as Prince Merlin’s magic tutor, and you are unceremoniously dragged along.

(Or, pieces of your unspectacular life in and out of the royal palace, and how a certain idiotic prince somehow gets wrapped up in it either way.)

read on quotev | read on ao3

The front door hardly cracks open before you push your way into the F7’s home, hand buried in your satchel to grope around for the five test tubes of the day.  

“So I’ve been doing research on transformative magic, and I’m gonna need some blood –”

“[Y/n] –”

“Not a lot, just half a tube so I can add it to one of the solutions.” You find all of the tubes and pull them out, followed by your collapsible test tube rack, and set everything on the coffee table in the living room. Now to find your needle and syringe. “If you’re okay with giving more, that’d be better, but –”

“[Y/n]!”

Hans snaps his fingers in front of your face. You tear your gaze away from the depths of your satchel to glare at him.

“What?”

He fixes you with a desperate look, eyes darting towards the couch. You slowly follow his gaze.

There is a taller, unfamiliar person in the living room.

“We have a very special guest.”

It’s no joke. Squished in between Jack and Pino is literally the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen. Shiny-soft brown hair, clear skin, slim and dainty figure, the whole package. And she looks very concerned.

“Oh.” You stare. “Who are you?”

(Hans slaps a hand against his forehead.)

The girl’s surprised expression gives way to an easy smile as she stands up. “Red Shoes,” says Red Shoes, extending a hand. You glance down at her shoes. They are, in fact, red. She must be from a Western Kingdom. “Um, it’s nice to meet you? [Y/n], right?”

You nod, more perplexed by the minute. Her hand remains extended, and it suddenly occurs to you that you’re supposed to shake it. So you do, quickly and briefly. “Sorry. Are you cursed too, or something?”

Her brow furrows. “… ‘Too’?”

“Aha, ha, HA,” Jack laughs loudly and runs over to you, pushing you towards the kitchen. “Cursed! You’re so funny, mon ami. Obviously, she’s not, and obviously, we’re not, either. How could you ask that of someone you just met? It’s not polite.”

“Well, why else would she be here –”

“Let us catch you up.” With a grunt, Jack and Hans shove you into the kitchen and slam the door shut. Jack drops the façade and shakes you. “Do not ruin this for me!”

“Who is she?” you ask him with a frown. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing! She’s the most beautiful woman we’ve ever laid eyes on, and she doesn’t hate us!” Hans whispers, pulling at his hair in excitement. “She could break the curse!”

Your frown deepens. “I’m already working on it. You don’t need to bribe her.”

Jack clicks his tongue. “Not bribe her,” he admonishes, rolling his eyes. “Woo her. We’re not barbarians. And no offense, but this way is going to be less painful for all of us.”

“And quicker.” Hans scratches the back of his head when you look down at him, slightly hurt. “I’m sorry, [Y/n], but you know that the most certain way to break curses is to follow the rules. We appreciate everything you’ve done for us, but it’s been a year already.”

Something small and ugly sprouts in your chest; you’re not quite sure what it is, but you don’t like it. You try to bury the feeling.

Less painful. Quicker, they say.

What you hear is that they don’t need you. And the voice that says it doesn’t belong to either of them.

Jack continues. “She needs our help as well, so it’s not like we’re taking advantage of her.”

You perk up, latching onto the information like a leech. “So she is cursed. I can help her, too. What is it?”

Hans shakes his head with a sigh.

He explains the whole thing to you, how Red Shoes crashed into their home and asked for their help to find her father, as well as how none (none! Jack had exclaimed in disbelief) of them are really her type in their true forms. She seems to have a liking for short and green, for some reason. No curse, just a regular old royal kidnapping.

You’re sorely disappointed after Hans finishes.

“You really think if she kisses one of you, you’ll turn back?” you ask.

“Most likely. I mean, she’s gorgeous. We just have to get her to like us back.”

Your arms cross. “And what does your fearless leader think of this whole thing?”

Probably coming up with ways to win her over as we speak.

