#i barely talk as it is. and then he got mad for me “talking to much” so i guess ill go back into my box

[julietsf1]

Holly Jolly Faking - Franco Colapinto x St.Mleux!Reader

summary: Two people who can’t stand each other agree to fake a relationship to avoid meddling friends and unwanted matchmaking during their Christmas weekend away. What could possibly go wrong? (8k words)

content: fake dating! reader is Alexandra's sister; Franco is COMMITTED;

AN: who doesn't love a good fake dating scenario? happy holidays sweeties!

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Snow crunched beneath your boots as you trudged up the icy path leading to the chalet, Alexandra practically bouncing beside you. She clutched your arm, grinning as if dragging you along to a winter wonderland wasn’t her latest attempt at orchestrating your personal life.

“You’re going to love this,” she insisted, her voice carrying above the stillness of the snowy evening. “I don’t think you’ve ever been to a Friendmas like this one.”

You shot her a look. “Alex, you’ve been talking about this weekend non-stop. I know exactly what to expect.”

She huffed, playfully rolling her eyes. “Yes, but actually being here? It’s magic. Charles did such an amazing job with the tree. You have to see it!”

“Is that before or after you shove me into George’s arms?”

Her cheeks flushed, though whether from the cold or guilt, you couldn’t tell. “Oh, stop it. George is lovely. You could at least give him a chance.”

“Alex,” you said pointedly, pausing to adjust your scarf, “I’m here for you, Charles, and the snow. Not a setup.”

“Fine, fine.” She waved you off, though her mischievous grin lingered as she dragged you forward.

The chalet came into view, its A-frame design illuminated by strings of fairy lights draped over its sloped roof. Smoke curled from the chimney, and warm golden light spilled from the windows, giving it a postcard-perfect charm. It was gorgeous. You hated that Alexandra had been right about it being magical.

The door flew open before you even reached the steps, Charles Leclerc standing there with his signature grin. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and he wore a red sweater that made him look annoyingly festive.

“Finally!” he called out, spreading his arms as if to gather you both into a hug. “We thought you’d gotten lost in the snow.”

“Blame Y/N,” Alexandra said, releasing your arm to greet him. “She moves like a glacier.”

“Only because you packed half your wardrobe in the car,” you shot back, but Charles laughed, pulling you into a brief, warm hug.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N. Welcome to Friendmas!”

“Thanks,” you said, glancing past him into the chalet. Laughter and voices carried from inside, blending with the crackle of a fireplace.

“Come in, come in,” Charles urged, stepping aside. “Everyone’s excited to see you—Lando is even more energetic than usual.”

“Lovely,” you muttered as Alexandra pushed you through the door.

The interior was just as cozy and picturesque as the exterior promised. Pine garlands hung from the rafters, and a massive Christmas tree stood in one corner, decked out with ornaments and twinkling lights. The scent of fresh pine mingled with hints of cinnamon and something buttery, probably cookies.

A chorus of voices greeted you from the living room. Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri were sprawled across the couches, mid-conversation, while Carlos Sainz lounged nearby, sipping from a mug. Max Verstappen, wearing his signature Red Bull polo, leaned against the back of an armchair, holding what I can only suspect is a glühwein in his hands.

“Y/N!” Lando called out, bounding up from the couch like an overexcited puppy. “Finally! We need reinforcements.”

“For what?” you asked, setting your bag down near the stairs.

“To take down Max and Carlos,” Oscar explained, deadpan. “They’ve been dominating every game we’ve played since we got here.”

“It’s not domination,” Carlos corrected, grinning. “It’s skill.”

Max gave a barely perceptible nod of agreement.

“You mean cheating,” Lando muttered, earning a laugh from Oscar.

“Welcome to the madness,” Alexandra said, nudging you forward. “Get comfortable. There’s a lot, but it’s fun.”

“And I’m sure George will be thrilled to see you,” Charles added, his teasing tone making you bristle.

“Where is he?” Alexandra asked, glancing around.

“In the kitchen,” Carlos said. “Probably perfecting the whipped cream on his cocoa or something.”

