#he was going out somewhere in london with his friends to celebrate

[evansbby]

Happy new year, everyone!

[jamminvroomvroom]

congrats on 5k queen! you’re writing is so brilliant beyond belief and you deserve all the love and support this site has to offer. can i request lando+angsty smut (the best combo)…prompts along the lines of “i don’t think im ever going to love anyone the way i love you”//“i don’t think i want to love anyone else”

how did it end?

ln x famous fem!reader

in which it ends, until…

i love this fic with my whole heart. thank u sm for this request, anon, and for being so absolutely for gorgeous and kind <3 kicking off the 5k celebration with a big, sad, sexy bang! lemme know what you think, hugs n kisses

songs to set the mood: how did it end? by taylor swift

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, angst angst angst, fluff, happy ending! exes to lovers, just. a lot going on. sad!lando, sad!everyone, so many feels, r is a big deal model, alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking

4.1k words

one gasp, and then…

“how did it end?” the woman strokes your arm, soothing, tentative.

you don’t know her all that well, she’s signed to the same agency as you, you see her in the halls sometimes and sit next to her in makeup chairs.

you stare blankly at her, registering. news travels fast apparently.

you smile, small, fake, tilting your head to the side. you mumble something about different schedules, timezones, right person, wrong time. she watches your face intently, with sympathy. you want to throttle her. she’s being kind and you despise her for it right now.

“i won’t tell anyone.” she affirms, her fingers still smoothing over the skin of your arm.

yes you will, you think. all of her friends, the rest of the building will know exactly what you’ve told her by the time you get to your meeting. you don’t begrudge her, though, that’s the nature of the industry.

“well, it was good to see you.” you nod, even go in for a quick hug, and then you speed away, beelining for the elevator. the ride is short, your managers office somewhere on the third floor and you shuffle down the corridor, ready to be informed of what your life will look like for the next three months.

fittings, shoots, paris trip.

mhm.

swimwear season, charlotte tilbury, meeting with the vogue journalist.

cool.

week off, few days in london, monaco grand prix.

no.

“what? no.” you splutter. out of habit, you reach for a necklace, frown when you realise it’s no longer there.

“what do you mean, no?” she narrows her eyes at you.

“i can’t go to the race. no.”

“girl, i love you, but did i ask?”

“you know i can’t-“

“you won’t have to see him.” she reasons.

“but what if i do? he’s obviously gonna be there, and the events before and after- no. no.”

“lando norris is not gonna be the end of you.”

you stifle a laugh, one that sounds more like a strangled cry.

what if he already was?

-

look who we ran into at the shops,

walking in circles like he was lost

lando stares at the shampoo.

specifically, the one you use. used. he can’t be too sure anymore, he supposes.

he’d popped out for a loaf of bread, about an hour ago. he didn’t want to acknowledge how long he’d been staring at the women’s toiletries section.

you seemed to live on, everywhere. lando could see you in his apartment, the passenger seat of his car, the back of the garage. even the fucking supermarket wasn’t safe. you were very much alive, moving on with life, and yet you haunted him like he’d killed you himself.

perhaps he had, in a way.

the basket grazes the outside of his leg.

that’s the shower gel he’d buy for you, the one you only used when you stayed with him in monaco.

there’s the tampons you asked him to buy, crying back at home on your- his bed.

oh, and there’s the shampoo that you made him buy, the one that you told him made his curls feel extra fluffy when he was between your legs-

“lando?” a voice calls, drawing lando out of the mist.

“oh, alex. hey.” lando croaks. he hasn’t noticed the lump in his throat until now. he clears his throat, running a hand through his hair.

“what you doing, mate?” alex asks, eyebrows furrowed. he scans lando’s face, puffy eyes, watery.

“shopping.”

“for women’s shampoo?”

“no, no, just… looking.” lando stutters.

“when was the last time you slept?” alex’s voice is laced with concern, apprehensive. he doesn’t know what to say to his heartbroken friend.

lando smiles weakly.

“i’ve been sleeping.”

alex sighs.

“okay, when was the last time you slept properly, then?”

lando’s shoulders visibly sag.

“about a month ago.”

-

we hereby conduct this post-mortem

“we can’t do this anymore.”

the words fall from your lips in a whisper, but they reach him like you’ve screamed them at him. he sits opposite you, in the arm chair, so far away, only a metre or so.

“i know.” lando breathes shakily.

“i don’t want this but…”

“yeah.”

it’s been such a good year. you’re in love. it’s not enough. there’s too much distance, too many outsider opinions, too much longing for someone who’s on the other side of the world.

he’ll be in london. you’ll be in brazil.

he’ll be in australia. you’ll be in amsterdam.

it’s too much.

“i love you, though.” you remind him meekly.

“don’t know how to not love you.” he sniffles.

your heart shatters, the pieces flying over the room, spilling across the floor. they mix with the splinters of his, painting the room red. all you feel is blue.

you cry in his arms when he takes you to bed, his own tears spilling over your collar bone when he buries his head in your neck, licks over the marks he’s left there. to remember me by, he’d muttered dryly.

when you’re both finished, he lays there for a moment, still on top of you. damp with sweat and tears, the taste of one another still lingering on your tongues.

“how is it possible that i miss you already?” he pants, lips grazing just below your ear.

“i get it, lan. i’ve been missing you for a while.”

you’re gone when he wakes up.

and so, a touch that was my birthright became foreign

-

come one, come all

it’s happening again

the empathetic hunger descends

there are about six cameras pointed at you when he asks the dreaded question.

you’re in new york, sat on a talk show hosts sofa, lit by stage lights and his inquisitive eyes. two hundred people sit in the audience, on the edge of their seats waiting for you to spill your secrets.

“so, what happened there, with lando?”

you plaster on the fakest smile to date, crossing your legs anxiously.

“we’re both just so busy, you know? he’s doing amazing things in f1 and i’m all over the place with work.”

“we love both of you over here, it was sad to hear.” he sympathises, adjusting his tie and leaning back in his chair. his fingers drum over the wood of his desk, waiting for more.

vultures. everyone is a vulture.

“and we still have a lot of love for each other. he’s a wonderful person.”

there are tears in your eyes and bile rising rapidly in your throat when you shake hands with the crew, the host, and retreat to your dressing room. you stumble into the en-suite and throw up. then, you fall onto the sofa and cry. you fix your makeup at godspeed and reply to the text from your team, inviting you to drinks at some rooftop bar, promising to meet them there. you punctuate the text with one too many exclamation marks, feigning excitement.

“we still have a lot of love for each other.”

translation: i can’t understand: how did it end?

-

lando watches your interview. of course he does. he watches everything that you do, watches the way you set the world on fire.

he can’t help himself where you’re concerned, like an addict craving the next hit. you look so pretty on tv, glowing. you look fine.

god, why do you look fine?

he hates himself for hating just how fine you look. he is not fine.

“he’s a wonderful person.”

your words ring in his ears. they anger him, because if he’s oh-so-wonderful, why aren’t you here? why isn’t he there with you, waiting backstage? why can’t you just hate him? why can’t he just hate you? maybe you will, if he shows you just how not wonderful he can be.

he gets drunk that night. forces max to hit the clubs with him. sticks his tongue down a pliant woman’s throat. doesn’t ask her name. let’s her invite him back to her place. it has to be her place, he can’t fuck someone else in your bed, the one you used to share. he leaves minutes after he’s pulled out. he’s sure she’s lovely, too good for him and his bitter fucking heart. he feels utterly disgusting.

lando goes home, scrubs his skin red, and then does it again. he doesn’t go to sleep, watches from his balcony as the sun begins to rise over the sea. he hikes to the highest point he can reach in monaco, where it’s quiet and there’s no one to judge him, or worse, sympathise with him.

he stands at the edge of the cliff. screams once, twice. he sits on a rock, and lets himself cry.

the deflation of our dreaming

leaving me bereft and reeling

my beloved ghost and me

sitting in a tree

d-y-i-n-g

-

your stylist is plying you with options.

you can wear the denim with the cream OR you could do the red and white? or we can go full glam! or! or! or! we could-

you drown her out. you don’t give a fuck. not a single one.

what you wear to the monaco grand prix is quite literally the least of the your problems. your biggest problem, of course, is that you have to go to the fucking thing.

visibility is important, get people talking! the words of your manager ring in your ears until you have a dull migraine brewing behind your ears.

you leave the fitting not entirely sure what you’re wearing, but your stylist will be sending the clothes over so you can pack.

when you land in all too familiar nice, there are cameras. when you get to the hotel in monaco, you and lando are already trending on twitter. well, at least he knows you’re coming. when you’re getting your makeup done before your first event, you get a text.

i’ll try and keep my distance.

try.

try is such an interesting word. the fact that he has to try to stay away makes your belly flutter with embarrassing, self loathing butterflies. don’t try too hard, you want to respond. you don’t.

should’ve told you i’d be here you shoot back.

you think i didn’t already know?

of course he knew. he’d probably asked god knows how many brands to invite you. you try and feign an illness but your team drag you kicking and screaming to the event.

-

there are no two ways about it: you’re drunk, on a tuesday night, somewhere in the principality. a few cocktails with a jewellery brand turned into a night on the town, bar hopping with people you hardly knew and barely recognised.

you’re shaking your ass in jimmy’z, pretending to have fun when you see him.

lando stands at the bar, watching you, jaw tensed, eyes solemn. you exit the club faster that his car down a back straight, stumbling into the smoking area. you bum a cigarette from a guy who tries really hard to convince you that he’s the son of a british lord, and sink into the corner, ignoring the people recording you.

depressed model shame smokes outside monaco club because she is fucking pathetic, the headlines will read.

“thought you quit that shit.” his voice washes over your body like you’ve been set on fire, smooth tone, ambiguous accent making you ache.

“i did but then i got forced to come to monaco, so.” you shrug.

“forced?”

“‘m here for work.” you sigh.

“i guess i am too.” he mumbles. you raise an eyebrow.

“you live here, lan.” you tease. lan rolls off of your tongue too sweetly.

“doesn’t feel like it anymore.”

how can it, without you? he wants to scream at you. he can’t, you don’t deserve it.

“how are you?”

you want to touch him.

“shit.”

he needs a taste.

“yeah.”

you put your cigarette out. it tastes like shit, half smoked.

you stand there, stare at each other.

take me home, you want to beg.

come home, he clenches his fists, trying not to grab you and remind you how you’ll always be his, right here, up against the side of the club.

“good luck, if i don’t see you.” you whisper. you linger, praying that he’ll beg you to stay so that you can crumble into his arms, without having to make the first move.

lando ponders his options. his head and his heart wage a war.

logic wins, unfortunately.

“thank you.”

you take that as your queue to get the fuck out of there, and disappear into the night.

-

it’s raining on sunday. the dreary weather seems to perfectly sum up what has been the worst week of your life.

you’ve seen your ex boyfriend more times than you can count, ended up with about four hangovers as a result, and with a pounding head, you have to sit in the paddock club and wait for the sound of engines to split your head in half. it was your own doing, so you’d suck it up, recognising that you were a disgustingly privileged bitch, and there are people who would sell their kidneys to do what you’re complaining about.

you never complain, not usually. but your heart hurts and your body hearts and your mind hurts and it’s just not fair. lando is gorgeous, and you miss him so badly, and your shoes are digging in. who the fuck thinks it’s a good idea to wear heels to an f1 race?

you see him before the race, mouth good luck from afar. he winks. it’s something you used to do before every race. old habits die screaming.

the rain falls harder, the track slick. you say a prayer and take your seat.

“norris has this in the bag, he’s bloody good in the wet.” you hear some old guy say behind you. you are cursed with the knowledge of just how good in the wet he is, and you end up flushed.

he wins. his second one in three races. you pray that no one notices the way you weep. everyone notices.

you make a mistake and rush for the podium, your pass giving you access. he graces the top step and you sob, grinning like a fool, soaked through with rain. the anthem plays, the champagne pops. he finds your eyes in the crowd. your hair falls, stringy and curled, mascara smudged. you are the most breathtaking sight. he stands still, washed with an onslaught of champagne, watching you like he’s scared to take his eyes off of you. his boyish grin and hopeful eyes render you weak - you’re there for him, after all - and he can’t help but bask in that little fact.

dangerous territory. you break, and disappear.

-

say it once again with feeling…

the photographers barely get a second to snap a picture of the top three, because lando is gone. he takes the stairs two at a time, descending from the podium and throwing his pirelli cap and a shaky apology at his pr rep. the adrenaline spike makes his blood rush; he needs to find you and stop you and tell you that he will never be able to stop loving you.

the exit is the natural assumption, and he nearly slips a thousand times as he sprints through the paddock. the ground is wet, but he figures that if his car made it, so can he. the gates are in sight, and so are you, your clothes sticking to your shivering frame.

he calls your name, thunderously travelling towards you, his voice hitting your ears like a sonic boom. you freeze, turn slowly until your facing him. the rain splashes around you, not letting up.

you’re within his reach, and he pulls you in, hugging you tight. you melt into him, clinging like he’s a life force. he inhales you, your scent that he’s missed so horrifically. you crumble, and so does he, pieced back together as one.

“i can’t do this, i can’t.” he kisses the words into the cold skin of your neck.

“no, neither can i.” you choke wetly with emotion.

“miss you too much. it’s too hard, it’s stupid, it’s-“

“wrong. it’s wrong. ‘m sorry.” your breath fans his face, breathing life into him, life that he’d lost four months ago.

he grabs your shoulders, lowering so that his eyes are level with yours. his curls fall over his eyes, sodden from the rain.

“i don’t think, no, i know: i’m never gonna love anyone the way i love you.” lando speaks slow, convincing. your chest is tight.

“i don’t want to love anyone else.” you croak, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe.

“come back to me.” he mutters, pleading.

“don’t think i ever left.” you breathe, hushed.

your lips slot over his easily, it’s like breathing. the kiss is messy, helpless, and he engulfs you whole, his body wrapping around yours like a blanket. you latch onto his race-suit, drawing him in, and then you both seem to remember where you are.

lando norris caught kissing ex like horny teenager in monaco paddock!

you pull away with breathless chuckle. the air is fresh, and you feel alive. he steals another peck.

“wait for me at home. i’ll be quick.” his hand finds you ass, just for a second and you scold him playfully.

home.

yeah, home.

“don’t make me wait.” you grin.

his brain short circuits.

“do you still have your key?” he splutters, refocusing.

you scoff. “never took it off the chain.”

-

you pace the apartment, taking in the space. it hasn’t changed, but it’s messier, a visual representation of lando since you left. the pit of your belly swirls with anxiety, anticipation. he’ll be back soon, and he’ll kiss you, make love to you, remind you that you’re home and that it’d be stupid to leave again.

you’re still damp from the rain, shedding layers until you’re left in your vest and jeans, ridiculous heels kicked off by the door, your jacket airing over the back of a chair.

he hasn’t taken down the pictures of you together. he hasn’t moved your ugly collection of magnets from the fridge. he hasn’t changed the blinds that you chose, but he didn’t really like. your candles sit on the bookshelf half burned, the teddy he’d won you at a fair sits neatly on the sofa. the L pendant and it’s chain is strewn over the coffee table, right where you left it the morning after it ended. your breathing is heavy.

the front door opens behind you.

you don’t move, your eyes still fixed on the silver chain, overwhelmed by how empty your neck feels all of the sudden. he comes up behind you, his head resting on your shoulder, arms finding home around your waist. you often used to find yourselves in this exact position; while you brushed your teeth, made coffee. the room is deathly silent, breathing and the distant buzz of post race festivities the only thing you can hear. lando follows your gaze.

“kept it. knew that one day, you’d come back for it.”

“i came back for you.”

“and that necklace will stay with you when i can’t be there.”

you nod. he kisses your neck.

“missed you so bad.” you gasp. he licks your skin, bites down softly.

you spin in his arms, his hands pawing at your hips and everything blurs when he kisses you.

-

shaky fingers work over zippers, buttons, clasps, and then you’re both bare. you sink into the mattress that you missed so much, his body moulded with yours when you both tumble into the sheets. this is messy and frantic, utterly lovestruck. the lightning strike of his touch has you keening, sweating beneath him already.

“missed you. missed this.”

“do something, lan.” you cry, quiet against his shoulder.

“missed my perfect girl.” he grunts, lips working your chest while his fingers leave a trail of goosebumps over your inner thigh.

“please.” you sigh when his fingers dip between your folds, sliding over your wet flesh. his lip catches between his teeth, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of you.

he thumbs at your clit, stroking over you in slow, firm swipes, and then he’s sinking a digit into you, slow and steady. your toes curl, tears pricking your eyes at the intrusion, but you don’t have much of a chance to adjust, a second finger joining the first. he fucks you full, the stretch of just two fingers making you whine, one hand threading into the sheets while the other slams over your mouth. you want to hide, the pleasure rendering you a mess across the pale grey linen.

“no, let me look at you.” lando rasps, spare hand tugging at your wrist. you whine, writhing when he curls his fingers. “why are you hiding?”

you can’t hold back the choked cry that sounds from the back of your throat, his palm bumping your clit as he grinds his fingers deep.

“gone shy on me, baby? where’s my good girl gone?” lando coos, moving so that he’s leaning over you. the angle change sends your legs flying, kicking out at the sweet torture. “‘s because you haven’t been fucked right in so long, hm? can’t remember how to behave?” he’s smirking down at you, scanning the changing lines of your face.

“need it, need-“ you stutter, the words dying on your tongue.

“words, pretty girl, words.” lando encourages, false sympathy dripping from his tongue.

“need to cum, want you to make me…” you trail off.

“was that so hard?” he tuts, and everything speeds up.

the sound of him working you so sweetly makes you shake, your thighs clenching tight around his hand. the wet squelch hits your ears and you blush, cheeks coloured deep with embarrassment, awe, desperation.

your mouth drops open, screaming silently when it hits, your thighs slick. you drip down his wrist, his hand covered in your release.

“there’s my girl.” lando sighs, diving down to kiss you hard.

you can feel the damp press of his fingers as they dig into your thighs and you squirm beneath him, finding your way into his mouth.

“fuck me.” you slur, teeth knocking with his. he swallows you whole, groaning into your mouth.

“not so shy now, hm? been dreaming of hearing you beg for it.” lando shudders, shifting between your legs.

you can feel the press of him, thick against your cunt and you wiggle your hips, pushing to meet him halfway. the stretch burns deliciously, and you grab at his shoulders, dragging him in.

“fuck, baby.” he breathes, sinking into you slowly. “feel like heaven.” disbelief coats his voice, like he can’t reconcile that this is real; you’re back here, his, in the bed you were always supposed to share.

“it’s so good. feel so good for me, lan.” you whisper, lacing your fingers through his hair.

“love you so much.” he kisses you like he means it, rocking into you with purpose.

“can’t believe i lived without this.”

“can’t believe you’re all mine.”

the release builds, every thrust reminding you of what you could have lost for good. there was no lack of love, in fact you were starting to wonder if you had loved each other too much before.

“never losing you again. can’t live without you. my beautiful girl.”

your tummy grows tight, and he finds your clit when he feels you clamp down on him. he pulls you through the pleasure, guides you to your orgasm and you blindly follow him. you’d follow him anywhere, you decide.

you tell him you love him when you let go, spilling all around him, warm. he’s panting, kisses your forehead gently. he rolls off of you, and you feel the slow drip instantly, but you curl into his side and he wraps around you.

home.

“promise me something.” he whispers. you feel the way he shakily inhales.

“hm?”

“don’t leave again. you belong here, too. with me.”

your eyes are watery.

“i’m staying. ‘m yours.”

“about that…”

lando springs from the bed, naked, disappearing from the room. you watch, confused, cold all of the sudden.

you can hear his footsteps padding through the hallway, and then he’s back, his figure in the hallway. he runs, jumps, lands gracelessly next to you. endeared, you laugh softly.

“sit up.”

you do, leaning up to sit next to him. his fingers skim your shoulder, pushing your hair out of the way. cool metal dances over your skin.

“back where it belongs.” lando smiles at you, eyes wide and stunning.

you toy with the L. something heals in your chest, right around where your heart is.

“the sweetest boy.” you shake your head in disbelief, grin up at him like a fool.

“bath?”

“you know me so well, noz.”

come one, come all

it’s happening again

-

oh, my heart. there is something deeply wrong with me

-

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[vax-merstappen]

feelings (ln4)

my fist lando fic! lmk if you enjoy!

summary: in which lando clearly has feelings for you but will not confess, no matter how many plans you and your friends come up with.

warning: some swearing, lando being an idiot

Ever since you had been invited to join Quadrant by your best friend Ria, you had become increasingly close with the rest of the group. Niran was the first one you got close to, him welcoming you into the group with open arms and listening to all your content ideas. Soon after, you got close to Max, Aarav, and Steve, the boys always making sure you felt like a part of the group. Lando, with his busy schedule, took longer for you to get to know and have in your life.

But when you and Lando finally hit it off, you couldn't imagine what your life had been like before him. You found yourself watching Formula 1 races more often and wearing various pieces of merch sent to you by Lando himself. Occasionally, you would find yourself with a text from him, asking how your day had been or wondering if you would be free to grab dinner while he was in town for a few days.

But soon the tone began to change. You spent many late nights at his apartment, laughing over inside jokes. The random gifts from countries around the world kept appearing more often. Your phone calls got longer and longer until neither of you wanted to hang up.

It seemed like Lando Norris was into you.

You decided to ask Ria about it one day. After all, she had known the man longer than you.

"Hey, do you think Lando is into me?"

Ria gave you a shocked look. "Did you only now just pick up on it?"

"Yeah...?"

"He thought you were hot before you even joined Quadrant. He was avoiding getting to know you because he was intimidated by you at the start. But clearly that has changed."

"Yeah, now he's made it obvious."

"Has he confessed to liking you?"

"Not yet. But i really don't feel like he will any time soon. I mean, there have been so many opportunities when I've been alone with him at his house. And when we've gotten dinner. Or when he's driven me home."

Ria smiled. "Then we'll have to make him confess. Give him an opportunity he can't pass up."

"And how do you suppose we do that?"

---

You had asked Lando to a fancy restaurant in London and reserved a private table with help from Ria, whose family knew the owners. Lando had picked you up in his McLaren, dressed up in a suit. If you hadn't found him attractive before, this would have done the trick.

Dinner was delicious and you enjoyed the flavors while having casual conversation. You laughed over stories from his previous race weekend while you caught him up on the antics going on with the Quadrant group.

"This sure is a nice restaurant, what made you want to dine somewhere special tonight?" he asked.

You could have told him, but you wanted him to confess first.

"Oh, you know. To celebrate someone very special to me being home for once."

"Am I special to you?"

"Yes, Lando. You mean a lot to me."

You held eye contact in the awkward silence that followed. "Stop getting all sentimental on me!" he exclaimed. "You gonna start crying?"

"I might if I have to put up with you for too much longer, let's get the check," you replied, rolling your eyes before laughing.

It seemed like this plan wasn't going to work.

---

Niran sighed dramatically. "So you told him he meant a lot to you and he told you to stop being sentimental? That man is an idiot!"

"I know, right? Any ideas on how we can get him to confess?"

"Easy. Quadrant truth or drink hot sauce video. We ask him point blank if he likes you and he has to answer."

You agreed to Niran's idea and you both got to work writing the questions. A few days later, when Lando was available for the shoot, you had set up in the studio with you three and Ria. The questions started simple.

"So do you watch all of Lando's races?" Ria asked you.

"Of course I do! Wouldn't want to miss one."

You saw Lando smile at your response out of the corner of your eye. Just more evidence the man had fallen for you. You looked at your next question for Niran.

"Have you ever ghosted someone?"

"I have. She wasn't too happy about that one," Niran said.

Niran looked at you for a few seconds as he picked up the next question card. You gave a barely perceptible smile and nod to indicate that you wanted to go along with the plan.

"Lando, do you like y/n?"

Lando's gaze flicked to you before he burst out into laughter. "What kind of question is that? Of course I like y/n! They are a great friend."

Clearly, the question hadn't been worded correctly. Or Lando was finding a way out of admitting his feelings. When you watched the video back before it went out to the internet, you noticed that Lando blushed when Niran asked the question. He fidgeted with his shirt sleeve while he answered, unlike in any of the other questions. He knew the implications and what Niran was getting at. Clearly you would have to try something else.

---

"So you think he does like me?"

Max Fewtrell turned in his chair to face you. "I don't think he likes you. I know he likes you. The man has been down bad ever since he met you. I've never seen him look at anybody else the way he looks at you, like you're the only person he can see."

"But how do I get him to say so?"

Max sat there in silence for a few seconds.

"We're going to make you into Lando Norris' dream girl. He won't be able to resist you."

"What exactly does that entail?"

Apparently, it entailed a full day of spending time with Lando. The day would start with you taking him on a trip to Top Golf, where you would show off that you knew how to hit a golf ball. Next was inviting Lando over to your house for dinner. It would be a home cooked meal of microwave chicken nuggets and mac and cheese, two foods Lando adored but did not eat often. For dessert, it would be ice cream sundaes, a notorious favorite of Lando's. Activities for the night included Mario Kart and sitting together on the couch and watch episodes of Money Heist, one of his favorite shows.

Max said that if he didn't confess his feelings by the end of this night, the man truly was beyond hope.

It was a long day full of activities Lando loved, but surely this would do the trick that nothing else had. You started by going to Top Golf as planned. Little did Lando know, but you had practiced a bit before the trip so that your golfing skills would be attractive to Lando.

"Woah, you can really hit a golf ball!" Lando exclaimed, watching as you swung.

"What, you thought I would be bad?"

"Of course not, I just hoped I might be able to impress you."

You smiled, sensing that you were one step closer to getting Lando to ask you out. Even though golfing may not have been your favorite thing in the world, it was having the intended effect.

Next of course was the dinner. You drove Lando back to your place and led him inside. Of course he had been over a few times before, but this time felt different somehow.

"So what's for dinner?" he asked, interrupting your thoughts.

"I thought we could do something easy, like chicken nuggets and mac and cheese."

"Oh my god! Are you a picky eater too? I never noticed before."

You nodded. "Yeah, I mean I like a lot of foods but there are many I don't like as well."

"How were we not friends sooner?"

You tried not to let any emotions show that he had again called you his friend, but the night was not beyond saving yet. There were still four more stages to the grand plan Max had made.

When you brought out the ice cream sundaes, you could sense his heart starting to melt just like the treat in the bowls. The looks he gave you were different now, like he couldn't take his gaze away from you. And to be fair, you couldn't stop looking at his freckles and his blueish eyes.

"Want to play Mario Kart?" you asked nonchalantly, as if the night hadn't been planned from the start.

"You know I love beating you at video games."

You rolled your eyes. "You say that like I didn't win 5-0 last time we played."

"Oh you're in for it now!"

The competition was close, you winning the first two rounds and Lando winning the next two. In a close battle for victory, you got a red shell that sent Lando spinning and you passing him to claim first place.

"So who's beating who at video games now?" you asked tauntingly.

"It wasn't fair, I got distracted," he whined.

"By what?"

"You."

You couldn't help but blush. "What did I do to distract you?"

"You were shouting at me the whole race, how could I tune that out?" he laughed. A slight wave of disappointment passed through you.

"Want to watch TV?" you asked.

"What show?"

"Money heist? I've been watching that lately."

"Oh my god that's one of my favorite shows! How did you not tell me that you were watching it?"

"I guess it slipped my mind."

You sat next to each other on your small couch, legs pressed up against each other due to how close together you were sitting. It seemed like the night was a waste. You had done all of Lando's favorite things and still he couldn't bring himself to tell you his feelings. Maybe he just wasn't into you? Even though his friends had all reassured you that the signs were there, doubt started to creep in.

You were three episodes in and all of your hope was gone.

"I think I'm going to head home after this one," Lando said. "But thanks for having me over, I had a real good time."

"I did too, Lando."

The credits rolled and you turned off the TV. Lando got up from the couch and you felt cold where the physical contact with him had disappeared. The opportunity was closing fast.

"Lando, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, what is it?"

"I...do yo...have you..."

"Just spit it out."

"Do you have feelings for me? Like more than friends kind of feelings?"

Lando was silent for a moment. "Yeah. I have for a long time and I just didn't know how to let you know. Didn't want to ruin our friendship."

You sighed dramatically. "Are you fucking kidding me, Lando Norris? I took you on a date at a fancy restaurant?"

"Oh my god, that's what that was all about?"

"And then I had Niran ask you if you liked me? And you called me a great friend?"

"Well I couldn't just say it to Niran could I?"

"I was right there! And then this whole night I've been waiting for you to ask me out. You were just going to leave!"

"Ok maybe that one is my fault."

"Lando Norris you are completely oblivious!"

"I know I'm so sorry I didn't-"

You silence him with a kiss on his lips. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that I love you. Even if you can be oblivious."

Lando looked at you before pulling you in for another kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow. Let me take you on a proper date for once, one that I'll actually realize is a date."

"I can't wait."

---

"So you had to confess to him?" Max asked incredulously. "That man is worse than I ever thought."

"Yeah, he was just going to leave without saying anything."

"Jesus Christ."

You laughed. "But at least it's over now, you don't have to watch us pine for each other anymore."

Max rolled his eyes. "But now I have to deal with you being all sappy together. I don't know what's worse."

"Well I can tell you which option I prefer."

[vroomvro0mferrari]

LN4 | First Date

Summary: You're at the club with your friends when you spot the prettiest man you've ever seen. When he notices you and asks you out on a date, it's no surprise you say yes – even though your nerves almost get the better of you.

Lando Norris x female!Reader

WC: 2.0K

Warnings: None, I think.

Masterlist

She left her building with her arms full, struggling not to drop her handbag, shoes, or present for her date. It was especially difficult with her hands slightly shaking from the nerves. She was about to go on her first date. Well, not her first date, but her first date with Lando.