“We’re all on the same page. It’s just a matter of who gets kissed first,” Hans replies. He fiddles with his fingers and looks toward the closed door. “We should come out now. I don’t want to keep her waiting.”

As the three of you file back into the living room, you spot none other than Fearless Leader himself. He’s leaning against the front of the couch, one hand on the couch cushion next to Red Shoes to prop himself up, talking to her about something or other. And the look on his face while he does so – oh, you know that look. Nothing good has ever come out of that.

“[Y/n]!” Red Shoes brightens as you approach, and you see how Merlin’s face falls when her attention is drawn away from him. “Merlin was just telling me about how you guys grew up together. That’s so sweet.”

Sweet isn’t the word you’d use to describe his presence in your childhood, but you nod anyway. “What’d he tell you?”

“About how your father taught him magic, and how Merlin would help you outside of lessons.” (“Oh,” you say, catching Merlin’s eye. He shrugs. You resist the urge to punt him into next Tuesday.) “You guys must’ve had so much fun. When I was little, I used to pretend I had magic.”

“It’s just something some people are born with,” you respond. “It doesn’t make anybody special.”

“It makes them a little bit special,” Merlin counters. “I mean, the extra responsibility to protect, and all. Not that we’re better than everyone else.”

“Yeah.” Your tone is flat.

He coughs, turning back to Red Shoes. “Anyway, we used to spar quite a bit when we were kids. Would you like a demonstration?”

Oh, he did not.

Red Shoes’ eyes light up. “A magic spar? That’d be so cool. Only if both of you want to, though.”

Merlin says your name in a questioning, coaxing tone, and you glare at him. “You did say that you’d spar with me sometime, remember?”

“No,” you lie. But then you make the mistake of glancing over at Red Shoes. She looks absolutely pumped up, and you realize that disappointing someone as nice as her would be like kicking a puppy. Your next words come out through gritted teeth. “But I guess I could use the practice anyway.”

“You could.” Merlin grins, elbowing your leg as he walks past you towards the door. “Anybody else want to watch?”

“I place my bets on Merlin!” Pino says as he runs outside, and you wither.

“Me too!” says Noki.

“Five gold pieces!” adds Kio.

“Thanks for the votes of confidence,” you grumble, pulling out your packet of talismans as you follow close behind.

“I’d root for you, but sadly, I am broke,” Hans says in an obvious effort to comfort you.

“Sure.”

You don’t know what’s worse, Merlin going easy on you or him absolutely destroying you in front of everyone else.

Either way, you know that you’ll lose.

In the clearing in front of the F7’s home, the triplets draw the boundaries for the spar. You take the side farthest from the edge and closest to the house. Merlin takes the other.

He makes a show of stretching and cracking his knuckles. “Ready?” he asks.

“Whenever you are,” you mutter, shifting into first form.

Merlin puts his hands together, and lightning bursts over him in a wide, majestic arc. He springs toward you.

You slam a talisman on the ground. Throw your arms up into the air. Water flies up from the paper and takes the brunt of Merlin’s attack. You redirect the crackling water towards him.

He dodges. Shoots a lightning bolt at your feet.

Your ankle rolls painfully as you jump out of the way, sparing a glance back at the scorched earth where you were once standing. “Hey!”

“Oh, come on. You can handle worse!” he shouts, already charging forward again. “With the way I am, we should be even now! Red Shoes, watch this!”

You just barely manage to duck his next lightning bolt. Thinking quickly, you feel for a specific piece of paper and pull it out just in time to counter the lightning spidering around his fist.

The ensuing blast sends both of you almost to the opposite edges of the arena.

Bones aching and head spinning, you push yourself up onto your feet, locating Merlin just as he recovers as well.

“Hey!” he protests angrily, brushing himself off. “That wasn’t an elemental talisman just now.”

“You can handle it,” you retort. “Don’t aim at my head!”

“Fine!”

Before you know it, Merlin’s behind you. You’re struck in the shoulder by something hot and painful.

Blue lightning.

When you turn around, there are cracks of it on his hands.