“I heard that,” George Russell called out, appearing from the kitchen doorway. He carried two steaming mugs, his sweater perfectly fitted and his hair neatly combed, as always.

“Y/N, how wonderful to see you,” George said warmly, handing one mug to Alexandra.

“You too,” you replied, noting the subtle look Alexandra threw you. You shot her a glare in return.

And then, of course, Franco made his entrance.

He leaned against the fireplace, his green eyes glinting with amusement as he surveyed the scene. His tousled hair and casual stance gave him an air of effortless confidence, which only annoyed you further.

“Y/N,” Franco’s voice broke through the chatter, his tone slow and laced with mockery. “What a surprise. I didn’t think you’d make it. Busy schedule of glaring at people, I’m sure.”

“Franco,” you replied, deadpan, without so much as a glance in his direction.

The others continued their conversations, seemingly oblivious to the exchange, but Franco stepped closer, his smirk growing like he could sense your irritation.

“Still radiating warmth and goodwill, I see,” he quipped, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“Still trying way too hard to be funny,” you shot back, finally turning to face him.

His grin widened. “Oh, come on. I’m hilarious, and you know it. People have been laughing all evening.”

“At you, maybe,” you replied smoothly.

The retort earned the faintest snicker from Lando in the background, but Franco remained unfazed. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if to keep the exchange just between you. “I’ve missed this, you know. You keeping me in check. Someone has to, I suppose.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you replied, your tone cutting. “Keeping you in check would imply you’re worth the effort.”

His smirk grew as he straightened, undeterred. “You’re quick today. Must be all that Christmas cheer getting to you.”

“Must be,” you deadpanned, narrowing your eyes.

For a moment, you stared each other down, his grin still annoyingly present as your pulse quickened in frustration. The way he looked at you, like he knew exactly how to push your buttons, made your skin prickle.

“Anything else, Franco?” you asked, your tone clipped.

“Not yet,” he replied smoothly. “But don’t go too far. I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

With a final smirk, he leaned back against the counter, casually reaching for a glass like the conversation hadn’t just left you fuming. You turned back to the others, but the weight of his gaze lingered, prickling at the edge of your awareness.

…

The dining room buzzed with warmth and chatter, the glow of candles reflecting off plates piled high with roasted chicken, potatoes, and vegetables. Alexandra had gone all out, decorating the table with garlands of pine and gold-rimmed glasses, while Charles played the perfect host, ensuring everyone’s wine was topped off.

You were trying your best to enjoy the evening, but sitting between George and Franco wasn’t making that easy.

George, ever the gentleman, was pleasant enough, keeping the conversation light. He asked about your travels and your work, always attentive and polite, and while you appreciated his effort, the attention made you squirm. Alexandra, of course, wasn’t helping.

“So, Y/N,” Alexandra began, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “Isn’t it nice to have someone else here who knows Monaco as well as you do?”

You resisted the urge to sigh. “Sure, Alex. It’s always nice.”

George, ever gracious, smiled at you. “It’s been a while since I’ve spent a proper holiday there. There’s something special about it in the winter, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely,” you replied, forcing a polite smile of your own. “The harbor looks magical with all the lights.”

Alexandra pounced on your response like a cat with a mouse. “Exactly! George, doesn’t that sound like the perfect setting for a romantic evening?”

“Alex,” you warned, your voice laced with both amusement and irritation.

“What?” she asked innocently, though the twinkle in her eye gave her away. “I’m just saying. You two have so much in common. You could plan a trip back together!”

Your face burned, and you quickly took a sip of your wine to hide your discomfort. “I think George has plenty of plans that don’t involve me tagging along,” you said lightly.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind,” George said, his smile kind. “I reckon it would be nice to have someone to share the nostalgia with.”

Your smile wavered as you searched for a way to steer the conversation elsewhere, but Alexandra was relentless.

“See? It’s perfect!” she declared. “I mean, what are the chances? It’s practically fate.”

Your grip on your fork tightened. “I think that’s a bit of a stretch, Alex.”