She had met him around a week ago when she was clubbing with her friends in the heart of London. She was having fun with her friends, dancing freely to the pulsing music in the crowded club when she saw him. He was the prettiest man she’d ever laid eyes on, with his bright eyes, fluffy, curly hair and gorgeous laugh, head thrown back at a joke one of his friends made. She couldn't help but stare at him, until he caught her looking, that is. As soon as he felt her eyes on him, he shifted his gaze towards her. And the moment they made eye contact, she quickly turned her head away and looked back at her friends, blushing like crazy.

“Who are you looking at?” Her best friend shouted at her, trying to reach her over the loud volume of the music. Unfortunately for [Y/N], she had spotted her staring and immediately questioned her. She moved her head next to Y/N’s, trying to align her view with her friend to spot the man who had her entranced. “Stop doing that! You’re making it way too obvious!” Y/N hissed at her friend, pushing her face away.

“Ooh, he’s cute!” She said, giggling. “You should ask him out!”

Y/N had rolled her eyes at her friend, as if she would ever do that. She was way too shy for that. The fact the man had already spotted her staring was enough to make her blush, let alone asking him out.

As the night carried on, she kept him in her sights, looking over every few minutes to see if he was still there. Every so often he would catch her looking, making her blush and look away. But he couldn’t see that in the dark night club, could he?

He could. Lando had noticed her looking the first time but dismissed it. There were a lot of people there tonight, and she was probably just a fan. But when she kept looking over every few minutes and hadn’t pulled out her phone to take a picture or to post about his presence in the club somewhere online, and hadn't come over to ask for a picture, he doubted if she really recognised him after all.

She was very pretty, her outfit, hair, and make-up only adding to her allure. She didn’t seem like the type of girl to go out very often, a bit nerdy if you will, but the blush covering her cheeks everytime he caught her looking made up for it. It was adorable. And so, when he saw her alone at the bar, he took his chance.

“Hey there!” He said, moving to stand next to her at the bar. “Mind if I join you?”

She was immediately blushing when she recognised the man she’d been staring at all night. “Oh, um, sure! I mean, yeah, go ahead.” She stumbled over her words.

“Great! I’m Lando by the way,” he says.

“Oh, I’m [Y/N]. Nice to meet you, Lando”

“I could say the same. So, what brings you the the club tonight?” He asks while flagging down the bartender, and ordering his drink.

“My friend just got a new job, so we’re out celebrating! I wasn’t planning to come with, but my friends dragged me out tonight, said I needed to let loose a bit,” she responded chuckling awkwardly and taking a sip of her drink to avoid eye contact.

“Well, I’m glad they did. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have had the chance to meet you,” he said, staring at you.

Of course, he had to say something like that, right when her blush was starting to fade away a little bit. Her face was flaring red now, she was certain. “Oh, uh, thanks,” she responded, looking down.

“So I reckon you don’t go to clubs often, then?”

“No, I’m more of a stay-at-home kind of person, actually.” She smiles shyly, finally looking up into his eyes.

“Ah, I get it. I do enjoy going out once in a while, but because of my job I can’t do that very often. It’s made me appreciate the nights in more,” he says smiling.

By now he had definitely noticed she was shy and nervous, but not because of who he was, because she obviously didn’t know about what he did for a living or his fame and money, that much was clear.

“There’s no need to be nervous. I promise I won’t bite." He chuckled, trying to make her feel at ease. "How about I get you another drink?”

And so he did. He got her two more drinks, even, before her friends came to get her. Although the girls were trying their best to be her wingmen, and wanted her to meet someone, half of her friends were absolutely pissed, and she was the least drunk and only person who could help them get home safely. However, before letting her leave with her group of friends, Lando asked her for her number. Of course, Y/N blushed at the question, but she gave it to him nevertheless.

She left the club with her friends as Lando went back to his group. It wasn’t until she was in the taxi that Y/N found out that world-famous Formula 1 driver Lando Norris was the one who’d been flirting with her all night. She was shocked when she found out, to say the least, even more so when she got a message the day after, asking her out on a date.

That’s how she ended up in the lift to his flat – actually, not his flat but that of his best friend. He had invited her to come over to the place he was staying at for the time being, because he didn’t live in London anymore. She thought it was quite peculiar when she first saw the message. Apparently, everybody – but her – knew of him, he’s crazy famous, yet he invited a random girl he spoke to for one night over to his best friend’s place?

Although, he did know her pretty well by now. After he asked her out, they kept in touch. He sent her videos and pictures, and several memes, but he also asked her questions. To which she always responded with an answer. 

She stared into the mirror of the lift, checking her makeup and adjusting her dress. She took in her appearance and made sure the present she had brought for Lando was still looking good. She was starting to doubt now if she’d made the right choice. Her mum had taught her that you should always bring a gift when you visit someone’s home. However, she was not just coming over for tea, this was a date. Is it weird to bring a present for your date – more specifically, your first date? It was too late now anyway, the lift was already on the right floor.

Y/N walked out of the lift in search of the flat, and when she found the correct door she took a moment to calm herself. She took a deep breath, ran a hand through her hair, and straightened her dress one last time before she knocked on the door.

Lando opened the door only seconds later. “Hey! You made it!” He greeted her, pulling her into a hug right away.

“Hi!” She responded, hugging him back with only one arm, the other holding her present for him. 

“I brought you something,” she said as soon as he released her. Already blushing from the hug, and out of fear he won’t like what she’d brought. She pulled the bouquet of flowers she’d bought for him from behind her back, smiling shyly as she handed them to her date.

“I got you flowers, which I’m now realising is a really stupid gift, and you probably won’t like it—” He interrupted her nervous rant with a reassuring smile, “No, I love it! It’s so sweet of you, I’ve never had someone buy me flowers. Thank you, they’re beautiful!” He pulled her in for another hug, leaving a chaste kiss on her temple, which made her blush even more. She felt relief wash over her upon his appreciation of her gift as she followed Lando into the flat.

He led her into the kitchen, where he put the flowers into a vase and put them on the dinner table which was already set for their dinner.

As Y/N relaxed, adjusting to his presence, their conversation flowed effortlessly as they talked about everything and nothing. He asked her about her hobbies and aspirations, and she asked him about his work and dreams for the future. They bonded over their shared love of travel as they ate the lasagna Lando claimed he made from scratch, but was actually an oven-ready store-bought one. Nevertheless, it tasted great, and the company only made it better. The shared jokes and flirty comments created a sense of comfort and familiarity between the two.

As the night progressed, Lando and Y/N kept the conversation going without any awkward silences; chatter and laughter filled their evening as time passed by more quickly than either of them could process. But as it became later and later, Y/N felt reluctant to leave, and go home. However, despite the fun she was having, and how comfortable she felt with Lando, sleeping over on a first date was definitely not an option. 

So, after one last drink, she got up to leave. Lando, ever the gentleman, walked her down to her car. She could feel her heart skip a beat, and a blush rising up her neck when he rested his hand on the small of her back as he led her through the lobby of the building, and outside to her car. Y/N turned around to face Lando when they got to her car.

“Well, I guess this is goodnight. I really enjoyed tonight,” she said, smiling softly at Lando.

He smiled back at her. “I did too. There’s actually this new minigolf place that just opened up that I’ve been wanting to try out, if you’d like to join me?” If Y/N didn’t know better, she would have thought he was nervous, as if she’d ever reject him after the fun she’d had tonight.

Y/N nodded. “I would love to,” smiling once more at the prospect of another date with Lando. They stared at each other for a few seconds, but just when Y/N turned around to open her car door, Lando reached out and moved his hand down her arm, pulling her closer. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through Y/N’s body. "Wait," he whispered, the sound of his voice barely audible above the pounding of her heart when he moved his face closer to hers. Then, before Y/N could react, Lando pressed his lips to hers in a soft, lingering kiss. The time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in each other, in the moment. Lando slowly moved his lips against hers, cupping her face with one hand, and using the other to pull her closer by her waist. Y/N let herself relax into his body, her hands at the back of his neck and head, as she forgot everything around her, everything except Lando.

When they pulled away, a bright blush covered Y/N’s face, as she smiled shyly up at him. Lando let her go and opened her car door. “I’ll text you!” He told her with a big smile before closing the door for her. He watched her drive away with a love-struck smile on his face before going back inside, excited to tell Max, whom Lando had forced to stay in his bedroom all night, about his amazing date, and to stare at the flowers she’d gotten him.

[tastesousweet]

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (vii) - pt 1 pt 2 p3 p4 p5 p6

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : a little weed sure eases theses two up.

warnings : implications of sex & use of weed

mickey speaks : sorry this took a while to get out friends, hope u love it. also lowkey self inserting w the hawaii trip :P

THIS IS PART SEVEN GO READ THE OTHERS FIRST!!!

“OH, he’s obsessed!” andrea exclaims across the table, a wide smile smothered over her face.

it didn’t take long for asha to call you and begin debriefing her month-long europe trip to you, only for you to cut her short (because matt began knocking on the door, complaining about how long you’d taken to piss) and ask her to finish her tell-all over lunch. she of course agreed and texted you the location of her favorite ramen place along with: “tell your roomie andrea that she can come with i wanna see u bothhhh!”

she’s spent the last half hour detailing the total princess treatment she’d experienced from a guy she met at her stop in london. “yeah, too bad i won’t see him again,” she pouts.

“you didn’t get his phone number that entire time?” you ask, fiddling with the chopsticks in your hand.

“oh of course i did, i just won’t be using it,” asha laughs and tucks a piece of her dark curled hair behind her ear. “it was nice while it lasted but i’m definitely not trying to deal with the hassle that comes with dating anyone right now,” she shrugs.

“you’re so bad!” andrea shakes her head and giggles, "but you know what, i get it."

asha hides her laugh by guiding noodles towards her mouth.

your phone buzzes softly against the counter and lights up, showing off a new text message from your mom, but more importantly your lock screen wallpaper displaying a sleepy figaro on your chest.

asha squeals through her chews as you pick up your phone to decide whether you’ll confront or procrastinate the text message (that will most likely sour your mood). andrea’s eyes widen at the girl as asha finishes up and starts to explain, “who’s cat is that?!” her acrylic nail taps against the table.

“oh, it’s ours,” you peer over your phone, deciding you’d rather not answer your mom’s text (she's asking how degree-related job searching has been, again).

“what?!”

“oh yes, he's my babyyy,” andrea coos while unlocking her phone to show off the many photos, “his name is figaro-.”

asha swipes through the phone in awe, “and when the fuck did this happen?”

“like a few weeks ago, i wanna say…” you turn to look at andrea while trying to remember.

“i’m coming over way more now. oh my god.” she gushes over the many photos of the playful black kitten before returning andrea’s phone.

“please do, it felt like you were gone for so long.” you whine out the beg before taking another sip of the warm broth.

asha sighs (in a way that causes her lips to flutter a little), “i know, i miss hanging out with my friends!”

“and we miss you! your ass is always traveling somewhere we have to soak up all your LA time while we can,” you joke.

the two laugh along with you, “i think i’ll be here for a while…not until like, my birthday.” asha thinks through her schedule and her mouth widens at the thought of her birthday, “oh my god! i forgot to tell you- mostly because it’s kinda far out? so, the past four years i’ve hosted trips for my birthday in late november... and i want you two to come this year!”

your eyes widen in excitement and your mouth is full of noodles, keeping you from letting out the loud 'yes' you wanted to. so andrea answers for the both of you, “well of course, we’ll come!”

asha’s face can’t possibly be stretched further with happiness as she celebrates, “yay, this’ll be so fun! you’ll get to meet some of my girlfriends and f’course the boys will be there so you’ll know a few people already!”

“and where are we going?” you ask with big, curious eyes.

“hawaii!"

౨ৎ

a distinct berry shade drips over the room in full swoops as the leaving sun peeks through matt's curtains ever so gently. your lips are now almost the same shade of the woven fabric, especially after enduring matt's undying and bitter kisses.

you hear him breathe a soft laugh, finding your body's limp, laid-out position to be straight out of an erotic femme painting: right leg and arm stretched above and below you, left arm above your waist to cradle your tits, and left leg bent and falling over the opposing leg.

you turn your head when you recognize his return, whispering, "hey."

matt’s bed dips accordingly when he lowers himself next to you, fixated on your still-exposed silhouette that hosts a few deep hickeys (he’s recently taken a liking to giving you them, his ego gains a small ignition at the thought of him placing them only where he gets to see), rather than your observant eyes.

he finds one he’d kissed into the skin under your printed hello kitty, leaning closer to lick and suckle at it more. you squirm and push his head away with a whine of his name.

he chuckles and moves his hair from his face, “put some fuckin’ clothes on then.” he lays your sweatshirt and panties, he gathered on his way back to you, against your chest.

you lift yourself easily, though a sleepy yawn still makes its way to you as you fit into the hoodie. matt shifts himself to slouch against his headboard. you finish your redressing before moving yourself higher on his bed as well.

matt thinks your phone screen is severely bright and headache-inducing but he doesn't complain as he normally would, instead he's more focused on balancing his joint-rolling necessities atop his wife beater clad torso.

you pay no attention to him as you exchange texts with remi:

REMI - 6:43 PM

OMFG

REMI

this guy im friends w thinks i should set you up on a blind date with a guy he knows :D

REMI

HE JUST SHOWED ME A PIC AND ... fuck

REMI

PLS SAY YOULL DO IT

REMI

u deserve a nice date night

Y/N - 8:36 PM

hi WHATTT

Y/N

idk rem😭😭

REMI

ABOUT TIME U RESPONDED HELLO

REMI

rlly you dont wanna??

Y/N

ill have to think about it

you sigh while turning off your phone, moving your body to better face matt, who's hands work to add the potent plant into his detailed silver grinder. there's obviously no need for you to stay in his bed or hang around for any longer, but as of late you both aren't necessarily itching to kick the other out as soon as clothes are back on.

"i wanna learn," you declare as you sit up more, looking down at his slouched figure.

"to roll?" he asks pausing his smooth routine and licking over his lips expectantly.

"yeah," you move your hoodie’s long sleeve cuffs away from the lower half of your palm, showing him your dedication and anticipation.

matt smirks and continues to zip the plastic bag once more, shaking his head.

"what? why not, matt?" you pout.

“because i’m already good at it,” he shrugs, “you can smoke with me but you don’t have to be the one to roll.”

“‘kay, whatever. i’ll just get someone else to teach me then, like chris or lucas or somethin’” stretching as you collapse back onto his bed and bury your face in the crook of your arm. when matt does nothing to pull you out of your dramatic fit, you decide to mess with him further, grabbing his phone from its place near his thigh and rolling over so that you lie on the plush of your stomach.

you pretend to type (actually just tapping against his uncharacteristically soft lockscreen, displaying a vintage looking photo of a woman you’d only assume to be his mother) then putting the phone up to your ear, mimicking the ring with a burring noise in your throat. “hey lucas! yeah it's me, matt never gave me your number! i know. that is really selfish and unfair!” you nod along while staring at matt who thinks you look and sound so stupid that it’s kind of cute.

you twirl your hair and bite your lip, really getting into character, “you're right, he is the worst. he won’t even let me roll up with him! but that’s fine, i think i may just need someone more skilled and sexy like you to hel-”

matt taps your barely covered ass harder than he intends to, shocking you in the best way. “alright, stop fuckin’ around and pay attention ‘cause i’m not repeating myself,” he softly demands, gesturing you to sit up with his fingers.

"ow!" you rub at the spot and roll your eyes in faux irritation, fighting the urge to smile now that you've successfully recaptured matt's attention and can still feel the heat of his hand on your ass. you try to give yourself grace in moments like this but you can't help but reflect and feel a bit pathetic when having a crush on someone like matt.

matt, who would never take a relationship further than casual sex and unserious after-sex smoke sessions, especially not with you.

"shh. come here, bruh" he hushes you and you obey, shifting to sit next to him, reflecting his bent position. "'kay," he hands you the grinder, mumbling, "take a look," as he grabs one of the natural hemp rolling papers and places the packaging on his nightstand.

you open the silver lid gently, eyes widening slightly and impressed with the dollops of finely crushed weed laying in the container. "how much do you use?"

"all of it," your head practically snaps over to look at him and he sighs, "y/n, it's like half a gram."

you fight the urge to dip your index finger in the crowd of weed and move it around, "still looks like kind of a lot."

"well, it's not," he shakes his head and adjusts his shoulders. "now you're gonna take some in your fingers and place it in this paper," he taps your distracted arm with his hand to bring your attention to the rolling paper he has curled slightly around his thumb. as you begin to take a hold of some of the substance he warns, "and don't do too much at once- i don't need you spillin' any on us or my bed."

"you're such a diva," you huff and softly sprinkle the weed into the wrapper he's holding.

once it's full enough matt shows you how his fingers guide the paper and fold it into its proper joint shape. he moves his hand towards your mouth, "now you gotta lick and seal it." you inch closer, hesitantly peeking your tongue out just a little to lick at the small flap. "okay, you need more than that baby-ass lick. but don't over-do the spit 'cause that'll fuck it up too," he eyes your mouth when you expose more of your tongue, successfully sealing the joint (with matt's guidance).

he finishes off the end of the joint before presenting it to you, "voilà," matt fiddles with the joint in front of your face before you boldly grab it from his hands.

you immediately encourage him with a wave of your fingers, "gimme that lighter, please."

he's slightly impressed with your sudden confidence and adjusts himself (removing the remaining items from his lower stomach, including the lighter you ask for) and reaches over to light it for you.

matt's lip falls between his teeth due to natural anticipation. the sharp, orange hue sparks to life and you gain a shyness as he approaches the joint in your mouth with it. suddenly your fingers take it away from your mouth as you whisper, "wait, matt."

matt dramatically throws his arm down, "yeah?"

"i don't actually know how to do this," a smile spreads across your face when you see matt's mouth slightly ajar and eyes disengaged.

"seriously? you started talkin' like you've at least smoked a couple times."

you hold a laugh in, "well like, i wanna try it. you just have to tell me what to do..."

"inhale the shit," matt gestures his hands, "hold in your lungs, blow it out. it's simple as fuck," he points to your hand holding the joint, "let's see it."

you deadpan, "you're so unhelpful," you shake your head and place it back in your mouth, "just light me up."

he rolls his eyes as his hand moves back up to you, you lean into the flame and immediately inhale as it comes to life in your mouth.

matt just smirks from next to you, amused at your attempt. you focus on holding it in your lungs and close your eyes as you exhale. the smoke exits smoothly and surrounds your head, when you open your eyes you immediately look over to matt who laughs when he sees a cough brewing in your lungs. you push his shoulder just as you begin a small coughing fit.

he goes to grab the joint from your hand but you raise it away, finishing your cough and putting it back into your mouth to taste the odd plant flavor again.

matt's laugh is still there just died down, "who the fuck are you?! 'just light me up' and then here you go actin' like you own shit." he points a finger at you with his eyes big and playful.

you smirk sarcastically, and your eyes crinkle in the softest way, when you lean closer to him in response, blowing smoke in his face.

౨ৎ

"so why're nick and chris staying so late at the warehouse?" you ask and play with the strings of your hoodie.

matt draws lines across your inner thigh with his fingers, "it's nick's month to do inventory and chris bought some crazy wall art shit he had to finish setting up-"

"you're not gonna help them?"

"oh yeah sweetheart, i'll actually go there right now and help them out." his eyes are so dewy and red you find yourself excusing his annoying sarcasm and instead wanting to kiss him and his puffy eyelids and his flushed cheeks, especially when you're sat on top of him like this.

"still, they probably wanted you around," you explain.

"why do you care so much about shit that doesn't involve you? i left them and invited you over so you should be happy." his voice eases his delivery to not come across so harshly while his eyes squint a little.

"you're right, s'not really my place to have a take on y'all's dynamic." you shrug and feel as his hands stop running over your thighs and instead squeeze harshly as he looks in your eyes.

"mmm, thank you for telling me i'm right," he smiles and leans forward to give your jaw a kiss with his wet, pink lips, "say it again and i'll be fully hard."

"you're a dog," you laugh as he pulls away. "what'd you do today?" you whisper, ignoring the sensation that comes with him feeling up your lower half.

"guess." he blinks slowly.

"mmm... i don't know. you tattooed some people, fucked me, made fun of me, smoked..." you list off on each of your fingers.

he nods along as you list each, making different facial expressions depending on the task. "those are all definitely things i did.."

"did you eat?"

"i mean, yeah...ish." he rubs his eyes and his mouth begins to curve slightly, knowing your next sentiment well enough he could say it with you.

as if on queue, you prompt him with a question that tends to come up quite often when the two of you finish fucking, "can we get food?"

౨ৎ

the doorbell of matt's shared townhome rings through the house as the two of you giddily stand near the door, "3, 2, 1.." you count through giggles before opening the door and facing the young man dressed head to toe in papa johns gear.

"oh. my. god!" you exclaim in a ridiculous country accent, "baby come here, they sent a man to sell us insurance or somethin'!" you call out and pinch your eyebrows.

before the man can get a word in matt comes into frame, cowboy hat in tow and his mocking accent deeper yet identical to your own, "now who 'den sent you here to harass my woman? huh?" he holds a tooth pick in his mouth and squints his eyes. "and how much would i owe to have whatever you got in them boxes, son?" he points and you try not to laugh from behind him.

"uh, it's just a pizza delivery that was ordered to this address, sir..." he looks around, checking the numbers displayed next to the door once more.

you peek your head back in, "you know what, charles, it was probably little john, you know he's always orderin' that amy-zun and what not from that tablet!"

"mmm..." matt pretends to think and not laugh as he holds onto a fake belt around his black sweatpants, "my lady's right," he cracks a smile, "you know how the kids get," he tuts and gestures to the man again while pulling out his wallet, "i owe you?"

"only $12.57."

"right," matt grabs a few bills and whistles, "wife, come grab this box for little john would you?" he hands the money over as you reach for the pizza box, "keep the change, boy." he tilts his hat in dismissal and as soon as the door is shut matt's falling to the floor with laughter as you laugh and place the pizza box down, screaming about how close you are to pissing yourself.

౨ৎ

"asha told me about her birthday trip in november," you say, licking your lips of excess pizza sauce.

matt nods and swallows to respond while wiping his mouth, "yeah she does that shit every year."

you adjust yourself on the bed and grab another slice of the cheese pizza in between you two. "it sounds fun, i'm excited," you say before taking a bite.

"yeah, it's usually fun. usually." he laughs.

"meaning?"

"last year in mexico nick almost fist fought asha's boyfriend because he was bein' shitty to her on her birthday. it was a fuckin' brawl everyday of that trip, i swear."

"damn."

"yeah. but don't trip, asha's not letting anything ruin her birthday this time, she loves herself too much to do that." he rolls his eyes in endearment towards his friend.

"well, how about you? your birthday's next weekend.."

matt shakes his head and looks to the side for a moment, "we always struggle to figure out what we're doing for our birthday. the three of us wanna spend that time together but chris wants a party, nick wants a small get together with games, and i'd want a lowkey dinner or something."

"you could always do all of the ideas but on different days."

"that drags it too much, we'll most likely host a party like we did last year, chris will probably nag us enough to make us give up." matt shrugs and takes a bite of his slice.

"well, i'll be at whatever you decide to do," you smile.

"oh will you now?" his eyebrows lift for just a moment in humor.

"well duh."

"and who's inviting you? cause it won't be me," he smiles and stuffs his mouth again right as you push his shoulder and laugh off his bad joke.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

tag list (ily):

@rootbeerworshiper @deadxrx @breeloveschris @saintsturn @honestlybabymiracle @hearts4chris @starrysturniolo @blissfulbellss @aoxash @st7rnioioss @blondiesjailer @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @sturnioloa @thinkingabkinkyshit101 @tcvazq @novasturniolo03 @imaslutforwhitemen @trinity2058 @taking-a-footnote-in-your-life @1horrormoviewhore1 @keira324 @st7rnioioss

@whicked-hazlatwhore @matthewsturnioloswifey @mayhem-72

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Wildflower

What should Ghost give during Valentine's Day to Jade when she's an actual florist who sees flowers literally every day?

Pairing : Simon “Ghost” Riley x Charlotte “Jade” Le Jardin (OC) Word Count : ~ 6.4k words Warning : Full on fluff-fest, a slight angst, and the good o'l cursings.

Title and story inspired by the song 'Wildflower' by Clay Finnesand and 'La Vie en Rose' by Louis Armstrong.

February 14th. 

Fucking Valentine’s day - a day full of love, they said. 

He never really celebrated or cared about any of those kinds of days where people commemorate shit like love. For him, it's just like any other day. He woke up today and did his workout before he went on jogging.

However, that day is different as he saw countless red and pink decorations in every store in his apartment neighbourhood, offering Valentine's day discount for couples. He swore he saw more couples walking down the street than usual, that he even saw a man propose to his girlfriend when he was jogging. 

Looking at them, Ghost remembered,

He already confessed to Jade during the New Years. 

Yep. He did.

Across the London Eye, when the fireworks painted the infinite black, the chimes of Big Ben rang throughout the Thames River, he said it to her, 

‘I think I’m falling in love with you.’

Only to disappoint her again by saying, ‘But I don’t think I’m ready yet.’

Had he been a coward for not being ready to commit yet? Jade was a shining light in his life. She knew of his struggles, and she treated him with kindness and fondness no woman ever did to him. All his life he never thought to fall in love with someone, yet here he was. 

He wanted to be in a relationship with her. Fuck, he wanted to. But she deserved the world. She deserved certainty and stability while his job was nothing but that. He could get deployed out of the blue anytime – die anytime. He had a lot of things to sort out first.

He saw tears in her green eyes despite the smile. She only hugged him in response, saying, 

‘I love you, so I’ll stay right here.’ Jade muttered shakily while pressing her body to his in a tight hug, her fingers grasping the back of Ghost’s jacket. 

‘When you’re ready, I’ll be here.’

‘Let’s be friends, yeah?’ She had added, to which he answered with a smile. “Yeah. We'll always be friends.”

That was New Years. 

It'd been two months since then. Ghost and Jade had been texting each other regularly all the while continuing their lives. They met occasionally for a food tour as Ghost was a food enthusiast. Their chat was full of ‘Let’s try the new Korean BBQ around the street’, ‘You ever tried a fried ice cream?’, ‘There’s a new movie about a lady becoming a superhero across multiple universes’, and more casual stuff like those. Meanwhile Jade would take him to physical activities such as take him to a zoo, hiking, and even go to arcades. 

Johnny had been such a tease on it. He’d been bothering Ghost the whole time in the base as the Lieutenant looked at his phone and typing away on it more frequently than ever. ‘Yer’ lookin’ very happy these days, Sir.’ , ‘How’s Jade doin’?’, ‘Another ‘meet-up’ with Jade?’, 

‘Yer’ so full of rubbish. That’s called a date.’ Soap had said. 

'Shut your gob. We’re just friends, Johnny.’

‘Friends who go on dates together.’

Soap ran away before Ghost could smack the shit out of him. 

But was it really? Ghost and Jade frequently walk together, as friends, Eating at places together, as friends. Watch movies together, as friends. 

But seeing that one guy propose to his girlfriend lit up a spark in him.

That's when Ghost texted her for a meet-up somewhere, Jade replied back with,

‘I would LOVE to if it's not the busiest time of the year T_T and every Valentines we'd open from early morning to midnight, so I'm really sorry. We have all our employees working, but it doesn't seem to make any difference.’

He forgot that Valentine’s day is literally the most important day for a florist. Fucking idiot.

Ghost sighed as he looked up from his phone, right in front of the Le Jardin floristry. He wore a black hoodie and a face mask, the black face paint absent from around his eyes as he was on leave, a rare occurrence from his line of work. Inside the garden was an organised chaos, to say the least. Ghost saw at least 6 customers inside the garden, around 4 employees going around the shop to accompany them. Even as one person went out after buying a flower, two people would enter the shop to replace them. The place was positively crowded.

He looked far and wide for Jade inside among the sea of people, until a woman with ginger hair came out of a room with a big rose bouquet, giving it to a man in an expensive suit that was tailored to perfection for his figure. The man paid for the humongous flowers and left the shop with a nervous face, meanwhile Jade instantly attended to another customer. He could tell that she's a leader based on how she commanded her employees with such confidence and authority, yet still had that kindness and gentleness in her way of talking. Her legs brought her around the shop with utmost speed and precision, not a single step was wasted on her feet.

He could only smile proudly beneath the mask. 

For about 15 minutes he observed the shop, until a truck pulled up in front of an alleyway right beside the floristry. Didn't have to wait long to understand that the vehicle was meant to pick up flower decorations for a wedding as an old man came out from the alleyway (presumably connected to the backdoor of the shop) brought out a very big, white bouquet in his arms, which size was so big it concealed his head - surely he couldn't see where he was stepping. Ghost noticed that he was struggling to lift the giant decoration onto the truck, his knees looked like it was about to tumble, until his prediction turned into reality.

The old man's knees failed him, and the big white flower decoration would turn into a mess on the ground, if not for Ghost, who quickly leaped in and held the flowers from falling. Ghost huffed in relief that he jumped just in time. 

The man leaned to the side of the decoration to see who had just saved him, and saw a big, tall man dressed in a black hoodie and jeans, whose face was concealed by another black face mask.

Regardless, the elder smiled wide, "Oh good heavens! Thank you so much for the assist! My knees aren't as strong as they used to." The old man said as they both put the white decorations into the truck box. "Ah~ being young is so much easier innit?"

Ghost only nodded, avoiding eye contact to hide his identity. Why'd he help him? probably just from reflex, but then again, how could he just leave an old man stumbling to his fall?

"I'm really sorry for the trouble. I wish I could repay you." The old man's expression was so kind it's almost blinding. He wasn't that short or frail for a man with entirely white hair, probably a 5'9". Judging by his quite muscular arms from his rolled sleeves, he could tell that he's not weak, his knees just betrayed him at a bad time. 

Ghost didn't say anything to the man as he was about to walk away to avoid more interaction, before a familiar feminine voice called.

