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formulaforza · 1 year ago

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—the seasons of love

or: the enemies to lovers situationship fic charles leclerc x female reader summ. winter, the first time. the start of the year, the start of it all. minors dni, nsfw warnings under the cut. 7k words part two part three part four part five

18+ because: brat taming, fingering, oral (f receiving), name calling, spit, unprotected sex, overstimulation, booty call!, masturbation (f receiving), voyeurism, mad sass, fucking porn without plot basically.

There’s nothing special about the club scene in Monte Carlo. If you’ve been to a club in any major city, anywhere in the world, you’ve been to a club in Monaco. It’s all neon lights and kaleidoscope colors and poorly lit dance floors and mid-tier DJs who think they’re the next coming of Jesus.

Tonight is no exception. The air is thick and heavy with the scent of floral perfume and alcohol, the entire room shaking with the pulsating beat of the bass, reverberating off every single corner and shaking the liquor in your glass. Bodies move—yours included—half in sync with the music, half in step with their drunken stupor. Perched in the safety of Charles’s section, away from the swaying forms of laughter and shouting and screaming, your entire body thumps alone to the beat from the DJ booth a couple meters away.

Across the section, Charles sits stoic on a couch, taking up a seat and a half and frozen like some magnetic force. His eyes are stuck on you in a way that pulls goosebumps from your skin, makes you irrational angry at him. You’re feeling particularly bratty today, egged on by the tequila and his visible annoyance.

You’re on your way to interject into his pity party when your sister catches your arm, pulls you by your bicep to dance with her. Her palms are sweaty and cold and you hope that it’s the condensation from her cold glass that’s got her all clammy. The two of you have always been quite a sight after a few drinks. You get your tolerance from your mother, are both disastrous lightweights, feel the need to give any and everyone around you a show.

The two of you twirl to the music with little effort, laughing like you’re seven and the hazard littered floor under your feet is the old brown carpet from the family room you grew up hosting dance parties in. It’s all hair and giggles and hands in the air like you just don’t care. Everytime your glance catches his, he’s staring back, nursing his drink and half participating in a conversation with your brother-in-law and Jo.

“What’s his fucking problem?” you ask, leaning over to shout into your sister’s ear.

“He can’t dance,” she slurs. You snort. He can dance.

You whistle, loud and commanding and cat-call-ish even though he’s already watching you. “Charles! Get out here and dance, you fucking buzzkill!”

Your sister joins in on the fun, playfully swaying her hips to the music, tossing out an imaginary fishing line to her husband and reeling him over, calling along teasingly to Charles. “Yeah, show us what you’ve got, Il Predestinato!”

Charles rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. “I don’t dance,” he calls back with a soft chuckle. He tries to play it cool, like always, but everyone in the room knows you’re pushing his buttons. You always are. The reason he keeps you around is the same reason you stay around; your families’ relationship predates any animosity between the two of you. That, and the friend group was founded before you loathed each other and it would be too much work to try and split it up now. You’d probably never see Joris again.

You dance closer to him, putting on a dramatic show and a poor fight against the urge to continue challenging him. “Come on,” you tug on his arm, just out your bottom lip into a pretty little pout. “Live a little.”

He’s never been able to turn down one of your challenges, however thinly veiled they might be. It’s his own personal sore spot, the one that you poke and prod as often as you can. Competition has always been the foundation of your mutual annoyance, it’s not going to suddenly change after some eighteen years of consistency. Finally, he relents, lets you think you’re pulling him to his feet, dragging him to dance with you and your sister.

His moves are stiff and awkward, almost hard to watch. You laugh, because he’s wound up so fucking tight in two weeks you’d have a diamond. “See!?” your sister laughs, the contagion of it spreading to even the brunt of the joke. “I told you!” she continues, slinking her arm around her husband’s neck sloppily. His arm grips her side to hold her steady. It makes you feel sick.

A smirk tugs on his lips, and for a brief moment, there’s a hint of something more in his eyes. Not annoyance or frustration. Something seven, something innocent and childish. It’s fleeting, and you take a deep breath because the music feels quieter now. You down what’s left of your cocktail to clear your head, to calm the sudden flutter of nerves.

The more he drinks and the longer he’s forced to dance, the lighter and more magnetic he becomes. “You know, Charles, I never thought I’d see the day,” you tease. He’s been in a near constant state of pity-party for weeks now, ever since his dumb ass got dumped by another girl wildly out of his league.

He rolls his eyes, but his tone is as amused as it is drunk. “Don’t get too excited. It’s the liquor,” he retorts, a piss poor attempt at downplaying how much fun he’s having. He wouldn’t dare to give you the satisfaction. You lean in closer, brush your body against his, fueled by the noise and the alcohol.

“The liquor doing the touching, too?” you ask.

He’s always been a touchy drunk. Since before you and your friends were allowed to drink, he’s been hands-on. And maybe it’s because this is the first time he’s grabbing your hips, the first time his broad hand is flat over your stomach, but you’d never noticed him as this touchy with his girlfriends or his girls that appear when he’s around. Whatever it is, the more he drinks, the more comfortable he is with his hands on you, and the less you find the nerve to care.

It doesn’t matter how many times he does it, though. Every touch burns your skin. It’s a sick little game you two play. Sick and twisted and so, so unlike the two of you.

Watch yourself—he warns, hand on the small of your back. You play with fire. Well established and well documented, though; you never back down either. No, the thrill of annoying him is enough to dive head-first, to push his buttons until they stick. “Am I?” you ask, as innocently as the tequila can muster, taking hold of his wrist and moving it so his arm is wrapped around your midsection, fighting to settle in the space between your waistband and shirt hem.

You respond to every one of his careful touches, ever lingering finger on your arm and your waist and your back. When you close your eyes, you imagine the nonsense patterns he draws on your skin like it’s on canvas in a museum, hung front and center just for you. Your inhibitions are slipping too, and you let yourself trail wandering fingertips over his body, too.

This isn’t the Charles you’re used to, the one you go head-to-head with every fifteen minutes. This is something entirely new, so far into uncharted territory you’re not even sure which way is north. There’s something particularly intriguing about the nerves bouncing around your gut.

Everything fades away into the dark and crowded club. You don’t know if your sister and brother-in-law are still standing there, if any of your friends are. All you know if the electric charge of this, of every teasing remark and touch that draws you closer, forces you to test the waters of the newfound layer of tension.

Everything is building, it feels like, to some grand crescendo of emotion and desire. Before there’s room to explore it, though, to dive deeper into the unspoken shift, the moment is interrupted by the return of the friends you didn’t notice leaving.

The night drags on, the lines between annoyance and attraction blurring into some chaotic muddle of intoxication. Nothing is clear, nothing except the sobering and unignorable pull. It lingers in the air above you, in the space between like a secret just begging to be unraveled.

You’ve got another drink now, because you can only think of one decision that would be worse than more tequila. In due time, you’re worried you’re a lost cause when it comes to that choice as well. His eyes stay on you, even from a distance, and you revel in the glory of his attention. Embolden by it all, you continue fucking with him. “Having fun yet, Charles?” you ask, knowing smile, voice dripping in subtle suggestion.

He raises a brow, the corners of his lips quirking up. You don’t think you’ve ever spent much time looking at them, the soft shade of pink and the softer skin. “I suppose I can tolerate it,” he replies with teasing eyes. He’s irritated by your laugh, by your proximity, by your lips brushing against his ear when you whisper; you’re not the only one here trying to have fun. His jaw tightens but he doesn’t take your bait. Instead, he pulls you closer, sways in rhythm with you and replies, “I’m here to enjoy myself, not entertain you.”

He sends your brattiness running full-tilt. Forces you to carefully consider every movement, every ounce of playfulness that you allow to seep into your demeanor and the proactive sway of your hips. You grin at him every chance you get, sly and calculated, daring him to resist.

You lean in close, brush against his ear and can blame it on practicality, on the bass and the music and the DJ if anyone were to question your actions. You rest a hand on his chest. “I know you love my attention.”

His breath hitches at your audacity, heart racing so quick you can feel it in your palm. He pulls you closer, dangerously close to your lips and says, “you talk too much. Maybe it’s time someone shuts you up.”

You scoff, low and teasing. “I’d like to see you try.”

[18 minutes later]

You step into the well-lit lobby less than a pace behind him. Your hands are interlocked, have been for every block of the darkened streets—since he grabbed yours and pulled you out of the club. “Admit it,” you giggle. “You love having me push your buttons.”

He remains stoic, jaw set as he pushes the button on the elevator. The tension is at a boiling point. You’re either about to kill each other, to be on the news for some grand double murder, or something so, so much worse is going to unfold.

He leads you to the apartment without a word, but as soon as the door closes behind him, all is lost. Your head is bumping into the drywall before you even realize what’s happening, his lips harsh against yours, the pent up frustration and desire snapping like a dried twig.

It’s fierce and passionate and while you never, not for a single moment in your life, imagined what he would taste like, you somehow knew it would be like this, cool and fresh and drunk. He licks into your mouth, messy and intense, teeth clacking and both of you fighting for some nonexistent upper hand.

Fireworks are going off outside. They shake the windows with explosive gravitas as you’re blindly led by his backwards steps down the hallway. You realize that in an entire lifetime of knowing each other, this is the first time you’ve been in his place. It’s not what you expected, from what you can gather—all clutter and red cars and a boy who never had to drop his dream. “They’re going to look for us,” you say between sloppy, open mouthed kisses.

He mumbles against your skin, strong hands on either side of your jaw. “Let them look.”

You walk through a doorway, into a bedroom clad with clutter and blue sheets. He would have blue sheets. There’s another firework, loud and booming, it makes you jump. You check your watch over his shoulder, pretend your hand doesn’t shake. “It’s almost midnight.”

“Okay.” Your knees bump into his and he sits on the edge of the bed.

You laugh, climb onto his lap, your arms strewn around his shoulders, broad and strong and you laugh again–this time into his mouth. What the fuck is going on. Seriously, what the fuck is this? “Happy New Year.”

He sighs, pulls his mouth from yours long enough to roll his eyes, to speak annoyedly into the hot air between your lips. “Yeah, whatever. Happy New Year.”

“Charles,” you mutter, hand on his chest. You think he’s going to regret this more than you will. People have always told you he’s the best kind of person. You’re not held in the same regard, and you know it. Some people are made to regret and others are made to be the regret.

“Jesus Christ,” he laughs, but it’s curt and passive. Annoyed, as always, even when he palms at your ass, traces his hands along the bottom of your hiked up dress and pulls you down against him with a bruising grip. “Shut the fuck up.” You tug at the hem of his shirt, pull it off over his head in a swift movement.

“You’re doing a piss-poor job at making me.”

He moves you like you’re a fucking doll, like it’s lightwork, tossing you down against the mattress and swapping your positions in a swift movement. The strength and agility of it makes your head spin. He’s not supposed to make your head spin, he’s supposed to make it ache.

But no, no. You do ache for him. All of you aches for him, for his calloused hands and the roughness of his jeans against your thighs and the soft contrast of his lips against everything else. It’s embarrassing. You can’t believe he’s got you like this, hands pinned above your head while he buries his tongue in your mouth, grinds his hips against yours. The coarse denim is almost painful on your sensitive skin, but the growing bulge pulling the fabric tight is more intoxicating than any cocktail.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he says, bites a bruise against the skin just above your clavicle. “Spoiled little shit.”

He sinks to his knees, big blue or green or whatever fucking color his eyes are today watching you intently, boring into you with blown, hungry pupils. His fingers trail along your underwear, pulling the thin, lacey fabric to the side, and then removes them all together. He gloats when he runs his thumb through your folds. “So fucking wet.”

“It’s not for you,” you goad.

“Oh?” He nods slowly, spreading your slick with the steady digit, watching you carefully for reaction. “For who then?”

Your eyes flutter shut when the pad of his thumb presses against your clit, circles it slowly, teases you. He’s unfocused, his mind lapsing and giving you a much needed in, a clear shot to piss him off. “Your teammate.”

“Fuck off.” You first.

“You’re right, Charles,” you speak slowly, careful to control your breathing, to hide every tell you might have. “Someone should shut me up. Do you know anyone?” Without warning, he thrusts two fingers inside you, curls them like someone had given him a diagram of your body. You gasp at the suddenness of it all. Yeah, he mutters, utterly delighted with himself. Yeah, I think I know someone.

You roll your eyes, push his head down, down, mouth onto your core. There, in the midst of licking a long stripe through your cunt, he fucking laughs, shakes his head with a subtlety you’d never perceive if it wasn’t for the tip of his nose bumping your clit when he does it. At least he can follow basic fucking instructions.

His dick must hurt pretty damn bad, all hard and swollen in his pants, because he’s unbuttoning his jeans and freeing himself from the constraints of the fabric while lapping at you, the other hand still fucking into you with steady pace and hazy curl. You can’t see it, view obstructed by the mattress and limbs and hair, but you can tell by the way his shoulders move that he’s trying to get himself off at the same time he works on you.

You’re not going to make his job that easy. You require all of his attention, pure and undivided and hopefully just as infuriated as you are. You reach down to the apex of your legs, pull his head up by his chin. “Just fuck me, already, you prick.”

He rises to his feet, shakes his head, “you’re a needy little thing,” he remarks. Needy? You haven’t fucking seen needy.

He guides the head of his cock through your folds, spreading slick and spit and smacking himself against your cunt.

Your lips purse into a sharp line. “Don’t tease me.”

“Why not?” He taunts, “you’ve been teasing for hours.”

“It’s different,” you grumble.

“How?” You could strangle him, him and all his questions. What’s a person have to do to get fucked properly around here? You already sacrified your morals by pulling tight against the navy blue sheets. A woman can only make so many sacrifices.

You groan, heavy and exasperated. He’s such a pest. “It just–oh, fuck you–” without warning, he plunges into you, buries himself in your cunt until he bottoms out, skin on skin and the sore sting of him stretching you. Your fingers bruise into his arms, nails scraping over his shoulder blades with a gasp. He gives you no time to adjust to him, rutting into you with deep, measured thrusts. What was that, he prodes. Somehow, you find the poise to stabilize yourself, to reply smugly. “it just is.”

His objective isn’t your pleasure, no. That would be his prerogative, a side privilege, a requirement in his quest to get you to close your mouth and stop pestering for once. Making you come is just another box to check.

You don’t fuck someone if you’re not going to finish, though. Sleeping with Charles might be a lapse in judgment, but being someone’s play toy, letting him reap without sowing, that’s a complete disregard of your dignity

Your fingers find your clit, circle it in just the right sequence, combining with the curve of his cock to push you closer, closer, closer to the edge of the fucking world. Your entire body burns, everywhere, all over, all at once you sweat. Tell me–he insists, voice short and breathy. Tell me when you’re going to come. “I thought you were trying to shut me up?”

“Just, fuck, just tell me.” He palms over your breasts, still covered by your bra and the fabric of your dress, however thin. “So many fucking clothes,” he grumbled, stalling inside you, hands slipping under your back, between you at the mattress to pull you off the bed. You hastily pull the dress over your head, toss it somewhere onto the clothing cluttered floor. Better? You ask. “Better,” he nods, bites your bottom lip roughly, licking against your teeth. One of the hands that explore the skin of your back make quick work of the clasp on your bra, dropping the straps from your shoulders and your back is against the sheets again, his hands groping at you, pinching your nipple between his middle and ring finger, working over it until you’re humming profanities and huffing into his mouth.

Hate and desire is such a fine, blurry line. Anyone who tells you differently is a liar.

“M’gonna,” you choke on your words. “I’m–shit–I’m coming.”

“Yeah,” He picks up his pace, maintains a steady, toe-curling rhythm. “Come for me,” his voice heavy and growled. “Come on my dick.”

You do. You come for him, hard and long, wrapping a leg around his hip in a failed attempt to still him, to just be full of him and nothing more. He’s stronger, though, and fucks you through the whole thing, faster, harder, big hands braced on your hips for leverage. You explore the idea that a person really could be fucked in half, forced right open.

“Good try,” you sputter, shaky and broken words leaving your lips before you’ve found a gravity that isn’t him. You lean up to kiss him, wrap your hand around the back of his neck and pull him to meet you halfway. Your fingers tickle the short hair at the nape of his neck, raise goosebumps to his skin. “Maybe next time,” you hum into his open mouth.

He spits a long string of saliva into your mouth when you move to close the gap. You laugh around it, down it in a single gulp and lick your lips, sticking out your tongue to showcase your empty mouth, big innocent doe-eyes watching his reaction, his eye roll and devilish smirk.

“Like I said–” you start, but he’s flipping you over, tossing you around like a ragdoll. You giggle, high on the teasing and the taunting and then he’s fucking your face into the mattress. He’s got your hair gathered up into a ratty ponytail, uses it like a handle, forcing your back into an arch, your ass to perk up into the air.

God, he’s so fucking deep, turning you into a mess of bruises and sweat stricken skin. Your hips bounce back against him, angle in any imaginable way in an attempt to feel him deeper, to feel him in your stomach and your chest and your head. To feel him everywhere that counts.

“Putain, taking me so good, baby” he groans, lets the praise and the pet name slipping past his lips in a moment that goes unnoticed by neither of you. He smacks your ass with a firm hand, trying to mask his words after they’ve already been spoken. Your eyes roll back into your head and you come again, without warning. You decide before you get to think about it that it was the stinging imprint of his hand that pushed you tumbling over the edge. Whatever the real reason, you’re up two-nothing, or, depending how you look at it, he’s the one winning.

That’s all any of this is, one big game. A power struggle. You’re always fighting to win, and this is not different. If there’s a way to lose at a game where everyone is supposed to win, one of you is going to fucking find it and force it on the other.