Charles, ever the romantic, sighed wistfully. “Love often comes when you least expect it. Imagine walking along the harbor together, the lights reflecting on the water…”

You groaned, though you couldn’t help but laugh. “Why are we discussing this at the dinner table, guys?”

“Because it’s fun,” Lando chimed in, grinning. “So tell me, do you like horses? I know George adores posh shit like Polo.”

Your laughter faltered, your cheeks flushing as all eyes turned to you. The attention felt suffocating, and you fumbled for a response.

“Lando, that’s enough,” you said, your tone more strained than you intended.

“Oh, come on,” Alexandra added, her smile too wide. “You and George would make such a good match. It’s about time you found someone who—”

Franco coughed loudly, the deliberate sound slicing through the chatter. Everyone turned to him, their laughter and conversation abruptly halting. He leaned back in his chair, his green eyes glinting with mischief as he set his wineglass down with theatrical precision.

“She’s with me, actually,” Franco said casually, his voice ringing with the kind of confidence that demanded attention.

The silence that followed was deafening.

You froze, your fork clattering against your plate as your brain scrambled to make sense of what he’d just said. The warmth of the room seemed to vanish, replaced by a prickling heat crawling up your neck.

“What?” you managed to choke out, your voice barely audible.

Franco didn’t so much as flinch. He shifted slightly in his chair, and before you could react, he reached over, sliding his hand over yours where it rested on the table. His touch was warm, his grip firm but not forceful. You stared at him, wide-eyed, as his smirk widened.

“You heard me,” he said, his tone maddeningly smooth. “I couldn’t keep it a secret any longer.”

Alexandra’s jaw dropped, her wide-eyed gaze darting between the two of you. “You’re joking,” she said flatly.

“Not at all,” Franco replied, looking entirely unbothered. His fingers drummed lightly against the back of your hand, a silent challenge. “Isn’t that right, sugarplum?”

The word hung in the air like a ticking bomb. Your pulse thundered in your ears as every pair of eyes at the table turned to you.

Your throat felt dry, and your voice cracked when you finally managed to speak. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Oscar was the first to break. His laughter erupted like a tidal wave, loud and uncontrollable, as he nearly fell back in his chair. He clutched his stomach, tears streaming down his cheeks. “This… is… the best thing… I’ve ever heard!” he wheezed, struggling to catch his breath.

Lando wasn’t far behind, his wide grin splitting into a delighted laugh. “No way. You two?!”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” George said, his tone laced with disbelief.

Charles, however, looked positively enchanted. He leaned forward, his hands clasped together like a starstruck poet. “Love and hate are two sides of the same coin,” he declared, his eyes practically sparkling.

Carlos chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, this is a twist.”

Max leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a skeptical look. “Ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath, though the faint twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement.

Alexandra, however, wasn’t so easily convinced. She narrowed her eyes at you, her brows knitting together in confusion. “But… when? How? You’ve barely even mentioned Franco to me.”

“It has been a whirlwind,” Franco interjected smoothly, shooting you a sidelong glance. “Right, my little lovebug?”

You glared at him, your jaw clenched as you fought the urge to strangle him on the spot. “Uh, yeah. Something like that,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Fascinating,” Alexandra said, still clearly unconvinced.

“Tell us everything!” Lando demanded, leaning forward like a gossip-hungry child. “When did this start? Was it one of those dramatic, enemies-to-lovers things? Did you secretly kiss during a race weekend?”

“Lando,” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended.

He leaned back, unbothered, and waved you off. “Fine, fine. Keep your secrets.”

“You’re full of surprises, Y/N,” George said, his expression hovering somewhere between confusion and polite disappointment.

“Trust me, George,” you muttered, unable to meet his eyes. “I was just as surprised as you are.”

The teasing and laughter continued, the group trading increasingly wild theories about your so-called relationship. Meanwhile, Franco seemed to bask in the chaos he’d created, his smirk never wavering as he leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying himself.

Under the table, his knee brushed yours, and you shot him a death glare. “What the hell are you doing?” you hissed under your breath.

“Saving you,” he replied quietly, his tone annoyingly casual.

“By making my life worse?”