You grip your shoulder and swear loudly. It’s anger and hurt and frustration. When had he learned blue lightning?

“Got a few tricks up my sleeve, too.” Merlin shakes his hands out. He leans to the side to look behind you and grins, chest puffing out. His cheeks turn rosy.

Irritation strikes you like a fist.

He’s not even paying full attention to this spar. To fighting you. It’s all a show to impress Red Shoes.

And you don’t like it at all.

Why?

“I’m tapping out,” you announce, walking back towards the house.

“What?” Merlin runs after you. He grabs your wrist and tugs. “You can’t just quit! I was winning!”

“You did win because I’m tapping out,” you growl, shaking him off. “Don’t use me just to make yourself look good for a princess.”

His eyes move to your shoulder. “… Did it hurt that bad?”

The hesitance in his voice makes you stop only for a moment. You reach up defensively, fingers hovering over the burn. His magic buzzes underneath your skin.

It’s not the worst you’ve gotten from fighting Merlin, and you’ve got a salve that’ll heal it in no time. But you’re still hurt.

“No. I just need to go home now.”

“But why?”

“Obviously, you guys have a handle on your cu – situation. I have to fix my burn and brew some more potions.”

“We have some of your healing potions here.” He’s trying to get you to stay. You can’t believe it. “Let me just –”

“I’m going home,” you snap, closing your bag of talismans with finality.

Merlin flinches back, then glares at you. “Fine, then.”

Red Shoes calls out for you. You close your eyes and then open them again as she runs over, her eyes wide and worried. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I tapped out. Merlin won.” You nod at her. Despite your wounded pride, you can’t bring yourself to be angry at her. She’s so good it’s infuriating. “I have to go now, so I’ll see you around, Red Shoes.”

“Oh.” She seems like she wants to say something more, but just smiles instead. “Okay … well, see you, then. The spar was really cool to watch!”

“Yep.”

You leave. The guys and Red Shoes bid goodbye to you, but you only return it half-heartedly. The walk back to your shop is miserable.

Whatever it is you’re feeling, you’ve got to get over it and fast.

—

Part: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve

[spacecadet-ticklesinspace]

Christmas Sniffles: Chapter 3

Summary: Right around the holidays, Peter 1 gets sick.

Never was MJ so glad to have an extra day off around the holidays. She now had an extra day to prep the Christmas cookies she had promised to bring to Peter 2's church when they went caroling tomorrow and now had an extra day to take care of Peter 1. She had been awakened by her husband kissing her forehead before he left to go to Otto's lab to help the older scientist wrap up a few things before being free for the holidays.

However, with Peter 2 gone, MJ had to juggle both the role of chef and caretaker. Thankfully the youngest seemed content to quietly watch Christmas movies and while cuddling with May Bear. During one of MJ's breaks, the two watched the newer Grinch movie and Peter 1 started giggling.

The older woman smiled. "The Grinch is pretty good huh?"

"Y-yeah. Hehe reminds me ohof Dr. Strange."

MJ giggled as she stroked Peter 1's hair. Thankfully, he seemed a little cooler and even had a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. However, his cough was most concerning. It was harsh and rattling.

Another timer sounded from the kitchen. As MJ hurried to the kitchen to check the next batch of cookies, there was a knock on the door.

She quickly opened it. "Oh! Hi Harry! Come on in."

Harry stepped inside, but before he could respond, a timer went off in the kitchen.

"Shoot! I'll be right back. Make yourself at home Harry!"

MJ hurried into the kitchen, leaving Harry alone in the entry way.

"Hi Harry," a voice called out.

The older man left his packages on the entry way table and stepped into the living room. He grinned when he found Peter 1 on the couch. "Hey Pete. How's it going?"

One coughed in response.

"Oh, that doesn't sound good."

The youngest Peter shrank into his shoulders. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize Pete. It happens to the best of us." Harry placed the back of his head on Peter 1's forehead

One pulled away. "I got a cold."

"I noticed. You gonna be okay?"