You’re the one doing the flipping, now. The pushing and the shoving so he’s on his back. You straddle him and he gives you this look like he’s fully pussy-drunk, sick and euphoric and floating somewhere far from here. You’re so winning at this. “Jesus Christ,” you poke, “wipe your fucking drool.”

His entire face contorts when you sink down onto him. Everytime you think you’ve reached a limit, he finds a way to hit a spot impossibly deeper than the last. His hips lift up off the bed to meet you halfway, rutting into pleasure spots you didn’t even know you had, hand moving to your cunt, thumbing lazily at your clit, leaving you fuzzy and drunk in a mess of mumbled moans above him.

When you come for the third time, messy and sweaty, nothing that leaves your lips is distinguishable, a mess of French and English and curses and nonsensical mewls. “Fuck you,” he moans, breath shaky when he pulls himself out of you. Your body clenches around air, aches for him to return.

He does, after he moves you back into the position it all started in. “So close,” he tells you, sinking slowly into you, his sigh hot and alcoholic on your shoulder. His pace is slow, then fast, then slow again. He’s as rapid as his breath is irregular. You better pull out–you groan, every muscle in your body strung out and exhausted and you’re coming again. It’s blinding white behind your closed lids, ears ringing and muscles flexing involuntarily. He’s wrecked you, finally, left you a mumbling mess.

He pulls out almost in sync with your orgasm, jerks himself no more than twice between your legs before he’s coating your stomach in hot stripes of cum, loud, guttural moans leaving his lips in a way that looks and sounds practically pained. “Christ,” he heaves, watches on as your fingers dance through his orgasm, spreading it over your skin and coating your fingers. You don’t break eye contact when you stick two of them into your mouth, swirl your tongue around them tauntingly, sucking them clean and pulling them from your mouth with a pop. You hold the clean hand up for him to see, palm facing him. When you turn it, you pull down all but your middle finger, flip him off cockily.

He swats you hand away, “Never fucking again,” he tells you.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about me,” you scoff. “I never want to see the inside of this apartment again.”

“Why are you here, then?” He remarks, turning the corner into what you assume is the bathroom, tossing a towel to you from across the room. You clean yourself up before anything dries, before coming up with a quick rebuttal.

You don’t come up with one, mind as tired as the rest of you. This game has been exhausting. “We’re never talking about this,” you say, pulling your dress over your head, stuffing your bra into your handbag because you aren’t sure you have the strength to clasp it closed. “Ever.”

“No shit,” he says, tosses your underwear in the general direction of you.

You bend over to pick them up, step into them with the snap of the elastic. “Promise me.” You have no idea where your shoes are, but he’s already ushering you out of the room, herding you down the long hall with wide, swooping waves of his arms.

“I promise.”

“Pinky,” you say, spot your shoes haphazardly stepped out of in the entryway. You don’t have any memory of them ever being on.

“Absolutely not.”

“Charles,” you lean against the wall to slip your heels on, hook up at him with a sober glare. He closes his eyes like you won’t be able to see them roll behind his lids, pinches the bridge of his nose and squints before dropping a heavy breath, holding out a pinky to you. You interlock it with yours. “Thank you.”

He pulls his hand from yours, turns the lock on his front door and swings it open, fingers wrapped around the edge, other hand gesturing out into the hallway. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

“With pleasure,” you say, stepping past him and into the well-lit hallway of sprawling marble floors. You stop in front of the elevator, press the button and wait for his inevitable comment.

“The whole brat-schtick you’ve got going on isn’t as believable when your leg shakes underneath you,” he calls down the hall. You don’t turn your head to face him, just extend your arm in his direction and flip him off. You hear his chuckle as he latches the door shut behind you.

Everything about today has been dreary–from the near constant mist that falls over the city, to the chilly temperatures, to the poor excuses for men that grace the screen of your dating app. This is not how Fridays in your twenties are meant to be spent, sulking in the dark of your bedroom after a miserable day at work.

You’re supposed to be out, partying with friends and making drunken decisions that have you waking up in a stranger’s bed after a good night you hardly remember.

God, you need to get fucked. It’s been months. Two months and ten days–not that you’re counting. Because you’re not. Counting. You aren’t.

You’re just restless, basking in the loneliness of the night, unable to shake the weight of your thoughts, of two months and ten days ago. Of Charles and how infuriatingly good he’d made you feel. The complexities of your relationship, the shift in the very DNA of what you know, it makes your heart race–a messy muddle of annoyance and desire that yearns to be untangled.

You give up on the dating apps, know that even if you do match with someone, there’s nothing that can be done to solve your problem tonight. You opt instead to scroll through social media aimlessly, searching for any distraction from the ache in your gut. Your hand unconsciously slips under the hem of your shirt, cups your breast while you scroll and scroll and scroll. It does little to quell your struggles. In fact, the game is over the moment you become conscious of your hand’s placement, the moment you start to massage your breast, to run your fingers over your nipple until it’s hard and perky.

You switch to the other breast, fingers gently tracing over the skin, sending chills up your arms, pinpointing the ache in your core. Your hand slides down your stomach, dips below the waistband of your shorts, into your underwear. You’re so worked up–pent up, reaching a boiling point.

Your middle finger glides through your folds, grazes over your clit, teases the slick at your entrance before dipping in, collecting enough to spread it around. Your clit is swollen, needy like the rest of you, and the pad of your fingers do little to relieve the pressure. Your fingers move clockwise, then counter. Vertical and horizontal and every combination of every direction and even though you can’t remember the last time you were this horny, this desperate to come, you can’t.

You slip in a finger, and then another, try to find the right curl and the right spot–to no avail. Now, you’re thinking about his fingers, about how much bigger his hands are, how his nimble fingers pumped in and out of you with sheet-gripping, whimper-inducing pace.

Your phone taunts you, his contact behind the locked screen just waiting to be messaged.

You try to resist. You hate him. He hates you. God, he knows how to fuck you, though; veiny hands and thick cock leaving you a writhing mess. Fuck. Fuck, why can’t your fingers move the way his did?

You cave, reaching over to grab your phone and text him. Hey. What are you up to tonight? It’s a mistake, you know that it is. He’s so damn annoying, there’s nothing about him that doesn’t drive you up a wall. Frustration makes the heart go fonder, you suppose, or maybe the cunt ache harder.

Within moments, your phone is buzzing against your palm with his reply. Chilling at home. You coming over?

You roll your eyes. No.

Ok.

You bite your bottom lip so hard you think you might accidentally draw blood. It’s phantom, almost, the way you can so perfectly imagine the sting of him stretching you out, the soreness of his bruising kisses, the swollen, wet head of his dick slapping against your clit. Come over.

You couldn’t pay me.

Door’s unlocked.

Give me 20.

You’re in the bedroom when he knocks. Three times, you wonder why he isn’t just walking in. You ignore the banging, let the universe decide for you if he’s meant to turn back and walk his happy ass out of your building. The universe decides he won’t be doing that, though, because he knocks again. Louder this time.

You pull yourself out of bed, feet creaking on the hardwood floors as you move to pull the door open. “I told you it was unlocked,” you grumble.

“Eh,” he shrugs, dumb fucking grin on his face. “Wasn’t up for your games.”

You internally debate just how bad you need him here, if it’s worth all the trouble that is him. It’s not, almost certainly it isn’t. You invite him in anyway.

“So, what’s the deal? Can’t get yourself off, so you call me?” He teases. Your frustrated blush gives you away before a witty comeback can slap the smirk off his face. “Oh my god,” he chuckles. “I was fucking around, but really?”

There’s no point in trying to lie now, not when your face has already betrayed your trust and revealed the truth. “Calm down,” you groused. “The last thing this world needs if your head to get any fucking bigger.”

He continues laughing like this is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to him. You want to smack the smile off his face, dimples and all. “The last thing this world needs is for this–” he gestures between the two of you, “–to become a thing.”

You mock his movements, the dumb look on his face. “This is not a thing. It’s just two friends–”

“–We aren’t friends.”

You sigh through gritted teeth. “Two not friends helping each other out.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, chews on the inside of his cheek while his eyes trace your finger, head to toe and back to head again. “You do know how ridiculous you sound, right?”

You breathe out in resignation, heading down the hall towards your room. “Can we just get on with it?”

“No.”

You stop in your tracks, turn on your heels. What the fuck is he here for, then? “No?” You close the gap between the two of you, plant your hands firmly on either side of his jaw and kiss him, all tongue and spit and rough lips. You knock him off balance, falling out of step when he kisses you back with a matching intensity, hands hovering over your hips. He doesn’t rest them there, you can feel the warmth in the space between your skin and his, the force that pulls you together.

When he does settle his hands, it’s not to deepen the kiss, to swallow any more frustration. It’s to put distance between your mouths. “I want you to–”

You nibble on his earlobe, cut him off with your hushed words. “I don’t give a fuck what you want, I want–”

“Show me how you touch yourself,” he commands, voice failing to waiver to your hushed level, an air of snugness to him.

“Charles,” your voice cracks with his name, a hint of your under the surface insecurity peeking through, putting themselves on display for him. Here! Here! Look at me!

“Show me, or I’m leaving,” he says, and it’s all throaty and husky.

(Eleven minutes later)

Legs spread for him, two fingers moving busily against your core, circling your clit, teasing your hole.

He stares at you like he can see your fucking soul, watches from his spot across the room, leant against the old wooden dresser, arms folded and ankles crossed. You stare back–harder, maybe–like if you win the little contest your cheeks won’t burn so bright, you won’t feel so exposed, so vulnerable, so embarrassed.

Those feelings fade, they do, with each flick of your wrist. With every glance of his hungry eyes to your fingers, to your cunt, tracing their way up and down your body, you feel calmer and calmer. And when he runs his hand over his mouth, along the stubble of his jaw and off his chin, you’re closer and closer.

It pulls whimpers, soft and slow and sweet, from your lips. There’s a sick thrill to it, to him seeing her like this, all needy and open and sensitive. It’s empowering, almost.

He breaks no more than twice, watches every brow quirk, lid flutter, and lip twitch with raw, intimate eyes. He’s less interested in what you do to yourself, the curve of your fingers or the noises they create, than he is in the way you react to the movements.

“You’re not even fucking watching,” you say, the letter sounds falling to your breath, hitching as your fingers angle just right.

“Watching what matters.”

“Oh? And, uh–” you huff. “What’s that?”

He laughs, dimples digging deep into his cheeks. You’ve always thought they made his smile so childish, like you can’t take anything seriously when it comes from someone with primary-school dimples and giddy eyes. You don’t struggle to take it seriously, now. “You’re thinking about me.”

Your eyes flutter shut, a soft sigh parting your lips. “Says who?”

He pushes himself off the dresser, saunters over with heavy feet, stopping at the foot of the bed. “What are you thinking about?” He humors.

Your eyes roll. You’re thinking about a lot of things. Half a dozen, atleast. About your fingers, the way they move against your swollen cunt, sticky with creamy slick, and how his fingers are that much longer than yours. About how loud he walks, how his heavy feet stand at the end of your bed, crossed arms that pull his t-shirt tight across his chest. About the fact that you’re not sure you locked the door behind him because you were so distracted by the way his sweatpants hung from his waist. About how he doesn’t bother to adjust or hide the protruding bulge under the fabric right now. About the curve of his cock, about how pathetic and full it makes you, utterly unable to spend time thinking about anything but how well he stretches you out. About his hair, flat and straight and wholly unstyled, how your hands would mess it up so nicely, tug and twist until he has something smart to say. Beyond frustratingly, he’s right. As you quickly approach a high, breath quickened and movements desperate, all you’re thinking about is him. “Things.”

“Mmhmm,” he hums, ever the rake, unsatisfied with your response.

You add a third finger, steady pace and a held stare. The muscles in your leg twitch. You’re so fucking close. “What are you thinking about?”

He sways, rocks his weight from his left foot to the right, runs his tongue over his teeth. “Things.”

A coy smile upturns the corner of your lips. “Mmhmm,” you mock.

He moves around the bed, trails his fingers over your skin; from your ankle, along the bone of your shin, a bruise on your knee. They stall on your thigh, trace small, soft circles on the inside of your leg. “You really want to know?”

He’s such a tease, keeps moving up, up, up, over your stomach and through the valley of your breast. “I–ah– I,” you stutter through your words, fingers working tirelessly to push you over the edge. Restless, further irritated by his delicate touch, his fingers up to your jaw now, slotting themselves there, you nod. “Yes.”

He leans over you, your lips inches apart, open and hot breathed. “Too bad,” he whispers into the space between, closing the gap and kissing you with an insatiable kind of fervor. Your fingers still, your other hand reaching to grip the back of his neck, to pull him deeper into the kiss. It’s a kiss that’s half as good as the sex, the breaking of the unbearable tension that’s filled the room while he’s watched, the promise of what’s to come. A lustful implication. His hand leaves your jaw when you pull apart for air, moving over your stilled hand. “Let me?” He asks, and it doesn’t feel like much of a question, the way he’s already slipping his fingers under yours before you can even squeak out an answer.

There’s something entirely different about his fingers, like the way that you can’t tickle yourself. You can’t predict his moves, every movement of every ridge of his fingerprints is something entirely surprising. “Yeah, fuck, you make, ah, make yourself…” You give up on the sentence, your body failing your mind in its ability to spit out a comeback. Yeah, you wish you could tell him. Yeah, make yourself fucking useful.

He laughs, slides his long middle finger inside you, pumps it twice and slips in another. You gasp at his sudden movement. “You’re embarrassing yourself, baby.”

Your back arches off the sheets. “Don’t call me that,” you seethe.

“But,” he curls his fingers against the spot you’ve been trying to reach all night. A moan tumbles from your mouth and he smirks. “It makes my job so easy.”

“Fuck you.”

“I was going to let you come first, but,” he chuckles. He’s so proud of himself it makes you ill. “If you insist.”

His hand stills, threatens to pull out of you entirely, but you’re covering it with your own, holding him there when you look up, hips instinctively grinding against him. “I’ll kill you. I will.”

You’re pushing him out of your apartment by the end of night, locking the door behind him. Your leg shakes when you slide down the door onto the floor. This is the last time, it has to be. Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence. Thrice. Thrice would be a pattern. You won’t let it become a pattern.

You wake up at seven-thirty and your hair is still in knots, your body still aching from him. You find a new bruise every time you look in the mirror. You can’t shake the image of his messy hair, of the feeling of the brown locks between your fingers and the sound he’d make when you’d tug on them.

It won’t be happening again.

#oi #this is getting me sent to hell.#charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc series #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #cl16 #charles leclerc imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 x you #ferrari

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lurkingshan · 2 months ago

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hi!! i was wondering if you could recommend some good high school japanese (or from other countries) bls? all this time i avoided them cause i felt old and uncomfortable but yesterday i finally watched one and the pureness and warmth of these sweet kids experiencing their first love really warmed my heart and brought back memories of my own first crushes. thank u in advance and I hope u have a wonderful day!

Hi anon! I firmly believe we are never too old to be swept away by the nostalgia of a good high school show. There are specific emotional buttons that get engaged by a coming of age or first love story, and it's comforting to see both reflections of experiences that were similar to our own and fantasy versions of a high school experience we never got to have. I support you venturing into high school bl!

This is not a comprehensive overview of all bls with high school age characters, but a solid list of great shows that center that high school coming of age/first love experience in their stories, in a mix of moods and tones. I'll start with some favorites from Japan, and then include a few from other countries, as well. I hope you like some of these!

Japan

I Cannot Reach You

This is a classic friends to lovers first love story done exactly right. I don't know anyone who watched it only once, it's so satisfying.

If It's With You

A boy who is jaded before his time meets an earnest hottie when he moves to a new town and school. Feelings ensue.

My Love Mix Up

This one puts the com in romcom, with a confused bisexual chaos muffin setting off a comedy of errors as he tries to figure out who actually likes who among his classmates.

Takara-kun to Amagi-kun

A simple story of two boys trying to navigate their first relationship and figuring out how to go about dating and interacting at school.

Eternal Yesterday

On the tragic end, this is a story of first love that ends abruptly due to accidental death. The story is an exploration of the grief and stunted growth that results when someone so young suffers a loss so monumental. It's an absolutely beautiful show, but not a light watch.

Philippines

Marahuyo Project

This is a gorgeous show about a brash and loud and proud gay kid who gets sent to live on a small island after an incident at school, and decides to create an LGBTQ+ club at his new school. This one has a social education agenda, but it's also very funny and sweet.

South Korea

Light on Me

The story of a confident gay boy and his love triangle where you will actually like everyone involved! A rare gem in these drama streets.

Where Your Eyes Linger

And on the angstier side, this one is the story of two friends, one of whom has been raised to be a caretaker/bodyguard for the other, struggling with a realization of feelings between them. The power dynamic and social class divide between them feature heavily.

Taiwan

History 3: Make Our Days Count

Possibly a controversial pick, as this one has a tragic ending that is hard for a lot of people to stomach. But it's a great high school show that includes two first love stories, one between a beautiful himbo and the studious boy who catches his eye, and the other between his very sweet best friend and an older man he meets through his job.

About Youth

This first love story between two very nice boys struggling with school and family issues manages to be incredibly sweet while also dealing with some heavy topics, and features a couple amazing original songs that still get stuck in my head all the time.

The On1y One

This is such a pitch perfect high school story that I'm putting it on this list before it technically finishes airing. Two high school boys meet when their parents move in together and decide to get married, and begin to heal each other. This one nails the angst and yearning.