He leaned closer, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Oh, come on. You’d rather sit through more matchmaking from Alexandra?”

You couldn’t argue with that, but it didn’t make you any less furious.

As the group began to move on, shifting the conversation back to other topics, you slumped slightly in your chair, exhausted from the ordeal.

This was going to be a very, very long weekend.

…

The morning sun streamed into the chalet’s large windows, gilding the room in gold. You stirred your coffee slowly, staring out at the snow-covered peaks in the distance. Peace and quiet were rare in a house full of such chaotic personalities, but you’d stolen this moment for yourself.

Or so you thought.

“Morning, sugarplum.”

The sound of Franco’s voice made you visibly tense. You didn’t need to look to know he was leaning against the doorframe, his green eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You’re really committed to that name, aren’t you?” you asked flatly, turning just enough to shoot him a withering look.

“Would you prefer ‘honeybun’?” he replied smoothly, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Or maybe ‘snugglebear’? I’m flexible.”

“How about you don’t call me anything?”

“Not very girlfriend-like of you, sweetheart,” he teased, taking a sip of his coffee and leaning casually against the counter. “People might start to doubt us.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, already feeling your patience wearing thin. “If anyone doubts us, it’s because you’re about as subtle as a flashing neon sign.”

Franco grinned. “What can I say? I’m commited.”

Before you could retort, Lando appeared, sliding into the kitchen with his usual chaotic energy. “What’s this?” he asked, his grin widening as his eyes flicked between you and Franco. “Secret lovebird meeting?”

“We’re not—” you began, but Franco cut you off, slinging an arm around your shoulders with infuriating ease.

“Just waking up my muffin,” he said smoothly.

“Muffin?” Lando repeated, his eyebrows shooting up.

“She’s sweet like one,” Franco explained, giving you a squeeze that you immediately wriggled out of.

Lando barked out a laugh, grabbing an apple from the counter. “You two are ridiculous,” he said, shaking his head as he left the kitchen.

As soon as he was gone, you turned to Franco with a scowl. “What the hell have you gotten me into.”

“Relax, cupcake,” he said, smirking. “Although I am loving seeing you worked up like this.”

You crossed your arms tightly, your glare unwavering. “You could’ve warned me before throwing me into this mess.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he quipped, his voice maddeningly light. “You’re quick on your feet; I figured you’d keep up.”

Your frustration bubbled over, and you took a step closer, pointing at him. “This is not fun, Franco. This is me playing along so you don’t make it worse.”

“Relax, cupcake,” he said, smirking again. “You’ll get used to it. And honestly? You’re kind of good at it.”

You threw your hands up, exasperated. “Stop calling me that! This isn’t a game.”

His grin only widened, but there was a flicker of something softer in his gaze as he said, “It’s not a game, but it is very entertaining. Trust me, you’ll survive.”

Your jaw tightened, and you turned away, trying to steady yourself. “If you call me ‘cupcake’ one more time, I swear—”

“Duly noted,” he interrupted, his voice filled with amusement.

You huffed, grabbing the spoon and stirring your coffee again, trying to focus on anything but the smug grin you could still feel behind you.

...

Later that afternoon, you found yourself elbow-deep in a bowl of icing, surrounded by flour-dusted countertops and trays of freshly baked cookies. The group had decided on a cookie-decorating contest, and Alexandra had enlisted everyone with the enthusiasm of a drill sergeant.

“You’re going down,” Lando declared, grabbing a piping bag.

“Not likely,” Max replied, his expression as stoic as ever, though his hands worked with surprising precision.

You were concentrating on spreading icing over a snowman-shaped cookie when Franco appeared at your side.

“Need help, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice dripping with false sincerity.

“No,” you replied sharply, but he was already grabbing a piping bag and leaning into your space.

“You missed a spot,” he said, his grin widening as he leaned even closer.

Before you could react, he dipped a finger into a bowl of icing and held it up to your mouth.

“Say ahh,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Franco,” you hissed, your cheeks burning as the others turned to watch.

“Come on, sugarplum,” he said. “You’ve got to taste test your work.”