One nodded. "Yeah I'm good."

Harry moved to sit on the floor. "But?"

". . . I feel like I'm being a burden to MJ and Peter 2."

The older Harry gently nudged his shoulder. "Hey, that's no way to talk about yourself. MJ and Peter love you."

"I know . . ." Peter 1's voice was barely above a whisper. "I just feel like I'm causing them a lot of extra trouble."

"You can't help when you get sick Pete." The older man rubbed his arm. "It just happens."

The youngest Peter hid his face in the top of his bear's head. "But I mess everything up."

The older man's shoulders drooped. He carefully slid One's beloved bear out of his face. "Why do you think that Peter?"

The boy looked away. "I can't be left alone."

"That happens when you're sick. It's just your brain looking for extra comfort and reassurance."

"But everytime one of them leaves the room, I panic. It's like I can't let them leave my sight."

Harry gently ruffled One's curls. "You've lost a lot of people there Pete. It's easy to get scared you'll loose more."

The youngest Peter quickly scrubbed his eyes. "You've lost a lot of people too."

The older man moved One's hand away. "Let's not compare apples with oranges kiddo. Yeah I've lost people and yeah it hurt like crap. But that doesn't mean your trials are any less important than mine."

Peter 1 remained quiet.

"Did something else happen?"

" . . . I had a nightmare. . . Two kicked me out---cause I was sick."

"Pete, he would never do that. He loves you too much to do that."

Peter 1 looked up. "Y-you think so?"

Harry nodded. "I know so. They're both crazy about you."

While he still looked doubtful, a small smile crept across One's face. "Thanks."

"Course buddy." A light clicked on in Harry's head. "You know what will cheer you up? A visit from Santa Clause."

"What?"

The older man pulled away and hurried over to the packages he had brought in. "You're usually supposed to wait until Christmas day to open Santa's presents, but since he gave me these two a little early, I think it would be okay to open them now."

One's brows furrowed as Harry came back to his spot next to the couch. "You didn't have to get me anything."

"But I didn't! These both are from Santa. He just dropped them off at my house so they could be wrapped and delivered."

The youngest Peter cocked his head at the older man.

Harry set his two packages next to him. "Now, one thing you have to know about Santa's gift is they become more 'practical' the older you get. So your first gift was practical and I, of course, wrapped it practically."

Harry lifted up a blue Christmas bag covered with giant snowflakes and a half ton of glitter. He gave it to the youngest Peter who hesitantly opened it. He pulled out a brown box and read the words across the top. "Stuture replacement kits?"

"Like I said, practical. If you're anything like your brother, you'll want to have those."

This made the youngest Peter chuckle. "Thahank yohou Harryhy."

"Uh, not me. It was Santa."

"Thank yohou Santaha."

The older man winked. "I'll relay the message. And now that we have the practical gift out of the way, Santa has a semi-practical gift to give you too."

The next present Peter 1 was given was wrapped in a simple gold paper with a blue ribbon on top.

The blush on Peter 1's face darkened. He felt a little embarrassed to be receiving so much attention. "Thank you."

"Now as you can see, I have wrapped this one semi-practically. The paper still gives you a chance to tear into it."

After a little more prompting, One carefully opened the gift. Inside was a small gray Stegasorus plush.

"This guy is great." Harry tapped the plushie's nose. "Not only can he cuddle, but if you heat up the pad in his middle, you have a heated cuddle toy."

One squeezed the stegasorus with one arm. "Thank you Santa."

The grin on Harry's own face grew as he ruffled One's curls. "You're welcome Uno."

"Ihi thought you weheren't Santa?"

"Oops! I spilled the beans," Harry teased.

The cutest giggle came out of the youngest's mouth when Harry tapped his nose. "Nohow I know whyhy Two says you're soho cute."

Peter 1 rolled his eyes. "Not cute."

"Ihi beg toho differ."

"Can I give you yours now?"

The older man started. "You got me something?"

The youngest Peter pointed. "It's in the green bag under the tree."

Harry stepped over to the tree to retrieve the bag.