Thailand

My School President

Possibly one of the cutest high school romcoms of all time, and it features a student band so there are a ton of original songs. This is a story about a boy who runs for class president just so he can save his crush's music club. It's two nice boys who like each other and the shenanigans they get up to with their friends.

I Told Sunset About You

And for the completely opposite experience: the ultimate angsty coming of age queer awakening story. One of the most beautiful dramas I have ever seen, and so evocative and emotionally resonant that it is actually hard for some people to watch because it's too real.

#i cannot reach you #if it's with you #kieta hatsukoi #takara-kun to amagi-kun #eternal yesterday #light on me #where your eyes linger #my school president #the on1y one #history 3: make our days count #about youth #marahuyo project #i told sunset about you #high school bl #shan recommends #shan answers

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alloftheimagines · 2 years ago

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roy kent | just friends

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST | KO-FI

words: 3k

warnings: strong language because it's roy fucking kent, mentions of alcohol but not intoxication, bad date experiences with rude and not nice people, including comments on reader's body.

single parent!reader (they/them, bi/pan) x uncle roy in which he is your best friend and go-to babysitter when you have an awful date that ends early. protectiveness, hurt/comfort, and a heated confession ensues.

prompt: Roy Kent x Reader, Friends to lovers?

You’ve never been more relieved to be home, even as the sound of screaming children drifts from your house. You press your forehead against the cool door, taking in a deep breath. “Past their bedtime. Again,” you mutter, but your best friend allowing your daughter to have a late night with his niece, Phoebe, is the least of your worries after what you just experienced.

Horror. Pure horror.

“Oi!” you hear the deep, gritty voice of Roy Kent echoing down your hallway. “Come back ‘ere and do my other hand! Can’t be walking around with only one set of fucking nails painted!”

Giggles follow, and you smile despite yourself. They give you the energy to open the door finally, and you step in to find your hallway lit brightly, Phoebe flying out of the kitchen with chocolate smeared across her face and bright blue nail polish in her hand.

“Don’t be getting that on my carpet!” you warn, alerting everyone to your presence.

Your daughter, Maisie, skips out next, waving. “We’re painting Uncle Roy’s nails!”

“Lucky Roy!” She’d been calling him “uncle” for the past year, though neither of you is related to the footballer-turned-manager. Maisie picked it up from Phoebe, and Roy hadn’t seemed to mind, since you’re practically best friends anyway. You’re constantly trying to tire the kids out with play dates at one another’s house, or else exchanging babysitting duties so one of you can have a free night. Of course, Roy isn’t a single parent like you, but he watches Phoebe enough that you’ve formed a bond over the years, one that stemmed from your shared love of your chaotic children.

That bond has blossomed into something much more than you bargained for, though. After all, he is Roy fucking Kent, and his rough exterior matched with his hidden, softer side was always going to be your downfall. But since he’s been in and out of relationships and never made a move, you’ve let the small crush lie, trying to distract yourself with dates.

Terrible, terrible dates.

Like the one you had tonight.

“You’re back early.” Roy emerges last, leaning against the doorframe as he blows on his wet-varnished nails. “It wasn’t the one who speaks like someone’s pressed fast-forward on the TV remote again, was it? I told you they’re a loser.”

“No. No, it was someone far, far worse than Fast-forward Frank.” You sigh and try to ignore the flickering in your chest, because gruff footballer Roy Kent is currently being pampered by two ten-year-olds and seems to be enjoying every minute.

“Fuck,” he deadpans. “I’ll grab the wine.” He wanders back into the kitchen.

You huff again, kicking your shoes off your aching feet and heading into the living room, where the girls are painting one another’s nails. It was at least nice to snuggle up on your couch and watch, legs curled under you. They’re arguing, of course, but you’re good at tuning that out most of the time.

“You look very nice, Y/N,” Phoebe compliments. “Are you dressed up for my Uncle Roy?”

“No.” Even so, your cheeks flush, and you can’t help but hope he noticed your appearance before you left earlier. In fact, you’d been wondering all through dinner why he’d pursed his lips, jaw ticking, as he’d looked you up and down with shiny, dark eyes. It hadn’t exactly been the look of a man who lusted after you. More the disapproving stare of a father about to tell his child to go and change. “I went on a date.”

“What’s a date?” Maisie asks.

“14th of April,” Phoebe answers confidently. You smirk, glad when they return to their own little world.

“Right girls,” Roy says as he comes in. “Go and play upstairs, now. We’re talking about adult stuff now.”

“And you should be in bed,” you remind, because you suppose that one of you has to be the responsible parent, and it certainly isn’t him.

The kids groan but trudge out of the room, leaving you in peace. Somehow, that’s even worse. You don’t really know why; you’ve had lots of awful dating experiences, but tonight, you’re just… exhausted. You don’t want to have to keep searching for something that most people find without a problem. You don’t want to meet new people who you don’t connect with, don’t even really like, just because the alternative is sitting at home with only a child for company, or sometimes Roy.

Roy places the wine on the coffee table and raises his brow. “Go on then. Tell me what was wrong with this one.”

“It’d be quicker to tell you what’s right. They started by telling me to put a blanket under me in their car so I wouldn’t scuff their leather seats. And then when I told them I had a kid, they looked me up and down and said ‘ah, yeah, I can tell. Have you looked into cosmetic surgery?’” You wrinkle your nose as Roy scoffs.

“You’re joking!”

“I wish I was joking.” You rest your head against the couch cushion, closing your tired eyes. “They tried to order a salad for me after that. I told them fuck off, I’m having the garlic bread. They didn’t like that.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. Do you have their address?” Roy is already scrambling to get up, and you aren’t sure if he’s joking or not.

You roll your eyes and tug him back down. “Stop it.”

“I’m not fucking joking. Where does this wanker live?”

Okay, you realise. Not joking. His jaw is clenched, brows even more furrowed than usual. You’ve seen him angry before, but never… seething. It rolls off him until you yank him down a second time.

“I don’t need you to beat them up. I need you to drink wine and tell me I’ll find the right person one day.” You pout as you pick up your wine glass, only half-joking.

His nostrils flare, but he settles down. “You will find the right person,” he reassures. “People are just dicks. You deserve better than all that shit.”

“I wonder sometimes,” you admit. “Nobody wants a single parent. I’m a package deal, and… well, there’s a reason I’m still single after all this time.”

“Oi.” He nudges you, draping his arm around the back of your couch so you smell his aftershave. You turn into the warmth, the comfort, though there is so much space between you still. More than you’d like. In another life, he might have been the one you were looking for. In another life, you weren’t searching for a good, healthy, passionate love, because you’d found it long ago, in the schoolyard where you met.

But you’re in this life, you remind yourself, and you’re a far cry from the people Roy has dated before. It’s clear you’re just friends. You always will be.

You lift your brows, waiting for whatever lecture he’s about to give you.

His eyes pierce yours. “Don’t even bother going there. You and Maisie deserve the fucking world, and fuck anyone who isn’t going to give it to you.”

The words pierce your heart, and something damp and warm trickles from the corner of your eye. A tear, you realise too late.

Roy sighs, the rough pad of his thumb brushing it away. You’re not surprised by his gentle touch, though most people might be. You know him too well to think him anything other than tender-hearted and caring to his core.

“Don’t get fuckin’ upset over that prick. Please, sweetheart.”

“No. I’m not.” You sniff, feeling pathetic. “I’m just overwhelmed. Tired. That’s all.”

His touch drifts to your hair, brushing through the strands and tucking a few behind your ear as your eyes flutter shut again. You could stay like this for a long time. For forever. He has no idea just how much you need him, how much better things feel when he’s around. It would just make sense, you and him — if you took away his fame, at least. You love one another’s kids. You’d become family over the years. You trust him with every fibre of your being as the one steadfast person you can count on.

“Y’know, you’re the person I’d call in the middle of the night if I needed to bury a body. Or if I thought there was a ghost in my house or something,” you admit.

His face crumples. “Ey?”

“Just…” You lean into him, burying your cheek against his chest. “You’re the only person who hasn’t let me down or left me.”

His movements are stiff as he wraps his arms around you, but he melts into you quickly, holding you to him until you’re not sure where you end and he begins. You hear his heart echoing in your ear. Feel the prickly bristle of his beard against your skin. It’s the safest you ever get to feel, and it’s rare you allow yourself to be so vulnerable. But tonight, you can’t find a reason to keep pretending.

“I never would,” he whispers. “If it was me, if you gave me a chance at a family like yours… I wouldn’t fucking waste it. They’re idiots, all of them. You and Maisie are precious. You deserve the best. Don’t stop until you find it.”

You pull away, pulse racing. It’s never felt right to address your feelings before, and perhaps tomorrow you’ll regret it. Maybe you’ll lose him, even, but you believe him when he says he isn’t going anywhere, and you have to know…

“What if I already have?”

His frown lasts for minutes, hours, as he looks down at you. And then you see it dawn on him, and you don’t want to hear how this story ends. You don’t want to be rejected twice in one night. You stumble up. “Forget I said that. I had a couple of drinks at the restaurant, and I’m all… loopy. I’m going to get some snacks. Are you hungry?” The drinks were non-alcoholic, but he doesn't need to know that.

“No,” Roy says.

It’s all he gives you. The message has been delivered loud and clear. He doesn’t want you. Tears sting your eyes as you leave the living room, heading into the kitchen. You catch your reflection in the window and almost break down entirely. You’re an idiot, and you’ve gone and embarrassed yourself in front of the one person you can be yourself around.

You grab a tissue, drying your tears, but fresh ones fall all the same.

And then your back prickles and you know he’s followed you.

“Oi,” he breathes gently, tilting your chin up as he reaches you. “What are you getting upset for?”

“I’m not,” you lie pathetically, looking anywhere but at him. “You can head off if you want. I can watch the girls tonight and drop Phoebe off��”

“Can we just rewind a minute? Do you… Do you think that you and me…?”

“No! God, no. No. No, no, no.”

“Oh.” He nods, leaning back on his heels. "So no then?"

“No!”

“All right, I fucking get it.” He lifts his hands as though they might wipe it all away. “I just thought that’s what you were saying before, on the couch. I thought…”

“You should stop thinking, Roy.” You offer him a flustered smile, your face burning. “Honestly, let’s just forget about it.”

“Right. Fine.” More silence. And then: “What if I don’t want to?”

“Don’t want to what?”

He shrugs. “Forget about it. What if… we’ve both already found the right people?”

Your body is electricity now, and you can barely breathe. “What… do you mean?”

He scratches his stubble, lowering his gaze. “Well, I could take you on a date. I’d be much better at it than the losers you’ve been seeing.”

You’re caught off-guard, hands trembling, “Is that what you’d like?”

“Well, I did. I mean, I’ve wanted to. I just… you’ve already said no. Several times. So I suppose I got my answer, and that’s that.”

“Well, I didn’t think you saw me that way. You’ve never asked before. Is this, like, a pity thing?”

“Fuck no!” he blurts too quickly. “I mean, no. 'Course not. And you’ve never mentioned it before either, by the way. You’re always going on all these fucking dates. When was I supposed to ask? Between Fast-forward Frank and that fucking woman obsessed with her pet ferret?”

You blink, puzzled. “I mean… if you asked, I wouldn’t have gone on dates with Ferret Fiona.”

He throws his hands up in the air. “Now she fucking tells me.”

You don’t like the implication that you’ve been the one holding him back. “Well, it’s not like you’ve ever tried, is it? I mean, I’ve been single for years and you’ve never made a move, even before all this online dating palaver! And you’re not exactly easy to read, by the way. You’re always frowning, even when I’m trying to bloody well impress you! What was I supposed to think? That you fancy me when you always look like this?” You moulded your expression into a big, dramatic, brooding glower and hope it encapsulates everything that is Roy.

He crosses his arms over his chest, looking angry now. Proving your point. “Oi! I don’t do that with my lips,” he points out. “And you’re always talking about how badly you want to find someone when I’m sitting right fucking here! That’s mixed signals, mate.”

“It was me hinting! Hoping!” you shout. “I was just waiting for a sign, or something, but you never treated me like anything more than a friend!”

“Because I didn’t want to be like that creepy Allen bloke you dated last year! He was your friend too, if I recall!”

You sigh, realising the conversation is going in circles. You look at him. He looks at you. Both of you are breathless, wild-eyed, rosy-cheeked, and you know you’ll always remember the way he looks, standing in your kitchen, infuriated and perhaps more open than ever before, because you see it now; that dark look in his eyes was never a guard, never a sign of being just friends. It was want, need.

It was everything you already feel.

“Why are you two arguing?” a meek voice interrupts. You both look to the door to find the girls hovering in the hallway.

“We’re not arguing,” you assure quickly.

“It’s adult stuff,” says Roy at the same time.

“We don’t like it when you argue,” Maisie says. “Especially when you’re supposed to get married.”

“What?” you question sharply, turning red all over again.

Phoebe nods as though corroborating Maisie’s story. “We’ve planned it all. It will be next June at McDonald’s, and Uncle Roy will bring you flowers, and we’ll all have milkshakes afterwards.”

You put your head in your hands, peeking through your fingers and surprised to find that Roy is smirking. “Sounds like a shit wedding, Pheebs. Where’ve you got this idea from?” he says.

“Well, Mum said you two will end up together because you clearly fancy Y/N and it is invevitable.”

A laugh bubbles in your own throat at her attempt to say inevitable, though you’re still too stunned to speak.

“See?” Roy whispers. “Everyone else knew. It's fucking invevitable.”

You shiver, lowering your hands to meet his gaze properly. It’s soft and intent, nothing like the anger of a moment ago.

“All right, girls,” you say. “Get your pyjamas on. We’ll be up to say nanight in a minute.”

You usher them away, closing the door to when you hear their footsteps on the stairs. You’ve never been more aware of his presence, the fact it’s just the two of you — you don’t even know who you are without the kids jumping about, sticking their noses in.

“Have I fucked it all up?” he asks finally.

“No. Have I?”

He shakes his head.

“Then what now?” you question. “What does this… mean?”

“Well…” He leans against the counter, fidgety as he smiles again. “I’ll take you on a decent fucking date for starters. No kids, and no more of whatever the fuck this argument was.”

The thought leaves you feeling cracked and seeping with excitement, though you try to play it cool. “Okay. That’s a good plan.”

“Right. Good. Then… are you free Friday night?”

You inch closer to him, timid suddenly. “I don’t know. My usual babysitter is busy.”

He rolls his eyes and tugs you toward him so that your torsos collide, and then his fingers curl around the nape of your neck and you can think of nothing but the way his lips look, and what it must feel like, having them between your thighs, beard grazing your skin.

“You’re an idiot,” he rasps.

“Takes one to know one.” You lick your lips, then his mouth his on yours, rough and ready and desperate. You let him in, let his tongue explore your mouth. You know you shouldn’t. The girls might come back in, might already be listening, but you’ve wanted this for so long.

You both have.

You’re breathless when he stops, his hands lingering just above your belly as he bites down on a groan. “If I don’t stop now, there’ll be trouble.”

You’re not willing to let go, though, and you rest your hands on his chest as you kiss his jaw. “And?”

“And I’ve waited a long fucking time to do this properly. Give you the care,” he kisses your nose, “you deserve. Sweep you,” another kiss, this time at the outer corner of your eye, “off your fucking feet. So I’m going to.” He steps away. “Friday. Seven. Find a new babysitter, and make sure they’re free all night.”

With that, he steps away, leaving you wanting more.

“Uncle Royyyyy!” Phoebe is calling. “Will you read us a story?”

He grins, kisses your forehead, and then is gone. You’re not sure your knees will hold you up if you follow, but you listen to him talking to the girls, making them laugh, and you have never felt more right, more complete.

You’re a fool for thinking anyone else could be perfect for you when the man you love has been here all along.

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old-danmei-fan · 7 months ago

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Here is some Sebastian fluff. Sebastian was my first SDV love and always will be ❤️

No warnings, just 1087 words of fluff

Description- what happens when the farmer and Sebastian start dating quietly and they are almost found out when Robin shows up unannounced during movie and cuddle time.

In the year you've been living and working on Grandpa's old farm, you've gained many new friends throughout Pelican Town. Your core group included Sam, Abigale and Sebastian, with you being closest to Sebastian.

It was hard not to gravitate towards him when everything about him was just so comfortable. You didn't feel the need to fill the silence with chatter when you two hung out and read comics or manga, but also had no problems trash talking when going head to head in a video game.

It wasn't a big deal to you two when you quietly started dating. Neither of you were into pda and you always hung out so no one besides you two even knew it was going on.

You two were sitting on the couch in your farmhouse watching whatever cheesy horror movie was on, just enjoying each other's company and laughing together at how ridiculous the movie is when you hear a knock at your door.

"Are you expecting anyone today?" Sebastian asks as you untangle yourself from him and the blankets.

"Nope. I have no idea who it could be. It's Sunday and everyone knows I don't really do any work around the farm on Sundays and that I'm a couch potato all day." you reply with a confused tone as you walk to answer the door.

When you open the front door, the last sight You're expecting is Robin standing there with a big grin on her face.

You've got no problems with Robin finding out about your relationship with her son, but you'd definitely prefer her to not find out by seeing her son laying on your couch shirtless, so you quickly step outside and shut your door a little harder than intended.

"Hey farmer! Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, I know it's your day off and all" Robin starts with a slightly confused look on her face. You can only assume the look is from the way you slammed your door shut behind you like a crazy person.

"It's all good Robin! No worries here. Just worried about letting the heat out." Is your sorry excuse of a response. Like you'd have the fireplace roaring when it's the middle of summer.

"Oh sure. I get that, gotta conserve that fire wood right? Well I actually stopped by to see if I could trouble you for some goat cheese. I've been craving some and Pierre said he was out at the moment." Says Robin, getting to the point of why she stopped by today.