"Papa! Are you okay!? I saw you trip!"

Both men turned their attention to the shop, where a woman with braided red hair and dark blue apron was talking from the main doorway. 

"Don't worry, Lottie Dear. I got it, but only thanks to this young lad right here." He gestured to Ghost, where he stood right on the elder's left. "If not for him, we'd have to replace all the flowers." 

Fuck.

The old man is her father. 

It's Mister Le Jardin. 

Her green eyes caught the sight of a man whose built and sense of fashion she would recognize from a mile away. "Wait... Ghost??" Jade exclaimed, her face filled with surprise, "What are you doin' here??" 

The SAS lieutenant looked up to her with a tinge of panic on his concealed face, while Mr. Le Jardin observed him up and down. "Oh? You know him?" 

Jade nodded slowly, still shocked, "Yes... he's uh… he's a friend from work." 

He never intended to be noticed by Jade, afraid of disturbing her work, let alone meet her father out of all people. 

The father noticed that word. 'From work'. 

"Really now? What's your name, young man?" Mr. Le Jardin asked, his voice went higher in delight. 

He lowered his head to bow a little, before answering, "Simon... Sir."

"Ah. Nice to meet you, Simon! I'm Eli, owner of Le Jardin along with my wife Gracie – she's inside dealing with the clients." He introduced himself with a handshake, which Ghost reluctantly accepted. 

"Sir! Where're the rest of the flowers?!" The truck driver shouted as he got off his vehicle, prompting Eli to walk to the back door through the alleyway, leaving Ghost and Jade at the front of the shop, her face still painted with shock. A lady walked in front of Jade to enter the shop, so she made some way for her and approached Ghost. 

"Hey Ghost." The red-head started, happiness filling her voice. 

"Hey." 

"So… What brings you here?" She surely knew that he wasn't there just because he 'happened to be in the area', so he deleted that reply in his mind. 

"I wanted to see you."

Jade's eyes widened, surprised at his straight-forward answer. "Oh." 

"Your old man lost his balance loading this decoration into the truck, so I helped him." 

"Oh." Still with the same answer, Jade couldn't tell him how fast her heartbeat was, as her father just came in contact with Ghost, the man she fell in love with.

He looked inside the shop, observing the clients and employees walking around. "Busy day innit?"

"Yeah, it is. To be honest we've been busy since the last 3 days. Had to pick up tons of fresh flowers from our fields back in Norfolk, then arrange them for this day. Today's the busiest day, so it's an all-hands-on-deck situation. Also a big wedding is coming up tonight, and we have to transport these humongous flowers to a hotel ballroom for decorations. Biiig money. This is the third truck." Jade explained as her father and the truck driver walked out with two exact copies of the same white flower decor, lifting them up into the truck before immediately running back in. Third truck? The client must've had too much money on their wallets.

Seeing the scene that's happening in front of him, Ghost took a deep breath and blew it out. 

"Seems like your Da can use an extra pair of arms and younger knees." His deep voice suggested, making Jade's eyebrow rise. 

"Oh? Are you willing to help us out?" 

A nod was all she needed as a confirmation. "Got nothin' else to do or to be."

A wide grin fell on her lips as she grabbed Ghost's right hand and pulled him into the alleyway and to the back door of the shop, where a vast storage room was packed full of flower decorations similar to the ones that were being lifted to the truck. There were only flowers where the eye could see, save for the door that led to the front shop. There were huge boxes and boxes of flowers that had big 'Ian & Gia 14/02's written on them.

Ghost turned to the woman beside her. "Big money, eh?"

"Suuuuper big. Businessman and a big shot pianist. Wanted all the jasmines of blue white and red, and we gotta lift them all to the truck." She explained smiling to him, "Think you're up for this?"

"Won't even break a sweat." Ghost began stepping into the storage room, lifting three big boxes at once in his arms. Jade was left impressed by his show of strength as he ran to the truck at an impressive speed, before coming back and picking up more boxes like a machine, his hoodie still up and his mask still on. 

Jade scoffed at his feat, as her father came to pat her shoulder from behind, "A soldier huh?"

"...Yeah."

"It's basically written on his whole figure and posture. Is he any special in his regiment?"

The daughter could only let out a light laugh, "Very, very much so."

"Get out of here." His father looked at her in disbelief, "SAS?" 

"Yep. One of the strongest, and I'm not even exaggerating." 

His loud laugh filled the alleyway as Ghost ran back and forth lifting the flower boxes without a second wasted and tiredness showing. Jade smiled before heading into the shop to aid her mother and her co-workers with the regular customers. 

------

“Chacha, the pink wrapping paper and white 2.5 is out! We need more from the storage, please!” shouted Fiona, her co-worker and best friend of southeast asian descent, who mainly works in the front counter, preparing the flowers right in front of the visitors (which worked as an added value to attract more people). Her wrapping skills were second to none in the shop, even to Gracie, Jade’s mother, who sat right beside her counting the incoming revenues and accepting orders by call. 

“One minute!” Jade shouted back from the studio room, which was right behind the wall of the main display room while her hands also swiftly moved to arrange roses inside a heart-shaped box. The order had come in pretty fast; she had to make three of them at a time, and now she had to go up to the second floor to get the items Fiona requested. 

“Let me get it.” A deep voice came from behind her, making Jade flinch and look back to the source of the voice, where Ghost stood. 

“A-Are you done with the loading?” Jade asked him with a start, as it was not even 20 minutes since he started to help her father lift all the flowers inside the truck. 

“Just finished. Truck left just now with your dad to arrange the decorations in the ballroom.” 

“Oh.” Jade leaned back to take a glimpse of the back storage room, and true to his words, it was empty. “Wow.”

“Where are these… pink wrappings and the ‘white 2.5’s’?” Asked Ghost with a tone of confusion in his words. Jade could only giggle as she never thought she’d hear the word ‘pink’ out of his mouth. 

“Okay, so go to the second floor. On your 3, duck down and the pink wrapping is on the 3rd shelf from the bottom - take 4 rolls of ‘em. ‘White 2.5’s’ means the white-coloured satin ribbon with a 2.5 centimetres width. Don’t mistake them for the rest as there are the .5, 1.2, 4, and 5 centimetres as well. From the shelf go to your left and there should be a high rack and you can find the thingy there. Take two rolls. Don’t forget to close the door before you go down.” 

Ghost stood in silence as he processed the information.

Before Jade could ask him if he remembered all that, he answered: “Affirmative.” 

The man walked to the side stairs and stepped over 2 stairs, disappearing from her sight to the upper floor. Jade scoffed at the sight before going back to her handiwork. When else can you command an SAS officer like this?

----------

“Chachaaa~ Where're the pink wrappings and white 2.5s?! I need ‘em no–” Fiona noticed the new pink wrappings and white ribbons on the table as she worked. That was fast. 

She then looked up, expecting to find her red-headed best friend who was shorter than her, only to find a big, tall man dressed in a black hoodie and a face mask instead, who exudes danger in the way he stands. Fiona, Gracie, and the clients looked him up and down with mouths agape, as they never saw this giant man around, ever. The scene looked too damn comical for his liking.

“...Is this correct?” Ghost started with a voice lower than the depths of hell, which surprised the whole room. Fuck. Being looked at by people was the one thing he wanted to avoid, but here he was.

“Lottie dear, Who’s this?” the old lady beside Fiona asked Jade with a quite high volume, who was still inside the studio arranging the heart-shaped roses.

Judging by the nickname and those braids in her gray hair similar to Jade's, this lady could only be Gracie, her mother. 

Mrs. Le Jardin. 

“H-He’s a friend from work! I called him up here to lend a hand!” Jade shouted back from the studio. Even with the answer, all the people were still staring at him, especially Jade’s mum, and it felt like having ten laser sights aiming at him.

He swore he saw a smirk from Gracie.

So before he attracted more attention, Ghost repeated, “Is this correct?” 

“Y—yeah.” Fiona answered nervously, meanwhile her mother was still eyeballing him like she found a leprechaun. Upon hearing that confirmation, Ghost left the items in the counters and fast-walked back to the studio where Jade was, disappearing from sight. 

-----------

“Chacha, are you serious? ‘A friend from work’?” Fiona asked her best friend as she threw a piece of french fries into her mouth. The Le Jardin floristry was currently having a lunch break, and most of the employees went out to get their own meals, while the two stayed inside to talk about the man who was currently sweeping the floor of the studio alone, silently.

Fiona stared at his back from where they were eating at a counter, chewing at her fries. “Are you saying that you have a friend built like that with a voice like that working as a volunteer in the orphanage dealing with kids???”

“Nooo no no, that’s not it–!” That was where Jade messed up. She forgot that neither her best friend, nor any one of their employees know that the Le Jardins used to be MI6 black agents, except the fact that Jade was adopted. They both started to become friends when Fiona applied for the job 3 years ago, right when Jade just retired from MI6. All that she knew was the fact that Jade only had two jobs: Floristry on weekdays and in the orphanage for weekends. She never mentioned the other work that she did for the last two decades of her life. “I didn’t mean from work, I mean I met him when I was at work.” 

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.” 

“When and how did you meet him? Heck what is his name?” Shit. She needed to make up stories about him at this point. But what?! Jade hated lying. Sure it’s super easy to manipulate people by changing reality, but she didn’t want to lie to her best friend! Fiona’s the one who’s been helping her adjust to the life of being a florist and a normal life for the last three years (after saying that she’d been living abroad). 

However, how can Jade just say, ‘oh so actually I was an MI6 agent. Both of your bosses were too, actually. Not only agents – we were black agents who were trained since we were not old enough to make our own decisions to do the illegal stuff! I retired three years ago and that's when I met you, but they called me back again, and that’s when I met that guy who happened to be an officer of one the most elite task forces in the world!' 

That’s just absurd!

How did she meet him? How did she meet him?! 

"Ja– I mean Midg– I mean Lottie, where do I put these–"

The two women turned their heads to Ghost, who came out of the studio with the broom and dustpan in his hands. Looking at the two women's expression, he knew he fucked up. He didn't know what to call her outside of work. Her call sign 'Jade' was directly tied to her work as an MI6 and he couldn't know for sure if Fiona knew about that name. 'Midget' was the name he called her regularly, but he thought it was too harsh in front of her best friend, while 'Lottie' was…

"Why did you call her that?" Fiona asked him while chewing her fries, suspicion painting het face, while Jade sucked her lips and widened her eyes in shock.

Fuck. He thought right. It's a pet name used exclusively by her parents. 

"Wait. No way." She turned to Jade and Ghost back and forth before standing up abruptly, startling Jade, meanwhile Ghost stood calmly, still holding the cleaning tools in his hands.

"Chacha… is he your secret boyfriend?!?" 

That sentence shocked both of them as Jade quickly denied in panic, "No! No, he's not!! Just– sit down will you?" 

"That name is exclusively used by the bosses, ya know." She started walking towards Ghost slowly. 

Jade followed her from behind, trying to hold her friend back. "Fiona, he isn't! I swear!"

"No, seriously. How did you meet her? When?" She started closing in on Ghost excitedly, looking up at him. "What’s your name, by the way?"

“Simon.” Ghost answered deadpanly, as the last question was literally the only question he can answer casually. As long as he didn’t give out his last name, it’d be fine. “Name’s Simon.” 

"Ooooooh so he's the reason why you've been going out a lot after closin' up! You've been on dates!!" 

"NO!! We haven't–" 

"Yes."

Ghost's deep voice interrupted the two girls' argument, making them look at the man. 

"We've been on dates." 

Jade's face turned as red as her hair, and her heart beat so fast and so hard she swore Fiona and Ghost could hear it. Why was he suddenly doing this??? All the while, Fiona's jaw dropped to the floor, eyes glaring at her best friend in shock. 

Jade glanced at Ghost, but that damned hoodie and face mask did not help her at all. "I KNEW IT!!! I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU'VE BEEN DATING BEHIND MY BACK??? I mean– I am happy for you, Chacha, but WHY ARE YOU HIDING IT FROM ME???" Fiona excitingly chimed to her best friend, grabbing Jade's shoulders before shaking them like she's a ragdoll. 

"Wait– Fiona I can explain–"

"Okay! Explain then! Tell me everything! And don't you dare try to hide anything from me." That's right. She deserved to know. Fiona had been with her for the past three years. She's her first best friend ever. Jade knew she could trust her.

Jade relented with a big sigh and glanced at Ghost with a questioning look. He caught her cue before he himself took a deep breath. "As long as she can keep her mouth shut."

Fiona turned to Ghost, "Wh-what? What is this about?"

"Fiona. My dear best friend. My very beautiful friend that I trust. I love you, so, so much, so I will tell you the truth." Jade started before Ghost cut her again. 

"Jade where do I put the broom and the dustpan."

"Owh just put it on the side there yeah. Thanks."

"Who's Jade?"

—------------

"Okay. So let me get this straight." Fiona clapped her hands together in front of Ghost and Jade, who were sitting on the chairs behind the counter together while Fiona was standing up. Jade sat like she was being interrogated, while Ghost folded his arms in front of his chest.

"You, Chacha, had been working as an MI6 black agent for the last twenty years, since you were a wee kid, and then retired three years ago." Jade nodded.

"But two years ago, they called you back to this city called… Verdansk, and that's where you meet… Simon." She gestured to Ghost, who nodded.

"You only met briefly, until last October, you got called back from retirement again, and that's when you met him for the second time. But this one was special, as you guys started to develop feelings for each other, am I right?" Both of them nodded. 

"GOD this sounds like a Wattpad type of shite!!" Fiona grasped her hair from frustration, "And you're an MI6 BLACK AGENT??? REALLY???"

"Was. Papa and Mama were, too, actually." 

"Oh my Dear Lord in Heavens. THE BOSSES WERE BLACK AGENTS TOO?????" Jade nodded again. Clearly she didn't have any single clue of the burden that came with the words 'MI6', 'agent', especially with the added word 'black' in front of it.

"And you, Simon. So you're a soldier. Which one are you from? Navy? Is it the Royal Artillery? Or is it Life Guards like James Blunt?" Fiona asked with her very limited military knowledge. 

"You promised to keep your mouth shut so keep your promise." That voice came out harsher than he intended it to be, prompting Fiona to be taken aback.

"SAS."

The black-haired woman gasped so hard, covering her mouth in shock. "...like Bear Grylls?"

Jade couldn't help the giggle, as Ghost was utterly flabbergasted at her reaction as that was the first thing that came to her mind from the revelation. "...Yeah. Like Bear Grylls. And no I don't know him."

"Wow. Okay. So why the face mask? Does this have anything to do with secrecy and stuff?" Fiona asked him again as Ghost still had the hoodie up and face mask. She hadn't seen his face at all. "Am I not allowed to see his face? Wait Chacha you have seen his face right?"

"Of course I have! What do you mean by that!?" Jade countered, clearly overwhelmed by the barrage of questions. "Ghost. it's up to you."

Ghost huffed, lifting up one hand to the upper hem of his face mask. Fiona observed as Ghost pulled down the mask for a good 3 seconds, catching a glimpse of his strong jaw, his light brown stubble, the faint scars on his face, before putting the face mask back into place again. "Happy now?"

"Oh. Wow. Okay. I am happy." Fiona confirmed with start, turning to look at Jade again, "Chacha you hit a jackpot on this one – so you guys are a couple, right?"

The man and woman looked at each other for a long time, Jade bit her lower lip as her expression fell. Ghost could only close his eyes in regret. 

"Wait, no way you guys aren't a thing already. Whaaaatttt?" Fiona expressed her confusion because, for the last two months, Jade had started to buy more makeup and clothes, and the sudden interest in her looks had made Fiona suspicious. She really thought her best friend was dating a man secretly, but now that he's right here, both of them could not say that they're in a relationship?

"Look, Fiona… it's complicated, okay? We're just taking things slow right now. Our… jobs have their own risks, and we're just trying to enjoy things as they are now." Jade tried to explain with a bit of a sad tone to her voice. 

"So… you guys are friends, who happen to go on dates occasionally?" Fuckin' hell. Ghost thought. How could she say the exact same thing as Soap? Was it really weird? For two friends to just go together doing whatever they liked? 

After both of them nodded for the hundredth time that day, Fiona sighed in acceptance. "Chacha, Luv, I might not understand what you guys are going through right now, but Simon," she turned to Ghost, who lifted his head to see her clearly. "You better not make her cry." 

The man glanced to his side, where Jade silently sat on the chair. He knew she'd already hurt her feelings by saying he wasn't ready for a relationship yet, but if he wanted to be honest with himself, was ‘scared’ and ‘afraid’ the right word for it? As Soap and Fiona said, they’re literally doing what couples do. 

He’s just afraid to put a name on it. 

“I’ll try.” 

—------------

Jade had texted him earlier that during Valentine’s, Le Jardin’s floristry would open until midnight. Ghost wondered why as it had been a while since the employees had gone home, including Fiona (who told her that they were going to have a long chat on the phone) who had to go home and have dinner with her family. The sun had long drowned, replaced by the moon that accompanied the cold winter of London. Warm lights from the shops and a few street lights were the only thing lighting up the streets - one of them coming from the floristry. 

The sales peaked around 6 PM to 9 PM when people finished their work to be with their loved ones. Ghost had absolutely no skills in flower arranging or wrapping, so he did all he could to help the other employees to pick tools or items from high shelves, and even change the lightbulb when one of them died. Ghost didn’t mind it one bit as he found simple domestic things like this relaxing compared to what he did in the military - full of pressure, stress, and blood. 

Meanwhile, the utmost form of stress in Le Jardin’s (at least what he saw today), was a customer who kept changing the flowers that he wanted, and then lashing out at Fiona when his bouquet wasn’t tied the way he wanted to. Ghost almost wanted to step in, drag him out of the store, and throw him out to the streets, but Jade stepped in and calmly asked the customer for references, dealing with the situation one at a time, and finally, the man stomped out. Ghost knew that there were more variety of problems in retail, but at least he got to experience one today. To be honest that was probably the least angry person in London. 

That was 3 hours ago. Now, there’s only the Le Jardins and Ghost; the father had come home at around 4 PM after finishing the decorations. He took a photo of the ballroom and showed it to his family and Ghost, who was quite amazed at the old man’s sense of composition and aesthetic. 

The four of them were all in the front room, Gracie counting the revenues, Jade tidying up the display flowers, Eli wiping the windows, and Ghost sweeping the floors (again). The clock showed 00.23, the shop was empty, and even the cafe opposite them was already closed. As Ghost finished his chore, he put the cleaning tools to the side before approaching Jade.

“Are you not closin’? It’s past midnight.” He muttered to her, who was tidying up the edelweiss display. 

Jade smiled, “We usually extend about an hour.” 

“Why?” 

“You’ll see.”

Just as he was about to question it, the phone rang besides Gracie, who picked up the call immediately,

“Le Jardin Floristry. Yes, we are still open. You might be our last client, Sir. We do have tulips available. What colour? Red and pink, got it. The bouquet will be here when you arrive. Yes. We’ll be here, Sir, don’t worry. Thank you!” After confirming the order, Gracie smiled towards Ghost as she put the phone back. “That’s why, Simon Dear.”

About twenty minutes later, a man entered the shop in a hurry, dressed in a dirty fire brigade jacket. He clearly just finished his work and then drove to the floristry immediately after he extinguished whatever fire broke out somewhere. The moustached man approached the counter, where Jade had his order ready. “I’m here for my tulips?” He muttered, clearly tired from the way he panted. 

“Here it is, Sir. That’ll be 18 pounds.” 

“Thank you so much. You guys were the only shop open at this time. I’m forever grateful. I already told my wife and children that I’ll be late, but I truly felt bad.” He pulled out his wallet before putting a 20-pound note on the counter. 

“A pleasure for us, Sir. Have a good night!” Gracie chimed as he took the tulips in his hands, exited the shop and finally drove off. With that, Eli flipped the ‘Open’ tag to the ‘Closed’ tag.

“Delightful! Now.” Mr. Le Jardin put his hands on his hips, “Let’s have dinner.” Once Ghost heard that, he immediately planned his escape from the floristry like he needed to escape an enemy’s vicinity. 

“Simon Dear, you’re joining us, aren’t you?” But after hearing the gentle yet commanding tone coming out of Gracie, he decided against it, as what he heard in his ear was, ‘We’re going to have a conversation about you and my daughter’. 

—-------

“So, Simon Dear.” Gracie's voice startled Ghost as he was cutting the carrots for the chicken soup they're making, all the while Gracie was stirring the ladle on the pot. His hood was still up on his head, but he's taken off his mask to smell the chicken broth in front of him. He figured that if there's a civilian he'd let see his face, it's an ex-MI6 whose daughter he loved.

It was only the two of them in the kitchen on the third floor as Eli and his daughter were still tidying up the first floor. “Are you Lottie’s boyfriend?” 

Fuck. There’s the question. “No, Ma’am." He replied slowly, "Not yet."

Ghost expected a questioning look followed by a 'why', but instead she gave him a light nod. “She’s very fond of you, I think you should know."  That one caught Ghost's attention, briefly slowing down his slices. Did Jade talk to her mother about him?

"The way she talks about you, I know how deeply she really cared for you. She saw her future with no man, at all, until she met you. Had to do with 'understanding one another' she said." Gracie put in more black pepper into the pot.

“May I know, what stopped you from committing to her?”

More questions to answer, but this one, he didn't know how to answer. 

“...I don’t know, Ma'am."

Not long, Gracie muttered with a tone he almost forgot. Motherly. “...Are you afraid?”

And that's when he found himself so vulnerable, so open. And the weird thing was, he only felt like this when he's with Jade. He thought Gracie's her adoptive mother, but this magical familial trait where people could instantly open up to them was almost scary. 

Was it a yes? No, he's not afraid. He just thought that if they started dating, she might be wasting her time with him. Well, he's afraid that all this love that he's feeling and all these moments with be for naught if he's just dead after a deployment gone wrong. He can't promise anything to her. Ghost knew how serious Jade was about a relationship. She wanted a long-lasting one.

Ghost didn't mutter a word out of his mouth. Only continuing his work. He could feel her gaze on him, but he still chose to stay silent.

He expected judgement, but what came was a light smile. “You remind me of Eli and me, back when we were still with MI6."

"He was afraid of the life we’ll lead. Constantly running, followed by death everywhere we go. Stability and domesticity was a dream impossible to achieve.” As Ghost listened and wondered how the fuck did she read his mind, he lifted the cutting board and poured the cube-cut carrot into the pot. 

“However, I can tell him anything, he can tell me anything.” Gracie continued, looking up at him. Her gaze was as soft as Jade's, grey eyes softly gazing into his soul. “Eli had his own problems, I had my own, but what mattered was the fact that we both tried to be better, for my own sake, and for his sake.”

“He was my best friend, and I was his. It was a leap of faith to be together.” She said as her palm tapped his shoulder firmly.

“I’m saying this as her mother. If you love her, then go all in. She deserves all of you.”

---

Dinner was eventful, to say the least. The Le Jardins, plus Ghost, ate their dinner together in their house on the third floor. Chicken and vegetable soup accompanied by warm cups of tea was enough to fill their stomachs. Ghost, of course, had to take his hood down and took off his face mask to eat with the three of them.

It felt odd. 

When was the last time he had a family dinner like this? Eating a delicious meal without having to find a place where there's no other people? A place where he could freely show his face to others, the warmth of a family? 

It didn't take long for Eli to finish his meal, as he stood up and put on 'La Vie en Rose' by Louis Armstrong on the classic gramophone. Gracie scoffed loudly, stood up, and took Eli's hand in hers. 

"Heeeere we go." Jade rolled her eyes, seeming like she had to watch this for the thousandth time.

As Louis Armstrong started to sing, the two old couple put out an amazing slow dancing show in front of Ghost and Jade. Seeing them so unashamedly happy, and the fact that both of their eyes only stared at each other with so much love, Ghost unconsciously smiled.

And when he turned to look at Jade, there was she, two hands holding her phone horizontally, taking a video of her parents, grinning ear to ear while her eyes gleamed with joy.

It's such a warm scene to witness. 

He only hoped it was him and her in place of Eli and Gracie.

—------------

The time showed 02.13. Ghost and Jade were standing in front of the shop, a long scarf wrapped around Ghost's neck as the cold was harsh that time of the day. Jade insisted that he wore them, or she said he would catch a cold. 

"Thank you, Ghost. For today. My dad had been having regular trouble with his knee, so thank you so so much." Jade started, cheeks blushing that was certainly not because of the February winter. 

"Well, I doubt that, considering how well he danced with your mum." Ghost replied, making Jade laugh. Her smile was a sight he'd never get tired of seeing. “Are you going anywhere tomorrow?” 

That question quite surprised her. “Well… Tomorrow my shift starts at 3 PM. So I'm free in the morning. Why?"

“I want to make do for today. We haven’t had a proper… date. Yet. I honestly had wanted to bring you flowers, but I remembered you're a florist. So I felt like a prat.”

Her face turned as red as tulips at that. “Honestly, you helping out in the shop was more romantic than anything you could ever give."

"Oh yeah?" 

"Yeah! So… what are you thinkin’ for tomorrow? What do you wanna do, Ghost?”

“What do you wanna do?” He asked back.

“Oh? W-well… Hmmm." Jade contemplated, pouting her lips, glancing at the moon high in the sky. "Ice skating. And then Korean barbecue after.”

“I-Ice skating?” Ghost stuttered, not expecting that answer. 

“Yeah. What, you afraid you’re gonna fall?”

“I have no clue what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll hold you if you do.” 

He wanted to say something along the lines of 'fuck-off' or 'sod you'. But he deleted that reply before it came out of his mouth, instead saying, "Please do."

Jade grinned ear-to-ear at that response. She was anticipating a clap back from him, but it was such an unusually warm reply that she couldn't help the blush in her cheeks.

No matter how much she wanted him to stay close to her, he had to go, and Jade said her goodbye. "Thank you for today. See you tomorrow, Simon."

Still standing still, Ghost muttered, "It was fun."

She thought he was going to start walking away towards his apartment, but instead, a glimmer of light reflected on his brown irises, still gazing at hers with such hopeful and wistful eyes.

And before she knew it, Ghost leaned in closer to her face, and placed a soft peck on her cheek.

As he stood back, Jade saw that his face burnt red, seeming like what he just did took great courage and resolution. His face still so close to hers, Ghost left her speechless.

And before she could say anything, he said his last words to her that night,

"See you tomorrow, Lottie."

----------------------

Hope you like it! (❁´◡`❁)

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve: Hold You Close

Plot: A night out with the Greyhounds, a short-lived stint as head coach and a massive data leak bring on a full week for Y/n.

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: language, alcohol, sexual undertones (nude leak), slut-shaming

A/N: What do you get when you write a football fic with very little knowledge of football? This.

To be honest, this chapter feels more like filler and felt very awkward to write. But even if it’s a tiny step, every chapter moves the story along a little bit. Very much a Keeley and Jamie chapter, so enjoy!

——————

Winning suited Richmond.

A four-game win streak had brightened the halls of Nelson Road Stadium. The whole city was in the best mood it had been since the start of the season. Total Football, though it had taken time, was leading them to victory week after week.

After their fourth straight win, the Greyhounds proclaimed a club night. After months of declining, Y/n finally accepted their invitation to join. Going clubbing was…more than a little out of her comfort zone, but the boys weren’t going to take no for an answer. And truthfully, she wanted to celebrate their good fortune just as much as they did.

Sat in the VIP section of a London nightclub, the Greyhounds shouted to one another over the thumping bass. Colin and Y/n were sat in a corner, Colin entertaining her with a story from training the other day. When their glasses were emptied, they headed to the bar to get a refill.

“Okay, fine,” Y/n gestured to Colin’s bottle, “Gimme.”

Colin handed over his vodka, Y/n poured a bit into her empty glass and threw it back.

She grimaced, letting out a groan.

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Colin replied.

“No, it is,” Y/n screwed her eyes shut, “It really is.”

Y/n wasn’t buzzed, but she was certainly more relaxed than usual. It felt good to be out, to be amongst people she liked, to laugh. It made all the lingering anxiety in her head fall hush.

Colin was laughing at her alcohol tolerance just as a man who didn’t belong to their party came up to the bar. He stood beside Y/n and flashed an easy smile.

“You weren’t saving this space, were you?”

“No,” Y/n’s voice was strained, coughing from the vodka, “Go for it.”

The man flagged down the bartender, “Something strong, please. But,” he pointed to Y/n, “Not whatever she had.”

Feeling like she could see properly again, Y/n chuckled. “Smart choice.”

“I’m Paul,” the now-named stranger held out his hand.

She shook it, “Y/n.”

Colin stayed silent beside Y/n, smiling and sipping his drink.

“Are you here with friends?” Paul asked in a thick Irish accent.

“Uh, sort of,” Y/n glanced back the corner of the room the Greyhounds occupied, “After-hours work thing.”

“Ah,” Paul nodded and thankfully didn’t follow her gaze, “Don’t know how many people want to spend a Saturday night with their co-workers.”

Y/n shrugged, trying to give as little information as possible. “Bit of an unconventional workplace.”

“Okay, well, now you’ve got to tell me what you do,” Paul said plainly.

“Ha,” Y/n smiled, “If I do, I’ll never get rid of you. Trust me.”

“No, no,” Paul held up both hands, “You tell me, I get my drink, and then I leave with a useless fact about a stranger whose name I’ve already forgotten.”

Y/n laughed again. This particular club didn’t strike her as somewhere you’d meet a genuinely nice guy. It was a surprise, and if nothing else, it was pleasant conversation.

“You’re…” Paul decided to start guessing, “Personal assistant to some 5-star chef.”

“If that were true, I wouldn’t have so many takeaway menus in my kitchen drawers,” Y/n replied, visions of Christmas dinner two months before flashing through her head.

“Ah,” Paul winced, strike one, “You’re…a dancer and you’re out with your company.”