Gritting your teeth, you opened your mouth just enough to swipe the icing off his finger with a quick flick of your tongue. The room erupted into a mix of laughter and groans.

“That’s disgusting,” Lando said, though he was clearly enjoying the chaos.

“Get a room,” Max muttered, though his lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile.

You glared at Franco, but his smirk only grew. Grabbing the nearest piping bag, you squeezed a glob of icing onto your fingers and smeared it across his cheek.

“There,” you said sweetly. “You missed a spot.”

The table roared with laughter, and Franco’s grin never faltered as he wiped the icing off with a napkin. “You’re feisty today, snugglebear.”

“Stop calling me that,” you snapped, though there was a faint twinkle of amusement in your eyes.

Alexandra, who was trying to keep the peace, clapped her hands together. “No arguing please. This is supposed to be festive!”

“Don’t worry,” Franco said, his voice smooth as ever. “We’re perfectly fine. Right, sweetheart?”

You didn’t dignify him with a response, instead turning your attention back to your cookies.

“Don’t be shy, sugarplum,” Franco added, leaning closer. “Tell them how much you love me.”

“I hate you,” you muttered under your breath.

“Love you too, honeybear.”

…

By the time the chaos of the afternoon subsided, you were desperate for solitude. The chalet’s constant buzz of laughter and chatter had become too much, so you slipped away, finding refuge in the small, cozy study near the back of the house.

The fire crackled softly in the corner, casting a warm glow over the room. You curled up in one of the oversized armchairs, a cup of hot chocolate warming your hands as you tried to collect your thoughts.

The peace didn’t last long.

The door creaked open, and you didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“Found you, sugarplum,” Franco’s infuriatingly smug voice broke the silence.

You groaned, not turning around. “Go away, Franco.”

“And miss this little brooding session? Not a chance,” he said, closing the door behind him.

You heard his footsteps cross the room, and within moments, he was perched on the armrest of your chair, his presence looming far too close for comfort.

“What do you want?” you snapped, finally looking up at him.

“To check on my darling girlfriend,” he replied smoothly, his green eyes glinting with mischief. “You seemed a little… tense earlier.”

“I wonder why,” you said dryly, taking a sip of your cocoa.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, feigning thoughtfulness. “Is it because your sister is practically shoving you at George every five seconds? Good thing I swooped in to save you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You didn’t save me. You made it worse.”

“Worse?” he repeated, mock-offended. “I saved you from months of awkward George politeness and Alexandra’s relentless matchmaking. You should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?” you repeated, incredulous. “For turning my life into a circus?”

Franco smirked, leaning closer. “You’ve got to admit, it’s entertaining.”

You glared at him. “For who? You?”

“For everyone,” he said, laughing softly. “But mostly me.”

Your grip tightened on your mug, your patience hanging by a thread. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet, here I am,” he said, grinning. “Your knight in shining armor.”

You snorted. “More like the villain in a rom-com.”

“Rom-com?” he mused. “I like that. Does that make you the quirky lead who doesn’t realize she’s in love with me until the final act?”

“I hate you,” you muttered, though the corners of your mouth betrayed you with the faintest twitch.

“No, you don’t,” he said lightly, leaning back as if he had all the time in the world.

The fire popped loudly, filling the silence that followed. For a brief moment, his teasing smirk softened, his green eyes flickering with something unreadable.

You shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling too exposed. “Why are you really here, Franco?”

He tilted his head, his smirk returning, but a subtle hint of sincerity was now present in his voice. “Just checking in. Making sure my favorite sugarplum isn’t plotting my demise.”

“I’m always plotting your demise,” you said flatly.

“Good to know,” he said, standing but lingering by your side. For once, his smirk faded, replaced by something softer. “But seriously… take it easy, okay?” He paused, his voice dropping slightly. “I’ll make sure tomorrow isn’t so bad.”

He was halfway to the door when it swung open again, revealing Lando, grinning like he’d just stumbled upon a jackpot.

“What’s this? Private lovebird time?” he asked, stepping into the room without waiting for an invitation.