"Oh of course Robin! I've got some extras in the house, give me just a moment and I'll bring them right out!" You say a little louder than was necessary,happy that she only needed something as small as a chunk of goat's cheese.

You turn to open the door so you can run inside and grab the cheese when it thuds on something solid and stops before opening. Little did you know, while you were talking to his mom, Sebastian had crawled over to the door to eavesdrop on you two. He definitely didn't anticipate you throwing the door open as quickly as you did.

Sebastian rolls to the side where he would be blocked by the door as you go to open it again, stepping inside and shutting the door again quickly. While you run to the kitchen and Sebastian is rolling around on the floor holding his head where the door hit him trying to stay as quiet as possible, Robin is standing outside wondering what has gotten the farm so spooked.

Once you return to Robin with enough goat cheese to keep her away for a couple weeks, she thanks you and is about to be on her way when she stops and turns to you.

"Ya know, since you and Sebby have gotten so close lately, I think it would be amazing if you two went on a date. I think he may have a little crush on you." Robin says with a wink and walks away, leaving you slightly dumbfounded.

Once you gain a little of your composure, you walk back into the house to finish your movie with Sebastian as you notice he's still on the floor, but instead of rolling around in pain, he's now laughing hysterically.

"Glad you think this is funny Seb. I just about had a heart attack and a stroke all at once! All this stress over some damn goat cheese." You exclaim plopping back down on the couch and covering your head with the blanket.

A few moments later, you feel Sebastian lay on top of you and pull the blanket away from your face. He's still chuckling as he kisses your forehead and says "She's right ya know. I do have a little crush on you."

When you open your eyes you see that stupid smirk and all the tension leaves your body as you start laughing, pulling Sebastian closer you both relax back and continue your movie.

Later that night, Sebastian is walking back into his house and saunters into the kitchen to get something to drink before retreating to his room. Robin is in the process of making a snack of crackers and the goat cheese she got from the farm earlier in the day.

Sebastian tries to hide the smirk when he thinks back to what transpired during his mother's excursion to the farm. Robin hands him a cracker with cheese after he grabs his water bottle. “Try this Sebby, I got the best goat cheese today.”

As he pops the cracker and cheese into his mouth, he decides your farm really does produce the best cheese around, and as he's walking to his room tells his mom "Damn, the goats over on the farm really do make the best cheese, huh mom? Did you get enough for both of us today?"

Before he can make it to the stairs that lead to his room, his mom calls out to him "wait, how did you know I went and got cheese at the farm today when I normally go to Pierre's?"

Sebastian swears he can see the light bulb go off above his mom's head as he just chuckles and walks downstairs, leaving Robin alone in the kitchen. He hears his mom squeal with joy as he steps into his room and shuts the door.

By Wednesday that week, all of Pelican Town knows that Sebastian and the farmer are dating, and Robin couldn't be happier.

#sdv Sebastian #sebastian stardew valley #sebastian sdv #Sebastian sdv fic #Sebastian sdv fluff #Sebastian x farmer #my writing

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natsukishinomiyaswife · 3 months ago

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Reunion at Milne Woods

━━━⊱✿⊰━━━ A Tea Party to Remember ━━━⊱✿⊰━━━

A Twisted Wonderland Fanmade event, inspired by Winnie the Pooh ♡ (featuring my Twisted Wonderland OC, Erica Berger ♡)

Artwork by my dear friend Kris (@skriblee-ksk) ♡ Thank you so much! ♡♡♡

━━━⊱✿⊰━━━ Event Summary ━━━⊱✿⊰━━━

Rook receives a letter from his childhood friend, Erica, who's currently back home on break. The letter contains an invitation to a tea party, with parts of it resembling something a child would make. Inviting some of his classmates to join him (and cryptically telling them to "bring a friend"), they arrive at Acre Valley, a small town know for it's gardens.

While looking at the farmer's market, they run into Erica's father, Alexander Berger, at his flower stand. (Please note: Erica is adopted, and her father is human) He's happy to see Rook again, greeting everyone and making small talk. After seeing the sights and doing some shopping, Rook directs everyone to head into the woods, leading them to a small cottage.

Turns out Erica didn't live in Acre Valley, but the woods surrounding it, known as Milne Woods. They find her there, along with the other guests attending the tea party. Except... they're stuffed animals!? But they're moving and speaking (non-verbally)... What's going on!?

━━━⊱✿⊰━━━ About Erica ━━━⊱✿⊰━━━

Erica is a 18 year old sheep beastman, attending an all girl's school in the Queendom of Roses. She is shy, and usually keeps to herself.

Her unique magic allows her to make inanimate objects sentient, but for a few hours at a time. Her magic only works if the owner has an emotional connection with said object, and "believes they're real". She primarily uses her magic on stuffed animals, and considers them "asleep" when her magic wears off.

Out of all of her stuffed friends, her best friend is Tigger, taking him wherever she goes.

━━━⊱✿⊰━━━ Erica and Rook ━━━⊱✿⊰━━━

Erica and Rook are childhood friends, with his family coming to Milne Woods every summer for vacation. Their relationship is purely platonic, and they write letters to each other to keep in touch.

Rook has a bloodhound stuffed animal named Cooper that Erica was watching for him, who he would take "hunting" with him as a kid.

Now that they're third years, Erica worries about the future of their friendship, each of them busy and unable to spend time together like they used to. While visiting home, she invites Rook to stop by for a tea party, wishing to experience old times again.

Rook, knowing that she was lonely (even if she doesn't say it), decides to bring along some of his classmates (in the hopes that she can meet new people, and make new friends ♡)

━━━⊱✿⊰━━━ Yuu and Grim ━━━⊱✿⊰━━━

Since this is meant to replicate an in game event, Yuu and Erica become friends during the tea party, with Erica giving Yuu a drawing the stuffed animals did of them and Grim before they leave.

The stuffed animals believe that Grim is a stuffed animal too, and treat him like one of their own (much to his displeasure).

Yuu also introduces Malleus by nickname to Erica, causing her to believe that was actually his name and addressing him as such (he never corrects her either)

━━━⊱✿⊰━━━ Canon Characters ━━━⊱✿⊰━━━

If this was a real in game event, these are the characters that would be included (along with their card rarities!):

Rook (Tea Party Attendee, SSR)

Trey (Tea Party Attendee, SR)

Jack (Tea Party Attendee, SR)

Malleus (Tea Party Attendee, R)

━━━⊱✿⊰━━━ Event Rules ━━━⊱✿⊰━━━

No NSFW please! ♡

Anyone can participate! Feel free to include your OC, your Yuusona, a canon character, etc ♡

You can participate by writing fics, making art, creating edits, etc

NO NPC HATE/BASHING please! Erica is my main OC, and means a lot to me, so any entries involving hate towards her will be rejected. Sorry!

Please use the tag #milne woods and credit/tag me in the post (I would love to see what you make!! ♡)

This event has no deadline! So feel free to join at any time ♡

━━━⊱✿⊰━━━ Outfits ━━━⊱✿⊰━━━

Since it's a tea party, it is semi-formal (so no casual clothes).

Summer or spring dresses, longer flowing gowns, slacks with a button down and blazer. Pastel colors, floral patterns, lace. These are just some ideas, but feel free to go cottagecore instead (if you'd prefer that!)

All tea party attendees must have a stuffed friend with them, whether it be one they brought or one they met at the party (Tigger cannot be chosen, since he is with Erica)

There will be games, food, and so much more at the tea party! I hope you're able to attend ♡

━━━⊱✿⊰━━━ Event Background ━━━⊱✿⊰━━━

Here is the event background! Feel free to use this when making cards ♡

Please note: this background was made using an image I edited, the image source is here ♡

━━━⊱✿⊰━━━ Tea Party Attendees ━━━⊱✿⊰━━━

Tsuki - @readsrandomstuff67

Resse Kingbit - @kickasscentral

Iris Valor - @cheerleaderman

✿ ━━━━⊱✿⊰━━━━━━⊱✿━━⊱✿⊰━━━ ✿

𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾! ♡

#♡.sheep writes #♡.twst #♡.twst oc #♡.erica berger #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland fanevent #twst fanevent #twisted wonderland fan event #twst fan event #twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #disney twst oc #rook hunt

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1dcommunityficrecs · 3 months ago

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Rec List: Sports Fics!

Hope everyone has been enjoying the Olympics -- I know I have! There have been amazing performances, emotional records, hilarious memes -- it's truly a unique human experience of community and celebration and accomplishment.

Inspired by that theme, here are some more unique human experiences -- eleven of them! Ranging from under 2000 words to over 100,000 words, fics posted a decade ago (holy smokes) to fics posted just this year, pieces that I know so well they live in my bloodstream to ones I've never heard of and can't wait to try, and even including a rare pair, there's lots of variety as usual, so dig in!

Oh Glory by alivingfire (21027, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

This fic follows Harry, a swimmer, and Louis, a gymnast, at the Olympics.

Reccer says: I love the sense of time and place it evokes.

don't have to go to the pool by Kingsoftheimpossible (12245, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Harry is new to the swim team, Louis is the captain.

Reccer says: This is an absolutely sexy , adorable, efficient, serotonin-boosting fic.

Whirlwind by Dolce_piccante (21311, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

AU. Acclaimed actor, Hollywood heartthrob, and Oscar nominee, Harry Styles, seems to have the world at his feet, but seeks out an old friend when he needs a date for his big night

Reccer says: It's dolce, so it's sexy, it's funny and there is pining.

The Sidelines by RedRidingStiles (47078, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Harry and Louis play hockey for Penn state and can't stand one another, since they can't keep their hatred off the ice their coach and team do what they can to keep their hard earned spot in the playoffs and their two star players from killing each other

Reccer says: The enemies to lovers is done really well, and they're both stupid. It's the perfect combination of interesting plot, comedy, and smut.

Baby Just Dive Right In (Follow My Lead) by LiveLaughLoveLarry (1686, Teen, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

Louis and Harry are partners in synchronized diving. Also in life. They're not intentionally hiding their relationship, but somehow no one seems to pick up on their blatant hints.

Reccer says: It's so funny watching everyone brush off the most unplatonic things as just bros and friends and teammates. Like, I know it's contrived for the sake of the story, but also... it's not that far of a reach!

Get Your Head in the Game by tuxlouis (2007, General, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Harry is on a blind date to a basketball game, and the guy he's supposed to be going with is a TERRIBLE date. Fortunately the cute guy sitting on the other side is a much better conversationalist -- and kisser.

Reccer says: Very sweet, very cute, very funny. Harry's original date is such a hot mess it's hysterical, and Louis is such a little shit but that's what I love about him.

Addicted To Your Fix by sunshinebombx (6312, Teen, Liam Payne/Harry Styles)

Liam injures his shoulder shortly before the French Open. He needs to get back in fighting shape, so he's set up with some yoga therapy. It's very motivating how much he enjoys watching Harry do a downward dog.

Reccer says: Harry's flirting is adorable, and Liam's complete obliviousness to the fact that it's genuine is hilarious. I also love the side-plot about how the media is convinced that Niall and Liam are bitter rivals instead of close friends who get that in sports sometimes you win and sometimes you lose and it's not personal.

Glass Closets and Greenhouses by TiredTiredTz (60933, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

Charlton Athletic defender Louis Tomlinson and worldwide sex symbol Harry Styles are rumoured to be hooking up after a viral video filmed at Harry’s Wembley show was posted online by Tommo’s twin sisters.

Reccer says: This is such a great fic! Sweet, sweet meet-cute, witty banter, and actual Tommo-on-the-pitch scenes!

When the Lights Go Out by thelarenttrap (79269, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post Warnings: Car Crashes

Formula 1 racing drivers Harry and Louis have a history: as childhood competitors, to teammates, to enemies, to eventually lovers.

Hold My Breath by Zarah5 (19749, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Louis is a footballer. Harry is a yoga teacher. Louis doesn't expect to like yoga, doesn't want to like yoga, but... Harry has a way of making it seem not that bad.

Reccer says: Because it's Zarah5 and with her nothing can be anything but fantastic.

Into The Blue by Zarah5 (117218, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Louis is Harry's diving instructor

Reccer says: I honestly think this fic is a classic. A must read. Not to mention it would be a sin

#sports #category 14 #rec list #one direction #harry styles #liam payne #louis tomlinson #niall horan #zayn malik #1dficvillage #1dsource #allwaswell16 #alwaysxlarrie #hlcreators #hlficlibrary #1d rare pairs #ficsfor4am #tracksintheam #trackinghome

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johnnyslittleanimalblog · 30 days ago

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OTIS

Like everyone else I have been patiently waiting for 480 Otis to return to Brooks falls this year and like everyone else I have had a difficult time processing the fact that he hasn't.

I have been watching the explore.org bear cams at Brooks Falls since its inception in 2012.

Otis was always the one constant for all those years until this summer and one I regret ever taking for granted.

I have written this post probably 10 or more times since the beginning of August and I have kept re writing it and editing it another ten times in my head. Now that it is autumn and soon all the bears will be leaving Brooks Falls I thought I should probably finally post it.

This is not an eulogy that I am writing however as I am not yet ready to give up on the old bear. Maybe next year if he does not show up I will face facts but I am not ready to do that yet. There are some reasonable theories as to why he didn't make it back this year and all of them plausible. My own optimistic theory is that Otis stumbled upon some stream so full of salmon this year that he never left it.

Katmai is a huge and wild remote place and there is much of it people never go or get to or see. Even the rangers. Brooks Falls is only about a mile and a half of a 4.2-million-acre park.

Otis has legions of fans from all over the world and the internet is full of information and videos of him.

And he has no idea of any of his own fame.

Amazingly along the way, thanks to the explore.org bear cams he has become a very famous bear world wide and a wonderful symbol of conservation.

When I started watching the explore.org bear cams at brooks falls in 2012 Otis was already 16 or 17 years old. He was a well established adult bear with a place in the hierarchy of Brooks Falls when I first saw him. Otis was a good sized bear but I never remember him having big battles or ongoing issues with the top bears at Brooks Falls. For over a decade 856 was the most dominant bear at Brooks Falls and replaced in his absences by 747. They both never seemed bothered by the presence of Otis and would fish side by side with him for years. In later years I can only describe their relationship as old friends, at least in an old bear kind of way. Otis obviously did get into some battles along the way and he wasn't born with that floppy right ear. It was curtesy of another bear.

I have regretted not being able to see Otis as a cub growing up the in same way I have been lucky enough and able to see some of the other bears born in Katmai since 2012 who return each year with their families to Brooks Falls.

And, it wasn't until after watching the bear cams for 2 or 3 years that I really started to appreciate Otis for a variety of reasons. His very peaceful nature and personality and Zen master method of fishing for salmon was amazing to see.

Otis would sit for hours in his office at the far end of the falls hardly every moving and every once in a while his big paw would come out of the water with a salmon in it. Lots of bears like to chase or pounce on the salmon as they go up the river or give up after awhile and move to another fishing spot.

Otis's philosophy was to let the salmon come to him and eventually they did. He was incredibly successful at it and I remember one time someone counted him catching over 40 salmon in one sitting. He won the fat bear contest four times including its first year. He was so successful people began to call him the king of Katmai. He taught us all patience and we all admired him for it. Watching Otis fish for salmon on the bear cams was a calming and relaxing experience.

I saw Otis struggle last year and although he put on a lot of weight by October it was hard to see.

The explore.org bear cams at Brooks Falls is an amazing opportunity to view the lives of wild brown bears and their families and learn their stories. It really is an incredible privilege.

And it has been such a privilege to witness part of the life of Otis.

And so maybe we will not get to see Otis one last summer. As much as we have all wanted it.

Maybe last year was it.

We don't know, but if that is the case Brooks Falls will seem to be a very different place without him.

I love you old bear and where ever you are I hope it is a beautiful sunny day and the salmon are jumping and you are patiently sitting in the shade catching them in your big paws as they swim right to you.

And if you are unable to give us all another summer next year, my very grateful wish for you is that you are somewhere on a river full of salmon and that the summer has become an endless one.

~johnny

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ahhnini · 5 months ago

Note

Heyyy your writing is so good!! I'm so hooked thank you so much for thattttt...