Y/n scoffed, “I’m flattered, but no.”

Paul pressed a finger to his lips, twisting fully to face Y/n. It was the most polite way of checking someone out she’d seen.

He pointed towards her, “You’re-“

“There you are,” Jamie exclaimed, sliding up to Y/n, “Babe, I was looking for ya.”

Y/n’s mouth hung open, ready to reply to Paul but struck speechless by the interruption.

“Told ya, waiter could’ve brought us refills,” Jamie slid an arm around Y/n’s shoulders and tugged her into his side. “Didn’t have to do it yourself,” he finally took his eyes off Y/n and turned to Paul, “Good night, eh, lad?”

With nothing more than two sentences, Jamie had sent a clear message to Paul that his presence was not required, needed or wanted in the slightest.

“Yeah,” Paul nodded in defeat, “Good night. Hope the same for you,” he gave Y/n a thin smile, “Cheers.”

Y/n awkwardly held up a hand, waving him goodbye, before turning to Jamie. “And what was that?”

“Me savin’ ya,” he answered as if it were obvious. His eyes followed Paul across the room till he was satisfied by the distance. “These places are lousy with creeps.”

“But he wasn’t,” Y/n argued, though it wasn’t really an argument. She hadn’t felt one way or the other about Paul. “He was just nice.”

“I can vouch,” Colin made his presence known again, “Saw the whole thing.”

Details mattered very little to Jamie. The truth of it was, he wasn’t even sure why he had stopped the conversation. The moment he’d glanced over at Colin and Y/n’s spot on the couch and seen it was empty, he went on high alert. Colin could fuck off wherever he wanted, but not knowing where Y/n was unsettled him.

And seeing some guy, creep or no creep, chatting Y/n up and making her laugh felt wrong. Very wrong. So wrong.

“‘Course he was nice,” Jamie replied, “The good ones are always nice at first. That’s how they get ya.”

Y/n watched Jamie mansplain men to her, something she thought was impossible to do. Neither of them really realized his arm was still around her, effectively proclaiming to the club that she was off-limits.

“Well, congratulations,” Y/n took the glass Colin handed her, annoyed yet unable to stop from smirking, “You protected me from harmless small talk with the first person I’ve spoken to outside of work since I started with you clowns.”

Jamie could sense the sarcasm, he didn’t particularly care. The threat had been neutralized. He shrugged, “You’re welcome.”

—————————

A few days later, Y/n was sat at her breakfast table. She watched the busy street below out her window. There was a peace to the hustle and bustle of Richmond that differed from the rest of London. Everyone had a destination, but no one was really in a hurry to get there. It was one of the things that she liked most about living in the middle of it all.

A ‘ding’ from her phone redirected her attention. A Google and Twitter alert. There was a good chance it was pap photos coming out from the club’s night out. A bit late, but still possible.

Y/n held her breath as she reached for her phone. There weren’t a lot of flattering angles to have captured them at by the end of the evening. She tapped the screen to see it was…Keeley…who was trending.

“What…” Y/n mumbled, dropping her fork and typing in her passcode to search further.

Not pap photos. Worse. So much worse.

“What…” she breathed.

There’d been a massive leak of private photos and videos, mostly from celebrities. Among them was Keeley. A racy video of the former model from a few years ago was spreading like wildfire across the digital landscape.

“Oh my gosh,” Y/n whispered as she scrolled various reactions and unfortunate screenshots. She threw her phone down when clips began to fill her feed. The whole country was watching it. Talking about it. Laughing at it.

Y/n scarfed down the rest of her eggs, grabbed her keys and hurried out the door.

—————————

Keeley nearly didn’t answer the door. When the insistent banging didn’t stop, she caved and peeled herself off her bedroom floor. She peeked out the window to see one of the only people she felt like speaking to at the moment.

“I just saw,” Y/n blurted out as soon as Keeley opened the door, “I’m so sorry.”

Keeley exhaled, putting her hands over her face, “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how it happened. I don’t know what the fuck-“

“Hey, hey,” Y/n placed her hands on Keeley’s shoulders and guided her inside, “C’mon.”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Keeley continued, barely registering that she was moving and that Y/n had shut the front door, “My family’s gonna see it. The team. Our clients!”

“I know,” Y/n replied, sitting them both down on the couch, “But the clients don’t matter right now.”

They did, terribly so, but Y/n wasn’t going to bring that up.

Raking her hands through her hair, Keeley stumbled for words. “I’m so embarrassed. I’m so fucking embarrassed.”

Y/n rubbed a hand over her boss’s arm, “I’m so sorry, Keeley.”

There was no way to fix any part of the awful situation, but Y/n, just by being there, made Keeley feel 1% better. It was better to hurt with someone than to do it alone. Jack had just left and the last thing Keeley wanted to be at the moment was by herself.

“You came all the way here because you saw?” Keeley asked, struck by the sentiment.

“Well,” Y/n shrugged, “Yeah.”

Since Amsterdam, Keeley had seen Y/n’s walls come down, or weaken at least. She hadn’t pushed too hard on the matter, she rather enjoyed the new Y/n. But this, this was entirely out of character.

Keeley threw her arms around her neck, grateful and in need of a hug.

A few months ago, Y/n would have shimmied out as soon as she could. But this wasn’t then, and she tightly wrapped her arms around Keeley, doing what little she could to comfort her.

“This is fucked up,” Y/n sighed.

“So fucked up,” Keeley whimpered, stuck somewhere between a sob and a laugh.

Y/n pulled back, still holding on, “We’re gonna get you through this. I promise.”

Keeley took a shaky breath, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/n smiled, “C’mon, KJPR. Dealing with shitty headlines is our superpower.”

Keeley managed a laugh before digging back into Y/n, the two of them locked in a heavyhearted embrace.

—————————

“No, Miss Jones has no comment on the data leak,” Y/n repeated into her phone, shutting down the fifth reporter of the morning, “Have a lovely day.”

Hanging up, she let her forehead hit her desk. It had been a full day since Keeley’s video hit the internet and she could only pray people lost interest and moved on soon. She had made Keeley promise not to answer any calls, instead forwarding the reporters to her. Most of them were men, but all of them were intrusive.

“A dick pic leaks on the internet,” she grumbled and dragged herself out of her chair, “And fuck all, but armies mobilize for a naked woman.”

Y/n grabbed her notebook and left her office, jogging down the staircase to go about her day as normally as she could.

“Hey, Y/n,” Ted called, exiting his office just as she entered the hallway. A vaguely familiar child was walking beside him.

“Hey,” Y/n half-smiled.

“Haven’t gotten a chance to introduce you,” Ted put his hands on the boy’s shoulders, “This is my son, Henry. Henry, this is Y/n.”

Henry smiled up at Y/n, “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Y/n realized she’d seen him in a picture on Ted’s desk, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Hey, listen,” Ted pointed towards the stairs, “I gotta talk to Rebecca, won’t be more than a half hour or so. Would you mind watchin’ Henry?”

“Uh…” Y/n sputtered, “I mean, sure, yeah, but don’t you have training?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ted quickly said, his mind was clearly somewhere else. He felt around his pockets and pulled out a small box. “Yeah, you know what? Y’all are gonna start training for me.”

While Henry’s face lit up, Y/n’s electrified with anxiety.

“Yeah,” Ted grinned, looking to his son, “There you go. You can go back home, tell all your friends you got to coach a football team. How ‘bout that?”

“Yeah,” Henry said with great enthusiasm.

“Uh, Ted,” Y/n waved a hand, “While Henry,” she smiled for his sake, “May be really good at coaching, I’m definitely not qualified.”

Ted waved a supportively dismissive hand back, “Ain’t nothin’ to it. Get ‘em started on warmups, I’ll be down before they really get goin’,” he handed Y/n the box, “Got this for Roy, but he ain’t gonna use it. You go on.”

With Henry looking up at her like she held the key to his happiness, Y/n didn’t have much of a choice.

“Alright,” she exhaled, feigning excitement, “Let’s go coach a football team.”

“Thanks,” Ted kneeled down to Henry, “Listen to what Y/n says, yeah?”

“Will do, Mr. Magoo,” Henry gave his dad a thumbs up.

Y/n’s eyes widened at the phrasing, there were two of them.

“Alright,” Y/n clapped her hands together as Ted left them on their own, “Let me go set this back in my office and we’ll head out, yeah?”

“Okay,” Henry nodded, following Y/n up the stairs, “So what do you do here?”

Y/n sighed, “Well, I help run the social media accounts. I help the boys with their interviews. Y’know how you see football or baseball players on commercials? I help those happen.”

“Wow,” Henry said as they got to Y/n’s office, “That sounds cool.”

Y/n slid her notebook onto her desk, and faced Henry, “Yeah, it kind of is.” Anywhere else, even she would admit her job was boring, but Richmond had changed that. “Let’s see what your dad gave me.”

Opening the tiny box revealed a plastic yellow whistle. Y/n chuckled, Roy definitely wouldn’t be using this.

“So why’d you come to England?” Henry continued to ask questions, “If you’re American.”

Omitting key details, Y/n slid the whistle around her neck. “I came over for school and loved it so much I just never left.”

“Do you ever miss America?” Henry stayed next to Y/n as they descended the stairs.

That was trickier to disguise. If Y/n was honest, she didn’t miss her home country. It was hard to miss the place all her worst memories had occurred. England had been a refuge before becoming her true home.

“Sometimes,” Y/n replied, guiding Henry down the hall, “I have a little sister who still lives there. I miss her all the time…” she smiled, “And Arby’s.”

Henry agreed just as they reached the doors that would take them outside.

“Alright,” Y/n pressed her hands to the door, “Now these guys are the best in the whole country, in my opinion, so we can’t go easy on them.”

“Got it,” Henry nodded.

“We’re gonna have to work them really hard,” Y/n added.

“I agree.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes, “You ready?”

Henry grinned, “Ready.”

Theatrically, Y/n threw the doors open and they marched down the tunnel.

The boys were stretching and conversing and had yet to notice their coaches were missing. Y/n and Henry headed over to the dugout, Y/n thanking her morning self for deciding on wearing sneakers.

“Do you have a favorite player?” She asked.

“Jamie Tartt,” Henry answered without hesitation, “The first time I visited, he signed my shirt.”

Y/n’s heart fluttered with warmth, “That was nice of him.”

“On my soccer team back home, I’m #9,” Henry continued, “Just like him.”

Y/n’s eyes scanned the group of Greyhounds, finding #9 laughing about something with Isaac. There were probably hundreds, thousands of kids who looked up to Jamie Tartt, but Henry’s admiration was something special.

“Well,” Y/n crossed her arms, “We’ll make sure Jamie has plenty to do.”

Clapping her hands to get the Greyhounds’ attention, Y/n and Henry stepped onto the pitch. “Alright, boys, here’s the deal. Coach has appointed me and Henry here,” she put her hands on Henry’s shoulders, “As your new coaches for the next thirty minutes.”

The team was understandably confused but amused once they saw Henry’s bright eyes. Training was to double as babysitting.

“Now, you’re dealing with one of America’s next top footballers,” Y/n jiggled Henry playfully, “And a woman whose life you all have made incredibly colorful, particularly last weekend…” she gave a thick grin. After their celebration at the club, many of the Greyhounds had needed to be poured into cabs. The task fell to the most sober of them, and Y/n had taken little joy in wrangling them into the backseats. “No one’s going easy on anyone today.”

The boys ‘oohed’ and laughed amongst themselves.

“Alright,” she shouted, “One lap,” Y/n gave a sharp blow on the whistle, “Let’s go!”

All credit to them, the team obeyed orders and set off around the edge of the pitch.

As he passed by, Jamie stopped to give Henry a fist bump.

“How ya been, lad?”

“Good,” Henry grinned, his spirits had lifted even higher the moment Jamie walked in his direction.

“Good,” Jamie stood to his full height to face Y/n, smirking, “Don’t get enough of this with Roy?”

With mere inches between their faces, Y/n blew the whistle smugly, “Fallin’ behind there, Tartt.”

Jamie set off with a smile and ran to catch up to his teammates. Y/n being on the pitch was a surprising, but welcome start to his day.

The boys were about halfway around the pitch when Y/n and Henry started forming their game plan.

“What should we have them do next?”

Henry thought a moment, “What about knee kicks? That’s my favorite exercise.”

“I like it,” Y/n walked across the grass to retrieve one of the balls, “But you better be ready to show them how it’s done.”

Henry’s entire face lit up, the glow radiating onto Y/n’s knowing she’d made it happen. She was going to make sure he went home with the best stories.

The Greyhounds came around the bend, well and warmed up.

“What next, Coach Y/n?” Dani asked enthusiastically.

“Now,” Y/n set the ball on the grass and kicked it to Henry, “You’re in the hands of Coach Lasso.”

Y/n stepped to the side to give Henry the spotlight. The boys all cheered him on as he came to join them, holding the ball under his arm.

“We’re gonna do a knee kick contest,” he said proudly, “We’ll see who can go the longest, and,” Henry scanned the group, “Jamie’ll go first.”

Jamie pressed his fingers to his puffed out chest, stepping forward, “I’m honored.”

Henry tossed him the ball, Jamie easily caught it. Y/n popped the whistle back in her mouth and it shrieked.

“Begin!”

Jamie bounced the ball from knee to knee, the team forming a ring around him to watch. They started cheering each time Jamie’s body made contact, Henry the loudest of them all. He kept it going about thirty seconds before losing it.

Y/n spared him a clap, purposefully holding back, “Not bad.”

Jamie frowned at her, the tips of his lips still curling up.

“Who’s next, Henry?” Y/n asked.

“Sam,” he answered.

Jamie launched the ball at his teammate, Sam caught it and they switched spots.

He lasted the same amount of time as Jamie, Isaac lasted twenty five seconds, Dani lasted forty, Colin lasted twenty eight.

“Alright,” Y/n clapped as Bumbercatch finished his turn, “I think it’s time you boys learned from a true professional.”

Henry stepped up, taking Y/n’s smile as his cue, and caught the ball from Bumbercatch. The boys chanted his name, surrounding him in gleeful anticipation.

Henry began to kick, feeding off the support of the Greyhounds. Y/n stepped back a few feet and pulled out her phone, snapping a few pictures for Ted.

Out of all the Premier League teams filled with cocky young men earning million dollar paychecks, Y/n couldn’t imagine there were many who would behave like the Greyhounds. They were jumping up and down, cheering and counting for Henry as he bounced the ball. It was all so genuine, and they didn’t even realize the extent of what they were doing. They were giving Henry memories he’d cherish forever.

Eventually, Henry kicked the ball for Sam to catch and the boys went wild. Jamie leaped into the air and started victoriously running with Henry, the rest of them following.

Y/n hit the whistle, “Well, I think we can all agree Henry’s the winner.”

The team agreed quite vocally.

“You haven’t gone yet,” Henry called.

“Oh,” Y/n shook her head, “I-“

“No, no, no,” Colin pointed to Y/n, “Boyo’s right. Everyone’s gotta give it a go.”

“That’s right,” Jamie clasped his hands together, “Fair’s fair, Coach.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, stepping onto the pitch to supportive hoots and hollers. Sam threw her the ball and she got into position, taking a deep breath. She’d never touched a football in her life.

Dropping the ball, she clumsily passed from one knee to the other. Henry and the Greyhounds cheered her on as they had each other. She lasted about ten seconds before she felt herself losing it and kicked it across the field. It didn’t make it to the goal, but even Y/n was impressed by how far it travelled.

The Greyhounds went wild, making a massive deal of her minimal accomplishment. A few of them punched her in the arm or high fived her.

“Alright,” Y/n laughed it off, “Henry, what’s next?”

“Corner kicks,” he said decisively, “Last one to grab the ball’s a rotten egg. Go!”

Henry took off before he’d finished speaking, the Greyhounds following. They spent the next ten minutes practicing corner kicks, once again, Henry and the boys insisting that Y/n took part. Pulling closer to the net than the pros, she was able to score a goal, resulting in wild cheers. Dani picked her up and spun her around and Jamie slung an arm around her neck the seconds she was back on the ground. When Henry scored, the Greyhounds lifted him up on their shoulders and ran him around the field.

When Ted gathered himself and headed back out to the pitch, he stopped short at the sight before him. His son, having the time of his life, surrounded by the team. And Y/n, facilitating it all, but enjoying every bit of it herself.

Ted smiled, deciding to watch as long as he could until someone spotted him.

—————————

Later in the day, Y/n drove to the KJPR offices. She hadn’t heard anything from Keeley and wanted to stay as close as she could to help in whatever way she could.

Y/n knocked at Keeley’s door and entered, “Hi.”

Keeley was sat at her desk, pouring over something on her laptop. Most likely, it had nothing to do with business. “Hi,” she mumbled.

“Looking at Twitter isn’t going to help anything,” Y/n sighed, entering the room.

Keeley didn’t look up from her screen, “It’s Facebook.”

Y/n scoffed, “That definitely won’t help anything.”

Keeley tore her eyes away, closing out the browser and turning to Y/n. “How bad’s it been?”

“Oh, Daily Mail were eager to talk,” Y/n fell into the chair opposite her boss, “Didn’t think that was the best avenue to go.”

Barely breathing a chuckle, Keeley ran her hands through her hair.

“I’m not letting anyone get close to you,” Y/n reassured, “And the good news is, the press’ll move on within a few days.”

Keeley glanced up with doubtful eyes.

Y/n regretted the words as soon as she’d said them, “Albeit, they’ll run with this all week. But still,” she reached over and held out her hand, “We’re gonna get through this.”

Keeley exhaled and took Y/n’s hand, squeezing like she was her lifeline.

A knock hit the door and they turned to see Barbara. Keeley did her best to appear as if all was well.

“Is now a good time, Ms. Jones?” Barbara asked, sparing Y/n a polite smile.

“Yes, of course,” Keeley answered perkily, “Yeah.”

Barbara came to stand beside Y/n’s chair, holding a single sheet of paper. “I’m sorry about what happened.”

Keeley looked like she was on the verge of tears, “Thank you, Barbara.”

“Um,” Barbara turned to Y/n, “Does someone have the press-“

Y/n held up a hand, “Got it covered.”

“Good,” she nodded, turning back to Keeley and handing her the sheet, “Jack asked me to give you this.”

“What is it?” Keeley asked.

“It’s a statement,” Barbara replied.

Keeley scanned the text before reading it aloud, “”Allow me to first offer my sincerest apologies,” her brows popped up, “”I deeply regret that video that some of you have seen online. I’m beyond embarrassed, and I never should have made this video in the first place.”

Y/n’s lips parted, even Barbara averted her gaze.

“‘I hope you can forgive me while I learn and grow,’” Keeley finished, looking up to Barbara confusedly.

“Jack thought you could post it across your socials,” Barbara said, “But maybe not Facebook, ‘cause that’s just for grandparents and racists now, isn’t it?”

In her despair, Keeley managed to give a gentle smile and Barbara didn’t miss it as her cue to excuse herself.

Y/n sat still at the desk, her mind flooding with rage. If she didn’t know better, she’d think that the “statement” had been written by a man. How could private property leak and somehow it could be turned around to be the victim’s fault? Worse, how could Jack be alright with it?

“Do you think,” Keeley stared at the letter, “I should put it out?”

In answering, Y/n wasn’t just giving business advice, she was wading into Jack and Keeley’s relationship, something that was entirely off limits. Clubbing with the boys was one thing, relationship talk was way too personal.

“I…” Y/n struggled, “I really don’t think it’s-“

“Please,” Keeley’s eyes snapped up to Y/n, “Don’t do that. I need your honest opinion,” she took a breath, “Do you think this is the right thing to do?”

Y/n had never seen Keeley be so firm, nor had anyone ever called her out on her hesitation. It was a snap back to the reality of the situation.

“Absolutely not,” she answered, speaking with total confidence, “This isn’t a statement, it’s shaming. You dare to do what most of these corporate fuckers do with their mistresses with someone you love, someones steals it from you, and it’s somehow your fault?” Y/n grimaced with rage, “You have nothing to apologize for. You’re the one who got screwed over, you’re the one who’s owed an apology. It is not the other way around.”

Y/n paused, trying to collect herself. “Keeley…please don’t put this out. For all women who have ever had something like this happen, just…please.”

Keeley nodded, as if it only confirmed what she was already thinking.

“Look, you and Jack are…you and Jack and you need to talk about this, but,” Y/n sighed, taking Keeley’s hand once more, “Don’t do it.”

The two of them sat in silence, Keeley eventually folding up the paper and rising from her seat.

“Is Rebecca in today?”

“Yeah,” Y/n answered, “Probably expecting you.”

Keeley nodded as she grabbed her purse, “Tea?”

Y/n frowned as she gathered her purse, “I can’t. Ted’s got a presser.”

The women exited the office together, riding the elevator down without a single word spoken. When they reached the parking lot, they went their separate ways.

“Keeley,” Y/n called once she’d reached her car, “Do I need to…talk to Roy or anything? Make sure he doesn’t speak to the press?”

“No,” Keeley paused her keys in their slot. It was an uncomfortable topic, but PR didn’t care about comfort. “Not, uh…no, not Roy.”

Y/n waited to see if there was more to the answer. At least she was spared a deeply awkward conversation with Roy. The extent of their relationship was a mutual love of yelling at Jamie. She just prayed whichever ex of Keeley’s the video was meant for kept their mouth shut.

“Okay,” she decided not to push, “Hey,” she drew Keeley’s attention one last time, trying to keep her smile, “We’ve got this.”

Keeley gave a watery one back. If she didn’t have Jack’s support, she knew she had someone’s. “Yeah.”

—————————

It wasn’t often that there was so much work it warranted coming in on a Saturday. But a resort chain wanted Dani to do an endorsement for them and the only time their PR department could speak was the weekend. Plus, damage control for Keeley had taken up the lions share of Y/n’s week.

She was sat at her desk, returning an email and waiting for the phone to ring. It was kind of nice having the place to herself, but strange for Nelson Road to be completely silent. Usually from her office, Y/n could hear the sound of the boys conversing loudly down the stairs or Ted’s whistle on the pitch.

Her cell dinged, louder because of the quiet. Y/n picked it up to see it was a text from Jamie.

What you up to?

Y/n snapped a quick picture of her desk and fired it off.

Waiting for the call proved to be tedious as the man she was supposed to speak to was late. She began to scroll social media, her phone having alerted her to the fact that Ted was trending. She found that he and Beard had taken Henry to a West Ham match. A photo of the three of them was flooding the football community.

Where she might have resented Ted months ago, or anguished over the clean up she’d have to do, Y/n couldn’t help but laugh. There was a story to be told and she was sure she’d hear it on Monday. It also didn’t escape her that Beard had made a point of coming in full AFC Richmond attire.

“Damn right,” she said to herself.

Knock knock.

“Fucking hell,” Y/n exclaimed, her chair rolling back a few inches.

Jamie grinned, “Sorry.”

“No, no,” Y/n held her hand to her chest, “My heart needed to be reset.”

“What’re you doin’ here?” Jamie asked, shoving into the office.

“Dani’s got a deal with a resort,” she answered, rolling back to her desk, “This was the only day they could talk.”

Jamie nodded, wandering around the room. For all the time they spent together, he never had much of a reason to be in Y/n’s office.

Y/n got a good look at Jamie’s outfit, “And…what are we wearing?”

Jamie turned on his heel, looking down at himself. He saw nothing controversial about the vest, hoodie and joggers combo. “Fashion,” he answered, gesturing down his body.

“Right,” Y/n replied as she checked her inbox. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to his particular taste in clothing. “Where’ve you been today?”

“Eh, stopped by Keeley’s,” he answered, coming to sit down across the desk, “See how she was doin’.”

“Oh,” Y/n replied, glancing back at her computer before two loose pieces in her mind connected and stilled her. Why did Jamie have any reason to check in on Keeley if not…?

“How, uh,” Y/n stuttered, “How’s she doing?” She hadn’t spoken to Keeley yet, unsure as to how she’d handled the conversation with Jack.

Jamie shrugged, “She’s alright. I, eh…” he scratched the back of his neck, “Yeah, she’s okay.”

Y/n looked up and smiled, suddenly feeling like she was intruding on something deeply personal. “Good.”

By now, Jamie was a pro at reading her expressions. If not the intricacies, the general vibe. He pointed a finger, “What’s that face?”

“What face?” Y/n asked.

“That face,” Jamie moved a little closer in his chair, “Everything’s fine but it’s not, you make that face.”

Y/n attempted to shrug it off, wanting to shrug out of the entire situation. “Jamie, I’m fine. I’m glad Keeley’s okay, glad you went to check on her.”

Jamie watched carefully, trying to decode the layers of what she was saying and, more importantly, not saying. He retracted his finger into his fist when he guessed.

“Oh.”

Y/n’s eyes darted up from her laptop screen and back down.

“How’d you not know that?”

“Know what?”

A single laugh and Jamie smiled, “You’re a lot of things, but you ain’t dumb.”

Y/n grimaced, wishing she could disappear into thin air. Moments like these made her miss her boundaries. Isolated as they kept her, they had merit.

“I didn’t know you two…” she awkwardly pursed her lips and stared down at her keyboard.

“All that research,” Jamie smiled at her awkwardness, “Didn’t look into that bit?”

“It’s not my job to know who’s sleeping with who,” Y/n replied quickly, hating how she’d phrased that.

Jamie hummed, “Kinda is.”

Public relations did involve handling all types of headlines. Personal and otherwise.

“Well, you didn’t tell me either,” Y/n retorted.

“I thought you knew,” Jamie enunciated with a laugh.

Y/n couldn’t place what changed, but knowing that her boss and the person who was effectively her closest friend had dated made her feel…uneasy. Knowing such an intimate video had been made for someone she knew, she felt like she’d seen some side of Keeley and Jamie not meant for her to ever know about.

“Right,” Y/n spread her hands over her desk, “Are there any more relationships, past, present or potential, in this club that I need to know about?”

Jamie thought a moment, deciding to exclude any and all locker room talk he’d been present for regarding Y/n. It had started the second she’d walked through the door, dying down and picking back up every once in a while.

“You’re safe,” Jamie replied, finding her discomfort cute.

Any further conversation was blissfully halted as Y/n’s desk phone rang. Finally. She moved to pick it up but was met with Jamie’s hand fending her off.

“Jamie, what-“

Jamie shushed her, nudging her hand away. He lifted the phone off its base and flopped back into his chair.

“Ms. Y/l/n’s office,” he greeted, his Mancunian accent disappearing to turn posh and nasally, “How may I help you?”

Y/n covered her mouth to silence her snort. She waved for the phone with her free hand.

“And she knows why you’re calling?” Jamie continued, sliding away from Y/n’s grasp. “Hold, please.”

He covered the microphone with his palm and smiled. Y/n’s annoyance was a poor mask over her joy.

“It’s for you,” he whispered.

Y/n shook her head and yanked the phone out of his grip. “Hey, Oscar,” she greeted, “Glad we could finally touch base.”

Jamie fell back in his seat, content to wait and watch her take the call. He was happy to stay and bother her as long as he could.

And Y/n would let him, without hesitation.

———————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @mentalistfan @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @mentalistfan @loveforaugust @jellycolors @actuallybarb @heletsmelovehim @lovinnscarletknight @imfalling-inlove @leslieiscrying @meg-ro @littlemisssunshine192 @beboldbebravethings @maydayfigment @spencerreidsbookclub @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @lemoonandlestars @im-a-weirdo-for-life @mindless-rock (tags cont. in comments ❤️)

[chris-hallelujah]

English Love Affair | m.s.

Matt x fem!OC

Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), pet names (baby, princess, etc.), p in v (protected), slight dom!Matt, foul language MINORS DNI

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: Hi everyone! This is my first time writing a fanfic since like 2016 and my first time ever writing smut. Please let me know if it sucks. This is a song fic based on 'English Love Affair' by 5sos. I have not seen this done before for the triplets, however there are HUNDREDS of pieces out there so if someone has done this please let me know. All ideas are my own and I do not give anyone the right to post this to another platform or plagiarize my work.

-

The Sturniolo Triplets had just finished their final show of the international leg of their tour. In order to give the boys and their team a break from the constant go, go, go of tour, it was deemed best to let them stay in London for a few days before heading back to L.A.

Somehow Nick had heard about a local club, The Black Dog, that was the hot spot of the night. Laura encouraged them to go, make some connections with other creators, and celebrate the ending of tour.

Flashing their IDs to the bouncer at the door, they walked in immediately being hit with the night life atmosphere. Loud music blasted through various speakers, the bar was humid with a smell of alcohol and sweat.

Matt sat at a table with Chris across from him, flirting with some girl. Nick had made his way into the crowd of people dancing after he connected with some friends he knew. Chris and the girl shared whispers and giggles back and forth while Matt sipped on his root beer, scrolling through instagram on his phone.

It started on a weekend in May, I was looking for attention, needed intervention. Felt somebody looking at me. With a powder white complexion, feeling the connection.

A suspicious feeling came over Matt as he felt a pair of eyes on him. He looked up from his phone and around the room, locking eyes with a gorgeous brunette a few feet away.

She stood leaning against the wall with a group of friends. A short gold dress hugged her curves like it was handmade for her. She took a sip from her drink and winked at him in the process. He felt his cheeks flush a bit and a smirk come across his face. The girl said something to her friends and began to make her way across the floor to the table. Chris glanced over at Matt and then followed his gaze. Seeing the approaching girl, Chris grabbed the hand of the girl he had been talking to, gave Matt an encouraging pat on the back of his shoulder and went to the dance floor.

By now the distance between Matt and the mystery girl had closed. She smirked and flirtatiously took his drink from him and took a sip. “Well hi there” Matt said with a slight chuckle, “I’m Matt.”

“Ella,” she said returning the drink to his hand, letting her fingers linger on his a bit longer than necessary. “An American boy, huh? What brings you here?” She asked her English accent coming through despite the loud music.