"It's not much, but I hope you like it."

The older man waited until he was next to Peter again before opening his gift. From the bag, he pulled out a small wooden frame. Inside the frame was a picture of Harry and the Three Peters after a recent movie night at Two's house. Harry and Peter were making silly faces at the camera while Peter 3 was layed across their laps. One of Three's hands was keeping his head propped up while the other was being pushed by Peter who was pushing it off his sides while laughing next to Harry.

It was one of Harry's favorite photos from that evening. He had finally felt like he was accepted into the group after everything that had happened. It meant even more that Peter 1 had taken time to frame it for him . . . It made his heart swell.

"D-do you like it?"

"I don't like it bud." Harry looked up at Peter 1. "I love it."

"Really?"

"Honestly Pete." Harry wrapped the youngest in a hug. "This means so much to me."

After a brief hesitation, One tightly returned the hug. "You're a part of our family too Harry. I wanted you to see that."

The older man let out a playful huff. "Is it your goal to make me cry today?"

One pulled away. "Not intentionally."

Harry ruffled One's curls. "Ihi know. You're just too sweet sometimes." Another thought crossed Harry's mind. "Hey, before MJ gets back, wanna go see the snow?"

The youngest's eyes widened. "It's snowing?"

"Yeah! Wanna go see?"

Peter 1 eagerly nodded. He hurried to stand.

"Hold on. I know you're excited, but you can't go out in juhust your jammies." The older man stood and walked over to the entryway. "Where's your coat and boots?"

"I can get---."

Harry motioned to where he was. "Already here Pete."

Peter 1 huffed and pointed out the desired belongings and, with a little help from Harry, was soon bundled up. For an added layer of warmth, a hat and gloves were added before a blanket was tossed around his shoulders.

Once bundled up, Peter 1 eagerly stood before promptly toppling to one side.

"Wow!" Harry caught him. "Little dizzy?"

"A little. The fever makes me loopy."

The older man carefully wrapped the youngest's arm around him. "Here, lean on me."

"Okay."

Together, the duo made their way outside. Outside, the snow lightly fell to the ground and dusted the ground in a layer of white.

Peter 1 shivered, but eagerly held out one of his hands to watch the small flakes coat his glove. He pushed out a little farther to try to catch some more.

Harry shifted his hold. "Hold on kid."

He helped Peter 1 down the steps so he could stand in the walkway and let the flakes coat his hair and face. He looked so young and innocent with his flushed cheeks and messy curls.

"You know, I'm not one for magic, but the snow really makes Christmas seem pretty special," the older man replied.

"It does." The youngest Peter wiggled free of Harry's hold.

"Wow! Where are you---."

Peter 1 plopped into the snow. He flopped backwards into a giggly mess.

Harry squatted next time the giggling teen. "What are you doing?"

"Mahaking aha snohow ahangel!"

Harry chuckled. "Yohou're mihissing the angehel part."

Peter 1 stuck out his arms and started moving them up and down. However, his wings looked less like wings and more like messy snow swirls. His legs were less cooperative, leaving him with lopsided trenches. When Harry helped to pull him up, One's angel looked more like an odd alien character than the intended angelic figure.

"Nihice job kid. Ihit looks awesome."

The youngest Peter shivered. "Th-thanks."

"Peter?" A voice called. "Harry?"

The duo turned to see Peter 2 walking up the driveway.

One waved. "Hi Two."

The oldest Peter stepped forward. "What are you doing out here?"

"Seeing the snowflakes," Harry replied.

"And making snow angels."

"Ihi see that." Peter 2 brushed a few flakes out of One's hair. "Looks like you're having fun."

The moment was broken by a cough from Peter 1.

"And I think that's the cue to head back inside." The oldest Peter scooped the youngest into his arms.

"Aww, but we were having so much fun," Harry teased. However, he scooted closer to wrap the blanket tighter around Peter 1.

"I can do it."

"Last time I let you do it, you nearly toppled into the carpet." The oldest Peter nodded toward the house before heading inside.