SO...(IGNORE IF YOU HATE IT, SORRY IF I MADE YOU FEEL UMCOFORTABLE!!!!) I was dying on your cheater ex rafe cameron and oh my god perfection very happy and fluff at the end but if you make like, a alternate destructive ending?? Maybe Rafe comes back from the rehab and apparently he moved, he has a healthy relationship with the reader and jason but... When Rafe is alone with the reader hes the old rafe, hitting on reader and all that and the reader keeps getting confused and tempted because maybe Jason is a bit off or Jason is TOO perfect and the reader never stopped loving Rafe and one day the reader gives in and feels terrible afterwards but then realizes that they belong to Rafe. Also a scene where Rafe and Jason get into a fight and unknowingly the reader goes to Rafe's aid instead of Jason's... IDK I LOVE YOUU BYEEEE

a night to remember - cheater!ex! rafe cameron x cheater!reader

part one / part two

synopsis - an enchanting night with rafe has you contemplating your relationship with your boyfriend

tysm for the request!! i’m glad you’re enjoying this little series!! (dw you didn’t make me uncomfy at all!) hope you like this!

warnings - alternate ending to better things & I wish you love (please read those two parts first!), alcohol consumption, infidelity (from reader), implied sex, relapsing mention, canon divergent, gaslighting (from reader), profanity, slow burn

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

word count - 3.8k

divider credits - roseraris

a/n - can yall tell laufey is one of my fav artists 😭

ask box is open for requests!

rafe felt like an outsider. he felt like his life froze after he left for rehab. now that he was back in the obx, he watched as everyone’s lives moved on, including yours, while his stood still.

meanwhile, your relationship with jason was going…okay. truth was, he was fine. the honeymoon phase was long over, now it feels like he’s becoming more demanding of your time.

you didn’t mind it at first, it’s nice to spend time together, you think. you were happy to spend time with your boyfriend. it made you feel loved

but then he became more clinger. and it made you uncomfortable because now all he ever wanted to do was be with you. he’s now bringing up topics you weren’t particularly comfortable with, such as marriage and kids. while you’d love to talk about these things with him, it unsettled you. he was passionate about these things, and almost made it seem like he was manifesting it for you two. you don’t engage in the conversation, just softly humming and nodding your head. because,

he’ll stop eventually, right?

except, he hasn’t. you two were at a party, it was at one of his friend’s houses. it was in full swing, strobe lights blasting and people dancing to music you didn’t listen to. you were in the backyard, drink in your hand while jason had his arm around you while he rambled your ear away about nonexistent wedding plans. it started to really annoy you, so you made the excuse of needing to go to the bathroom to touch up.

reluctantly, he agreed. you handed him your drink as you walked inside the house. it was dark, so you held onto the walls to use as your guide. you didn’t actually know where the restroom was, you just needed to get away from your overbearing boyfriend.

then, you see him. rafe.

he was back? when? your mom never bothered to tell you. but then again, you barely see her anymore so maybe she knew. you stare at him with wide eyes, hoping the dark ambiance of the party didn’t let him see you standing like a creep. you find a quiet corner and sigh, clutching your chest. it was a feeling you were all too familiar with, it was the same feeling you had when you first started dating rafe and your current boyfriend jason.

why is he making your heart flutter again? you thought you were over him. you bring out your phone from your pocket and text jason

hey, not feeling well. think i’m gonna go home.

okay, i’ll drive you. meet me out front

grabbing your things, you meet your boyfriend at the front yard.

rafe was conflicted. he didn’t want to be at this party, but at the same time, it made him feel welcomed. he knew people would be doing drugs here, it was a given to any party on figure eight, almost like a ritual. he knew there was a chance that he would relapse again, but he trusted himself enough to not give into the temptation.

only a few people knew where he truly went. his family and yours knew that he went to rehab. everyone else? they were told he had some business overseas.

he just wanted to feel at home again. and that’s when he saw you. he had been grabbing a beer from one of the coolers in the backyard, and he saw your boyfriend’s arms wrapped around you; he was saying something, and you looked visibly bored. this was the first time he saw you and your boyfriend after he left, and he noticed something was different. as he stares at you for a couple more moments, he sighs, knowing your relationship was none of his business and makes his way back inside the house.

you looked drained, he thinks. again, he shakes those thoughts away, opening his beer and taking a sip. he stares at the floor, not caring about the girl who's eyeing him across the room. he sees her, she was definitely not making her advances subtle. rafe rolls his eyes at her, even though he knows she can't see him. he quickly downs the beer before deciding he's had enough of the night. he's caught up with the people he hasn't seen in a while, had a couple of drinks and had his fun on the makeshift dance floor. he shoved his way past the girl, who attempted to grab his shoulder in the process, and went to his bike parked outside.

your head hurt. after jason dropped you off last night, you slumped on your bed and he went home. here you were, staring at the celling, not knowing what time it was, hungover. you hold your head in your hands as you try to relieve your headache, ultimately deciding to go downstairs to have a drink of water.

no one's home, good. your family won't see you hungover and give you a three hour lecture about why drinking is bad. you quickly chug down a glass of cold water, feeling hydrated immediately. you make yourself a bowl of cereal and slouch on your sofa, staring into space.

you think about rafe, god damnit. he hasn't occupied your thoughts in so long. you shove spoonfuls of cereal in your mouth as you become frustrated with your own mind, turning on the tv to distract yourself.

should you unblock him? he seems in a much better state from when you last saw him. you bite your lip as your finger hovered over the unblock button. quickly, you tap it, letting a breath out you didn't know you were holding. that's the easiest part done, you think. you stared at the empty text conversation, breath quickening once again. you hesitate. you have a boyfriend, you're in a loving relationship, what were you doing?

you fight with yourself. you don't know if it was the headache or your impulses taking over, but you did it. you texted rafe. you told yourself that you two could still remain friends. you were waiting for a text back, only sending a simple hey. you tapped your fingers on the back of your phone case, ears perking up at every notification. you shouldn't be feeling like this, you tell yourself over and over again.

you don't know how you got here. you were at a cafe with your boyfriend and...rafe? he responded to your text, and wanted to meet up for coffee. you were still reluctant to be with him, alone, so you asked him if jason could come as well. rafe agreed. it was awkward, and all three of you sat in absolute silence, taking occasional sips of coffee and breaking off your croissant to eat.

jason clears his throat, and you look at him for what he was going to say. “how’ve you been?” he says, asking rafe. his response was dry, “fine.” you let out a small hum, trying to dissolve the tension. rafe glances at you, then looks down at his plate. you speak up, “it’s good seeing you again, rafe. glad you’re doing better now.” rafe nods. “alright — it’s obvious there’s some tension here,” jason says your name, “why did you want to meet up with him in the first place?” you lick your dry lips before speaking, “uh, just wanted to…clear the bad blood…wanted to be friends again. it’s not good, actively attempting to avoid each other on the island.” rafe nods his head, “yeah, what I did to you was…horrible to say the least. but, it’s been a long time, and I’m sorry.” your eyes widen, he’s apologizing? rafe, apologizing? you thought you’d never hear it. you stare at him before replying, “I— thank you for apologizing rafe. uh, like I said in our texts, I’m ready to start a friendship with you,” you sigh. jason’s eyes narrow, before interrupting what you were gonna say next, “just friends, right?” “of course, babe”

it was a warm, sunny day. rafe invited you and jason on his yacht for a picnic. things were going well, but you wished you could be with rafe without your boyfriend breathing down your neck. it was seriously starting to bother you. it made you feel insecure that your boyfriend couldn’t trust you to hang out with a friend. did he think you were unfaithful? you were above that kind of thing, you think. you put a piece of cantaloupe in your mouth as you watch the boys swim through the water. you lay down, staring at the blue sky.

after a while, you noticed you didn’t hear any splashing, and become concerned. you immediately stood up and looked at the blue water, not seeing any bodies moving. oh god, oh no. your mind goes to the worst scenario possible and you move to the lower deck to bring out the buoys. you hold two buoys in each of your arms and prepare to go into the water. when you reach the top step of the ladder, you feel a pair of arms quickly wrap around your legs. having no time to react, you scream as you fall down and splash into the cold ocean. you quickly swim up and gasp for air, your face in shock. you turn around and see jason and rafe snickering like little boys. your face twisted and you bite the inside of your cheek in annoyance, throwing the buoys that strayed from your arms in their direction. “not funny,” you grumble. “oh, c’mon, it was a little funny,” jason replies as he comes behind you and grabs your waist gently, guiding you back up the ladder. as you wrap the towel around your wet body, you softly chuckle. jason and rafe getting along, you thought you’d never see the day.

your friendship with rafe was going better than expected. you were both at tannyhill, hanging out at his living room. jason went to cancun for a week, and he was coming back in a few days. the awkwardness between you and rafe dissolved, and you both were playing monopoly while a low-budget movie plays in the background. “so,” rafe drags out, “how are you and your little boyfriend?” “we’re doing good…” you say, quietly, hesitating to tell him about your boyfriend’s current…problems… you look at him, there was a glint in his eyes that looked all too familiar. you missed it — what? you subconsciously shake your head, stop, you have a boyfriend. you two are just friends now. “it’s your turn to roll,” rafe says, pulling you away from your thoughts, “huh? oh, sorry” “what’s on your mind?” rafe asks, gently putting his hand on yours. “nothing, I just miss jason I guess,” you don’t move your hand, letting him intertwine your fingers with yours. “waiting for him to take you away from me again?” he exaggerates a pout, and you roll your eyes. there’s that old rafe. he never truly left. “it’s your turn, now,” you reply, ignoring his snide comment. rafe sighs, letting go of your hand, “i’m bored and hungry. do you wanna order delivery or something?” “yeah, sure.” he pulls out his phone, “what are you in the mood for, sweetheart?” your heart flutters at the nickname, and you stumble over your words, “i’m down for whatever, honestly.” “pizza?” “sure, why not,” you shrug. he nods his head as he pushed a couple of buttons on his phone, and you stare at the floor. “got it, a simple pepperoni pizza; your favorite,” he smiles before continuing, “it’ll be here in thirty.” “perfect,” you respond.

you laugh at a stupid joke rafe said, “stop! you’re gonna make me choke!” you said through your laughter, a greasy pizza in your hand. he softly chuckles and says your name, “it wasn’t that funny, why are you laughing?” “it was! your joke was hilarious, rafe,” you calm your breathing down, smiling at him. the weather cooled down by the time the pizza arrived, so you both ate by the pool, wading your feet in the water. rafe looks at you again, the same look he’s been giving to you all day, and the same look he gave to you when you were both still in a relationship. you take another bite of the pizza and stare out into the view. “you should stay the night, sweetheart,” rafe says suddenly, and you turn your head towards him. he’s been calling you that more often. you shake your head, “are you sure?” rafe gives you a boyish smile, “yeah, it’ll be like…old times. you don’t have to sleep in my room, but i’d like you to.”

“rafe. we can’t do that, I have a boyfriend, remember?”

“yeah?” he looks around, “but I don’t see him anywhere, and plus, we’ll be sleeping in the same bed as friends, not as a hookup or anything like that. like a…sleepover,” he was still a manipulative little shit. you sigh, knowing he always gets what he wants, “fine.”

this felt nostalgic, laying in bed with rafe. it was silly to think about; you vowed to never go back to rafe, and here you were, laying on his bed as you did many nights throughout your relationship. you felt guilty. even though you know this “sleepover” is platonic, you couldn’t stop thinking about the suggestive undertone it had. and you had a boyfriend who was out of town, how would he react?

“I can basically hear your thoughts, sweetheart,” rafe says, turning his body towards you. “stop calling me that,” you say, turning your head towards him. “why? you didn’t tell me to stop calling you that earlier,” he says, voice as smug as ever. under the blankets, he ghosts his fingers along your waist, prompting you to move closer to him. like routine, your body moves closer towards his, until he pulls your backside flush against his chest, mouth close to your ear as he whispers, “I know you still miss me, you’re not happy with him.” “rafe, we shouldn’t—this is so wrong—”

“I know, but it’s exciting, isn’t it? knowing your boyfriend won’t be here to interrupt,” you can practically hear him smirk.

he’s right, your boyfriend wouldn’t be here to interrupt. boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend, your mind keeps saying. in a haze, you crane your neck towards him, and seal your lips together. he kisses back with more desire, inhaling you like you were his last breath. he wraps his arms tighter around your waist and changed position; him on top of you. you both continue making out, your head in a daze as you begin to undress rafe. he pulls the soft white sheets over the both of you, and you could’ve swore you heard him mumble finally.

you regret everything. you cheated on your boyfriend, and with rafe of all people. the ex who cheated on you. you wake up surrounded by the catastrophe that happened last night. clothes on the floor, messy sheets, the memory of rafe’s touch lingered on your skin like a tattoo, and you turn your head to see him peacefully sleeping. last night lit up the spark that dwindled between you two.

fuck, you still love him. you gently brush his hair away from his face, and sigh. god, you were so, so stupid. you sat up, checking your phone, and seeing a text from jason.

hey! just got back! heading over to your place in 10 ❤️

he sent that twenty minutes ago. you’re hoping your mom didn’t tell him you were at rafe’s, but judging how he’s not rampaging through tannyhill at the moment, you assumed she didn’t. you can’t believe it. your feelings for rafe never left after all. you stand up, regret and guilt fill your aura as you pick up your clothes from the floor and dress yourself, leaving tannyhill.

it was all you could think about. jason was having tea with your mom when you came through the front door, your mom telling him that you spent the night at a friend’s house. he kissed you, and you recoiled. he looked at you confused and excused himself from the table with your mom, heading upstairs to your room.

you still smelled like him. did he notice?

you sat down on the bed and he holds up the bag of souvenirs, saying that it was all yours.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all throughout my trip. it sucks that we didn’t have any service, but I bought you gifts that reminded me of you,” he says sweetly. “t-thank you…” you trail off, staring at him with guilt.

how were you supposed to tell him?

he sits down with you on the bed, wrapping an arm around you. “you okay?” “yeah, yeah,” he smiles, gently kissing you on the cheek. “you use a new perfume or something?” “uh—yeah, went shopping while you were away,” sweat forms in your palms. “oh, okay…hey, I wanna talk to you about something…about…rafe if you don’t mind,” jason says, while kissing you on your forehead. “yeah? what is it?” you say, quicker than you wanted to.

“he’s cool and all, but…don’t you think he likes you a little too much?” “what are you talking about, jason?” you hear him sigh, “just…I think we should keep our distance from him. don’t you think? he’s trying to get in the way of our relationship,” he plays with your hair while you stare at the floor. “I don’t think so, he’s just being polite. he’s changed, you know,” you shrug. “if being polite means flirting with my girlfriend, then hell yes he’s being polite,” his voice slightly raised. “what’s your problem?” you suddenly outburst, staring at him with angry eyes. “what’s my problem? what’s your problem?! i’ve been wanting to have this conversation with you ever since the cafe meet up. I thought it was so weird that you would want to become friends with rafe, especially with how you were complaining about him to me throughout the beginning of our relationship!” he lets out with a huff. “it’s almost like you still love him,” he quietly says.

that set you off

“can you hear what you’re saying right now? why would I be with my ex who I had a complicated past with! you’re paranoid, rafe and I are literally just friends and I swear by that,” you plead with him. his shoulders slump, defeated. he says your name, “you don’t notice it, but I do. this whole ‘friendship’ rafe has with you is gonna blow up sooner or later,” he slams your door, leaving your house. your mouth agape, you collapse onto your bed, tears flowing from your eyes.

jason hasn’t answered his texts or calls. it was starting to irritate you, but at the same time, you understood his frustration. you decide to stop contacting him after a while, letting him cool down.

you were at brunch at the country club with your mom. she invited you after she noticed you were feeling down, claiming that the sunlight should cheer you up. a couple of people in your age group were also here, gossiping while eating a late breakfast. usually, you don’t listen to it, but then you heard the names rafe and jason, and you froze. your head shot up and you began eves-dropping the table next to you. you listened until they said something about a fight at a party last night, and even though there was a chance that it was just gossip, there might still be some truth in there. you reacted fast, dropping your fork. you tell your mom and rose that you aren’t feeling well, and they were more than understanding.

you ride your bike through figure eight until tannyhill comes into view. what are you doing? jason’s house is down the street, check on him. as soon as you know it, you’re running towards the front door of tannyhill. you knock on the door, harsher than you expected, and you’re greeted by ward. “good morning mr. cameron, is rafe home?” “uh—yes, he is, but…he’s not in the best shape,” he says gruffly. so it’s true. you stare at ward for a moment before finally speaking up again, “I was wondering if I can still see him? please, mr. cameron.” he thinks for a moment, before finally opening up the door, “he’s upstairs, in his room.”

you knock on rafe’s door before coming in. he’s laying down, holding an ice pack and putting in on his black eye. his good eye widens as he sees you running towards his bed, hugging him. “rafe, oh my god! what happened?” he lightly groans, and you pull away.

“your little boyfriend happened, that’s what,” his voice is strained. “but—why—” “he said something about me ruining your relationship,” you see him roll his eyes before continuing, “jealous fucker.”

you stand up, exiting his room and walking over to the balcony. you run a hand through your hair as you press the call button on jason’s contact, answering immediately this time.

you practically scream at him though the phone.

“what the hell is wrong with you? you get mad at me for being friends with rafe and then beat him up?,” on the other line, jason chuckles, “I knew it, I knew you still had a thing for him.” your body tenses up, “no I don’t, i’m saying this because you beat up one of your friends for your own delusions!” jason says your name, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, “don’t play that game with me. I know what you and rafe did. you two slept together while I was away,” he scoffs, “heard from sarah. turns out she heard you two”

you go silent.

jason speaks up again, “anyways, we’re done, have fun with rafe. I hope he cheats on you again,” he hangs up.

you stand there, mouth agape, phone in your hand. things were happening too fast, you needed to sit down. before you know it, you’re stumbling into rafe’s room, face as pale as a ghost, and you lay down next to him.

“rafe, i’m so stupid,” you let out, he replies “yeah, sometimes you are, sweetheart.” he turns around, looking at you, holding your face with his free hand.

“he was a weirdo anyway,” you quietly speak, voice almost at a whisper.

you end up falling asleep on rafe’s bed. you wake up to him lightly playing with your hair. however, you keep your eyes closed, wanting to savor the moment. you really loved rafe. even though he treated you like crap throughout your relationship, you slowly realized that it was because that was the only way he knew how to love. him coming back made you realize that. and rafe never stopped loving you either. you open your eyes slowly and softly speak,

“I love you, rafe.”