Oh, yea I’m actually famous and just got done touring. How was Matt supposed to explain his travels without sounding cocky? “Uh, I’m traveling with my brothers. They’re somewhere out there.” He gestured to the crowd of people on top of the color changing dance floor.

“And they’ve left you alone? How lucky am I.” Her confidence made her radiant in the best way. Not egotistical but she knew she looked good and she knew she wanted whatever Matt had to offer. She took a step closer to the barstool he was sitting on and leaned into his ear, “since we already swapped spit on your drink, how about we keep this party going?” Her breath tickling his ear. He felt his pants tighten and he wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Oh yea? And what is it that you suggest?” The tension between these two was buzzing.

Before I knew it, it was serious. Dragged me out the bar to the back seat of her car.

Her hand wrapped around his wrist and she led him out the door of the bar. A black SUV was parked not far from The Black Dog. Matt opened the back door and let Ella climb in before following after her. He pulled the door shut behind them and as he turned back he felt her lips smash into his. She was kissing him like he was the air she needed to breathe and Matt was in no way planning on stopping her. Her dress had rode up from all of the movement which gave Matt the perfect access to smack her ass. She let out a small whimper and buried her head into his neck as they both took a moment to catch their breath. "Let's go back to my place, yea?" she managed to get out, "I only had soda, I can drive." Matt nodded and helped her climb into the driver's seat before getting in the passenger himself. Surely Chris and Nick would be able to get back to the hotel down the street on their own.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next thing we were back at her place, a hideaway in Mayfair, all the great and good there.

The car pulled into her driveway and the duo quickly made their way inside, Matt's hand maintaining contact with Ella's waist. As soon as they crossed through the doorway, Matt spun her around and pressed her against the door. The lack of touch during the car ride was making them both hungrier for any sort of relief. Their tongues battled for dominance, hands exploring the other's body.

The story line was so ridiculous. Every single step had me begging for the next. Before I knew it, it was serious. Dragged me up the stairs and it wasn't ending there.

Ella pulled away and took Matt's wrist yet again. She led him up the stairwell and into a door at the far end of the hallway. They passed a few other doors on their way. "Do you have roommates?" he whispered, slowly becoming aware of the situation they were in and how crazy this may look to someone else.

Ella nodded, "Yes, Sophie and Emma. But they are with our other friends at the bar," she paused and checked the time on her phone, "They won't be home for a little while, don't worry." This was music to his ears.

"Fuckin' fantastic," he muttered against her lips. The bedroom floor turned into a mess of thrown clothes as they made their way to her bed. Matt laid her down and crawled on top of her. One hand grasped her boob as he kissed all over her chest, nipping and sucking, leaving purple marks. Ella's hands were digging into his back leaving red lines all over.

"Matt," she whined, "don't make me wait any longer, please!" He chuckled against her chest and began to pepper kisses down her stomach. He got level with the black, lacy underwear that was the only thing left on her body.

"What a shame, these are so pretty," he hummed before looping his finger underneath and ripping the fabric off. No, like, literally ripping them off. "I'll buy you new ones, whatever you want." He was already pussy whipped and nothing had even happened yet. He dove his face down and gave one lick from her hole up to her clit. She squealed and buried her fingers into the sheets, trying to find somewhere to put the energy that coursed through her. Matt's hands wrapped under her thighs to hold her steady. His tongue went to work with his nose brushing her clit with each movement. Ella was an absolute mess underneath him, moaning and crying out.

"oh my god!" she yelled, thankful that her roommates were gone. Matt was also thankful because the noises she was making were only turning him on more and more. He focused his tongue on her clit and inserted two fingers into her, pumping them slowly. The stretch burned so good as his fingers brushed the most sensitive spot inside of her. Her legs began to shake on Matt's shoulders. "I- I'm gonna-" she struggled to get words out.

Matt pulled away briefly using his thumb to replace where his tongue just was, "I know, baby, go ahead. Let me see how pretty you look when you cum." His mouth went back in between her legs. That comment was enough to send Ella over the edge. Her back arched and a string of profanities left her mouth with Matt's name in there a couple of times. He kept going, helping her ride out her high, only stopping when her legs fell limp next to him. Matt put his fingers in his mouth to clean them off as Ella tried to catch her breath. "Think you can keep going for me?" He asked. She nodded eagerly and pulled him back down into a kiss. Matt reached for his wallet on the bedside table and pulled out a condom, thankful that he packed one 'just in case.' He slipped his boxers off and ripped the wrapper open with his teeth. His breath caught in his throat as he applied the condom, finally having some sort of contact to his dick that has been hard for what felt like hours.

"Goddamn, Matt, I need you," Ella whispered in awe at his size. Matt made his way in between her legs and threw one over his shoulder. He slowly connected their bodies, trying to give her a chance to adjust. His head flew back as he let out a groan. Ella gasped as he entered her and she took a few deep breaths to relax the muscles in her body. "You're good, thank you for waiting," she said, giving him the go ahead he had been dying for. He began to thrust his hips into hers and interlocked one of their hands. She whimpered at the pleasure coursing through her and squeezed his hand.

"Holy shit, baby girl, you are killing me," Matt groaned looking down where their bodies connected. "You're doing so - fuck - so good." Ella began pulsing around his cock, approaching her second orgasm of the night. This was enough to get Matt to his peak. "Cum with me, princess." The room filled with Matt's groans and Ella's cries.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-two weeks later-

When the lights go out, she's all I ever think about, the picture burning in my brain, kissing in the rain. I can't forget, my English love affair. Today, I'm seven thousand miles away. The movie playing in my head of a king size bed means I can't forget my English love affair.

Matt had officially become unbearable to be around. Always catching an attitude with one of his brothers, hiding out in his room, and having no energy in their content. Not only did Nick and Chris notice it right away, but the fans were noticing it too.

'Has anyone noticed Matt seems off lately?'

'Matt has been in a weird mood since they got back from tour'

Matt laid in his bed scrolling through Ella's instagram. She had even posted pictures with her friends from the night they met so he had memories to look back on of her in that dress. His door swung open and Nick and Chris made their way in. "Do you know how to fucking knock?" Matt snapped.

"Alright, dude, what the hell is up with you?" Nick asked, ignoring the fact that they were clearly not welcome in Matt's room and making himself comfy in the desk chair.

"You just barged in here without fucking knocking! Maybe I just want some goddamn privacy and quiet for five fucking seconds!" Matt's voice began to get louder as he sat upright.

"Kid, you know you have been in a shitty mood since we got home. Is this about that chick in London?" Chris pried. Matt knew he couldn't lie to the people he cared for most. Even if he did, they would see straight through it.

"There was something about her - fuck - she's literally on the other side of the world. She's probably living her normal life and I'm stuck here not able to get her out of my head," Matt sighed. Sure, the two texted throughout the day, but surely she wasn't as down bad as he was, right?

"Listen, we wanna be here for you, dude. Cope how you need to cope. But we gotta figure something out for the vlogs, the fans are noticing and so is Laura. If this girl is truly something special, we want to help you figure it out," Chris said, as he sat on the edge of the bed.

Matt nodded, "You're right, I need to get my shit together. I'm sorry."

The brothers shared a productive conversation about Matt and his feelings and the vlogs before Chris and Nick left Matt back alone with his thoughts. He laid on the bed with his hands behind his bed, remembering how perfect his lips fit with Ella's. A buzz came from his phone on the bedside table. His hand reached over and brought the screen to his face. His mood lightened instantly seeing a text from none other than 'Ell <3' The message he read made his breath catch in his throat.

Call me crazy, but I just booked a flight to LA. I need to see you

[strangesthirdeye]

ᴅʀᴜɴᴋᴇɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ( sʜᴇʀʟᴏᴄᴋ ʜᴏʟᴍᴇs x ᴡɪғᴇ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

Summary: Don't touch me, I have a hubby

Warning: SHERLOCK HOLMES SJDHDJDJX, drunk reader, William is four years old now, love, fluff, nonsense talk, bed, confusion, don't drink alcohol people.. Alcohol is bad unless it's for medical reasons, sweet, Husband and wife moments, flirting, mention of naked, Ooc Sherlock, vomit, hangover.

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was late at night in 221B, Sherlock and William were usually still awake even though it was late. Well, for Sherlock but William is usually the one who falls asleep first because his father said so. Stating that he is still young and today's children need enough sleep in order to have a lot of energy for tomorrow even though adults like him also need enough sleep to not shorten their life... According to Google.

Sherlock who was still awake and not sleepy was flipping through the files in his hands solemnly. He sat cross-legged on his chair for comfort as his back ached from having to sit for a long time. The reason he was still awake at 1 in the morning? Well, you see Y/n has a reunion with her old classmates at a bar, somewhere in London and Sherlock is worried that she hasn't come home yet.

As a very good husband he of course has to feel worried about his wife who hasn't come home yet. I mean, if Y/n didn't give him a warning not to worry about her being in a bar somewhere in London, Sherlock would probably be on a mission to find his wife right now. But well, the wife has given a warning and him being a good husband does not want to disturb her reunion with her old classmates.

(Sherlock is actually afraid of his wife) Because, if he obeyed his wife's warning, he will get a reward.. What reward? Don't know. Sherlock huffed a breath before turning his gaze to the clock on the wall. 1:11 in the morning and his wife hasn't returned yet. William already had dreams in his sleep, so he didn't have to worry about that. His heart feels heavy without you.

Suddenly, a knock was heard. Mrs Hudson who was still up due to her watching her favorite show came out of her flat and checked the flat door outside. The lock is opened and there is Y/n who is leaning heavily against the shoulder of an old friend of hers named Dhani who is holding Y/n's waist in order to support her better.

Y/n's eyes are glossy while her face shows how drunk she is with her dreamy face. Y/n smiled at Mrs. Hudson.

"Ahh, Hudders" Y/n slurred before hiccups.

Dhani who still supports her looks at Miss Hudson apologetically. She's sober, thankfully because she doesn't really like alcohol in fact she wants to avoid drinking alcohol even though she's in a bar. Her purpose there is to celebrate the reunion with her old friends and drink fruit juices while listening to music.

"Sorry, Mrs. H. Y/n drank too much. It was a bit difficult to bring her home. I had to wrestle with her to get into the car" Dhani said, apologetically.

Mrs. Hudson smiled gratefully. "It's okay, at least she's home safely." She paused. "Sherlock has been restless since she went out, mind you." she added while bringing a drunk Y/n into the flat. "I'm sure you can return safely, dear. It's getting late"

Dhani waved her hand. "aye, don't worry about me, Mrs Hudson. I'm good at taking care of myself. Besides, I think Stephen will also be restless if I don't come home yet." she chuckled. "right, I'm going home now. And told Sherlock to standby any paracetamol for her in the morning. She sure she'll have a hangover later"

"bye bye, Dhani" Y/n waved her hand drunkly at her friend.

"Bye bye, Y/n." Dhani waved and walked towards her car.

Mrs Hudson said her goodbye before she closed the flat door and locked the door. She turned her gaze on Y/n who was now sitting on the floor and leaning heavily on the wall with droopy eyes. She will pass out once she's on the bed.

"Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson called the young man.

Footsteps were heard and Sherlock Holmes came out of his flat and went downstairs. He who was wearing a light blue dressing gown, gray shirt and pajama pants stopped on the stairs once his eyes focusing on his wife.

"What happened to her?" he asked once he was kneeling in front of you who's face looks like you've been on the moon.

"Her friend said that she drank a bit too much tonight, so she brought her home. Also, standby medicine for her in the morning. She's going to get a bad headache." She said to him. "now, I'm sure you can handle her now, right? I'm going back to my flat." and Mrs Hudson entered her flat.

Sherlock stared at you longingly, not sure what to say instead he tried to support you by taking your waist with his strong arm but you slapped his arm sluggishly.

"No, noo.. don't touch me" you slurred and tried to get up but then you sat down again.

"come on, love. It's me your husband" Sherlock tried to knock some sense into you.

"no, my hubby is at home" you said.

"You're at home" Sherlock muttered.

"Am I?" you looked at him through your half lidded eyes.

"yes. It's me Sherlock, love" Sherlock tried to help you get up and this time you let him pick you up.

"My Sherlock will be angry if I'm in another man's arms" you mumbled sleepily.

"You're in my arms, love" Sherlock replied as he let you step up the stairs slowly due to you still being in a drunken state.

You chuckled. "I like the wallpaper of this place, i want to install the same wallpaper in my house"

"This is our house, love" Sherlock replied before he pushed open the door.

You suddenly pushed Sherlock hard and glared at him with your glossy eyes. "aye, you have no right to take me to your house. I have a husband"

Sherlock massaged the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Y/n, I'm your husband. And this is our house."

"You are my husband?" You widen your eyes before laughing out loud.

Sherlock approached you while trying to shush you into silence while covering your mouth with his palm.

"no, love. William is sleeping now. You don't want to wake him, right?" Sherlock looked at you, fondly.

"William, ohh! my baby." you covering your mouth with your hand. "he's sleeping" you whispered to Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded. "yes, he is sleeping. Now let me help you change your clothes and refresh before going to bed"

"you're going to see me naked. Ohhh, you're going to fast, handsome" you traced your fingers on his arm seductively. "I like that"You suddenly hugged him. "and you're my husband! I'm so lucky"

'Oh god, just how much did she drink?' Sherlock thought before he took his wife's shoulders and pushed her into the bathroom.

"right, let's get you cleaned up before bed" Sherlock muttered.

"ohhh, shower" you staggered into the bathroom.

Sherlock then striped all your clothes leaving you naked in front of him before he took you into the bathtub. Warm water is placed before he rinses your body and hair. You shivered.

Sherlock then gently shampooed your hair as he massaged your scalp.

"i like this.. can we do this forever? pretty please" you pleaded.

"You can do this whenever you want, love" Sherlock said before he rinsed your hair. "done" he said before he took you out of the bath tub and covered you with a towel after he dried you off.

He makes you look like a child when he bathes you. You looked at your wrinkled fingers.

"I'm old" you mumbled, showing him your wrinkled fingers due to being in the water for so long.

"No you're not, that's because you've been in the water for a long time, that's why it's like that" he explained.

"oh" you looked at him in awe.

"yes, oh. Now let's get dressed" he said before he opened the door of his room which was connected to the bathroom.

Sherlock made you sit on the bed you two shared before he walked over to the dresser drawer. He brought out dark red t-shirts and black plaid pants along with your undergarments.

And you finally fell asleep on the pillow after you finished putting on your clothes. Sherlock sighed with relief. You are not very difficult for him to handle. At least all the nonsense you said he can reply well even though it's a bit nonsense. He got up and walked to the kitchen to retrieve hangover medicine along with a glass of water.

Before he even stepped back into his room, William came out of his room sleepily while rubbing his tired eyes with his hands.

"Is mommy back yet?" he mumbled sleepily.

Sherlock softened his look at his son. "yes, she's back. Now go back to sleep"

William tiredly nodded and closed the door to his room without any comments which Sherlock assumed he was just delirious in his sleep.

Later in the morning, you wake up with a bad headache and throw up in the toilet with Sherlock holding your hair back before you return to your original self after swallowing two paracetamol tablets.

[romanticgremlin]

Broken Bones, Pistols And Lonely Hearts

Summary: Sebastian tries to find his way home after celebrating his birthday and ends up in some hot water. An unexpected savior steps in and ends up saving him in more ways than one.

(Sebastian X Female Muggle OC)

A large hand claps Sebastian on the shoulder, the fingers of said hand give a squeeze as a friendly grin splays on his blind friend's lips.

“Happy Birthday, my friend.” The blind Slytherin heir says jovially. 

“I still can't believe you gifted me a bloody flat.” He slur slightly. 

Soft laughter comes from the girl of their strange trio.

“Do you need help getting back?” MC says and his voice is suddenly in his throat at how kind she sounds. A part of him wants to look away or scream when Ominis’s hand leaves his shoulder to slide around the girls waist. 

He is desperately trying to remind himself that he is just lonely and irregardless of their once possible mutual attraction during their Hogwarts days, she has always deserved someone better than him. Ominis and her were made for each other.

Still, he swallows thickly and drunkenly forces his gaze from the ring on her right hand that matches the one on Ominis's hand before up to her face. He plasters a genuine smile across his face before he speaks.

“I know the way. You two newlyweds best be getting back. Got things to do, I imagine. Heirs to conceive and what not.” He says with a sloppy wink, causing both of his companions to turn scarlet. 

They bid their goodbyes to each other, and his two best friends disapparate.

He plays with the key to his new flat they had gifted him here in London a couple weeks prior to his birthday and contemplates just going home to sleep the rest of his birthday away. But the thought of walking back to such an empty apartment keeps him firmly in his seat at the bar. 

Maybe another couple drinks first. It is his birthday after all.

 Its Anne's birthday too. 

Thoughts of his estranged twin begin to rise and follow him like his own personal poltergeist, clouding his every thought until later when he's almost blind drunk staggering through the streets of london.

He can't find his damn apartment.

 He's only been there for a week, and he's not familiar with anything.

Why does every goddamn street look the same? 

“Hey, you lost?” A chirpy male voice says. His vision is blurry slightly by the alcohol but he can see the outline of a man, a bit smaller than him.

“Aye. Lookin’ for-...bloody hell-...can't remember the-...the name.” Sebastian says, his scottish accent thickens and coats his tongue more than usual with the alcohol. 

“Ah, it's right over here, mate.” The shorter man takes his arm suddenly in an iron grip, pulling him down an alley before he can protest and remember that he didn't actually tell this man where he lived. 

Stupid. Careless. Immature. 

Should have- 

A fist cracks across his face so hard that he swears he can see stars for a moment. 

Maybe he deserves this.

Two other men emerge from somewhere. He’s fumbling for his wand when he remembers the requirements of his release from Azkaban. 

No unauthorized use of magic.

He curses loudly, and the nauseating taste of blood enters his mouth as it drips down his face from his nose. 

“Give us yer money and that fancy watch I seen you checkin earlier.” the shorter attacker sneers at him. 

He berates himself for relaxing too much. Not noticing them scoping him out earlier. He's not as accustomed to muggle brawling, much better with a wand, but he knows how to throw a punch. He knows enough. He tries to raise his fists in a protective manner. 

“Piss o-” He starts to say until he’s grabbed from behind. The alcohol works both to his advantage and disadvantage as he's able to pull from somewhere enough strength to rip the man from behind him and ram his fist into his face. 

He knows he can't win. He's not dull. 

Yet still he tries. MC once told him that his stubbornness wasn’t necessarily a bad trait and he’s never been prouder to agree with her as his knuckles split with another punch he manages to land in the chaos. Again the alcohol works to his advantage here, dulling the pain as he's thrown to the ground and kicked hard in the ribs. 

“Hey! Leave him alone.” A feminine voice shouts out over the sound of blows landing. He wonders briefly if he's hallucinating. One of the attackers steps to the left. The view of his savior no longer obscured. 

A blonde girl. She looked as if she might blow away in a strong wind, but here she was, strong and confident. Seemingly armed with nothing but her voice. 

Stupid, brave girl. 

His heart hurts at the thought, although he’s not sure why. 

He blinks several times to bring himself back from his disbelief and his adrenaline is still pumping. He takes advantage of their distraction to painfully kick the leg of one of the man closest to him.

He doesn't restrain any power from the kick and he hears a sickening crunch as the man's leg bends sideways. A sick feeling of joy pulls a smile onto his lips as he listens to the man wail in pain after he crumples to the ground. 

The feeling doesn't last long as he receives a swift retaliatory kick from behind him into what feels like his kidney. 

“I said stop!” the feminine voice insists again. 

“What you gonna do about it, girlie?" One of the men attacking Sebastian growls threateningly at the blonde girl.

He tries to get up, chuckling at his own drunken stupidity, he doesn’t want these losers threatening the blonde girl. The adrenaline pumping in him makes him stand up. He sways a little, but he’s determined to show himself as a gentleman. 

“She doesn’t need to do… anything… about it… I’ll deal with you lot.” His breathing is off for some reason and he struggles to speak as he stands. 

"That's sweet of you, but I assure you, I can handle myself." She says.

The sound of a pistol hammer being cocked echoes loudly in the alley. It pulls every face to her. 

Bloody hell.

His eyes widen a bit and he can barely believe what he’s hearing. He looks around the alley, and then back to the blonde, and he blinks trying to fix the blur in his vision and He stares at her in shock, his jaw hanging open. She’s holding a muggle pistol.

"Best get going boys, sod off." She says gesturing with the gun. 

He looks at the attackers, and then back to her. He can’t imagine why she would defend him, though he is grateful. 

“Alright, little lady. You’ve made your point.” The man says, sweating and backing up slowly, his gaze switching between myself and the blonde. 

“This one ain't got nothing worth anything anyways. ‘is watch is busted anyhow, nows that i’m seeing it.” he says. I grit my teeth, feeling pain shoot through me from the exhale I let out. The men grumble a bit before they all turn and run off frantically. 

He laughs a bit to himself,  his voice feels rough.

“Thank you.” he says, genuinely. He gives her what is probably a pathetic bloody (literally) smile and she lowers the gun with a long exhale. 

"You're hurt!" She says quickly making her way to him.

He laughs, and groans at the feel of the harsh action on his ribs.

“Yeah, I’ve taken a bit of a beating.” He chuckles, wincing again. 

The adrenaline rush that once dulled the pain is leaving him now and the pain is coming on strong, and he’s feeling lightheaded.

"Come on." She says and he grunts slightly as she slips her shoulder under his arm, supporting him. 

He’s quite taller than her, and he feels like a big dumb goof. She’s not really dainty or elegant, but she's not sturdy or tough looking either, and yet she saved him. He leans into her slightly as she guides him along with her. 

He's overwhelmed with her. Her skin Is soft and she smells like earl gray tea, strangely. Never something he would considered wanting to breathe in forever, but here he was, seriously considering it. 

He tries to remind himself that he's drunk and lonely and possibly injured in the head.

“There we go.” she encouages. He catches a glimpse of her eyes. They're grayish blue like a storm or the brackish water of the lake at Hogwarts. 

"Up these stairs here." She says softly smiling.

He chuckles at her pretty smile, and nods. He leans harder against her as they walk up the stairs, he feels the heat of her body against him. “M’sorry.” he slurs. 

"I'm Sarah." She says opening a door and helping him inside to what he quickly realizes is a kitchen as she slides him off her into a kitchen chair. 

She’s just-...and her hair smells… good, he feels a little dumb about it all as his mind slowly processes everything going on around him. 

Sarah, huh?

[joeyquinndrabz]

That’s my girl- Joseph Quinn X Reader

TW: N/A

AN: My dad surprised me with paramore tickets for their Manchester show KICKING AND SCREAMING!! Character very much inspired by the goddess herself, Hayley Williams. Character sings “still into you and ain’t it fun” (I’m not a basic fan before anyone attacks be i just wanted to use songs people would know ltfb and figure 8 are favourite songs atm🥲)

y/b/n- your bands name

“On stage in 5,4,3-“ The screams from outside were deafening, people had come from far and wide to see your band perform. This included your own family and friends, it was a big event in your career. Your band had been offered to perform at Hyde Park and seeing you were all from London, it made perfect sense to finish your worldwide tour where you felt the happiest, home.

Tickets sold out within a minute, people had fought for their tickets and you were determined to make it the best show possible for them. You’d been in the limelight from a very young age, your band found fame at 15 in 2009. Today was the 14th year anniversary of “y/b/n” and this felt like the perfect opportunity to celebrate with the people who got you here.

There was a vip stand full of your family and friends, eagerly waiting to watch you do your thing after not seeing you for so long due to the tour. This included Joe. You’d been on tour for 6 months, thankfully he was in America at the same time or you genuinely think you would’ve gone insane. However, you hadn’t seen him since and hadn’t seen him today because he’d been in Italy hours prior to the concert starting. He’d brought his film camera, determined to get some footage of you in your element. It brought comfort to him when he looked back at them when you were away, in a way it felt as if you were with him even though you were on the other side of the globe.

“1.” The countdown had ended and you all ran on stage, the screams getting louder. Click track in ear and the music beginning to play, you knew it was time to give your all. Singing and dancing around the stage, you looked over at the stands your family were in and saw Joe and Wes going crazy singing along and jumping up and down. You laughed down the mic and had to stop singing for a split second to compose yourself, they noticed and screamed “LOVE YOU” to which you responded with an air kiss and carried on rocking out.

The final bridge appeared. “Baby not a day goes by that I’m not into you.” You pointed over at Joe and he sang it right back at you, grinning from ear to ear. You noticed your dad dancing with your mum and Wes n Chloe screaming the lyrics at each other with pints in their hands. This was home.

Finally the song finished and the whole of Hyde Park was screaming and bellowing your names. You laughed in disbelief and took it all in, the lights and posters, the little groups of people with different journeys with your music. It all finally felt right, you’d been so homesick on tour so you’d found it hard to genuinely appreciate what was happening during shows because your mind and heart were thinking of somewhere else. Here. Home.

You went into your next song, same energy and same reaction from the crown. Pure elation. It felt like a giant party and there was no stopping this one.

Once the second song came to an end, it was time for you to speak to all those people. But this time, you didn’t feel anxious. “Londonnn.” You shouted down the mic which gained a roar from the audience, jumping and waving at you. “We’re home.” You shouted again running around the stage as your guitarist joined you and your drummer smashed his symbols. The audience were wild at this point, screaming all sorts.

“We’ve got a proper party in store for you, you ready to dance Hyde Park?” You asked, pointing your mic to the crowd who were definitely ready. Your eyes drifted to the stands and you saw Joe and your mum in a tight hug, waving at you with admiration plastered on their faces. You sent them a heart with your hands and you performed the rest of your set.

In-between some songs you continued speaking to the crowd, laughing and dancing along with them. You were on a high.

2 hours later the show had come to an end.

“London you have been incredible.” You smiled out to the audience and noticed some tears from a few of them, you were aware your music meant a lot to people but seeing it first hand was a feeling like no other. “Massive thank you to you all, it’s 14 years today of y/b/n and we genuinely would not be here without you, you and especially you.” You’d been pointing and on the last few words of your sentence your finger was aimed at the stands. “Every single one of you up there are the reason we do what we do and I love you all so much.” Joe was tearing up and so was everyone up there with him. “Fucking hell mate shes made it.” Wes laughed with tears in his eyes, giving Joe a side hug as Joe laughed along with tears of his own.

“Writing this album took a lot out of us, we were tired and not the nicest of people because of it.” Your whole band laughed as your bassist played a falling scale to add to the words you’d just spoken. “There were two people in particular who had to take the brunt of my this tiredness and I can’t thank them enough.” You saw them both with tears in their eyes and it seemed to catch on to you like a yawn, your eyes were glazing over.

“I’m not gonna say too much or I’ll cry like a baby, but, Joe, Wes. I love you both so much.” The crown cheered for them and they blew you kisses whilst mouthing their own “I love yous” and with that you started some banter with the crowd to lift the mood again and started your last song. “Ain’t it fun” was truly a feel good tune and the audience were picking up on the frequencies, their bodies danced and sang like never before. Your dad was dancing up and down with Joe, drinks in hand and it was like you had your own personal show. Your guitarist mimicked them and mirrored their dance moves, a beautiful moment with beautiful people.

The last symbol smashed and with that you waved your goodbyes, hugged one and other and ran off stage. You were all on such a high and you couldn’t wait to be in Joes embrace, the butterflies you felt on the first date 8 years ago reappeared.

Your family and friends had been escorted backstage to the pop up bar that management surprised you with as a goodbye your present. Everyone was mingling but you just wanted to see one person and soon you did. His eyes met yours and a massive grin came on both your faces, you ran up to him and his arms outstretched to grab you. “Oh my gosh you were incredible.” Joe whispered into your ear as you both stood in each others embrace, squeezing tighter than you’d ever done before. “I’m sorry I’m so sweaty.” You giggled as he brushed your hair out your face with his two hands with a chuckle. “Sweetheart don’t be silly, you’ve been dancing for nearly 3 hours straight im not expecting you to be dry.” You both laughed, you were disgusting in love but no one cared. They loved it. “Did you like the show?” You asked, anxious of his reaction. “Hated it.” He said, monotone face and he let go of you. You eyebrows furrowed with confusion but confusion didn’t last long, Joe came close again to swing you around, a squeal escaping your lips. “I bloody loved it, I’ve never been so proud of you.” He kissed you firmly on the lips over and over again before holding you close again.

“Sorry to break it up lovebirds but I’d love some time with the rockstar herself.” Wes joked from beside you both, you squealed again in excitement and quickly turned to hug Wes who shook you from side to side. “My beautiful best friend you are INCREDIBLE!.” Wes shouted, earning a hearty chuckle from both you and Joe. “Bring it in brother.” Wes opened up his other arm and soon enough you were in a group hug with the people you loved the most.

You popped your head up from the middle to look up at them both. “Can I have a pint now?” You queried.

“She’s back!” Wes laughed as Joe chuckled into your hair.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Friends to Lovers (8) Masterlist

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven

About useless lists and oblivious teenagers (ao3) - OliveTheHobbit

Summary: Phil helps Dan with his sexuality crisis while he tries to overcome the fact he is head over heels for him. Oh, and they have a date day.

Apartment 126 (ao3) - girlboss128

Summary: Dan is 23 year old video editor living in a London flat. His days are boring and he lives life as a hopeless romantic. Then, Phil Lester, a 27 year old Internet celebrity moves in across the hall. Dan after one glance decides he needs Phil in his life. Dan is forward and persistent. How could this end?

April Fools (ao3) - hygge

Summary: Dan proposes an April Fools Day prank that he thinks will shock the Internet. But, when it comes time to share it with the world, Phil has second thoughts. There is something he needs to get off of his chest instead.

Big Love (ao3) - winstonlives

Summary: Phil wakes up freezing one night, only to find out he is shrinking. Panicked and tiny he goes to Dan for help. Together the two deal with the challenges that come along with being too small for the normal world. Relying on each other, and working together, they realize their friendship, is in fact more than just friendship.