Peter 1 pouted a little on the way in.

"I'll make it up to you with hot chocolate," Two promised.

The small trio made their way back in to find MJ coming down the stairs.

"There you are!" MJ exclaimed. "I stepped away for two seconds!"

Harry helped Peter 2 set One on the couch. "We went out to see the snow."

"Ah, I see."

"But we were only out for a minute!"

Meanwhile, the oldest Peter slipped off Peter 1's coat and boots. "Seems like they had a good time."

"Did he get too cold?" MJ asked.

Two smiled. "Nothing a change of clothes can't fix."

Harry started. "Did I mess up?"

"No! You didn't mess up!" MJ stepped forward. "That was really sweet of you."

"But he got cold."

"Being out for short periods is good when you're sick Harry." Peter 2 stepped back over to the entry way to put One's jacket and boots away. "Though I'm not sure about the snow angel."

"You mean the snow creature?" Harry teased.

"Hey!" The youngest Peter whined.

"It still looked cool Pete, but call it what it it is."

One smirked. "I was aiming for biblical accuracy." Another coughing fit broke him off.

Peter 2 stepped back over to his youngest brother. "It was great to see you Harry, but I need to take care of him real quick."

"Yeah you do that." The taller man watched in concern. "Let me know if you need anything."

The oldest Peter smiled at his friend. "We will, I promise."

Peter 2 wrapped his arm around Peter 1 and headed toward stairs.

"Bye Harry." One gave him a hug. "Thanks again."

Harry returned the hug. "Thank you too kiddo. You get better okay?"

"I will, I promise," Peter 1 let go and allowed Two to help him upstairs. "Love you."

Harry couldn't hide the smile on his face. "Love you too kid."

Once the two Peters were gone, a hand gently squeezed his shoulder. "You really are fond of him aren't you?"

Harry turned to MJ. "Aren't we all?"

"You could say that." The smaller woman hugged her friend. "I'm so glad you're back."

After a moment of hesitation, Harry returned the hug. "Me too."

He hadn't realized how much he needed that hug.

When MJ pulled away, she looked up at him. "Can you stay tonight? We're going to be decorating for the holidays and would love to have you here with us."

"I'd love too, but my dad wants me to help him decorate our tree."

"Your dad bought a tree?"

Harry grinned. "Yeah, a real one. We even picked out some ornaments together."

MJ smiled softly. "Oh Harry, that's awesome."

Harry blushed as he pulled away. "Ehe, fihirst time fohor everything I guehess."

"Oh! Before you go, I need to give you something!"

MJ hurried over to the tree and came back over with a Santa Clause gift bag. She handed it to the older man. "It's not much, but I hope you enjoy."

Harry smiled as he took the bag. "Thank you so much." He grabbed two packages behind him on the entry way table. "And these are for you and Peter. The last one is for Three."

"Thank you Harry. That's so sweet."

"You're welcome. Now, I unfortunately have to get going, but I'll see you again tomorrow."

The taller man gave MJ a kiss on the head before heading out the door. He paused on the porch . . . had he just done that? He hadn't gotten that close to Peter and MJ since the betrayal.

When he turned back to apologize, MJ waved goodbye. "You're a still a part of this family Harry. Have a great night."

Harry stared at the closed door. His heart filled with warmth and wholeness as he stepped away from the porch.

[beaisdifferent]

Recovering from the Holidays

You’ve survived.  I’ve survived.  As I clutch to your arm and pull you to your feet from the muck, the sun rises over the holiday battlefield, and we are alive.

I’ll be frank, 90% of the time, I hate the holidays. Especially Christmas.  It’s everything I’m not good at slammed into one poorly wrapped package.  Socialize with distant family at the parties, mingle in a crowd of 40 smushed into Nanny’s house, rearrange your living space with décor and flashing lights, swallow back financial anxieties and buy the all gifts, organize the gifts for a dozen people, plan well in advance what you’re getting those dozen people, make sure you have the ingredients for those special holiday meals and then somehow find the time in all of this packed on top of your already busy day to day to cook those meals.  I hate it.  Expectation, obligation, the dread of inevitable failure to get it as right as everyone else seems to get it, the seemingly physical sickness that comes when spending too much time around so many endlessly noisy people.