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tayloralisonswift · 4 months ago

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perhaps my hottest take of all time is that while the himym finale sucked, it did not make sense for barney and robin to be together forever and i like how it ended for barney, even if he did recede to his creepy old ways for a while first. the following is probably gonna be an essay, sorry.

so first of all, the main reason why barney and robin couldn’t be together for the rest of their lives wasn’t even why they ended things (though i suppose you could say in a way barney wanted to settle down somewhere and robin wanted to keep traveling, which is symbolic.) it’s because of children. robin categorically does not want kids, something which is impressed upon us a million times, and it would be out of character for her to randomly want to put aside her career to be a mother. barney, meanwhile, longs for the family he never had. he wants to be a father, ever since his not-a-father’s-day karaoke session, just like he wants his father to be a father to him. at one point when he borrows his brother’s baby, he and ted both agree that they have to wait for the real thing. character-wise, it wouldn’t surprise me if barney wanted to bury this in order to be with robin, but it would feel like an unfinished plot thread. barney was always meant to be a dad. thus, they were ultimately incompatible.

however! that doesn’t mean their marriage was wrong or bad or out of character. when they tell their friends, they stress it was not a failure, just a short marriage, which reminds me of jack gilbert’s poem about divorce which says “everyone forgets that icarus also flew.” i don’t think their relationship was a waste. the love was there! it wasn’t enough and it didn’t change anything but it was there.

so why do i hate the finale then? ted and robin. putting aside their differences and the contradictions there, ted is loyal. ted often sucks a lot, but he is loyal to his friends, and barney is his friend. you cannot tell me that ted would get together with his bro’s ex wife. it’s a literal bro code violation, which we know barney really cares about. it would, essentially, rip their friendship apart. especially because the marriage ended on “the love was there” terms - barney will probably always love robin.

then there’s robin’s characterization post-divorce, where she is regretting ever marrying barney and suggesting that she chose the wrong guy, which is shitty of her. mostly she is whiny about ted finally being happy when there have been so many instances where she could’ve been with ted again and chose not to be. this robin is pathetic. at the very least she’s an awful friend. (like it’s not lily’s fault you miss your ex.)

and tracey deserves better than for robin to usurp her story! tracey’s story matters, it’s the reason we started watching, she is The Mother! another hot take but i can see pros and cons to her dying, mostly cons (because hello, we’ve been waiting all this time and you just kill her off??) but i do think it makes sense narratively that ted would sit down his kids on his own and tell them about their late mother. plus that scene where he runs to her door to have a few extra days with her is probably the most excruciating moment on television. (sorry as if it’s my fault.) but i do agree with the general consensus that killing her off in service of ted and robin was shitty.

in my dream finale, barney and robin are together for longer, maybe five years or so. barney goes back to dating and has his child, including the sweet moment where he says that speech he never thought he’d say. robin travels the world. she comes back to new york and she and barney reconcile enough that the gang gets back together and it’s sort of awkward but they commit to it anyway. tracey does die and ted only loves her until his dying breath, or she doesn’t and they grow old on the front porch together. marshall and lily’s story stays the same except robin is a better friend.

wow i’m so glad i decided to spend my morning writing something no one will read! but if you were reading 1. ily 2. don’t kill me for my hot takes <3

#himym #k speaks now

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f1letters · 2 years ago

Text

labyrinth | aa23

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

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

warning: overall fluff with a little hint of angst, rom-com vibes, brother's best friend, recent breakup, mentions of falling out of love with someone, reader's ex has a name (Harry), mentions of Alex breaking his collarbone when he was cycling with George (I still remember laughing so hard when I read about this lol), reader completely clueless that her feelings are reciprocated, big romantic gesture in the end, swearing

pairing: alex albon x russell!reader

word count: 3.9k

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

living for the rom-com content this week! haha, I hope everyone enjoys their daily dose of sweet, fluffy, perfect alex because he owns my heart and I'm always a sucker for the brother's best friend trope! haha

masterlist

"It only hurts this much right now"

Was what I was thinkin' the whole time

Breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out

I'll be gettin' over you my whole life

Having the painful realization that you fell out of love with someone you still adore immensely feels almost like losing touch with reality for a moment.

All of a sudden, your entire life changes.

You find yourself loving old memories more than the opportunity to create new ones.

You feel afraid of leaving all the plans and all the dreams you spoke of fulfilling behind.

You realize you're trapped in the past, stuck in the old idea you still have preciously stored in your head of how they used to be.

Y/N felt like she was losing a part of herself now that Harry was gone.

It was five years together after all. Five years of ups and downs, of laughter and tears, of happiness and anger, of dreams and nightmares.

But as much as she tried to find the butterflies she felt at the beginning in every detail of him, when the young woman looked at her long-time partner she could only see traces of what they once were.

Stupidly, it hurt more that they'd broken up on nice terms. Maybe if they'd had a dramatic, fiery ending she'd have had an easier time moving on.

But fuck, he was still one of the best people she'd ever met. Things just weren't working anymore and their paths didn't seem to align anymore.

Y/N was more than convinced that she would be getting over him her whole life.

At that point, her only source of sanity was her brother's unconditional support. Well... Sanity might have been a strong term.

George had become a true helicopter brother, constantly glued to her side, even if it meant dragging her around the world with him.

It had been a month since Y/N and Harry had been separated and the girl had managed to cross three continents in that time. What a fancy way to deal with heartbreak.

But in one of the few moments when the younger Russell managed to escape her sibling's watchful eyes, Y/N found herself with tears in her eyes, her heart shattered on the floor and her head spinning.

As much as she tried to suppress the sobs that were coming out of her mouth, her cries did not go unnoticed by the attentive ears of the Thai driver who passed by the Mercedes motorhome on his way to visit his best friend.

You know how scared I am of elevators

Never trust it if it rises fast

It can't last

Taking a detour from his previously planned route, Alex carefully approached the crying girl, placing a hand on her forearm which made her turn towards him abruptly.

He felt a tightness in his chest as soon as he saw her smudged, red eyes. "Hey little Russ, are you okay?"

Y/N quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her black long sleeve, putting on a forced smile. "Alex, hey! Oh, it's nothing, I'm okay. Don't worry."

"You were always a terrible liar, you know that?" The boy leaned against the wall, his eyes still fixed on hers. "You can talk to me, Y/N. I promise I'll take your secrets to the grave. Scout's honour!"

The young woman laughed. She knew that the driver was someone she could trust. After all, he had been a constant presence in her life for many years now through George, even if she was never that close to him.

"It's so... Stupid, I feel ridiculous." She confessed, looking up at the open sky and letting out a sad sigh. "Harry is seeing someone new."

"Harry as in your bore of an ex Harry?" She rolled her eyes but nodded yes. "Damn, already? Do you think... Do you think he was already seeing her before you split?"

"No, he wouldn't." The girl spoke. "The thing is neither of us was happy in that relationship, and I know we made the right choice, but... It doesn't hurt any less to see the person who was with you for years move on."

Not knowing exactly what moved him to do so, Alex let his hand run along her soft hair in an act of comfort. Y/N found herself feeling a familiar feeling in her stomach, although she wasn't sure what it was.

"Look, don't waste your time dwelling on that." The driver said as he continued to play with the ends of her locks. "I'm sure that someday he won't be more than a distant memory and that you have a bright future waiting for you with someone who makes you feel like the best version of yourself."

"Alex Albon, what an amazing motivational speech, who knew you were so poetic!" She made him laugh and then hugged him from the side, resting her face on his arm. "But really, thank you. I needed this."

"Anytime, little Russ." He rested his face on the top of her head momentarily, only to push away almost immediately. "So, ready to see your brother get his ass kicked today?"

Y/N felt her palms sweat as she walked next to the boy on their way to her brother, still confused about the sudden effect Thai had on her.

It's just a moment of weakness, it won't last, she tried to convince herself, he's your brother's best friend for God's sake.

Uh-oh, I'm fallin' in love

Oh no, I'm fallin' in love again

Oh, I'm fallin' in love

I thought the plane was goin' down

How'd you turn it right around?

From that moment on, and for some reason mysterious to both of them, they seemed to seek each other out whenever the occasion presented itself.

Y/N would purposefully extend her path to Mercedes on race days in hopes of passing Alex by Williams to wish him luck.

And boy, if Alex didn't make an effort to spend as much time outside the motorhome as possible praying that the girl who he couldn't get out of his head would show up, even if she always had George next to her.

In the middle of all their yearning, the two had started an unspoken tradition during the weeks that followed, which made them feel all warm and fuzzy inside in true puppy love fashion.

On another Sunday like all the others, Alex was lost in conversation with Lando in front of his team's motorhome when - to his shock - he saw the girl about to pass by him... Alone?

Leaving his friend behind with just a few words and a confused look on the British driver's face, Alex hurried over to her, putting his arm around the girl's shoulders.

"Well, well, well... What do we have here? A rare sight of Y/N without her bodyguard?" He spoke with a mischievous smirk.

"Yeah, looks like I got left behind today." Y/N chuckled, eyes twinkling in his direction.

"I never seem to get you alone around these parts. Is Georgie really that controlling?" Alex laughed, knowing full well that his friend had always been very protective of his sister.

Yikes, if he only knew the way his best friend thought about her now.

"So you wanted to get me alone, unh?" Y/N teased the man, without controlling the flirtatious energy with which her question came out of her mouth.

Alex was taken aback but didn't hesitate to respond with the same tone. "And what if I wanted to?"

"Didn't know you were such a flirt, Albon!" She said, teasingly. "My brother, on the other hand, might not be very happy that his best friend is trying to make a move on his baby sister." The girl stated with a serious look, although her mouth still revealed a smirk.

"He doesn't need to know." The driver said as he started walking back to the building, but not before turning to her again and speaking. "If you don't have plans tonight, let's do something. What do you say?"

"I'll think about it." She said, grinning from ear to ear. "Good luck, lover boy."

Uh-oh, I'm falling in love, she realized as her heart pounded in her chest.

It only feels this raw right now

Lost in the labyrinth of my mind

Break up, break free, break through, break down

You would break your back to make me break a smile

Y/N really thought of not going.

It would've spared her the inevitable heartbreak she was going to go through when her brother eventually found out that she had feelings for Alex.

But on the spur of the moment, the young woman chose to worry about her fears later and take her chances, as she stormed out of her hotel room towards the driver's.

Y/N knocked on his door nervously and it only took a few seconds for Alex to show up, with only his shorts on, his hair dishevelled and his toned chest on full display.

"Y/N, you came," he said, an obviously surprised look on his face. "I thought you had bailed."

Oh great, he has someone in there with him, she thought as soon as she saw the strands of his golden hair all tousled. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't know you had company. I'm going to g-"

"What?" He asked lost until he realized the state he was in. "Oh no, no, no! I ended up falling asleep when I realized you weren't com- Or rather when I thought you weren't coming. Please, come in."

The girl entered the room, studying her surroundings while Alex put on a sweatshirt.

"I honestly had lost all hope that you were going to show up," He chuckled timidly. "But I'm so glad you proved me wrong."

After some discussion, the two ended up settling on ordering room service and rewatching The Office - obsessed with the show they had seen it dozens of times over the years - while they ate their late dinner sitting on his giant bed and talked to each other about everything.

"Why did you guys go cycling into the middle of the forest... If the brakes on the fucking bike didn't work?" Tears were now streaming down the girl's eyes, she was laughing so hard at the story Alex was telling her.

"Hey, stop laughing! I broke my collarbone!" The driver already felt stomach pains from laughing so hard and he pushed her until she fell backwards onto the mattress. "And you should know I saved your brother's ass! I gave him the good bike and that's how the universe thanked me!"

"Stop, stop!" She remained laying on the bed, arms hugging her stomach. "I can't laugh anymore or I swear I'll pass out."

Lying down next to her, Alex looked at the girl with passionate eyes. "I'm glad me breaking a bone at least made you break a smile."

At that moment, lost in his gaze, Y/N knew she was in too deep and there was no way back.

You know how much I hate

That everybody just expects me to bounce back

Just like that

Now that the two had already crossed the line and they had spent time one on one, the two friends - or so they liked to call themselves, their feelings still hidden from both parties - were inseparable.

Whenever they could they found themselves together: whether it was within four walls late at night just enjoying each other's company, or exploring cities around the world after getting rid of George with a lame excuse.

So, when Y/N received a message from the driver inviting her to dinner, she wasn't surprised or questioned anything.

It was at a restaurant where the two had already been several times in Monaco along with other friends, so the girl just assumed that the same would happen this time around too.

However, hours later, when she questioned George about his plans for that evening - convinced that her question would spark a debate about rides to the restaurant - the words that came out of his mouth quickly made her realize that she had the wrong idea all along.

"I'll probably just stay home and play with the boys. Well, other than Alex, apparently he has a hot date today with some girl he's been all mysterious about."

A d- d- date. Was this supposed to be a date?!

"Oh." She felt her face go white in shock, something that thankfully went unnoticed by her brother as he was glued to his phone. "I- I'll be right back."

The girl ran upstairs to her room and grabbed her cell phone to reread Alex's message.

From: lover boy

what do you think about dinner with your favourite guy tonight at blue bay, 7pm? 👀

All of a sudden, her palms got sweaty, her heart rate started to increase, and she started to feel apprehensive.

Of course, she had already come to terms with the fact that she had feelings for him but him liking her back?

Surely it was nothing more than a misunderstanding and tonight was nothing more than a dinner between friends.

Uh-oh, I'm fallin' in love

Oh no, I'm fallin' in love again

Oh, I'm fallin' in love

I thought the plane was goin' down

How'd you turn it right around?

The hours passed and she found herself dolled up in a simple long blue dress on her way to where Alex was waiting for her completely alone and more beautiful than ever.

It was a date, there was no question about it.

Alex held out his hand for her to help her out of the taxi and kept it in Y/N's as he looked at her in astonishment. "Jesus, you- You look... Incredible. Fucking incredible really. Shall we go in, little Russ?"

With the simple use of the nickname he always used, Y/N closed herself within her walls as she remembered how wrong she was for going after Alex on her brother's back.

And with that remembrance alone, the date was already ruined before it even started.

For a couple of hours, the two sat at a glamorous table making small, forced talk. Even Alex gave up trying to keep the conversation going when he realized she wasn't feeling it.

The driver felt like the dumbest person on the planet at that moment: not only had he broken his best friend's trust, but he had done it just to have his heart broken in the end.

The silence continued on the ride home, with Alex offering to drive her back like a true gentleman even after the whole dinner fiasco. After a few torturous minutes, he stopped the car and she put her hand on the door handle so fast his heart only shattered more.

"Well, thanks for dinner." She said, her eyes glued to her lap afraid to face him. "I- I'll see you soon, good night."

Alex saw her get out of his Mercedes but unable to accept that this was it, the driver jumped out of the driver's seat towards her. "Wait!"

The girl turned back, coming face to face with the dishevelled image of the boy rushing towards her.

"What went wrong tonight?" Alex asked distraught, letting his hand run through his hair. "I thought I was pretty clear that I cared a lot about you. Hell, I thought you felt the same way. Did I misunderstand things between us that badly all these months we spent together?"

Oh no, I'm falling in love again, she thought to herself and dread filled her from top to bottom like a shiver.

"I'm sorry, Alex," She said, still unable to look at him, especially now that tears were threatening to fall from her eyes. "But I just can't do this right now."

And without even answering, Alex simply walked away.

Uh-oh, I'm fallin' in love

Oh no, I'm fallin' in love again

Oh, I'm fallin' in love

I thought the plane was goin' down

How'd you turn it right around?

After spending months on end talking every day, it all became radio silent.

Y/N couldn't help but blame herself for ending up hurt. He'd put his heart on the line and confronted the undeniable feelings between them, only for her to let fear drive her and ruin everything.

She was the only one responsible for the sudden lump she felt in her throat, for the heaviness of her heart and for the wave of sadness that hit her.

It only got worse when a week later she saw his misery-written face on yet another race weekend, as she got choked with tears, thanks to the painful distance now set between them.

One week turned into two and those feelings of hopelessness and melancholy were still in the air, something that did not escape George's watchful eye.

Taking his place on the sofa next to the girl wrapped in a blanket drinking tea, the elder Russell sat down without much care and let out an exhausted sigh.

"Crikey, what's up with everyone? I swear you've all been in a bad mood lately." He said, without getting a response back. "Did you and Alex plan to get all depressed together or something? Jesus."

The girl gulped at 'her and Alex' and 'together' being in the same sentence, as she tried to keep her concentration on the movie that was on TV.

"He's been all upset since he went on that date I told you about. Apparently, it was a complete failure and now I'll never know who the girl was." George laughed, shaking his head. "I never understood the secrecy. It's not like he went out with you or som-"

Unconsciously, Y/N turned her face towards the large glass window embarrassed but quickly realized that her reaction had given her away.

"Oh, my God," George spoke slowly, trying to accept what he had just realized. "It was you?"

"It doesn't matter now." She finally seemed to get her voice back. "It was a silly decision but it's over anyways."

"What happened?"

"It's over, I told you. I never should have even developed feelings for him." Y/N looked into her brother's eyes, tears forming. "I knew he was your best friend and I still didn't put a stop to things. I'm so so sorry, G."

"Y/N…" The driver leaned against the back of the sofa and brought his hand to his forehead. "Please tell me you didn't break his heart because you thought I would be bothered by you guys going out."

Uh-oh, I'm fallin' in love

Oh no, I'm fallin' in love again

Oh, I'm fallin' in love

I thought the plane was goin' down

How'd you turn it right around?

"Just now you were saying the only reason he should hide a date is if he was going to go out with me!" The girl's voice rose. "Of course, I had to put a stop to it before things went too far!"

"I said it was the only reason he WOULDN'T tell me, not that he SHOULD hide it!" Her brother screamed along with her.

The two sat silently contemplating each other's words until George spoke. "Little sis, I'm sorry to break it to you but I think things have gone too far just by looking at your broken faces these past days."

Oh, he's right, I'm definitely falling in love, she finally accepted.