Come Clean (ao3) - castrotophic

Summary: Dan thinks Phil might be in love with him, but he's not quite sure how to figure it out.

Craving Control (ao3) - starwatersong

Summary: Phil is intrigued by the hypnotist at the YouTuber Summit in 2016 and finds himself oddly fascinated by hypnotism. Is Dan helping him find one for a video for Phil’s benefit… or Dan’s? Some timeline mixing where Phil’s fortune telling video takes place in an earlier time. They’re living in London apartment #1 in this story.

Don’t be scared (ao3) - danisnot3131

Summary: Before agreeing to go on Tour for Interactive Introvers, Dan is hit with the realization that he’s been in love with Phil for years.

Do You Know How in Love With You I Am (Please Notice) (ao3) - phantasticworks

Summary: Based on a Phan!The Office AU drawing by @laurainlilac on tumblr

Dan works at a small paper company, but the brightside to this boring career is that his best friend Phil is just a few feet away at reception. The downside to this is that he’s hopelessly, irrevocably in love with said best friend. Oh, and Phil is engaged, too.

A short little story about best friends, being in love, and pining hopelessly after the boy you think you can’t have. But, don’t worry, there’s a happy ending in here somewhere.

drop your heart I’ll save it for you(ao3) - Anonymous

Summary: Tenderness isn’t part of the deal, nor are soft words, or feelings, or kisses that don’t lead to fucking. It’s not what Dan asked for, and it’s certainly not why someone would choose to fuck their friend slash flatmate slash colleague who they absolutely don’t have any feelings for.

Drunken Nonsense (ao3) - Spring_Haze

Summary: Young Dan and Phil end up playing their own drunken version of truth or dare following a few too many cocktails at the Lester Family Christmas Gathering in Phil’s family home. Confessions are made, and two best friends become lovers.

How Life Changes (ao3) - madd09

Summary: Phil had no idea how much his life was going to change when Cornelia and Martyn announced they were expecting and how it would end up being a catalyst for him and Dan,

Keep These Secrets In A Lie (ao3) - CanDanAndPhilNot (enbycalhoun)

Summary: Dan and Phil are friends. But friends don’t act the way they do.

Like a cicada rhythm. (ao3) - emmibug

Summary: every night they share the same bed, legs twisted together, arms holding each other close. dan and phil haven’t grown up from their childlike sense of friendship which leads people to believe there’s something deeper going on.

a dan and phil childhood best friends to lovers AU where they share the same bed and always have done.

Midnight Cab Rides to You (ao3) - QueenKatelynTheAristocrat

Summary: “Whenever he felt the spiralling of his thoughts that indicated an impending breakdown, there was only ever one place he would go. He wondered how many breakdowns he had left before Phil got sick of him.”

Also known as: Dan can’t stand another damn minute on campus, so he does the only thing he can think of to make himself feel like he isn’t dying. He gets a cab to Phil’s flat.

never quite as it seems (ao3) - Ablissa

Summary: Phil has a unique gift that allows him to see something he never expected to see - his best friend Dan, meeting the person that would most likely become the love of his life. It hasn’t happened yet, and right now, Dan has no idea what lies ahead.

When old feelings resurface and every choice may have a big impact on the upcoming events, will Phil be able to make the right decision?

Stars in His Eyes (ao3) - harleymoony

Summary: Once every week, Dan and Phil sneak out of their houses to go stargazing together. Tonight is Dan’s birthday, and Phil has something planned for that, of course.

stuck on you (ao3) - watergator

Summary: dan finds himself in a rather awkward predicament and phil ends up having to helping him

you only know you love him when you let him go (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan was sitting on his beanbag chair and nodding along to Phil’s story, tossing a ball into the air as he stared at his best friend.

While Phil continued describing how pretty Amanda looked and how amazing the movie was, Dan was focused on Phil himself. He let his eyes roam over Phil’s face, catching on shiny irises and sharp cheekbones and pink lips, and thinking of how much he’d love to feel those lips against his own.

And suddenly, everything made sense to Dan.

He froze, the ball falling on his head as his chest filled with terror. Phil continued with his story, delightfully oblivious to the panic attack Dan was two seconds away from having. He was attracted to his best friend, and big time, too, but Phil now had a girlfriend, and one he’d been wanting for over two years.

Well, fuck.

You’re All my Reasons (ao3) - QueenKatelynTheAristocrat

Summary: “Phil wished he could think of the right thing to say. It would be nice if at times like this his English Language degree knowledge would kick in and provide him with the words to make Dan understand that he could tell Phil anything, that there was nothing he could say that would scare Phil away, but alas.”

In which Dan’s depression doesn’t allow him to leave his room for two days, and Phil struggles to find the words, but what comes to realize is that maybe words aren’t always necessary.

Just a bit of hurt/comfort fluff to get you through your day.

You're The Only Friend I Need (ao3) - microwaveoven

Summary: Little snippets of Dan and Phil's lives from childhood to 2024. Based on the idea if they had been friends since they were kids and went to the same school

You set my soul alight (ao3) - Wolf_Of_Westeros

Summary: Dan likes Phil. Phil likes Dan. Neither of them know about it.

[cultofsappho]

To celebrate the RWRB movie coming out (one more week!!!!), I wanted to compile my personal favorite, classic, RWRB fics

🇺🇸 RWRB Fic Rec Friday 🇬🇧

If you've been around the fandom for a while, you'll probably recognise a few of these. Several are well loved on ao3, and there's some hidden gems in here too.

Under the cut, because this got long quick! But I have 108 rwrb bookmarks on ao3, So... this is honestly the most edited-down list I can make!

In no particular order:

all that glitters (is not gold) by indomitablelove Words: 111,753. Post-Canon

Alex Claremont-Diaz has it all. His mom won the election, he’s got the perfect boyfriend. He gets to love Henry out loud. Everything is great. Perfect.

Except for the itch under his skin every time he goes outside, and the tightness in his chest when he goes online, and the fact that he can’t fucking sleep.

But it's fine. He's fine. Really.

— Or: after the emails, Alex Claremont-Diaz isn’t fine.

.

a goddamn blaze in the dark (and you started it) by orionseye Words: 4,612. Outsider(ish) POV

“You had a thing with who?” Spencer asks, cocking an eyebrow.

“No one. It’s nothing.“

“Oh c’mon. We finally get to the juicy shit and you won’t tell me?“

Liam bites his lip, stifling a laugh. “I had a thing with my best friend. All through high school.”

“I thought you had a girlfriend?”

“I did! I thought I was a proud heterosexual until I came here and figured shit out. We–we just, didn’t talk about it. Somewhere in our minds, the whole “making out for an hour” thing was, like, straight or something.”

a.k.a, liam and spencer’s adventures through the tendency of a famous ex-boyfriend to cause international scandals.

.

How wonderful life is (while you're in the world) by mlvdybug Words: 34,959. Post-Canon

The corner of Henry’s mouth. It’s disappeared now, covered by the oxygen mask fixed securely around his head, but if Alex concentrates hard enough, he can see it sprawled out in front of him. Every ridge, every bend and edge and turn of it.

He knows Henry’s heart. And that’ll be enough.

(or: the one where henry gets shot and alex is a goddamn mess.)

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(baby) don't make me spell it out by extasiswings Words: 2,074. Post-Canon

One night near the end of first semester 1L finals, just a few weeks before the two-year anniversary of their first kiss, Alex finds himself looking up from his desk with its messy piles of color-coded notes and tabbed textbooks to see Henry asleep on the couch, clearly having dozed off waiting for him to come to bed, and unbidden he thinks, God, I’m going to marry this man.

It startles him, the spike of adrenaline that floods through him waking him up and bringing the parts of his brain turning over concepts like proximate cause and strict liability to a standstill as he stares at Henry.

I want to marry this man.

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Two Sides of the Same Coin by bibliosoph Words: 86,895. AU

Alex has spent his whole life feeling out of place and paranoid. Growing up in a small village with a massive secret, he had to learn how to keep himself safe from harm and away from other people. Until he meets Henry.

Henry is the Prince of Camelot, though he despises the title and all that comes with it. His brother, the King, is a tyrant and makes Henry feel like he isn't enough. He's all but sworn away true love or anything of the sort. Until he meets Alex.

Brought together by magic and circumstance, the two find themselves constantly in the other's presence. But what will happen when that rocky relationship turns into a friendship? Will it then become something more?

Loosely based on Merlin.

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The Royal Wedding by DracoWillHearAboutThis Words: 51,577. Post-Canon

HM Queen Mary is delighted to announce the engagement of Prince Henry to Mr Alexander Claremont-Diaz.

The wedding will take place in the Spring or Summer of 2025, in London. Further details about the wedding date will be announced in due course. 

Prince Henry and Mr Claremont-Diaz became engaged earlier this week during a private holiday in Paris. Prince Henry has informed The Queen and other close members of his family. Prince Henry has sought and received the blessings of Mr Claremont-Diaz's parents.  The couple will live in Nottingham Cottage at Kensington Palace. 

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Bear It All by Bri_Cheese Words: 26,383. AU

Bear: verb. Endure or expose.

Eighteen months after an assassination attempt buries a bullet in his spine, Alexander Claremont-Diaz has to attend the Royal Wedding.

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A Picture on Your Corkboard by bleedingballroomfloor Words: 23,087. Amnesia/50 First Dates AU

It happens on a random morning in May when Alex, age fourteen, pads into the kitchen to greet his mother and steal a waffle from June's plate and sees a man sitting at their breakfast counter, reading a newspaper, a cup of coffee raised to his lips. Like he belongs. Like it's the most natural thing in the world. June doesn't seem to give the man a second thought. She merely flicks Alex on the forehead and takes back the waffle. Ellen isn't worrying, either. In fact, she's talking to him. Asking what his schedule is like. Making plans for dinner.

Alex has never seen this man before in his life.

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say you'll see me again (even if it's just in your wildest dreams) by coffeecatsme Words: 21,331. Trans AU

“You should ask her to dance.” She nudges Alex, and Alex pretends there isn’t a flush rushing up to his face. He opens his mouth to mention every single fucking reason dancing with the blonde is a bad idea—she looks about a foot taller than Alex, objectively uncomfortable for some fucking reason, and Alex is against royalty on, like, principle—but then June nudges him again with widened eyes. “Come on. You know you want to, and I’m sure she’d appreciate it. None of the other fuckers are asking her because of how tall she is.”

For a moment, Alex glares at her. Then, he downs his champagne, shoves it in June’s face and tries to smooth his jacket. “You fucking owe me, June,” he says and ignores the brilliant smile that appears on her face.

“Don’t act so fucking upset about it.”

Or, 5 times Henry is too scared to come out to Alex and 1 time Alex gives him the courage.

Or, 6 times Alex slowly falls in love with Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, for exactly who he is.

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Hetkeksi by Neuqe Words: 13,131. Magic AU

Alex is a rich noble who comes up with ridiculous reasons to see their new court healer, Henry

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you are my heart, and it's beating too fast by DancingChupacabra Words: 1,117. Post-Canon

The night Alex's secret service detail expires.

Or, as it turns out being outed is very traumatic.

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The Beginner's Guide to Floristry by clottedcreamfudge Words: 19,293. Hanahaki AU

As if there's anything romantic about it; as if it's not the most humiliating death Alex can imagine. This is why he doesn't do relationships. This is why he never will. The risk, as far as he fucking sees it, is too great.

Hanahaki Disease is a fictional disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible.

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to repair a hollowed heart by coffeecatsme Words: 28,952. AU

Alexander Claremont-Diaz, the young ruler of the Underworld, the presider of souls that have passed away, has been banned from Olympus his entire life, on account of bringing death and destruction wherever he goes. His seat in the highest council of gods has been left permanently empty until someone sees all that he is and still falls in love with the man behind.

It's been twenty centuries since the curse has been put upon him, and Alex has long since given up on finding the right person.

Or, a Hades and Persephone AU no one asked for

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And, a little shamless PWP becasue this fandom has some amazing ones. If i had to pick only one, I couldn't, but i'd pick this series:

Alex Claremont-Diaz is a Sub by demigodbeautiies

A series of PWPs surrounding the fact that Alex Claremont-Diaz is, without a doubt, a sub.

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holy god that was long. There were so many others I want to rave about, but I'll try to edit myself for once

I hope some new-er rwrb readers find something to love here! I'm calling a lot of these "classics" becuase they are well loved in the fandom, and rightfully so!!

[lucy90712]

Hey can u do something with Gavi

He falls in love with a singer but they can’t be together because she’s going on tour.. and he can’t let go easily😅🫣

WC: 2.1k

Being a singer has always been my dream since I was little so I worked tirelessly taking singing lessons for many years and now I've made it. I was lucky enough to have one of my songs blow up on tiktok and since then I have only grown in popularity. As much as this is something I wanted growing so much fame in such a short amount of time and only at the age of 18 is a lot to handle, I have had to grow up really quickly as everyone always expects so much of me and I don't want to disappoint. It all means I don't really have much of a normal life I am always away from home and I don't have any friends anywhere near my age as I just don't have time for them and don't even get me started on relationships my love life is literally nonexistent. 

As much as there is a lot of pressures in my life there are times that I really enjoy myself and the last few weeks has been one of those times. I have spent the last few weeks in Barcelona exploring, writing and recording songs for my next album. My management suggested that I go somewhere more peaceful than busy London to write so I chose to go to Barcelona as I've always wanted to go and I thought that being somewhere new and exciting would help inspire me. Being here really has helped I've never written such good songs so quickly it's like just being in the city has got my creative juices flowing like never before. I wrote so many songs I had to have multiple meetings to decide which ones to actually put on the album, which ones to save and other ones we could offer to other artists as there is no way I could use them all. 

Sadly now my quiet time has come to an end as I am doing a whole load of interviews to promote my new album and the new single from it which is due to come out first. As I didn't have any say the schedule is pretty hectic so my alarm woke me up at 6am this morning to be ready for my first interview on morning tv at 7. From there I had a few radio interviews before finally getting a bit of a break to eat lunch which I desperately needed. On my break I went on tiktok like I often do but my for you page was just filled with edits of Barcelona players. It is partly my fault as I keep liking them but still they started popping up as soon as I got here without me even doing anything. I must admit some of the players are definitely hot but watching the edits has got me into watching the games on tv at the weekend and I'm really enjoying them. 

My break didn't last long as I had to head to film a few videos with a company the first of which was just a little Q&A which I've done plenty of so I pretty much know what will be asked. When I arrived I was asked if there was anything they weren't allowed to ask so I said no as I don't mind sharing most things. They fit me with a microphone and then we got started pretty much straight away. To begin with it was all just simple things like how I got started in music and things about my life but then we moved on to more juicy questions.

"So everyone wants to know are you single?" The interviewer asked 

"Yes I am despite all the rumours I'm still single now is just not the time for a relationship as I'm so busy" I said

"Then what do you think about what Barcelona player Gavi has said about you?" She asked

"I haven't seen what he's said actually" I replied

"In an interview yesterday he was asked who his celebrity crush was and he said you" she explained 

"I don't think anyone has ever listed me as their celebrity crush so that's pretty cool and being honest Gavi's pretty attractive so it feels good that he likes me" I admitted 

"So can we expect to see the two of you together at any point?" She asked 

"Well I've never spoken to him but I'd love to go to a game before I leave so maybe one day we will meet each other" I said 

I was asked a few more questions but the whole time I was thinking about the fact that Gavi actually knows who I am and called me his celebrity crush. Out of everyone he could pick he chose to say me which makes no sense to me but I can't lie I quite like it. 

Gavi's POV

Just as I got out of the shower after training I had about 5 phones shoved in my face and all the boys were talking at once so I couldn't understand a thing they were saying. Eventually they stopped freaking out and Pedri handed me his phone so I could see what had them so excited. In front me me was a video of y/n being asked about me after I stupidly said she was my celebrity crush in an interview but to my surprise she said that she thought I was attractive too. That's when I started freaking out just like the boys I mean it's not every day that the most attractive girl you've ever seen says she likes you too especially not a famous one. All the boys were trying to encourage me to dm her and I wanted to but what do I say and what if she never sees it I mean she must gets thousands of dms a day. 

"Come on bro just do it what could go wrong" Pedri said 

"What if she never sees it and even worse what if she sees it and ignores it that would be so embarrassing" I said 

"You have to dm her this is your chance she's here in Barcelona and she just said you're attractive in an interview this is your chance to get the girl" Ansu encouraged 

"Ok fine I'll do it but what do I say?" I asked 

~~~~~~~~~~

Pablogavi: hey I know you are in Barcelona at the moment and you said you wanted to attend a game could you make it this weekend I'd love to show you around 

Seen 

~~~~~~~~~~

Your POV

When I first saw the dm from Gavi I freaked out for ages before being able to think of a reply that didn't sound wrong but eventually I managed it. That weekend he got me tickets to their game and then afterwards we met so we could actually speak to each other for the first time. He was so incredibly sweet and even more attractive in person which I didn't think was even possible. After talking for a while he showed me around the stadium quickly before inviting me out to celebrate their win with the team. 

Since that day we have spent quite a bit of time together, when I can I go and watch his training sessions and then at the end of the day I go to his place and we spend the evenings watching movies together. I have had the best time but sadly it must come to an end as I leave to head back to the UK in a few days to continue doing more media. The worst part about it is that Pablo has an away game this weekend so when I leave he won't even be here to say goodbye which means today is the last time we will see each other until one of us has some free time. Even the thought of leaving him is making me really sad as I've really enjoyed every second I've spent with Pablo but that's not it I've really developed feelings for him over the last few weeks and to leave that behind and just forget about it will be hard. Part of me wants to confess my feelings tonight but the rest of me knows it's a bad idea because us being in a relationship could never work as we would never get to spend any time together. 

As it's my last days here I made sure I had nothing to do so I could actually enjoy my time plus Pablo has a free day too so we can spend the whole day together. Even though I wanted to sleep in I got up as Pablo said he wanted to go for breakfast together so I dragged myself out of bed and into the shower. By the time I was ready I already had a text from Pablo telling me he was on his way to the apartment I've been staying in. Having got to know Pablo I knew he would be forgotten to text me and would've text while stopped somewhere so he was probably almost here so I grabbed my bag and shoes and waited by the door. Just as I finished tying my shoes the doorbell rang and the second I opened it Pablo engulfed me in a hug. As he pulled away he quickly kissed my cheek which I learnt is just something he does as the first time it took me by surprise but it still makes me blush every time.

After breakfast Pablo took me to back to my apartment so I could get changed as he wanted to take me to the beach. Once we arrived we walked along the waters edge together until we found a spot to sit that was quiet and where we would hopefully not be disturbed at all. Just as I finished putting on sunscreen and went to lay down in the sun Pablo picked me up over his shoulder with ease and ran towards the water. Before I knew it Pablo had thrown me into the cold water but luckily my reflexes are quick enough to allow me to grab onto him so that he came down with me. As we came up from the water we were slightly further in than I anticipated so my feet didn't reach the floor which meant I went back under the water for a second but before I could begin to keep myself afloat Pablo put his hands on my waist to hold me up. 

Blood rushed to my cheeks in an instant and butterflies formed in my stomach as I felt Pablo's hands on my skin. Time seemed as if it was standing still as our eyes were locked together and a pink tint was evident on our cheeks. I have never felt so strongly for someone like I did in that moment it just felt right having Pablo's hands on me and I couldn't picture being in that moment with anyone else on earth. 

"Y/n" Pablo whispered bringing me back to reality 

"What is it?" I asked

"I know you are leaving soon and I can't let you go without telling you that I've really fallen for you in the last few weeks" he admitted 

"I've fallen for you too but it's never going to work out" I said 

"Why not?" He asked desperately 

"Because we are never going to see each other my management are already talking about a tour and you are always away playing and I don't want a relationship where we only see each other when we happen to both have a spare moment" I explained 

"Then it won't be like that I know any chance I get I would come and see you wherever and any breaks you get I know you would come and be with me plus we can talk on FaceTime everyday in the meantime" he said 

"Please I've never felt like this before and I can't just let you go you can't tell me you don't want to at least try and give it a go" Pablo practically begged 

"You're right I need to not be so scared and give this a go, so does this mean we're dating now" I said 

"Absolutely it does I don't want another second to go by where you're not mine" he said 

As soon as he finished talking Pablo pulled me in and pressed his lips against mine in the most magical kiss I think I've ever experienced. In that moment I knew I made the right decision as when something feels so right I don't see how it could go wrong. I trust the universe to make sure things work out for us and to help us get through the hard times that are bound to arrive. Who knows maybe soon I'll be able to write a love song that actually means something to me about the unexpected romance I have found myself in. 

[my-alter-egos]

Lockwood & Co. Spoilers

(long post ahead)

I want to talk about Lucy for a minute. When she first started out at Jacob's, she was terrified. She even told her mom that she would work literally anywhere else, she begged not to have to put her life on the line. But her mom makes her, forces this terrified young child to do the one thing she's scared pantsless about.

So terrified, Lucy nervously follows around this girl. And over time, she finds friendship and love, perhaps even for the first time. (Her mother clearly wanted nothing to do with her, and it doesn't seem her father did, either.) She quickly makes a lifelong friend, one she can share hopes and dreams with. Plan for a brighter future.

And as she becomes more comfortable, the agency (her team) starts to appreciate her. Her talents are applauded, her efforts celebrated. She is publicly lauded as an asset to the agency. Can you imagine how proud she would have been in that moment?

This poor girl who has spent her whole life just trying to have attention or affection in some small regard finally feels like she belongs to a team.

...but then it all goes south. Her friends are dead, and her best friend suffers a fate almost worse than death - condemned to live without truly living, inhabiting just a shell. Her word, even though she was just lauded in the agency, means nothing against the law, and she is just as powerless in court as she was the first time when she watched the ghosts take her friends (and not only her friends, but all her future plans as well).

Maybe there's a reason she never had the attention and recognition growing up. Maybe she never deserved it. Maybe her talents really never would be enough to be heroic enough to gain that kind of recognition. Maybe she knew somewhere deep down that attention would only lead to terrible things, and that's why she hadn't been able to achieve any earlier in life. Either way, she knows she never wants to deal with the feeling of all eyes being on her again.

She runs away to London and joins another small agency, but this one is nothing like the first one. Yet, she still hesitates to trust the boys immediately. Soon, though, she makes friends of both boys and begins to think that just maybe, she's found a place she can learn to enjoy. She knows she won't get any more public attention between the agency's small profile and Lockwood's propensity for hogging the attention himself (she really doesn't mind though). Besides, Lockwood is charming and sweet and thoughtful and caring, though he often disguises some of those traits.

But then, Lockwood shows Lucy his "true colors". He ignores her one request and tells her what he really views her as.

She's just another asset for another agency. Someone to look at when things are going well, but she'll no doubt be the scapegoat when everything turns topsy-turvy (and given her track record, what won't go that way eventually? Her father is dead, her mother hates her, her best friend is ghost-locked, her other friends are dead, she was turned down by every other agency in London except this one...)

There are no happy memories tied to this word, only the horror and tragedy of losing her friends and hopes and dreams. Are we at all surprised when Lucy tries to leave? The self-loathing after being reduced to yet another "asset" she feels only would have stewed from the scene in the kitchen to when she got out of the cab.

She immediately jumps to the conclusion that once her usefulness has expired, the people around her will only abandon her once again. And while we know that Lockwood and Lucy are able to make up after this scene, the mental baggage of feeling like an object meant to please others clearly carries with Lucy.

Days later, she still brings up being called an asset again. And yes, she knows that Lockwood apologized, and I genuinely believe she accepted his apology in the park. But now that her "value" as an agent has increased, she still fears that he only sees that "value" in her. Especially since she knows he's so attention-oriented.

I think that yes, this scene shows how cute those two are with each other, but I think it's also very revealing of Lucy's own demons that she carries with her. I've seen several people mention how open Lockwood was willing to be with Lucy in this scene, but I think just the one line above shows how Lucy is also showing Lockwood her battles in return.

I guess I don't really have a "moral to the story" or anything, but I found it very interesting how well they stuck to this word "defining" Lucy and how she tries to push away from it.

[weepingfromacedartree]

Ten Milestones: Travelling Together

Hi friends!!!

New chapter up for anyone interested! (It's a big one.)

CW: alcohol // drinking to excess

In an instant, Penelope knows that this one will be good. (Or even more likely — bad.)

Colin’s smile gleams with the reflection of his phone screen. He’s practically giddy when he recites the text in front of him. 

“Number Five: Travelling Together. Nothing tests a relationship quite like taking it out of its typical environment. Just like marriage, there will be many highs and lows on your first trip as a couple. For as fun and exciting as a vacation may be, there are a million things that could go wrong during your time away from home. A holiday away with your partner will test how you handle communication, problem-solving, compromise, and more. If you are with the right person, even the most disastrous trips will be worth it.” 

At those last few words, Penelope cannot help but laugh. 

“Too bad I’m dating a seasoned traveller who always handles our holiday plans perfectly. If only something went wrong on one of our trips; now, we’ll never know how we react to disaster abroad.” 

“Yeah.” Colin rolls his eyes, giddiness already abandoned. “If only.” 

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Five Years Earlier: June 6th, 2018

Relationship Status: Not Dating

꙳

Day 0

Over the course of the last three years, finding Colin Bridgerton in a London pub has become an exceedingly rare feat. He spent most of that time in cities with different time zones than this one, and even his brief trips home left him little time for leisurely activities. This particular break from his travels, though longer than usual, has been as busy as ever. 

He arrived back in London on April 7th. He was actually meant to remain in New York for two more weeks, but changed his plans at the last minute. This choice was fueled by a variety of reasons, one of the most salient being his fears of missing his first nephew’s birth, had he come early. In the end, Auggie showed up two days late, but Colin couldn’t complain about having the extra time at home. 

The last two months were busy. Colin and Benedict found a flat together in Bloomsbury. (Colin needed somewhere other than his mum’s place to stay during his trips home. Benedict needed out of a toxic roommates-with-benefits situation he had found himself in.) Francesca graduated from Edinburgh. Penelope completed her postgraduate degree at UCL. Colin signed a freelance contract with a local travel magazine. Simon announced his upcoming Parliament campaign. Hyacinth starred in a surprisingly bloody musical production of Carrie. Just last night, Anthony informed Colin and Benedict of his plans to propose to his girlfriend Kate later this summer. (Gregory had been excluded from that conversation due to his abysmal track record at keeping secrets.)

Life in London has been so busy these last two months that this particular trip to the pub had to be rescheduled three times. But they’re here now, and Colin supposes that’s all that matters. 

“I don’t have to get a beer, do I?” 

Penelope is standing right beside him, and yet she has to practically scream in order to be heard. For noon on a Wednesday, the pub is surprisingly packed. 

Colin looks around, taking in the pub’s antique style and limited selection of bottles and taps on the back wall.

“Honestly? I don’t know. Even water might be out of the question.” 

Penelope doesn’t say anything to that. Instead, she pulls a face expressing her disappointment. A distinctive “V” forms in the centre of her forehead, at which Colin can only laugh. 

“Why would you choose this place if you loathe the taste of beer? We’re celebrating you, in case you forgot.”

Penelope keeps her eyes trained forward, as though she’s searching for something in the darkest corner of this room. With a deadly serious tone, she tells him, “They have the best fish and chips in Mayfair. If I go thirsty, so be it.” 

Colin laughs again, but nods in agreement. She has a point.

While away on his travels, he misses his family and friends more than anything else. He would be lying if he said proper fish and chips wasn’t a close third. 

Penelope opens her mouth to say something else, but shuts it when she sees the hostess re-emerge before them. She beckons them to follow her, then leads them to a particularly dimly lit booth in the back of the room. 

“What can I get ya both to drink?”

Penelope opens her mouth to say something, but before she can, Colin clears his throat.

“Do you have anything other than beer available? Sorry — I know. I just loathe the taste of it. It always tastes like grass to —” 

His words stop short when the tip of Penelope’s trainer collides with his shin. When he looks over, he finds that her eyes are verging on vengeful; he has to bite his tongue to prevent himself from giggling. 

“We got vodka,” the waitress supplies skeptically. With knitted eyebrows, she looks to the bar over her shoulder. “I think.”

“Brilliant. Two vodka sodas, then.” 

Penelope still appears cross when he looks over to her again. Thankfully, her frown is all but abandoned by the time the waitress returns with their drinks. 

“To UCL.” He raises his glass. “And to those determined and lucky enough to survive it.” 

After huffing out a single laugh, Penelope rolls her eyes. 

“I graduated. I didn’t survive the Great War.” Before he can think up another quip, she taps her glass against his. “But thank you.”

“So, now that you’re free from the constraints of higher education… Any plans for the summer?” 

Penelope shrugs, raising her glass to her lips. 

“Not really. Just figuring out what to do next, now that uni’s over.”

“Next?” Colin echoes, genuinely confused. “What happened to working at Danbury’s magazine?” 

“That’s not a done deal.” She shrugs again. “My final interview was yesterday, and I haven’t heard back from them yet. If I don’t get it —”

“You will. Obviously.”

Penelope picks up her glass, and Colin watches as her eyes roll from over the top of it. She takes a sip that drains about half her cup. 

“Not necessar—” 

“Pen, they would be mental not to hire you. The job is yours for the taking.” 

Something new passes on Penelope’s face for a moment. Doubt, maybe. Or maybe it’s curiosity. In a brighter light, maybe Colin would be able to read her better. 

“And what makes you so confident in that conclusion?”

“Because you’re accomplished, brilliant, and perfect for the job.” He takes a sip of his own drink, short and syrupy sweet. “Plus, you’ve known the CEO since you were born. That always helps.” 

Penelope snorts in spite of herself. 

“I pray nepotism is not the determining factor in their decision.” 

“We both know you’re more than qualified. Does it matter what the determining factor is in a foregone conclusion?”

Penelope answers his question with nothing more than a simple shrug. 