But I’m at the end of Christmas day, tucked away home and safe.  I can unclench my mask of a smile, I can relax my muscles, and know that tomorrow holds no holiday responsibilities.  It’s like my heart just took off her bra.  Freedom.

But it’s not as easy as just wiping the glitter off on your hands and dropping into bed.  There is routine, structure, ritual to shaking off the pressure of December lays into your clenched teeth.  Here is how I recommend it’s done.

Light a candle.  If your home has been neglected or ignored for a few days, bringing in some soft light and good scents are a great place to start.  Smells are significant to me, and I breathe easier when the smells are baked goods or pine forests.

Wash the dishes.  The heart of my apartment is my kitchen, so starting here is a necessity.  The dishes that have built up over the past few days as the chaos built to a crescendo are the first thing on my list.  Empty whatever is clean from the dishwasher and fill it again, cleaning dishes with hot, soapy water and loading them into the dishwasher.  I handwash what needs more intimate attention and stack it neatly to dry.  I scrub down the sink and the smell of soured milk creeping up from beneath the pile.  I take a deep breath and admire my empty, organized sink.  Then wipe down the counters and I’m done.

Drink a cup of tea.  Brew up a cup of tea, white or green, and hydrate yourself with some soothing herbal heat, I recommend green, ginger, peppermint, or chamomile.  Drink it from your favorite, freshly cleaned cup.

Handle the laundry. My laundry has built into an intimidating mountain as well.  I switch over what I’ve forgotten about in the washing machine, and carry yet another bundle to the bedroom for folding.  Then I fold.  Tonight I talked to my husband as he sorted some of the gifts we’ve been blessed with this season, and sipped on my lemon ginger tea.  In less than a half and hour, I had neatly stacked piles of clothes and a stomach pacified after Holiday indulgences, and I’m done.

Get Rid of the crash.  I take all the expired food from the fridge, clean the litter box, and compile all the cardboard boxes for the recycling.  Taking out the trash right now means driving across the apartment complex for the one (1) dumpster we all share, so it’s a pain, but husband cleared it all away while I tackled the dishes, and it’s done.

Wash the Me.  I strip down and climb into a hot shower.  I shampoo my hair, wash my face, rinse and smother my locks in a heavy conditioner, and scrub every inch of my with my favorite smelling soap.  A good exfoliating is sometimes needed to really cleanse myself of the flimflam celebratory chaos, small talk, and hugs and shoulder touches from all the people I don’t know how to tell not to touch me.  Tonight a special bottle of aromatherapy bodywash I’ve been using sparingly for years was the calling.  Then I dry in my favorite purple towel, and moisturize, rubbing a heavy dollop of lotion to the problem areas of my hands and arms where the dragon scales of eczema like to lay claim.  Then I wrap up my hair to plop it.  It keeps heavy wet hair from sitting on my neck, face, and shoulders, helps to bring out the curls, and the compression feels good around my head. I’m done.

Finally, I crawl into fresh pajamas, and sit down on the couch with a stilling hobby of my choice.  I’ll read one of the new books I’ve been gifted, or knit the a gift I’ve decided too late I want to give to someone for Christmas and ready it to give to them late.  I sink into the cushion, clean, and I exhale the stress.  I’ve done it.

Cleaning my house and catching up on at least some of the things I’ve been too tired, distracted, or busy to handle puts me back in control.  It’s a catharsis with great reward, letting me see and feel that life can resume routine now and that I can be left at peace within that routine once more.  I deep clean myself, scrubbing away the festivities and all their anxiety and disruption in water almost hot enough to be painful, just hot enough to be satisfying.

The holidays are done, the gifts are given, the parties are over.  New year’s eve will be smaller for me at least, but if needed, I can come back to this ritual, and find the air to unclench again.  Always, again.