"Alex is one of the best people I know and I trust him with my life. I couldn't ask for a better person to be by my sister's side if you guys love each other." The man said, his hands resting on each of her shoulders. "Go for it and get him back."

Uh-oh, I'm fallin' in love

Oh no, I'm fallin' in love again

Oh, I'm fallin' in love

Speeding as if her life depended on it, Y/N reached the house of the boy who had her heart and knocked incessantly on his door.

"Calm down, who the f-" Alex opened the door, ready to argue with the person on the other side until he realized it was her. "Y/N."

"Before you send me away, please listen to what I have to say." Y/N pleaded while Alex observed the girl.

She was in his doorway, still wearing her pyjamas, fluffy pink slippers on her feet, with a beanie and a scarf that she at least remembered to grab on her way out or she wouldn't have survived the cold.

"I was a complete idiot for letting you go that night. What I should have done was run after you, begged for a second chance and told you that I'm falling for you and have been since the day you found me crying in the back of that motorhome."

"I was at my worst and you still managed to put me back together and turn it right around. You are literally the man of my dreams. You have everything I want and need in a partner, and I never should have let this drag on for so long in the first place. So please, give me a chance to show you how happy and great we can be together."

The two seemed frozen at the moment, with their hearts on their sleeves and eyes filled with love and hope for a happy ending, until they heard someone from inside the house clearing their throat.

Turning to face his living room, Y/N now noticed the group of drivers - and unfortunately friends of her brother as well - with sly smiles on their faces. "Oh God, please kill me now."

"It was quite the speech, Russell, but maybe we should go." Lando spoke, grinning at the girl, as he, Charles, Pierre and Carlos left the apartment.

"I will never show my face in the paddock again." She said to Alex, covering her face with her hands.

The Thai affectionately removed her hands, intertwining them with his, and approached her, with a smile the size of the world. "I don't know. I agree with Lando, it was quite the speech indeed."

Without thinking twice, and before he could change his mind, Y/N placed her lips on his in a kiss that both of them had been craving for months.

And the moment their mouths met, they both discovered what it was like to feel that one person was their home.

"What about George?" Alex questioned, pulling away slightly from her.

"He almost pushed me out of the house to come here and make things right." The girl laughed, circling the tall boy's waist with her arms.

"Well, little Russ, looks like I'm going to have to buy Georgie dinner as a 'thank you'." He chuckled, grateful for his best friend. "Or should I say, my future brother-in-law?"

"Calm down, lover boy. I've been here for a few minutes." They laughed together, wrapped up in each other. "We have all the time in the world to think about the future."

Sometimes it only takes one painful heartbreak to help us see we are worth so much more than we're settling for.

I thought the plane was goin' down

How'd you turn it right around?

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

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

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

(taglist continues in the comments)

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

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leoramage · 1 year ago

Text

my oasis

⊹ masterlist ⊹ taglist ⊹

⊹⊱ trigger warning - [sugardating, mentions of cheating, age gap, tolerating bad behavior, swearing]

⊹⊱ theme - [oblivious to love au]

⊹⊱ pairings - [bestfriend!lewis hamilton x sugarbaby!y/n]

⊹⊱ keywords - [complicated dynamic. "you did some things that you regret, still ride for you." ride or die relationship. "cause my heart belongs to you - i'll risk it all for you." older men are better. "and I can't pretend I don't want you all - 'cause I want you all." ]

In the dimly lit city, your heart ached as the world around you seemed to crumble. Lewis Hamilton, your best friend, had always been there to catch your pieces when life got tough. He was the one person who truly understood you, even the parts you kept hidden from everyone else.

He watched as you lived your life, a life that included sugar-dating older men, a fact that hurt him deeply but he chose to tolerate it, fearing that his feelings would shatter the fragile equilibrium of your friendship. He didn't want to lose you, he had a vacant space in his heart that he didn't want anybody to occupy but you.

"Our arrangement is over, Y/N. I've grown tired of you." You were left broken, vulnerable, and clutching the silk robe around you as if it were your last shield against the cold reality. The apartment felt suffocating, a constant reminder of the lies that had torn your heart asunder. The weight of his words crashed upon you, leaving your heart shattered. In a haze of tears, you packed your belongings and fled his apartment, the silk robe you wore offering little comfort against the cold reality.

Your sugar daddy, a man you had grown attached to in your own way, confessed to betraying your trust with another sugar baby. You stumbled down the stairs, the soft silk of your robe swishing around you as your tears continued to fall. You knew it was going to happen at some point but it all happened too fast like a sharp whiplash on your gut - you weren't able to recuperate properly.

With a shaky breath, you reached for your phone and dialed the one number you knew would never let you down. Sobbing uncontrollably on the sidewalk with your luggage, you waited for Lewis to answer the call, your voice quivering as you recounted the heartache that had befallen you.

Lewis was in the comfort of his penthouse with Roscoe resting on the bed with him when his phone screen flashed open, he saw the call and immediately answered it to find you on the line. "Hello Y/N?" He groggily answered and rubbed his eyes, It was already late at night but he was more concerned about why your voice was shaky as if you had been crying for hours.

You only sigh and keep walking. "Lewis... I'm outside his flat. He cheated on me. Please pick me up, I need you." It was the only words you were able to speak clearly as you were still caught up at the moment, your voice fading into a sob.

He didn't need two more words from you or ask where you are, he didn't spare a second to get out of bed and put on his clothes, and shoes and run downstairs - out of the front door to get on his car. This was you, after all, your safety is his concern. He cared too much for you - way too much for it to be called friendly. You seem to pull on his heartstrings with ease and he'll wear his heart on his sleeve.

He knew he was in love with you. Even if he wasn't subtle about it at times, happy to keep it buried for days, months, and years. But he is near his breaking point, he hates to see you cry over someone who is not worthy of your tears, time, and energy. He was disappointed in you, upset you chose this life and angry that you chose an old man. Only if you'd give a damn about reciprocating his long-simmering feelings and hint at him that you love him, he would be over the moon and never hesitate to give you the whole world if he has to.

"I'm almost there. Wait for me, Y/N." Lewis muttered under his breath, his senses was wide awake despite it being late at night and he was supposed to be resting. Turning the steering wheel and driving as fast as he can as if he was on racing track, his car reaching above miles per hour on some of the high speed roads. Speeding tickets were not of his concern, not at this time. Those fines can be paid later on, but if something happened to you he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.

He looks desperately around and sees a familiar figure of a pedestrian on the side of the road. He stops and opens the car door, it turns out to be you. "Y/N!"

He hugs you tight, trying to keep you on your feet while the wind howls around and the car door is still open. Your sobs muffled against his shoulder. He held you, offering you a haven amidst the turmoil.

When you could no longer cry, he guided you to his car and drove you to his penthouse, the ride to his place was still and peaceful until you've arrived. He handed you a fresh set of his clothes and led the way to his living room, where you settled onto the couch then he disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a warm cup of tea that felt like a balm for your soul. Lewis just knew what to do, when to speak and offer you comfort.

"Y/N," he began softly, his gaze unwavering as he looked at you. "I—" his words were cut off by his telephone going off at this hour. He had no idea who would even call him at this hour, but you felt bad for disturbing his rest and now you're here in his penthouse.

"No." Lewis shakes his head, only a few seconds into the call. He sounded firm but calm, whoever was on the other line was not getting the response they wanted from Lewis.

"No. You had your shot and you blew it, I just picked her up off the street because she called me crying. If you can't fix your relationship with her by yourself then that's your problem, not mine." Lewis' eyes were full of disappointment as you discovered to whom he was talking to, there was no need to mention names. He was clearly talking to your former sugar daddy who regretted and is now trying to take you back after confessing he had cheated and had another sugar baby next in line after you.

"You better be sorry!" Lewis called out with a touch of sarcasm and resentment lacing his voice as he conversed over the telephone.

"You break the heart of someone as amazing as Y/N, who would go out of her way to make you feel loved, and now that she needs a shoulder to cry on you come to me?" He scoffs and continues articulating not allowing being talked over.

"You decided it would be better to lie with another woman. No chance do I let you speak to her alone. Not after what you've done to her." You were shocked by the blunt words Lewis was dropping every second, he didn't seem holding back himself by sounding spiteful of the situation.

"You don't get to cheat on a wonderful person like her and then get a second chance, that's not how these things work." These were the words you were happy to hear about - that he is being protective over your wellbeing in general. You were grateful for being best friends with Lewis but you weren't prepared for the next words he had spoken with so much decisiveness.

"She's not yours anymore. She is mine and only mine. I love her."

Not only were you taken aback by Lewis' words that struck you like lightning, goosebumps forming within your skin that were well hidden under the comfortable clothing that he made you borrow. His perfume wafted off the very fabric of the clothing - offering a burst of freshness, reminiscent of vibrant rose petals kissed by the spicy and woody undertones with morning dew, creating a harmonious balance between the floral and the robust. You were still - shellshocked in the comfort of his couch.

Lewis on the other hand was breathing heavily, knowing that you overheard everything he said during the call. With the telephone placed down, you found his chocolate brown eyes staring at you with fear in them - not because he was scared of you - he feared losing you because of his unspoken devotion towards you.

The tension in the air was taut between you as if you could hear a needle dropping against the floor. You heard what Lewis said... and that's how you're going to find out he loved you all this time.

"I've known you for so long, and I've watched you go through so much." He admitted as he took a step towards you with apprehension, observing your reaction despite the obvious.

Your tear-filled eyes met his, a mix of astonishment and bewilderment in your gaze from the revelation. "Lewis?"

He took a deep breath, and knelt in front of you as he sincerely gazed at you - still nervous to confess his long held feelings. "I've kept this to myself because I never wanted to jeopardize our friendship, but I can't hide it anymore..."

"I love you, Y/N. I have always loved you." He mumbled those words as the moonlight cascaded his features, waiting for your words that could make or break the moment.

Your heart skipped a beat as his confession hung in the air, the weight of his words sinking in. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you processed the truth. Then, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and you wiped away a stray tear. "Lewis," you whispered, your voice filled with emotion, "I love you too."

At that moment, the barriers that had separated you from each other crumbled away. Lewis's arms wrapped around you, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. a promise of new beginnings and a love that had been waiting in the shadows.

Within a moment, his lips met yours in a soft, hesitant kiss, a sweet collision that sent sparks through your body. The warmth of his touch, the tenderness of his embrace, spoke volumes that words could never capture. The kiss deepened, a gentle exploration of feelings that had been buried for far too long.

Time seemed to stand still as your lips moved in flawless harmony as if they had been designed to find solace in each other's presence. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you, caught up in a whirlwind of emotions that had been building over time. Then flashes of memory backtracked in your head like a mixtape, all these times Lewis had cared for you. All this time he was making you special in many ways despite your troublesome behavior and rebelliousness, he was always there to catch you whenever you fell out of grace. He was your rock that you could lean on - one you could trust with your life.

As the kiss finally broke, you found yourselves resting your foreheads against each other's, your breaths intermingling. Lewis's eyes gazed into yours, and within their chasms, you saw not just the reflection of your own emotions, but the promise of a future you had only dared to dream of.

⊰⊹⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋄⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⊹⊱

Author's Note: This is oneshot fiction for Lewis that I had dreamt weeks ago. I have the draft of this in my dream journal so I decided to give it a try. For the Lewis girlies who I had shared my feelings about the lack of Lewis fiction. I hope I somehow fill a role and hope this was a nice content that I made, it would be heartwarming if you guys appreciate it through any kind of support! I will still have to patch up some dreams of mine and connect the puzzles to create a proper plot for the other drivers that I have dreamt of. Stay updated! 𔘓ฅ[⁠ᓀ⁠˵⁠▾⁠˵⁠ᓂ⁠]𔘓ฅ

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction created by the user in response to a creative writing prompt. Any resemblance to actual events, persons, or entities, whether living or deceased, is purely coincidental. The characters, events, and dialogue portrayed in this fanfiction are products of the user's imagination and are not meant to infringe upon any copyrights or trademarks associated with the Formula One sport or any real-life individuals. This fanfiction is solely intended for entertainment purposes, and the author acknowledges that the depicted scenarios are not endorsed, authorized, or supported by any official Formula One entities or the individuals mentioned.

#formula one #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #Spotify

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sighed-the-snake · 1 year ago

Text

Gun LOADED!

Many people are looking to the bullet catch scene to theorize that Aziraphale is going to fake Crowley's death in the next season, but I think there's another compelling scene from S1 that we should be looking at.

The one with the paintball guns, from S1.

Norm, from management, has a YELLOW cloth tied around his arm, as does the rest of his platoon. Yellow is known to be associated with Aziraphale, and by extension, angels. But I don't think this manager is representing Aziraphale. I think he is meant to represent Crowley.

"I wanted to be a graphics designer," he says. "Design LPs for the Rolling Stones."

Crowley was a graphics designer, of a sort. He made beautiful nebulas. I also think Crowley worked for management and held a high position.

"But the careers teacher said he hadn't heard of them. So I spent 36 years double-checking form BF-18."

The careers teacher is probably God. I get the feeling people in Heaven did not understand or appreciate Crowley's cleverness, didn't understand his work. Crowley was more of an artist than a bureaucracy guy. I wonder if becoming friends with 'Lucifer and the Guys' afforded him some professional freedom, a way to get away from form BF-18, as it were. Maybe Lucifer was his boss and allowed him to do whatever his little heart desired because having a clever subordinate who pulled off such complex work made him look good.

"They couldn't just say, 'Oh, Norman, we're giving you early retirement. Have a watch, bugger off and tend to your marigolds."

The mention of tending to marigolds is interesting here.

The British have something called gardening leave.

From wikipedia, "Garden leave (also known as gardening leave) is the practice whereby an employee leaving a job – having resigned or otherwise had their employment terminated – is instructed to stay away from work during the notice period, while still remaining on the payroll."

It's a sort of limbo period between leaving the company and no longer working for them. You don't go into the office, you're not allowed to contact your former business associates, but you're still getting paid, and you're expected to respond if they call you for assistance. Gardening leave could be a short period of weeks or months to let things calm down before you return because you screwed up, or it could be a prelude to getting fired, or forced into retirement.

Gardening leave sounds an awful lot like what Crowley has on Earth. He was literally sent to a garden to do a job, and he does not return to Hell after. He remains. He lives a posh life with a expense account and a lot of freedom compared to other demons. Furfur remarks on the unfairness of it. Crowley appears to be given assignments once in a while but otherwise I don't think much is expected of him - again, compared to other demons. We've seen the way they're crammed in down there.

(Why he's on gardening leave is a speculation for another day.)

"Well, if they want war," Norm says, knotting his RED necktie around his head, "we're going to give them war. Okay, guys, let's get the bastards."

Clearly, this is when Crowley in Heaven says to himself, "Fuck it, I hate these guys, let's brawl."

And then he turns around and is promptly shot in the heart by the RED team.

He staggers dramatically. He falls. We see the life leave his eyes.

Except it's a trick. One that Norm is not privy to. He thought he was dead as much as everyone else.

But Norm raises his head and looks, bewildered, at the bullet hole in his pocket. He's made a miraculous escape. It mirrors the age-old TV trope of having some hard metal thing in his pocket to deflect the bullet.

In a way, I think this is supposed to represent Crowley's fall from Heaven that he did not see coming, but with S2 and the bullet catch adding context, I think this entire scene holds more meaning.

The thing is, part of writing a good story is including echoes of your theme.

Every single romantic relationship in Good Omens mirrors Crowley and Aziraphale in some way (I'll write more on that later, probably).

Adam and his friends being reflections of the Four Horsemen.

The bookshop being an echo of Eden. The repetition of the "leaving the garden" theme at the end of both seasons, with S1 burning down the bookshop, and S2 with Crowley and Aziraphale leaving it behind.

Twice now, once in each season, there has been a theme of bullets, of getting shot, of miraculously not dying, and no one expecting it.

I'm pretty confident that in S3, Supreme Archangel Aziraphale is going to have his hand forced. He's going to have to execute Crowley for something he has done to meddle with Heaven's plans. And I think Aziraphale is going to have to pull a fast one with very little planning to fake his boyfriend's death.

I can picture it now, with Aziraphale saying something ridiculous to the crowd of witnesses like, "FLAMING SWORD LOADED!" to drop the hint, and the crowd sighs inwardly over what an idiot Aziraphale is, but Crowley looks at him like, "What the fu- oh, we're doing a bullet catch."

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens analysis #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #Fell the Marvelous makes for a terrible executioner

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inevitably-johnlocked · 5 days ago

Note

Hi there! Do you know of any fics with john and sherlock raising rosie that take place when she's a bit older, like in the 10-20 years old range?

Hi Lovely!

Oh gosh, good question... If I have any they'll be on my Parentlock lists:

Parentlock

Parentlock Pt. 2

Parentlock Pt. 3

Parentlock Pt. 4A (MFLs 0-25K w.)

Parentlock Pt. 4B (MFLs 25K+ w.)

Parentlock Pt. 4C (WIP MFLs)

Adoption

But here's what came up with a quick tag search on my offline lists. If you guys have some to add, please do list them for us!

OLDER ROSIE FICS

Evermore by SosoHolmesWatson (G, 2,068 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4, 5-Year-Old Rosie, Love Confessions, Song Fic, Parentlock, Oblivious John, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Disney Songs, Beauty and the Beast) – For the past years, John and Sherlock have lived at Baker Street again, raising Rosie together--as friends and nothing more. Ever since the little girl has watched her first Disney movie, she is obsessed with princesses. When John comes home one day, he finds his friend and his daughter in the middle of a reenactment of her current favourite. Part 1 of Made of Music

Made of Music Series by SosoHolmesWatson (T, 6,464+ w. across 2 works || Series WiP || Post S4, Parentlock with Rosie, First Kiss, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Cuddling, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending) – For the past years, John and Sherlock have lived at Baker Street again, raising Rosie together--as friends and nothing more. Ever since the little girl has watched her first Disney movie, she is obsessed with princesses. When John comes home one day, he finds his friend and his daughter in the middle of a reenactment of her current favourite.