“And what of your plans for the summer?” she asks in a shameless attempt to change the subject. To take the spotlight off herself. “It’s unlike you to stay grounded at home this long.” 

“Disappointed in the sudden lack of content on my blog?” 

That statement was meant to be lighthearted, but when spoken aloud, Colin can’t help but detect an edge of bitterness to his own voice. If Penelope hears it too, she doesn’t let on. She laughs. 

“No. As much as I love your updates, I can’t say I’m ‘disappointed’ in having you home a little longer than usual. I just thought you would be restless by now.” 

“A bit. But you know… That’s inevitable.”

Penelope’s face shifts again. Even in the shadows, Colin can tell she does not know what he means. 

“After three years of doing it nonstop, I’ve come to realise that the best parts of travel are the coming and the going. Arriving in a new location is always exciting and full of a million different possibilities, but inevitably that excitement fades away. No matter how fulfilling your experiences are in that place, there will always, inevitably come a time when you’re ready to leave. When you’re reminded that the place you’re in isn’t home — that your time there is up. Then you return home, and it’s refreshing and comfortable, and then it’s not. Life gets tedious and you grow restless and that inevitable cycle starts anew.”

Colin looks down at his drink, already growing watery due to the surplus of ice cubes in the cocktail. When he looks back up at Penelope, her eyes have grown even softer than usual. 

“But I have spent far too much time away from home these past few years. I can stand a bit of restlessness for a little while longer.” He takes another sip of his drink. “Especially if it means having these sorts of conversations with you in a pub instead of over voicemail.”

Penelope doesn’t say anything in response to that. Her lips twist into a sort of smile, scrunched together and pulled to the side. When her lips finally part, she asks, “So when are you going again?” 

Colin grimaces, suddenly struck by the fact that the date of his next flight is not all too far away. And due to the new contract, he couldn’t delay it even if he wanted to. 

“About two weeks. Venice first, then I’ll be travelling around Italy for the rest of the summer.” 

“That sounds exciting,” Penelope offers. There’s a far less complicated, albeit noticeably reserved smile on her lips. 

“Yeah. Of course.”

It grows quiet between them for a second longer than Colin deems comfortable. He jerks his head to the side, glancing around the increasingly overcrowded pub. Though the room around them remains quite loud, he can clearly hear the growl of his own stomach above the chaos.

“Where the bloody hell is our food?” 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Thirteen minutes later, two orders of fish and chips arrive at their table in the back of the pub. One minute after that, Penelope nearly chokes on a piece of beer-battered haddock when her phone starts buzzing in her pocket. Seven minutes after that, she hangs up and looks over to Colin. His smile is even bigger than hers. 

“I fucking told you, Featherington.” 

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, an unconscious attempt to wipe the grin off her face. Her happiness is so overwhelming that it feels as though it’s pouring out of her. 

“When do you start?” 

“Two weeks,” she barely manages to get out between taut lips. 

“That’s —” Colin lets out a shaky, happy breath. “We should celebrate,” he tells her after a moment. 

Penelope barely registers his words before letting out another laugh and raising her empty glass. 

“We’re already celebrating, in case you forgot.” 

Colin raises his own drink (also empty and awaiting a refill) and clinks it against the one aloft in her hand. 

“In case you forgot, we’re celebrating your graduation. Landing your dream job deserves its own celebration.” 

Finally, Penelope’s smile begins to drop. Her eyes dart to the bar on the other side of the room.

“We already ordered another round. We can make another toa—”

“No, Pen. A proper celebration.”

“Wha—”

“You’re the newest columnist at Queenmaker Magazine. This is amazing — fucking massive, Pen! We should do something big to honour it.”

Penelope looks away from him again. This time, to the phone that has been gripped in her right hand ever since she accepted her dream job. She sets it face down on the table before meeting his eye again.

“And what ‘big’ thing do you have in mind?” 

A few seconds pass before Colin answers her question. In that time, his lips form into a troubling smirk. 

“Let’s leave. Take a trip out of the city. Or better yet, the country.” 

Penelope also takes a few seconds to respond.

“What?!”

“I said, w—”

“I heard you, Colin,” she interrupts. “I just don’t understand. Didn’t you just say you want to stay rooted in London until your Venice trip?”

Colin considers her words for a few seconds, breaking her gaze to stare up at the ceiling in recollection. 

“That’s not what I said at all,” he eventually replies. “Do —”

“Colin, I —”

“— you want me to call up Danbury and tell her how unfairly her promising new journalist just misquoted —”

“I’m being seri—”

“I’m being serious, Pen! You’re willfully ignoring my po—”

“There’s no time to plan a —”

“You just told me that you have no plans for the next few weeks. You know, save for landing the job that you just landed. Now that your summer is free, you can finally —”

Penelope has argued with Colin before. Not as often as she does with Eloise, but this is far from their first dispute. Usually though, he will at least let her get a full sentence in before interrupting. Usually, he is not quite this vexing. 

“Good god, Colin! You’re leaving for Venice in two weeks. Which — in case you forgot — also happens to be the same time I start working at the magazine. Temporarily ignoring the fact that you just told me you want to stay in London in the meantime, there is no time for us to plan out — or actually go on — such an impromptu trip. It’s impossible.” 

It’s only after Penelope successfully gets all her intended words out that she realises Colin’s demeanour has completely changed. The tips of his ears are tinged red. His left hand is covering the lower half of his face. He’s barely holding in a laugh. His eyes are round and darting to the side. 

When Penelope follows his gaze, she finds that their waitress has returned. Wide-eyed, she silently sets down two glasses (a Guinness for him and another vodka soda for her), then disappears back into the crowd. Once she’s out of sight, Colin bursts out laughing and Penelope takes a generous gulp of her cocktail. 

“As I was trying to tell you,” he continues, once the laughter has left his system, “I did not say I want to remain planted in London for the next two weeks. If anything, I was torn between my desires to stay and to go.” 

Colin’s lips stop moving. It takes Penelope a few moments to realise that means he has graciously given her the floor to speak.

“I understand that,” she says slowly, as if speaking to a child. “I also understand that you decided to stay in the end. That you’ve spent too much time away from your family as it is.”

Colin laughs — short and sharp. 

“Wrong again. Given your line of work, I would expect you to pay closer attention to people’s words, Pen.”

Penelope opens her mouth, then shuts it just as quickly. If she says anything, it will undoubtedly be delivered through a scream; she doesn’t have enough alcohol in her system to justify doing so in such a public setting.

“I didn’t say anything about my family,” he reminds her. “The only person I mentioned wanting to stay in London for is you.” 

And just like that, something new rises in Penelope’s chest, swiftly killing the annoyance that burned inside of her. She doesn’t have the words to try and name it. She feels at a loss for words entirely; her lips remain paralyzed as Colin watches her in wait. 

It only takes him a few seconds to realise she has nothing to say.

“At some point in the last hour, the scales have tipped towards leaving. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t believe you have any plans tying you to London over the next few days. So, if I am correct and there is nothing stopping us from leaving… Let’s go.”

Penelope doesn’t think there is a single person on this planet that she knows as well as Colin Bridgerton. After all, she spent the first sixteen years of her life studying him with the same insistence and fervour that a nun does a bible. (And the last seven inspecting him with the same shame and compulsion that an addict does their vice.) And yet, there are still times when he surprises her. 

No. ‘Surprises’ isn’t the right word. She knows Colin has a talent for making the world around him appear far simpler than it really is. To bend the light in such a way that makes you see the world that way too — even if just for a moment. 

There are still times when it overwhelms her. 

“You make dropping everything and skipping town sound easy,” she eventually manages to say. 

“Because it is. Do it once and you’ll realise just how easy it is. Especially when you have an expert like me involved in the planning.” 

Something about that last sentence sparks a realisation in Penelope’s brain. 

This is a game. Or, it could be.

Penelope sits up and sets her shoulders squarely. 

“Fine. But I have a few rules.”

“Go on,” Colin encourages, clearly intrigued.

“1) I can’t be gone for the next two weeks. I need to be back by early next week. 2) I don’t want to leave the continent, so no surprise trips to Antarctica. 3) You have a max budget of £500 for transportation and housing — for each of us. If you can find something that fits my requirements, we can go on a trip together.”

Wasting not a single second, Colin whips out his phone from his back pocket. His smile gleams with the reflection of his screen. Excitedly, he mutters, “‘If’ I can meet your requirements? It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

But Penelope does know Colin. She knows he loves these sorts of challenges. That he thrives under this sort of friendly pressure. And while she could certainly afford to spend more than £500 on travel and a hotel, she’s intrigued to see what he can come up with when given such a budget. (And fears what he might come up with when given anything more.)

As Colin stares intently at his phone, Penelope feels her own demeanour start to shift. Before, she had been too distracted by the perceived impossibility of the offer to give it a second thought. But when she does…

It’s tempting. It’s almost certainly a bad idea, but it’s tempting for all the same reasons. 

Though they speak on a daily basis, Colin and Penelope have spent so little time actually together over the last seven years. Even during his hiatus at home over the last two months, they spent more time talking on a phone than they did in person. To spend a few days with Colin and only Colin…

It’s tempting. It’s almost certainly a bad idea, but —

“Booked,” Colin announces, maybe 30 seconds after picking up his phone. 

“What — already?”

“Yup. £497 each. We leave tomorrow and fly home on Monday.” 

“‘Fly?’” she echos. Unsure if she should be more excited or scared, she asks, “Where are we going, exactly?” 

“Costa Brava.” Colin says these words casually, in the same way Penelope would expect him to say “Brighton.” 

“Costa Brava… as in Catalonia?”

“No, the Costa Brava in Wales.” 

He laughs sarcastically. Triumphantly. 

“Yes, Catalonia.” 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Day 1

Penelope Featherington doesn’t have much experience with airports. She flew to Ireland a few times when she was a kid, but those trips fell off right around the time she started secondary school. She’s met or dropped off Colin at Heathrow a few times over the last three years, but rarely stepped inside on any of those occasions. She could count the total number of times she’s been in or around an airport on two hands. 

Well, usually she could. Right now, her hands are too occupied wringing together incessantly to count imaginary numbers. 

She is standing by a wall of windows, body facing the planes taxied outside. Her head is turned to the side, towards the man who dragged her here today. (Metaphorically. Literally, he got them both an Uber.) 

Colin is by the stewardess desk, talking to the two women stationed at the gate. He’s just out of earshot, so Penelope can’t tell what it is that he’s saying. But whatever it is, it’s charming. She can tell by the way both women’s lips curl as he speaks to them. 

Penelope doesn’t know why she’s so nervous. She’s flown on planes before — a decade ago, but still. 

She shouldn’t be nervous about a two-hour plane ride. She shouldn’t be nervous about a few days in paradise. She shouldn’t be nervous about how so much can change in — she checks her phone — 22 hours. 

She should be more like Colin; he’s never nervous about anything. 

“Good news,” he tells her, walking up with two freshly printed tickets. “I got us a free upgrade.”

“Really?” she asks. Although really, she should have known. He got them two roundtrip tickets at the last minute for £97 each. Suffice to say, they were not very good seats. Penelope couldn’t have cared less, but Colin…

Before he can so much as nod, she steals one of the tickets from between his fingers. She gasps.

“How the hell did you manage to turn two middle economy seats into two first class seats?!”

“Jesus Pen, calm down,” he orders through a laugh. “We’re on holiday, remember?”

Before she can let out another huff, Colin mumbles something about being a “frequent flyer,” then turns his attention to the phone in his hand. Though Penelope would love to press him further on the subject, he magically receives a phone call from his mum and steps away to take it. He only hangs up when the flight attendants announce that it is time for them to board. 

“Did your mum —”

“Come on. Don’t want to miss our flight, now do we?” 

“Wha—”

With that, Colin puts away his phone and grabs the carry-on at Penelope’s feet. 

“You don’t have to —”

“I got it, Pen,” he says nonchalantly. Then, without warning, he grabs her left hand and drags her towards the gate. 

This is far from the first time that Colin has grabbed her hand over the course of their friendship, but this specific occurrence strikes Penelope as strange. His whole demeanour suddenly seems off; she would ask him about it, if he weren’t hauling them towards the plane like it’s threatening to take off without them. 

His strange behaviour doesn’t cease as they continue forward. He practically pushes her past the flight attendant as soon as their tickets scan. His grip on her left hand only tightens as they walk down the boarding bridge. She tries to pull out of it when they step onto the plane and make their way through the cramped corner with the other flight attendants, but he just won’t let go. Through it all, she feels like a dog on a leash. 

Colin only drops her hand after they find their seats, requiring both his hands to place their baggage in the overhead bins. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Penelope hisses once they settle in. She crosses her arms in front of her chest, out of Colin’s reach. 

“Hmm?” 

He shoots her a pleasantly oblivious expression, as if he genuinely cannot fathom why she would question his behaviour. 

“You’re acting weird.” 

“No, I’m acting excited. We’re on hol—”

“Holiday,” she interrupts. “Yes, I remember.” 

“Good.” He smirks. “I was beginning to think you forgot.” 

Penelope almost makes a kidnapping joke, then remembers that she’s currently sitting in a first class cabin and thinks better of it. Instead, she pulls a book out of her purse and ignores Colin completely. She reads three pages before he starts acting weird again. 

Keeping his eyes suspiciously pointed at the front of the plane, Colin leans over and whispers, “Okay I may have lied a little bit.”

“What —”

“Well, a little to you. I lied quite a lot to the flight attendants.” 

Penelope remains quiet for a moment. She really, really doesn’t want to ask, but…

“What the hell did you do?” 

He meets her gaze again. His eyes look just as guilty as they do blue. 

Dropping his voice to a whisper, he says, “I may have implied that we’re on our honeymoon.”

For a moment, Penelope doesn’t know if she heard him right. There’s a sudden ringing in her ears, but surely —

“What?!” she practically yells. “You ‘implied’ that we’re married?!”

“Yes.” There’s a sudden edge of annoyance in his voice and in that look in his eye — a reaction Penelope cannot even begin to fathom is warranted from him under the circumstances. “Then I remembered that I’m not wearing a wedding ring and that our two random middle seats in the back of the plane might be a bit of a red flag. So —”

“You think?!” Penelope cannot help but interrupt. 

“Yes. So I clarified that we’re technically on our way to Catalonia to elope and —” 

His words stop short and his eyes cast downward. They land on her left hand. Just as one could expect from a chronically single 23-year-old, it is quite bare. 

“You don’t happen to have anything that could pass for an engagement ring, do you?”

“No, Colin. I do not happen to have an engagement ring on me. Seeing as I am not engaged!” 

Though she tries to keep her words at a relatively low volume, she can tell that the boarding passengers to their left are not allowing their argument to go unnoticed. A small child snickers at them as he walks past. 

“I’m sorry,” Colin whispers, but there’s a petulance in his voice that undermines any attempt at an actual apology. “I just wanted to see if they could switch our seats so we could sit together. I didn’t expect them to upgrade us — certainly not to first class. But apparently there was an actual newlywed couple that cancelled at the last minute. Now…”

When his voice trails off, Colin’s eyes shoot to the front of the cabin again. 

“Now I fear they’ll kick us off the plane if you don’t go along with the bit.”

Penelope, who has apparently lost all ability to whisper, shrieks: “The ‘bit?!’”

Another small child passes them in the aisle. This one looks more scared than amused.

“We’ve come this far, Pen,” Colin whispers, seemingly unperturbed by her increasing panic. “Let's not risk it all now.” 

Penelope bites down on her lip. She fears what she might say if her teeth ever unclench. 

All of this is risky behaviour — starting with his proposition at the pub and ending with this fucking “bit.” And Penelope has gone along with all of it up until now. After so many years of carefully keeping him at a distance (both physically and emotionally), she had agreed to a trip she knew would entail more time by Colin’s side than she could handle. She knew this was risky from the start. She had braced herself for disaster. But this…

This is overwhelming. Pretending to be engaged to the person she loved, let go of, then — despite her best efforts — continues to love so ardently… 

It’s too much for her to —

“Shit.” 

Colin’s whispered expletive brings Penelope out of a thought spiral of massive proportions. Her teeth unclench. Her eyes look to him, then to the spot where his are pointed. The flight attendant who had scanned their tickets at the gate is walking over with two champagne glasses in hand. 

“Shit.”

“Just follow my lead,” Colin whispers, then covers her left hand with his right. It takes everything in her to resist the urge to interlock their fingers and sink her nails in deep. 

The flight attendant congratulates them on the wedding and hands them the little plastic flutes. Penelope (who had taken Colin’s instructions to mean “just sit there and let me do the talking”) extends her right arm across her body and silently accepts the champagne. If the flight attendant notices the awkwardness of her gesture, she doesn’t let on; she’s likely too distracted by whatever charming nonsense Colin is currently feeding her to push them past any remaining red flags in their story. 

Penelope pours the entire flute down her throat before the woman disappears down the aisle. 

“I’m going to kill you,” Penelope promises through a whisper. Her words don’t have any bite left in them, though. She simply sounds tired. 

Before Colin can say anything, Penelope tunes him out with the headphones she had stashed in her purse. She doesn’t make it through the first verse before he pinches the little white cord and tugs the left bud out. 

“Why are you so mad at me?” he asks, his voice equal parts annoyance and concern. “I apologise for putting you on the spot, but I don’t see why it is such a big deal. Am I really so awful that just pretending to be my wife could warrant this level of disgust?”

Penelope’s teeth sink down on her bottom lip yet again. 

She wants to scream. She wants to point out his hypocrisy — to say it out loud. That he can announce to an entire party that he would never date her in a million years, but she can’t complain about being forced to play his pretend wife for the sake of a stranger. 

But she can’t say any of that out loud, now can she? Not without unravelling everything else — the fragile net she has spun to maintain their friendship these last few years. 

Pouring all of the willpower left in her body into a single smile…

“Don’t you mean your pretend fiancée? According to the backstory you crafted, I am not your pretend wife yet. I could still leave you at the pretend altar and live the rest of my life with a prince in the Catalonian mountainside.” 

Thankfully, her facade seems to work. Colin laughs. 

“I suppose that’s your prerogative. I don’t know how many princes are left in Catalonia these days, though.” 

“Plenty of pretend princes, though.” 

Penelope puts her headphones back in. She doesn’t hear the flight attendants’ instructions on what to do in the case of disaster. She ignores Colin’s sidelong glances when they begin to taxi. She closes her eyes when the engines rumble to life and the wheels below them pick up speed. She feels the plane lift into nothingness and tries her hardest to forget where she is. She moves her hand, intent on wrapping her fingers around the cool, silver divider between her and —

Suddenly, Colin’s hand is in hers again. Not covering it. Just holding on. 

Any anger left in Penelope melts away. She squeezes the palm in hers gently. 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Day 2

“I never knew the ocean could be this blue. Not in real life.”

In the past 24 hours, Penelope has made some variation of this comment to Colin at least a dozen times. In fairness, the water is insanely blue here. The weather is perfect. Everywhere you look, there’s something breathtaking and unimaginable to comment on. And like he always does when they’re together, Colin hangs on to her every word. 

Right now, they’re walking along the edges of the Ruins of Empúries — a site Colin recommended they visit due to its history and beautiful views. To their left lies the ocean, as blue and breathtaking as it ever was. To their right lies the ruins — the archaeological remnants of two ancient cities. For the last hour, Colin has been playing the part of tour guide, filling the air with random pieces of trivia on the Greek and Roman settlements. 

(Thankfully, Penelope doesn’t seem to mind the noise.)

“The name comes from the word ‘emporium,’ which means ‘market.’ Before the Second Punic War, the Greek traders thrived here. They set up ports on the beaches, then sold all sorts of goods here for about 300 years.”

Penelope stops walking and pulls out her phone. She points the camera in the direction of a nearby stonewall, then chuckles.

“What?” Colin asks after a moment, desperately wanting to be let in on the joke.

“Nothing.” She places her phone back in her pocket. “It’s just crazy to think about all that time. In 200 BC, someone laid these stones down in this particular way, just so I could take a picture of them with an iPhone two thousand years later.” 

Very suddenly, a laugh hits Colin so hard that he has to place a cautionary hand on Penelope’s shoulder, so as not to risk doubling over and destroying this piece of history forever. 

“Thank god for the Greeks,” he says through a giggle. “Building such an innovative, thriving marketplace, just so Penelope Featherington could take a picture of its carcass two millennia later.”

Penelope laughs too, though hers is more embarrassed than unrestrained. 

“That came out wro—” she starts, but her words are interrupted by the sound of something high-pitched behind them.

Colin turns around. Penelope jumps. A teenage girl with hair the colour of butter stands behind them, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. 

“Oh Christ, sorry! I just —” The girl’s eyes settle on his, squinting. “Are you Colin Bridgerton?”

Thoroughly confused, Colin gives the girl a quick once over. She has pink-tinted Ray Bans resting on the crown of her head. She has a gold chain around her neck with the letter “L” dangling off it. She’s wearing a burgundy “Oakham Hall” t-shirt, which is tucked into her jean shorts. He’s searching for any little detail that might clue him in on this girl’s identity; he comes up empty. 

“Um, yes. And, sorry — who are you?” 

“No one. I mean —” She laughs. “My name is Hermione. I just meant that you don’t know me. I’m a huge fan of yours, though. I, like, love your Instagram.” 

Instantly, Colin’s eyes glance down and to the side, because of course this would happen with Penelope standing right next to him. 

Over the last three years, Colin’s work has accumulated more of a following than he could have predicted at the start. Between his blog, Instagram, and occasional freelance work, he has built somewhat of a recognizable name for himself. However, given the type of content he produces, his face is not quite so recognizable. 

Not once in three years has a fan picked him out of a crowd in public. Until now, of course.

“Lovely to meet you, Hermione.” Colin leans forward and offers his hand for her to shake. Though he is thoroughly baffled by this encounter happening in the first place, he does his best to not allow such skepticism bleed through to his voice. “It’s so nice to hear you enjoy my stuff.” 

“Oh, I do! You go to the most wonderful places and write about them so beautifully! I never get to travel. Well —” She laughs. “Except now, of course. But usually, I just live vicariously through your posts.” 

Colin, suddenly filled to the brim with an emotion he can’t quite name, does not know how to respond to the teenager’s words. His first instinct is denial, but Penelope speaks up from beside him before he can open his mouth to express such a thing. 

“I’m the same way. I’m not sure I would have made it out of uni with my sanity intact if it weren’t for his blog. Sometimes, a bit of escapism is key.” 

Hermione smiles at Penelope’s words, but as soon as she stops speaking, the girl’s eyes go wide.

“Oh! How rude of me. I just realised I never asked for your name.” 

“Oh, please,” she chuckles softly. “Don’t apologise. My name is Penelope.”

The smile returns to Hermione’s face. Her eyes dart back and forth between him and Penelope. Before she has the chance to ask… 

“Pen and I have known each other forever. She edits all of my posts, actually. So if you enjoy my stuff, you should really be thanking her. She’s more miracle worker than editor. I mean — you should see the bullshit I type up before she spins it into something readable.” 

Penelope glances up at Colin with a wry smile on her face. Through gritted teeth, she says, “I’ve never known you to be so humble.”

Colin laughs just as Hermione asks, “Oh! Do you two always travel together? I never really thought about it, but I suppose I assumed that you travel solo.” 

“No,” Colin answers. “I’m always trying to get Pen to abandon her responsibilities and run off with me somewhere, but you know…” 

When he looks down to Penelope, there’s a very confusing look on her face. 

“I, um —”

“You assumed correctly,” Penelope cuts in, setting her gaze back on the girl in front of them. “He always travels alone. This trip is an exception.” 

Before Colin can say anything else, Penelope steps away from him and towards Hermione. “I can take a picture of you two together,” she offers the girl. “If you like.” 

“That’s so nice, thank —” Hermione cuts herself off and looks back at Colin. “If that’s okay with you, of course.” 

“Yes. Of course.” 

He nods his head to indicate that Hermione should stand next to him. She does, and just as Penelope lifts the phone to take their picture, she chuckles nervously and says, “Sorry for being so weird. I live in the middle of nowhere; I never see famous people out in public like this.” 

At the same exact moment that Penelope presses down and takes their photo, Colin unwittingly pulls a face. (How else is he supposed to react to someone saying that?) Thankfully, Penelope notices and, stifling a sudden plight of laughter, continues snapping photos until she gets something acceptable. 

When Hermione receives her phone back, she seems pleased with the results. Smiling, she looks over to Colin and thanks him for the photos. Then, without a single ounce of hesitation…

“Do you want me to take one of you and your girlfriend?” 

Though that last word may be incorrect, Colin doesn’t see the point in correcting a random stranger on such minor terminology. But at the very same moment that he answers “Yes” to the question that was asked, Penelope answers “No” to the one that wasn’t. 

“We are not dating,” she clarifies at the very same moment that he says, “We would love a photo, thanks.”

Before she can say another word, Colin hands Hermione his phone and pulls Penelope into his side. 

After so many years of friendship, there are certain routines that naturally form between two people. Movements that flow between them, automatic from so much practice over time. For example, when Penelope and Colin take a picture together, his hand always goes to her side while hers always goes to his back. Always. 

Until now. 

While Colin’s hand does land on Penelope’s waist, both of hers twist together down her front. Where she usually leans into him, she stands straight. And while she technically has a smile on her face, it’s not the one he’s used to seeing in their photos together; it’s strained at the edges. 

When it’s all over, Penelope removes herself from the embrace, Hermione says goodbye, and Colin wonders what the hell just happened. He briefly considers brushing it all aside and just resuming his tour guide responsibilities, but can’t seem to find the words. 

He’s too annoyed. 

He’s been annoyed since the moment Penelope said “No.” Since she said that word in that emphatic, decisive way — as if clarifying the true nature of their relationship to a stranger was the most important thing in the world to her. As if being mistaken as his girlfriend was a fate worse than death. As if —

“So…” Penelope says suddenly, her voice noticeably lighter than it had been a moment ago. “How does it feel to be ‘famous?’”

With that, she steps back onto the path and resumes their trek forward. As he always tends to do, Colin follows close behind. 

“Don’t start with me, Featherington,” he warns, trying his hardest to match her tone of voice. 

“Oh, come on. She was sweet.” 

“I didn’t say she wasn’t sweet. She simply misspoke about the ‘famous’ bit.”

“Well —”

“I’m serious, Pen. That has literally never happened before. Not once in three years has anyone ever recognised me in public. I mean — she probably only noticed me because of you.”

Still walking right beside him, Penelope cranes her head and throws him a confused look. 

“What are you talking about? She didn’t know who I was.” 

“Well, no. But…” Smirking, Colin reaches over and flicks a strand of red hair off her shoulder. “This tends to get people’s attention. I, on the other hand, am rather unassuming. It’s —” 

Penelope scoffs, interrupting him. 

“You are not ‘unassuming.’ You’re so… tall. I find it hard to believe you go unnoticed in a crowd.” 

Colin shrugs. He tries to examine another strand of her hair, but Penelope swats his fingers away. 

“Agree to dis—”

“Regardless of how she noticed you — she still recognized you. Even though your entire Instagram feed is sunsets and food. It’s —” 

“Hey, that’s not strictly —”

“— cool that she recognized you,” she interrupts, looking up at him again. “Isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” he supposes. “It’s nice to know my work has had an impact on someone. You know…” He looks down to her again. “Someone who isn’t biased because they’ve known me their entire life.”

“I can be unbiased,” she claims with little confidence in her voice. 

“You —”

“Have you decided on a narrative for your story yet?” she asks him, providing no context for the swift change in subject.

“What story?” he asks after a few seconds. 

“The Catalonia story.” 

“Oh,” he says after a few more seconds. “I’m not writing one.” 

After throwing him a bewildered look, she asks, “What wouldn’t you write a story about this place?”

“I’m on vacation. Why would I work?” 

“Well… That logic might apply to someone whose job doesn’t require them to go on vacation, but —”

“Excuse me,” he interrupts, mock offence heavy on his tongue. “My profession requires me to travel. Even travel writers need a vacation every once in a while. A break from having to spend each waking moment of my day constructing narratives and meeting deadlines and memorialising every little detail of my experiences.” 

Penelope nods sympathetically at his words, but is quick with her response.

“What about your two-month hiatus at home? Wasn’t that supposed to be your break from paradise?” 

“Yes — but this is an extension of that break. And in case you forgot, we’re only in Catalonia because of you and your accomplishments.” 

A scoff that nearly sounds like a laugh escapes her mouth. 

“I seem to recall the planning of this trip very differently than you do.” 

“Agree to disagree.”

“Getting back to the point… Don’t you owe it to your readers to write about this place? To memorialise just a little bit of paradise for those who aren’t lucky enough to experience it themselves?” 

Feet still propelling him forward, Colin takes a moment to consider her words. He thinks of Hermione. He thinks of the little black and white follower count attached to his Instagram. He thinks of his dreams. He thinks of Penelope on that night in December. 

Something to propel me forward and set me free.

“No,” he tells her. “I think that’s bullshit.” 

Penelope gapes at him, clearly caught off guard by his bluntness. 

“Pardon?”

“The more time you spend worrying about what you ‘owe’ the world, the more you risk losing sight of what matters to you. I’m elated to know that people enjoy my work, but I can’t let that pressure me into becoming a slave to my purpose. I can’t let it stop me from running off for a weekend with a friend just to enjoy myself.”

A moment passes by with no words between them. It’s not silent, though; the ocean is too loud. When Penelope finally speaks, the crashing waves nearly drown her words out.

“I thought the only reason we came here was for me. I don’t remember your enjoyment being a factor in this at all.” 

Colin can’t help but laugh. 

“Yes, well… I suppose my pleasure is an added bonus.” 

Penelope laughs, too. 

“Even then… What if you wrote something just for yourself? So twenty years from now, you can remember how the water reflects the sun here . Or how you spent an hour describing the differences between the Greek Empúries and the Roman Empúries.”