“Oh, absolutely,” Franco said, his grin widening. “She couldn’t keep away.”

You groaned, setting your cocoa down. “Lando, please.”

He ignored you, leaning casually against the doorframe. “So, Franco, what’s tomorrow’s nickname? Angelcake? Lovebug?”

“Love nugget,” Franco replied instantly, his smirk smug as ever.

Lando cackled, nearly doubling over. “Love nugget! Oh, this just keeps getting better.”

You buried your face in your hands with a groan. “You’re all insufferable.”

“No, no,” Franco corrected, his grin widening. “I’m the insufferable one. They’re just my audience.”

“Exactly,” Lando chimed in, still laughing. “We’re just here for the show.”

Franco clapped him on the shoulder as he left the room. “Come on. Let’s leave my little honey bunny to her brooding.”

You threw a pillow at them as they walked out, but your aim was off, and their laughter echoed down the hall.

…

The living room buzzed with laughter and chatter, the fire crackling warmly in the hearth as snow fell softly outside. Lando stood at the center of the room, waving a bowl filled with folded slips of paper.

“All right, people!” he declared, his grin as wide as ever. “Time for charades! Teams have been pre-assigned by yours truly, so no arguing.”

“Lando, what did you do?” Carlos asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Created the perfect teams, duh,” Lando replied smugly. “Here we go. Team one: Alex and Charles. Team two: George and Oscar. Team three: Max and Carlos. And finally… Franco and Y/N!”

You groaned audibly, shooting Lando a glare. “Seriously?”

He smirked. “You’re welcome.”

Franco leaned closer, his green eyes sparkling with amusement. “Look at that, sugarplum. Fate wants us to win.”

“How wonderful,” you muttered under your breath.

“Okay, everyone knows the rules,” Lando continued, ignoring the tension between you and Franco. “No talking, sound effects are allowed, but only one person on the team acts at a time. And remember, you’ve got thirty seconds per round. Got it?”

Everyone nodded, settling into their seats as Lando pulled the first slip from the bowl.

The first few rounds were as chaotic as expected. Alex’s exaggerated gestures left Charles laughing too hard to guess, and George and Oscar worked surprisingly well together, securing a few easy points. Max and Carlos turned every clue into a competitive showdown, each accusing the other of overcomplicating things.

By the time it was your team’s turn, the energy in the room was electric, and the scoreboard showed a tight race between George and Oscar’s team and Max and Carlos’s.

“Franco, you’re up!” Lando announced, handing him a slip of paper.

Franco unfolded it, his smirk growing as he read the word. Without a word, he turned to you and held out his hand.

“Come here,” he said simply.

You narrowed your eyes, immediately suspicious. “Why?”

“Just trust me,” he replied, his tone smooth as ever.

Reluctantly, you stepped forward, and he wasted no time pulling you into the center of the room.

“Franco, what are you doing?” you hissed, but he ignored you.

The room fell silent as everyone watched him intently. Without warning, he placed one hand firmly on your back and clasped your other hand in his.

“Wait—”

Before you could protest, he spun you out dramatically, then pulled you back in, his movements fluid and precise.

“Is this—”

“Shh,” he whispered.

Your heart stumbled in your chest as he led you through an impromptu tango, his grip firm but surprisingly gentle, his hand steady on your back as his green eyes locked with yours.

The room erupted in cheers and laughter, but all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat, loud and insistent in your ears.

You barely had time to register what was happening before he spun you out dramatically, then pulled you back in for a final dip.

“Guess the word, sugarplum,” Franco whispered, his voice low and teasing.

Your brain refused to cooperate. You opened your mouth, but no words came out as your heart pounded in your chest as you stared up at him, completely flustered..

“Uh…”

“Time’s up!” Lando shouted, his laughter ringing above the chaos. “The word was ‘tango!’”

“Oh, come on,” Franco groaned, straightening up and releasing you. “She had one job.”

“I—” You struggled to form a coherent sentence, still reeling from the unexpected intensity of the moment.

“She was too flustered,” Oscar said with a grin. “Can’t blame her for that.”