A Quiet Life by DiscordantWords (M, 25,176 w., 6 Ch. || Post S4, Retirement, POV Sherlock, Awkwardness, Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Minor Character Death, Questionable Parenting Choices, Non-Linear Narrative, 20 Year Old Rosie, Meddling Mycroft, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Angst, Sherlock Whump) – There had been three days of silence and a funeral. Sherlock had the terrible feeling that whatever happened next would depend, entirely, on him.

How To Unfold a Heart by elwinglyre (E, 25,477 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, BAMF John, Mentioned Eurus, POV First Person Sherlock, Case Fic, Fluff, Slow Burn, Topping from the Bottom, 3 Yr Old Rosie, Introspection, Sexual Fantasies, John Worship, Ogling, Hand Holding, Kidnapping, Domesticity, Sherlock Whump, First Kiss/Time, Doctor John, Caring John, Soft Sherlock, Sensuality, Touching, Crying, Love Confessions, Anxious Sherlock, Rimming, Toplock, Fingering, Bossy Bottom John) – To Sherlock’s dismay, John’s return to Baker Street with Rosie is only temporary. Sherlock’s daily visits to Regent Park with John and Rosie illuminate his lost childhood memories and missed opportunities. But with each trip to the park, Sherlock also feels a growing sense of hope. That is until the past horrors return unexpectedly in a cryptic note folded in the shape of a heart. To decipher the message, Sherlock must uncover the nature of the hearts around him, including his own.

Chaperones by MissDavis (T, 34,114 w., 7 Ch. || 11 Years Post-S4, Fake Relationship, Parentlock, Disney World, Bed / Room Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, First Kiss, Obsessive Sherlock, Insecure John) – Right. Of course. Everyone assumed they were a couple and no one would question it. John put his elbows up on the table so he could rest his head in his hands. "You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie's class and you won't have to share a room with a stranger?" "Exactly." Sherlock beamed at him. "Don't worry about the cost. The Birmingham case last month paid more than enough to cover expenses for all three of us."

MARKED FOR LATER

About Being Gay by A_Candle_For_Sherlock (G, 1,088 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Coming Out, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, First Kiss, Romantic Fluff, Older Rosie) – Rosie looks up from Sherlock’s picture book about poisonous plants, gives Sherlock a look and asks, 'Are you gay, Sherlock?' and Sherlock, without missing a beat, just says 'Yes,' and continues drinking his tea, and Rosie says 'Ah,' and goes back to her plant book, and John nearly doubles over in the corner.

Are You Gay? by orphan_account (G, 2,299, 2 Ch. || Parentlock with Rosie, Older Rosie, Fluff) – Some boys at school called Rosie "Gay." She doesn't exactly know what that means, but maybe her dad does?

Hope is sweet by Lock_John_Silver (T, 2,977 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Parentlock with Rosie, Valentine’s Day, Developing Relationship, Pet Names, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Classical Music, Idiots in Love, Endearments, POV Sherlock) - Sherlock wants to be more than John’s best friend. Has wanted it for ages, truth be told. So, when Molly comes up with an idea, that to some extent involves three year old Rosie, Sherlock doesn’t hesitate.

"Daddy, who do you like?" by OnlyForward (G, 3,441 w., 1 Ch. || Parentlock / 6 Year-Old Rosie Fic) – Rosie is in the phase where she constantly asks questions. This leads to questions like "Who do you like" and develops, eventually, to "Why don’t you kiss Sherlock?"

If Equal Affection Cannot Be by blueink3 (E, 31,156 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Family, Retirement, Grown Up Rosie, Angst, Reunion, Loneliness, Sussex, Fluff, Sexy Times, Happy Ending) – Sherlock fled London a couple of years after John left him in hospital with nothing but an old walking stick and a half-hearted goodbye. Rosie grew up thinking that Sherlock died when he committed suicide in front of her father by jumping from Barts' roof. So it's somewhat awkward when they run into each other in a Sussex general store between the loaves of bread and the Mars bars...

Consulting for Christmas by ohlooktheresabee (G, 40,153 w., 6 Ch. || Far Future Post S4 / Older Rosie, Thriller, Case Fic, Pre-Relationship, Christmas, Paris, POV Alternating, Fluff, Light Angst, Mutual Pining, BAMF John, BAMF Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Mistletoe, Ice Skating, Heist, Awkward Romance, Developing Relationship, For a Case, Background Mystrade, Angst with Happy Ending) – The Louvre Museum in Paris is planning to host the celebrated Winter Fabergé Egg for its winter exhibition - quite the feat as it has not been on public display since 2002. However there is a snag: whispers of a world-renowned master-thief with his eyes set on the valuable prize. The curator has asked the famous Sherlock Holmes to consult on security, but the detective needs a lot of convincing: he is after all a bit busy with trying to woo a certain clueless ex-army doctor… At the same time, John is attempting to balance work, missing Rosie who is off on her gap year, a volunteer gig at a local London orphanage, and seething jealousy upon the arrival of an apparent old friend of Sherlock’s. Attempting to foil the heist of the century while remaining friendly and objective might just be a step too far... A Christmas crime caper packed full of misdirection, miscommunication and mistletoe, set against the romantic backdrop of London and Paris in the winter. Thrown into all this, will our two idiots finally manage to see what has been right in front of them all along?

Here We Go Again by disfictional (E, 46,687 w., 10 Ch. || Mama Mia-Inspired Fusion || Post-S4, Older Rosie, Alternating POV, Reunion, Retirement, Case Fic, Mutual Pining, Coming Out, Parentlock, Weddings, Fluff and Angst) – Ransacking some old trunks, Rosie Watson finds her father's old journal filled with remnants of a blog he used to keep about his association with Sherlock Holmes. In an attempt to meet the man who had a profound impact on her early years, Rosie invites the long-estranged detective to her wedding under false pretenses.

Know You All Over Again by PoppyAlexander (M, 53,028 w., 21 Ch. || Post-S3 Canon Divergence, Post-Break Up, Angst with Happy Ending, Therapy, Mary is Moriarty, Ex Sex, Parentlock) – After five good years, one difficult one, and six months that were hell, John and Sherlock live apart but still share custody of seven-year-old Rosie. With therapy, supportive friends, and those inevitable dance recitals and open school days forcing them into each other's paths again and again, anger and bitterness fade, leaving space for a new view of each other across the divide.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #older rosie fics #rosie fics #parentlock with rosie #parentlock fics

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xotaemintol · 6 days ago

Text

JSMR [pt.1]// LEE JENO X FEMBLACK READER

[she/her pronouns are used. Warning, this fanfiction includes: cursing, drinking, smoking, mentions of cheating, abusive relationship dynamics, mentions of cyber bullying, protected sex, virgin idol, and more. If any of this these things are triggering for you, please look away. Minors, do NOT interact. Thank you.]

//fluff with slight angst//

(Jeno is an AMSRIST, for the last few years he’s comforted you through your toxic relationship with his videos, lulling you to sleep on your most difficult nights. After years of being one of his biggest fans, you’re finally able to meet him through a mutual friend of yours and your worlds finally being to align.)

//your point of view//

"Everyone, welcome to J...S...M...R. I'm Jeno. Hello, hello, hello. Today, I have something exciting planned—it's a little different from the usual things I do, but I wanted to do something special since I'll be reaching 10 million subscribers soon. So, for today I-"

"Y/N!" I jump as my headphones are ripped out of my ears aggressively by my boyfriend. "I told you to be ready by 4pm on the dot, not 4:01, not 4:02, not 4:03. Four O'fucking clock, are you deaf or something? Like seriously, do I have to spell it out for you every time and then basically drag you out the house?" I roll my eyes and snatch my headphones back from his hand.

"I swear, it's like you're five years old or something. What adult is that bad at time management?" He scoffed and rolled his eyes, he shook his head and looked around the bathroom.

"It's only 3:57, why are you-" He cuts me off before I can finish and yells; "I don't care! I told you 4 O'clock!" He holds his hand up in my face, showing four fingers to further emphasize his point. "By the time we leave it'll be 4:02, I get that you're used to having no where to be and nothing to do unless I'm involved—but people like me are punctual." He complains.

Just like always I'm silent, listening his seemingly endless tirade. I never understand why he's so adamant on dragging me along to every single one of his 'social events', he knows I hate going—yet and still, he remains selfish and drags me along. He says it's to "show off his beautiful girlfriend” and to teach me out to properly “network”. But I think it's to show others that he's successful in every aspect of life.

He's a talented artist, he has the nicest cars and clothes, he's young and handsome, and to accompany him he has a young and beautiful foreign girlfriend.

It's tiring being paraded around by him, and it never makes him look good—most people wonder why I'm still with him after six years. There's been countless scandals about him cheating on me at parties, or ones about us secretly living in separate homes; all of his close friend wonder why I haven't left him.

Still, he wants to pretend for the public and clean his image of being a shitty boyfriend.

"Are you even listening?" He slams his hand down onto the vanity and lowers his gaze to me, "Yah," He says in a low tone. "Didn't I tell you to stop watching that crap?" My eyes widen when he says this, immediately I go to grab my phone—he beats me to it though, and snatches it off of the vanity then takes a step back from me.

I face him completely, turning my body from the large mirror as I say in the most stern voice I can muster; "Joohyun, give me my phone now."

He laughs and raises his arm above his head.

"Seriously, Y/N do you know how pathetic you are? I'm trying my hardest to help you be a somebody, but you'd rather watch this loser and be a shut in, when you could be the girlfriend of me—I've told you twice already, stop watching these weird videos or I'll break up with you."

My heart skins at his harsh words, but not because of his ultimatum. I couldn't care less about him leaving me, it sinks because I know one thing for sure—I'm not a shut in, and wanting comfort doesn't make me pathetic.

With tears slowly building in my eyes and I glare at him.

"What makes you so special?" I ask.

"Why are you so special? Is it because you had one successful art piece in your whole career?"

Joohyun, with a face full of anger; holds my phone with both his hands. His face is red and slightly blurry from the tears in my eyes.

"You wouldn't even be known if not for me, and you'd rather bite the hand that feeds you than be normal?" He lowers his hands, my phone still gripped tightly inside of them.

His words are slightly true. Before dating him I was just a small social media presence, my videos about my experience as a black woman in South Korea were well received—becoming viewed as 'charming' and 'pure', by Koreans and other black women and men who want and or wanted to travel to South Korea. But dating Joohyun really kicked my career off the ground, people fell in love with our relationship.

We became known as a beautiful couple the moment we began dating, our love story to everyone else was seen as the perfect match. People were ecstatic to see that thee Lee Joohyun had fallen in love with a foreigner and cheered for us.

But that was four years ago. Before he was caught cheating on me, before it was found out that I decided to move out for a month due to his abusive language. Now, we're only a shell of our former selves—eating each other away slowly. My passion for creating content was being overshadowed by his work and his control, and now as I look at him with hot tears streaming down my cheeks—I want to break free.

"I'd rather be nobody than be stuck with you for another day."

He says nothing, I can see his arms go slack for a second before he inhales deeply and presses his tongue against his cheek.

"Yah...Y/N," His voice his shaky, through my tears I can see him blink away a few tears of his own. "You don't know what you're talking about, I'll give you another chance." He pauses.

"Me...or him."

I stare at him as I sniffle and wipe my tear stricken face. There was a time where I loved him the most, we planned to get married one day and raise our children to be successful and happy. We were so perfect for each other in the beginning, our flame burned so brightly. Joohyun and I moved in together not even two years into our relationship, because we were so sure that we'd last for ever and that flame would burn endlessly; like two young fools in love, we moved so fast. But now I can see the end of that tunnel, there's nothing but ashes left from those flames and I hate the smell.

I take a deep, and long breath and close my eyes. My voice is shaky as I speak but I'm sure as I say; "Him." That I mean it.

For a moment, he's silent. He says nothing and he doesn't move. From my phone I can hear the sound of Jeno's voice softly whispering, for the better part of about three years; his asmr has comforted me countless of nights. And even in moments like this, but as I hear his voice I feel a pain in my chest.

"Everyone, have you eaten today? You know, I like when you guys leave long comments for me—I always read them when I'm alone, so tell me: what did you eat today? Was it good? Did you like it? Are you trying new things? I want to hear from you, it's fun doing these videos…but when I'm done; I have no one to talk to. So, talk to me, even if it's through the screen, I still want to hear your thoughts."

Joohyun nods his head and says in a quiet tone; "Fine."

In the blink of an eye he raises both his arms and slams my phone down onto the tiled floor, I scream as the screen shatters before turning black. I can no longer hear Jeno's voice, just the sound of Joohyuns heavy breathing and my own crying.

"I'll find someone better than you, and you'll still be here in this weird parasocial relationship with that-that loser!" He throws his head back and lets out a choked cry as I grab my phone. His crying doesn't phase me, not even the sounds of his sobbing.

I hold my phone tightly in my hands and look up at him, I wish that looks could kill.

"Hello everyone! I'm Y/N, your personal travel guide of South Korea! Today, I'm here with Lee Joohyun, and we have some news to share. It's been a while since I've talked about our lovely Joohyun, right? I'm sorry, we've been so busy lately that I could hardly upload anything." I say to the camera.

I glance over to Joohyun with a forced smile expecting him to be holding his composure well, but instead, his eyes are watering.

"Joohyun, please...don't make this hard for both of us. It's what you wanted, can't we at least do one video normally?" He sighs and nods his head.

"I just can't believe I even dated a loser like you...and I let you break my heart." I roll my eyes and look away from him.

"Just leave, I'll do it alone." Without any protest he leaves and I restart the recording.

"Everyone, hello! This is Y/N, your personal South Korea tour guide! Today, I have some sad news to share, but first! I want to share good news with you!" I say with a smile. "So, yesterday while attending an event I got to see someone very famous, he was there to talk about his experience as a Yortober, can you guess who it is?"

I pause for dramatic affect and then with as much excitement I can manage I continue.

"It was the photographer Na Jaemin! He was so amazing, he spoke about his latest project Narcissism, he said that he's been working with six others on this project for a few years now and that it will be released soon with an exhibition—I will be personally attending the exhibition as a guest, so I hope to see you guys there. If you're touring Korea this fall then please join me and enjoy Na Jaemin’s Narcissism."

I clap my hands together and inhale deeply, now that the easy part is over...I need to get to the hard part.

"Now, you're probably wondering what the bad news was, right? Well, there's really no easy way to say this, but I'm sure you all guessed that one day I'd be saying this. It's hard to say it, but Joohyun and I have decided to officially spilt up..." As the words leave my mouth I feel a heavy weight lift off of my shoulders, it feels good to finally say it.

It feels like I’m actually free.

"There's no deeper reason for it, we just felt that it was the right thing to do..." But as I continue I begin to feel choked up, my eyes start to water but a genuine smile starts to form. "Joohyun and I loved each other till the end, we gave each other endless support and constant comfort—in the last two-three years though, things have just been harder." I quickly wipe my tears and sit up straight behind the table.

"Sometimes I think I'm to blame, sometimes he feels the same. But no one is to blame, we just moved to quickly—that's okay though, now, we're both going our separate ways so we can better ourselves and continue to grow and love others endlessly. I hope everyone can understand, it's okay if you don't; but please be kind to us both, especially Joohyun. Please continue to support his art and please continue to support my videos, we'll both do our best and work harder, so please stay by our sides."

The door opens and my manager silently signals for me to end the video, I nod my head and focus back onto the camera and wipe my tears again.

"But, don't be sad guys! I will still be your personal tour guide, providing you insights on all of South Korea's beauties and hidden gems. Thank you for your support and your love, as always, I'm Y/N and I'll be back to show you the beautiful creations of one of South Korea's favorite young photographers, Na Jaemin. Well, goodbye!"

I end the video and sit back down in the chair, slouching against it as my manager rushes to my side.

"Wow, Y/N, you did amazing!" She exclaims while handing me a box of tissue. "I almost thought you guys were seriously in love for a second."

I laugh at her playful comment and blow my nose.

"Do you really think I did good?" I ask, "They won't be upset will they?" She smacks her gums and shrugs while coming to the side of me.

She pats my back and offers me a gentle smile. Yurim has been with me since the beginning, after I was signed under company called Starslip she was assigned to be my manager. She's seen the ins and outs of every good and bad moment in my life, she's supported me and helped me through everything. Yurim even knows the truth about Joohyun and I, she knows about the cheating, fighting, and even him breaking my phone.

If there was one person I know will support me leaving that asshole, it's Yurim.

"Maybe, some will and some won't—most people know about him being a cheater though, so...I think people will side with you and that he'll face backlash, especially since he wasn't even here."

Suddenly I'm hit with realization as I remember that I told him to leave.

"Oh! Is he still here?" She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. I stand up and push my chair back. "He left crying and mumbling 'she should've loved me instead' like a baby." She responds while laughing.

I scoff, "There's no reason for him to cry—he's the one who treated me like shit, I just gave him what he wanted." She nods and purses her lips together.

"Mhm, yeah. He's lucky you didn't leave him three years ago..." She pauses and huffs while pulling her long black hair back, "Wanna get some Kamja-Jeon? It's the perfect time for it." I shake my head.

I don't exactly feel like eating potatoes, I want something spicy.

"I want spicy ramen."

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