Stifling a laugh… 

“Technically, the Roman settlement was called ‘Emporiæ.’”

“Regardless,” she murmurs. “Maybe you can write a different kind of story. One that isn’t meant for anyone’s eyes, except your own. I mean — twenty years from now, wouldn’t it be nice to have a written account of this stunning place? To hold onto moments like these,” she raises her hands towards the scenery around them, “long after our feet carry us away from them?” 

Colin considers her words for a moment. A very brief moment. 

“No, I don’t think that’s necessary for this trip.” It’s only after Penelope throws him a questioning glance that he continues, “If I were alone, then sure — I might worry about forgetting certain details about this place and be tempted to jot them down. But I’m not alone. If I want to come back to this moment twenty years from now, I’ll just talk to you about it.” 

When Colin looks over to Penelope again, he finds that her cheeks are burning a bright shade of pink. He would blame the sun, if it weren't for the colour’s rather sudden appearance on her skin.

“Are you —” he starts, at the very same moment that she blurts out, “Do you ever get lonely on your trips? It just — it seems like a lot of time spent by yourself.” 

Involuntarily, Colin’s lips twist together — as if his body is preventing him from answering such a complicated question too quickly. 

In truth, he does get lonely on his travels, but that word doesn’t have the sting it once did. There’s an inherent loneliness to this job — especially for someone like Colin, who cannot focus on things like narratives and deadlines and details unless free from distraction. This particular trip has made that abundantly clear; he hadn’t even thought about writing until Penelope brought it up just a moment ago. 

For Colin, finding success over the last three years also meant finding a way to live with the loneliness. To turn it into something good. 

“Sometimes,” he finally answers. “But it’s a necessary evil. Writing, travelling, returning home — those things make the loneliness easy to live with. For now, at least.”

“For now?” Penelope echoes, suddenly sounding far away. 

Colin shrugs. 

“A man can’t travel forever.” 

Just as those words leave Colin’s lips, the two of them reach a fork in the road. They could turn to the right, towards the ocean. They could turn left, towards the ruins. They could even turn around, back to where they began. 

Penelope decides for them both in the end, her feet walking to the right. As he always tends to do, Colin follows close behind. 

Their footstops halt when the pavement meets the sand. Both sets of eyes point forward, towards the breathtakingly blue water. 

“You know, if you’re so worried about our feeble human memories being unable to do this place justice, you could always write about it. Last time I checked, you’re also —”

“No,” she interrupts. “You were right. I’ll remember this.” 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Day 3

The most difficult part of being in love with your dearest friend, Penelope has come to realise, is having to look at them. When she and Colin are apart — separated by school or a job or Penelope’s better judgement — being his friend is easy. It’s easy for her to be his friend over an email or a voicemail or even a Skype. It’s easy to keep her true feelings below the surface when their only connection is through a screen. There are times when it’s easy to trick herself into thinking friendship is not so different from (or inferior to) a romantic relationship. But when they’re separated by nothing more than a bit of air…

It’s difficult. Especially on days like today. 

Today was a beach day. They’ve been here since breakfast. Penelope spent much of that time hiding from the sun under the safety of a giant beach umbrella, unwilling to risk showing up to her first day of work with a sunburn the same shade of red as her hair. But (unsurprisingly), Colin had coaxed her out of the shadows more times than she could count today. 

Today was a test of Penelope’s strength of will. And her ability to keep her eyes trained upwards (an especially difficult task, given that her eyeline just so happens to fall directly on his bare, tan, surprisingly hairy chest). 

Now, she is back in the shadows, pretending to read a book while Colin is a little further down the beach. He’s playing volleyball with a group of strangers who just so happened to need a sixth player. He’s shirtless, just as he has been all fucking day. He’s serving the ball. He’s laughing with a teammate. He’s running a hand through his hair, his —

Fucking hell. Are his biceps larger than they were yesterday?

Shaking her head, pushing her oversized sunglasses even closer to her skull, she looks down at the book uselessly sitting open in her lap. In hindsight, The Scarlet Letter was far from an optimal choice for a beach read. But still… 

She should be able to get through a single line without her eyes wandering off to places they shouldn’t go. 

When she looks back up, she finds Colin scoring yet another point in his impromptu game. He’s laughing with that familiar, carefree refrain that always falls so naturally from his lips. He’s flexing muscles she didn’t know he had. He’s shining like gold beneath the sun’s reflection. He’s looking up towards the sky, a frown suddenly marking his otherwise pleasant face. He’s walking away from his new friends. 

He’s six metres away. Five metres. Four —

Fuck.

Once again, Penelope tilts her head down and pretends to be enthralled by the book in her lap. If Colin had noticed her staring, he doesn’t say anything about it when he closes the distance between them. 

“It looks like it’s about to rain. You want to head back to the hotel?”

Suddenly struck by just how dry her throat is, Penelope only manages to smile and nod in response. It isn’t until she and Colin are halfway back to the hotel that she realises how long it’s been since she’s said anything at all. 

“I can’t believe I slept through sunrise again this morning.”

Colin laughs in that easy, reassuring way that practically makes Penelope’s blood boil after her day under the sun. 

“Don’t beat yourself up,” he says. “Under normal circumstances, a 6 AM wake up call is difficult for an insomniac such as yourself. Taking into account that your body still thinks it’s an hour behind back in London…”

You have no idea what my body thinks, she wants to say. But she doesn’t say that. Obviously. 

“Perhaps,” she says instead. “But we have such a prime view of it from our rooms. It would be a shame not to see it with my own eyes at least once.” 

“Well, I have faith that you can manage it.” 

“Thank y—”

“And when you do, perhaps you can bang on my wall a few times so I can enjoy the sunrise too.” 

Feeling much lighter than she had just a moment ago, Penelope giggles. “Perhaps,” she says, picking up her footsteps. They remain light the rest of their trek, even when the rain inevitably pours down around them, transforming their walk into a run. 

When they arrive back at the hotel, Colin immediately turns left towards the elevators. But Penelope, suddenly brimming with a very good idea, turns right towards the reception desk. 

“Good afternoon,” she says to the woman behind the desk, an older lady with a cherry blossom tucked behind her ear. Isabella, her name tag reads.

“Hello,” the woman says brightly. “What can I help you with, dear?”

“Can I order a wake up call for tomorrow morning, please?” 

(If ten alarms can’t wake her at the crack of dawn, perhaps the terror-striking sound of a phone call will.)

“Certainly! I just need your room number.”

“Of course. It’s 301.” 

As the woman types away at her computer, Penelope turns towards Colin. He’s leaning against a pillar, a few feet back. He’s smiling. There are undoubtedly puddles forming in the soles of his sandals at this very moment, but still, he’s smiling. 

Penelope can’t help but smile back. 

“There you are,” the older woman says beneath her breath, just loud enough to bring Penelope’s eyes forward again. “So Mrs. Bridgerton, what time should I schedule your call for?” 

Penelope doesn’t register the second half of Isabella’s question, her mind suddenly overcome with the sounds of alarm bells. 

Mrs. Bridgerton.

Mrs. Bridgerton.

Mrs. Fucking. Bridgerton.

“What?!” 

The word shoots out of her mouth before she can stop it. She regrets it immediately. This kind woman doesn’t deserve such displaced aggression. That aggression should be aimed directly at the man standing behind them both. 

“I’m sorry, dear. I was saying —” 

“No, I’m sorry, truly. I just —” She takes a shaky breath. “I’m not Mrs. —” 

She takes another breath. She says a prayer. She pretends to be a normal person — one who would have no reason to crack under the sheer irony of being mistaken as Colin Bridgerton’s wife.

 “I don’t need that wake up call anymore, but thank you so much for your time. Sorry again.” 

When she turns around, Colin isn’t smiling anymore. 

“A word?” she hisses as she stomps past him on the way to the elevator. 

“Pen, what are you do—”

She stops short in the middle of the lobby. So short, in fact, that Colin nearly runs right into her. Thankfully, Penelope has a lifetime’s worth of practice getting out of other people’s way; she dodges him at the last second.

“What did you do, Colin? Did you tell them we’re on our honeymoon, like you did at the airport?” 

She tears her eyes away from his to quickly glance at the room around them. 

Their hotel is gorgeous. It used to be a historic Spanish villa, but was renovated and transformed for lodging just a few years ago. It is not the type of place you can snag for just £100 a night (especially with the views they have from their rooms upstairs). Penelope realised this fact the very moment they walked into this lobby Thursday night, but after the stressful flight and initial pretend wife debacle, Penelope had chosen to overlook it then. Suffice to say, that instinct has long since left her body. 

“Is that how you were able to get us this place for so cheap?” 

“No. I didn’t do that.” 

Colin’s eyes don’t look away from hers as he speaks. She knows that he isn’t lying, but…

“How the fuck did you, then?” 

She doesn’t yell, but she doesn’t disguise her words with a whisper, either. Colin doesn’t make any attempt to disguise his emotions, either. He’s looking down at her with a disbelieving, bitter look — as if he is the wronged party here. 

“I —”

“And why did she call me ‘Mrs. Bridgerton?’” she interrupts. Her voice is neutral in volume, but biting in its tone. 

Colin takes a breath and wipes that bitter expression off his face. (For now, at least.) 

“I know the owner,” he admits. His tone reeks of a nonchalance that Penelope feels is unwarranted, given the present circumstances. “I didn’t even make the reservation. He probably put my name down on both rooms and the receptionist got confused.” 

“You know the owner?” she asks, incredulous. 

“Family friend,” he clarifies, stunning Penelope back into silence. 

After twenty-three years of living in such close proximity to the Bridgertons, she should be used to this by now. She doesn’t need to be reminded of the family’s seemingly infinite web of connections or be surprised at their ability to pull from them to get whatever it is that they want or need. But even now, it’s difficult for her to fully grasp. 

At her silence, Colin decides to change tactics. Smirking, he continues, “I mean — how would I even pull that scheme off? We have two adjoining rooms. That would be a rather large red flag for a supposed honeymoon.” 

Much quieter than she was a moment ago (but just as vexed), Penelope tells him, “I have faith in your ability to get around such minor details. If it means getting what you want.” 

“Hey — if you didn’t want me to use any special discounts on this trip, you should have stipulated that in the rules of the game.”

After cringing at his use of the term special discounts, Penelope decides to give up. Turning her body towards the nearest elevator, she tells him she’ll “remember that for next time.” Before she can step away though, Colin stops her with a hand gripped tightly around her elbow. 

When she looks up, she finds that bitter expression has returned to his face. 

“Tell me, Pen,” he whispers, leaning in close. “Which has been the most painful blow to your ego — being mistaken as my girlfriend, my fiancée, or my wife?” 

“Excuse me?” 

Penelope feels as though she’s outside of her own body; she isn’t sure if she whispered those two words aloud or simply screamed them into the deepest caverns of her mind. It must have been the former, though. Colin’s eyes are wide. 

“Honestly, Pen? It’s a bit upsetting to know that my best friend would raise hell before allowing a random stranger to think that we might be —” 

He pauses for the briefest, longest second of Penelope’s life.

“Involved.” 

Penelope stands silent for several seconds. What is she supposed to say to that? What platonic explanation is there for that?

You’re being a hypocrite. You’re being cruel, she wants to say. But she can’t say that. Obviously. 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles instead. Then, she slips her arm from his grasp. “I — I’m just in a bit of a mood. I think it’s the sun.” 

Her words reek of utter bullshit. They both know it. But at least Colin has the grace to let the issue go.

“Come on.” 

His hand quickly finds its position around her elbow once more. This time, his grip is loose. Five tentative fingers tethered to her skin. 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Day 4

“What the hell are you doing?”

Given the notable height difference between them, Colin always has to be mindful of where his eyes land when standing right beside Penelope. But when crammed into small spaces like the elevator they’re currently sharing, his eyes inevitably start to wander. Now, they’re pointed at her phone screen. (Which is an invasion of privacy. Which is bad, but the lesser of two evils, given his current perspective in relation to his best friend’s shirt.)

She looks up at him, but only after setting a 25th alarm. 

“Tomorrow is our last morning here. I am not missing that sunrise.” 

She looks down again, resuming her all-important task. By the time they reach their destination and the elevator doors swing open, she has set at least ten more alarms. Her eyes remain locked on the screen as she steps foot into the lobby. 

They’re on the way to the hotel bar, a suggestion Colin made after an unusually tense 24 hours between them in paradise. 

Well, tense might be too strong of a term to describe the atmosphere between him and Penelope. But still, the atmosphere has been different ever since he let his ego get the better of him in the hotel lobby yesterday. Different enough to scare him. Different enough to prompt him to call in the big guns to set things right again. 

(Alcohol.) 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Two tequila shots into the night, Penelope is not having a good time. 

She had spent the entire day trying her hardest to force a smile on her face and keep her bad mood at bay until they land back on English soil. This had proved to be difficult — not just because of the insistence and intensity of said bad mood, but also because of Colin’s not-so-subtle attempts to uncover the true reason for her outburst the day before. (And the day before that.) (And the day before that.) 

His line of questioning has only become less subtle since walking into the bar. Logically, this realisation should have prompted Penelope to make one final toast then go hide in her hotel room, but… 

Alcohol has a tendency to make good ideas sound bad and bad ideas sound good. The latter is why she’s currently standing at the bar waiting for another round.

Maybe another drink will make us both forget what happened. 

“Here you go, miss.” 

On the other side of the bar, the handsome bartender slides two clear glasses with lime green liquid sloshing inside. Penelope unconsciously licks her bottom lip at the sight. 

Only after securing the glasses in each hand does she realise that she never technically paid for either drink. 

“You can put these on 301,” she shouts over the music. 

“No need,” the bartender answers in a low voice that somehow cuts clear through the chaos of the room. He winks at her. “Those are on the house.”

“Oh! Um. Thanks!” 

With that, Penelope turns on her heel. The abrupt motion causes one tiny stream of syrupy tequila to trickle down her fingers and onto the floor. 

Determined not to spill any more of her free drinks, Penelope walks to the table in the back of the bar with an abundance of caution. During the treacherous journey across the room, she keeps her eyes pointed intently on the glasses in her hands. When she finally looks up, she’s shocked by what she finds. 

In the chair beside Colin sits the most beautiful woman Penelope has ever seen with her own two eyes. The two of them are turned towards each other, talking about something Penelope can’t hear from where she stands not four feet away. She stands there awkwardly hovering above the table for a few seconds before Colin notices her return. When he does, he shoots her an aggravatingly endearing smile. 

“There she is!” He turns back to the girl on his right. “Paris, this is Penelope. Pen, this is Paris.”

God. Even her name is beautiful. 

“Lovely to meet you, Paris,” Penelope says, taking the seat directly across from her instead of the one facing Colin. 

Paris, in turn, throws her a smile that could rival Colin’s. Even in this dim corner of the bar, it manages to catch the light. 

“You as well, Penelope! Colin and I were just bonding over our most harrowing solo travel stories.” 

She’s American, her voice betrays. 

“Do you travel much?” Penelope asks after taking a long, greedy sip of her drink. 

“Not as much as I’d like to,” she admits, sighing a little. “But I had a few weeks free before my grad program starts, so I decided to say ‘fuck it’ and booked a flight over here.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, Penelope sees Colin open his mouth to say something. Before he can manage to, she leans towards their new, very beautiful friend and says, “That’s amazing. Where else have you been?” 

Over the course of the next few minutes, Penelope practically forgets about Colin and the unresolved tension between them. She’s too busy listening to their new, very beautiful, remarkably interesting, extremely funny, perfect friend Paris. (While also finishing her two free drinks.)

“Enough about me,” Penelope’s new favourite distraction eventually orders. She flicks her eyes from Colin to Penelope and back. “I meant to ask before, but how did you two meet?” 

Penelope opens her mouth to answer, but Colin beats her to it, speaking up for the first time in several minutes. Still grinning… 

“You know, that question is surprisingly hard to answer. We’ve always just known each other.” 

His response is the most infuriating string of words Penelope has ever heard uttered aloud in her life. Across the table, Paris looks as though she’s about to melt. 

“Awwww, that is so —” 

“I believe what Colin meant to say is that we grew up across the street from one another,” she interrupts, just barely able to keep her tone pleasant enough to not scare away Paris. “His sister is my best friend.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, Penelope watches as Colin’s grin finally drops. She nearly looks at him  for the first time since sitting down, but then her new friend says something that immediately dislodges the impulse from her mind.

Specifically, Paris delivers the funniest joke Penelope has ever heard in her life. 

“You two are childhood sweethearts? That is so sweet!”

Penelope snorts. Her reaction is so loud and unladylike that she fears her mother will be able to sense it all the way back home in London. 

“No! We’re —” 

She snorts again. Somewhere in the distance, she thinks she hears someone say her name like a warning, but it barely registers. 

“We are not dating,” she continues, just barely able to keep in another round of giggles. She keeps her eyes trained on Paris, who suddenly looks rather wide-eyed in her seat across from Penelope. “I mean — my god! Colin would never.” 

She hears her voice called out in the distance again, but refuses to heed its warning. She can’t stop now. She’s too close to the punchline.

“You know, he said that once. Literally. That he would never date me. Not in a million years!” 

“Pen!” 

Finally, she hears him. Her eyes snap to Colin. His face is made up of an emotion she’s never seen there before. 

Betrayal? No, that’s not —

“A word?” 

Before she can even register that he has moved from his chair, Colin stands above her. His hand is on her elbow. He’s pulling her out the nearest door. 

The breeze outside is bitter. Though the nearest beach is at least a half-kilometre away, Penelope swears she can feel little bits of the sea spraying on her cheeks. Neither of those sensations are cold enough to distract her from the warmth wrapped around her elbow. 

“What was that, Penelope?” 

“I…” she starts, with no intention of finishing the sentence. 

“What were you talking about at the end?” 

The first question had been delivered to her with fury. The second, concern. The next one that falls from his lips…

Misery. 

“What did you — what did I say? I don’t — I don’t remember…” 

All night, knowingly or not, Penelope had been using alcohol to fuel the pyre of her own misery. But seeing it reflected on Colin’s face now…

“It was nothing,” she lies. “Just forget —”

“No. Whatever it is, it is not ‘nothing.’ 

“Colin —”

“Pen, please,” he begs. “Just tell me.”

Penelope wants to summon the strength to be honest. She wants to destroy her disposition towards bullshit and tell him the truth. She’s not certain if that’s a strength she possesses, but she knows for a fact that she won’t be able to summon it with Colin tethered to her skin. 

Stepping backwards, Penelope untangles herself from his grip. She crosses her arms in front of her chest before he can attempt to take hold again.

“Honestly, Colin, it was nothing. It happened years ago — before you even left for Cambridge. At that party at Fife’s house, I overheard you talking with some of your friends. They must have seen us hanging out all night and got the wrong idea about us. They — they asked if we were dating and you told them we weren’t, that we would nev—” 

She sucks in a breath. She chances a prayer. She tries her hardest not to bullshit. 

“You were just correcting them. That’s all.” 

Colin doesn’t say anything for several seconds. He stands before her with twisted lips, like he’s desperately trying to hold something in. Then, he parts them.

“Kind of like how you were ‘just correcting’ that girl inside?” 

“Yeah,” she says, speaking 100% truthfully for the first time since they stepped outside. Honesty is hard, but his comparison is too apt to even try to deny it. 

When Colin takes a step towards her, Penelope takes another step back. The motion is enough to make her dizzy and, thus, remind her of the tequila currently sitting in the depths of her stomach. 

“Pen, I’m so sorry. I —” 

“No,” she interrupts, her voice definitive. “Don’t apologise. For anything. I was being rude inside, but you — you were just being honest that night. You didn’t even know I was there — that I could hear what you said. You —

“I hardly think that mat—”

“You should not have to apologise for simply speaking your mind.”

“That’s bullsh—”

“Colin! It was forever ago, can we please just leave it be?” She takes a breath. “Can we forget about this whole mess?” 

“How can you say that? It’s been —” 

Raising his hands into the air between them, he uses his fingers to count off imaginary numbers. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six… 

“Seven years! Seven, Penelope. I can’t even remember saying it, but I —” He takes a breath. “I wish I could. If for nothing else, just to properly apologise to you for being such a dickhead.” 

“Col—”

“But you remember. And after what just happened in the bar — after what’s been happening all week — don’t you dare try and pretend like it’s nothing. If it was truly nothing, you would not be holding onto it seven years later.” 

That look — the one that appeared out of nowhere following her outburst inside — appears on his face again. The lighting is a bit brighter out here due to a nearby streetlamp, but it doesn’t make it any easier for Penelope to identify that emotion. It’s not betrayal. It’s not quite guilt. It’s —

It doesn’t matter.

Resisting the urge to drop her gaze from his, Penelope finally accepts that there are some things in life that defy definition. One of those anomalies is currently staring right through her, and there’s nothing she can say to make him see her. Bullshit or otherwise. 

“Fine. Apology accepted.” 

She turns to leave, needing the conversation to be over. But yet again, Colin’s hand wraps around her elbow.

“Can we please just talk about this like adults?”

“What is there left to say?” He opens his mouth, but she isn’t done. “You were right. I was hurt, but now I’m choosing to let it go. Seven years is far too long a time to take issue with a few words overheard at a party.”

“That is not what I meant, Pen.”

“I know. But it’s the truth.”

“Pen —”

“It’s late, Colin,” she interrupts, turning her back to him as she begins to step away. “Perhaps we can discuss it tomorrow.”

“Where are you going?” He’s already beside her again, footsteps in line with hers. 

“Back to my room,” she huffs. “I wish to be alone.” 

“You’re not seriously suggesting I let you run off by yourself right now, are you?”

“Yes —”

“Pen, you’re drunk.” 

He certainly has a point but…

“You say that like you are not also drunk.” 

“Yeah, well…” He runs a hand through his hair, then promptly finds her elbow again. “At least I’m not as drunk as you.” 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

On the way back down to the bar, Colin takes the stairs. 

After ensuring that Penelope got back to her room safely, he wanted nothing more than to crawl into his own bed and end this cursed day once and for all. But when he fished out his wallet to retrieve his roomkey, he realised that a different card was missing. That his credit card was sitting behind a bar downstairs, along with an unpaid tab. 

He takes the stairs slowly, step by reluctant step. His mind is elsewhere, unwittingly replaying the night over and over again. He’s trying to make sense of it all. Of any of it.

Not in a million years!

He said that once.

He doesn’t doubt it. But god — he doesn’t remember it either. He remembers that night. He remembers sitting on the roof with Penelope, then dancing with her in the back garden. He remembers laughing. He remembers drinking. He remembers being eighteen. He remembers what a massive arsehole he could turn into when surrounded by other arseholes like Fife. 

He doesn’t doubt that he said it — but he can’t quite explain it either. Lord knows he can’t justify it. The words just sounded wrong, especially when repeated back to him from Penelope’s lips. 

That he would never date me. 

Not in a million years!

Even in his own head, Colin struggles to explain why those words feel so wrong to him — why they reek of such potent bullshit. His dilemma is not made any easier by Penelope or anything she said tonight. 

Fine. Apology accepted.

The way she looked at him when those words left her lips…

It was like she disappeared. Her eyes didn’t leave his, and yet it looked as though she was suddenly staring at something far in the distance. Like she was staring through him. Like —

“Can I help you, mate?” 

Colin blinks three times, taking in his surroundings as he comes back to reality. His feet must have been on auto-pilot the last few minutes; he’s back at the bar. 

“Mate?” the smug bartender repeats. 

Not in the mood to dignify that with a response, Colin mimes a pen squiggle in the air. Thankfully, the man takes the hint and disappears down the bar to retrieve his check. Before he can return, someone on a barstool clears their throat. 

It’s the girl from before. The American. The one who sat at his table to make small talk, then unintentionally fucked up his entire night. (And possibly his entire friendship with Penelope.)

Brooklyn? No, that wasn’t it.

“So… What the fuck was that before?” she asks, her voice teetering somewhere between faux-enthusiasm and genuine annoyance. “Some weird foreplay between you and your girlfriend?” 

“No. We’re not…” 

He could finish that sentence, but he doesn’t see the point. This stranger has already received a lecture on the true nature of his and Penelope’s relationship — what else needs to be said? 

The girl rolls her eyes, dropping the fake enthusiasm entirely. 

“If you two aren’t dating, why did you tell me your ‘girlfriend Penelope’ was grabbing drinks from the bar when I first sat down?”

“No, I —”

His voice trails off again. This time, his mind is kicking into overdrive, desperately attempting to relive that moment of the night. Surely, he didn’t —

“No,” he says again, this time more sure of himself. “I said she was my ‘good friend,’ not my ‘girlfriend.’” But as the words leave his lips, Colin’s short-lived confidence crumbles. 

Good friend. Girlfriend.

The bar is loud and he’s consumed quite a bit of tequila tonight. Maybe he did misspeak. 

Good friend. Girlfriend. Good friend. Girlfriend. Good friend. Girlfriend. 

“Whatever,” the American says, pushing herself off of the barstool. “I hope you and your good friend can work out your issues.”

Colin gulps, because Lord knows that he hopes for the same. 

꙳ ꙳ ꙳

Day 5

The first alarm goes off at 5:50 AM. Colin was technically asleep before it wrung out, but restlessly so. His body never fully settled into sleep that night, so it’s quick to wake when those artificial bells drift over from the wall behind him.

Another alarm starts at 5:51, then stops just as quickly. From his own bed, Colin can’t help but picture Penelope muting said alarm with her eyes scrunched shut, hungover and still 90% asleep. For the first time in what feels like ages, he smiles. 

At 5:52, another alarm rings out as Colin sits up, wide awake. He runs a hand across his face as memories and realisations from the night before come back to him with startling clarity. They fit together in his mind like evidence for a cold case he didn’t realise was a mystery until yesterday. A few more alarms ring out as he pieces everything together. 

Seven years ago, Colin left for Cambridge and Penelope left for Cheltenham and, for two years and three months thereafter, their friendship wasn’t the same. In those two years and three months, he lost the one person he could always and truly be himself around. Throughout those two years and three months, he assumed the shift between them had been an inevitable part of growing up and growing out of their younger selves. But now…

Now he can see it all clearly. 

Seven years ago, Colin invited Penelope to a party, occupied her time all night, then claimed that he would never date her in a million goddamn years. He said those words in a crowd full of people — so crowded, in fact, that he couldn’t tell that she had been there to witness it all firsthand. 

It all seems so obvious now. Of course she heard him. Of course the shift had been intentional — on one side, that is. 

At 6:05, another alarm rings. Colin barely hears it, his mind occupied by the question that had been plaguing him all week. 

Why is Pen so put off by the prospect of us being a couple? 

He knows the answer now, but it’s of no comfort to him. 

At 6:06, a new question rises to occupy that space in his mind. 

Why aren’t I put off by the prospect of Pen and I being a couple?

Perhaps that is the question he should have been asking himself from the start. At no point during any of the many misunderstandings that occurred this week had Colin ever been put off by the titles others had thrust upon them. Strangers seeing Penelope as his girlfriend, his fiancée, his wife…

None of it put him off. 

The 6:07 alarm seems to rewire his brain. More questions come to him. 

Is it normal to be enraged by the idea of dating your best friend? Is it more or less normal to find the idea… nice? 

At the 6:08 alarm, Colin asks himself another question. One he should have been asking himself for several years now. 

Is it normal to be so preoccupied by the sight of your best friend’s cleavage?

At the 6:09 alarm, long after assuming Penelope would miss her final chance at viewing the Catalonian sunrise, he hears something new from the next room over. 

“Siri, cancel all alarms.” 

After that, he hears the faintest evidence of movement from her end. Rustling sheets. Footsteps. A barely audible “Fuck.” 

By 6:10, Colin stands stiffly, inches away from their adjoining door. By 6:11, he actually knocks on it. 

It only takes a few seconds for her to swing it open. 

“Hi.” 

Penelope is looking up at him with the eyes of someone who had four shots of tequila last night. Her hair has been twisted into a long red braid down her side. She’s wearing a matching set of pink and white chequered pyjamas and slippers in the shape of little white rabbits. Colin can’t help but smile.

“Morning.” 

Without another word, she nods her head to the side, signalling for him to follow her out to the balcony. 

The sky is navy blue, save for the thin streak of maroon rising up from the edge of the world. It’s still dawn. It will be dawn for another few minutes, until the sun inevitably rises. 

Colin and Penelope stand side-by-side, hands on the railing, pinkies inches apart. Without a word spared between them, they watch as twilight bleeds into daybreak. As red turns to pink. Pink to orange. Orange to yellow. 

The sea reflects it all like a mirror. Colin sees it all with his own two eyes. 

“Is it everything you thought it would be?” 

“More.” 

When quiet falls between them again and yellow bleeds into blue, Colin can’t stop himself from asking and answering a new question. It’s the one that’s been hiding in the shadows of his mind for most of his life. 

Am I in love with Pen?

Yes, you fucking idiot. Of course you are.

The realisation doesn’t come with any amount of shock or denial. It just feels… 

Inevitable. 

This was always going to happen. He was going to reach this conclusion sooner or later. 

Tempting fate, Colin lifts his left arm and places it across Penelope’s back, hand settling gently on her shoulder. Both of her hands remain locked on the railing. 

As much as it consumes him inside, Colin cannot bring himself to voice his inevitable revelation aloud. Not after last night — after realising the pain he has obliviously inflicted on Penelope over the years. Not after this week — which had been planned in celebration and is currently teetering on disaster. Not after an entire lifetime of getting it all wrong. 

He can’t bring himself to voice his revelation aloud. Instead he asks a simpler, albeit similarly difficult question. 

“Are we going to be okay?”

“Yes,” Penelope says, perhaps a bit too quickly. “Of course.” 

Colin isn’t sure he believes her. He isn’t sure things will ever be the same.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

“You know, Catalonia is beautiful this time of year. Perfect destination for a honeymoon.”

“Don’t skip ahead,” she orders, while also making a mental note on the topic in the back of her mind. “What’s next?”