“You call that acting out?” Max asked, raising an eyebrow. “That was more like showing off.”

“Showing off or not,” Charles interjected, his eyes alight with romantic fervor, “it was beautiful. Truly.”

Carlos clapped Franco on the back. “Points for commitment.”

Lando was practically in tears, clutching his stomach as he laughed. “Please, we should do Friendmas more often! You guys are killing me.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at Franco. “Was that really necessary?”

“I wasn’t trying to win,” Franco said casually, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Just wanted to make it memorable.”

The laughter and teasing in the living room still rang in your ears as you slipped away into the quiet of the kitchen. The glow of the firelight from the other room faded behind you, replaced by the soft hum of the under-cabinet lights. Snow fell steadily outside the large window, each flake illuminated by the warm outdoor lanterns.

Leaning against the counter, you cradled a glass of water in your hands. The coolness seeped through your fingers, grounding you, though it did little to steady the erratic beat of your heart. The tango performance replayed in your mind—Franco’s confident hold, the sharp dip, and the way his gaze lingered on yours a moment too long.

“Y/N?”

The familiar voice made you turn, startled. George stood in the doorway, his posture upright, his expression thoughtful but tinged with hesitation.

“George,” you said, offering a small smile. “Everything all right?”

He stepped inside, his shoes tapping softly against the polished wood floor. “I was about to ask you the same. You seemed, well, rather unsettled during charades. I wanted to make sure you’re… alright.”

You laughed softly, trying to deflect. “Just overwhelmed, I guess. All the attention gets a bit much sometimes.”

George raised a brow, clearly unconvinced. He moved a little closer, his hands sliding into the pockets of his trousers with an air of casual elegance. “May I speak frankly?”

“Of course,” you replied, though a sinking feeling began to settle in your chest.

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze fixed on you, his words carefully measured. “Are you and Franco actually serious?”

The question hit harder than you expected.

George continued, his voice soft but deliberate. “It’s just… unexpected. I didn’t think he was, er, your sort of man. But if he makes you happy, that’s what matters. I merely—” He paused, his eyes searching yours. “I’d hate to think you’re settling for anything less than what you deserve.”

Your throat tightened. The sincerity in his tone was disarming, and the lie you’d been weaving all weekend felt heavier than ever.

“I—” You faltered, words failing you.

The door swung open, cutting through the tension like a knife.

Franco stepped inside, his presence filling the room instantly. His gaze flicked between you and George, his green eyes sharp but unreadable. His usual smirk was tempered, his expression calm but watchful.

“Hi there,” Franco said, his voice light but laced with a quiet edge. “Am I interrupting something?”

George turned slightly, his shoulders still relaxed but his tone more clipped. “Not at all. Y/N and I were just having a chat.”

Franco’s eyes lingered on you, and without a word, he stepped closer, his hand sliding to rest gently on your waist. The touch was subtle but deliberate, his fingers warm against the fabric of your sweater.

“Well, don’t let me stop you,” Franco said, his smirk returning faintly. “But don’t keep her too long. I might start missing her.”

George’s brow twitched, his eyes flicking briefly to Franco’s hand before returning to yours. “Right,” he said after a moment, his voice still measured. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then.” He hesitated, his gaze softening as it lingered on you. “Do let me know if you need anything, Y/N.”

“Thank you, George,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

He nodded once before stepping out, the door closing softly behind him.

The room fell silent, save for the faint crackle of the fire in the distance. Franco didn’t move, his hand still resting firmly on your waist.

“You okay?” he asked finally, his voice quieter than you expected.

You nodded quickly. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

His lips twitched, a faint smirk threatening to appear, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” you replied, though the slight shake in your voice betrayed you.

He tilted his head, his gaze fixed on yours. “Because you disappeared pretty quickly after the game.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he continued before you could.

“I came to check on you,” he said, his tone casual but deliberate. “Can’t say I’m surprised though that George went to find you first.”

Your brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

Franco shifted slightly, his thumb brushing subtly against your waist in a way that sent an unexpected jolt through you. “He clearly wanted to test the water,” he said, his voice low, almost conversational. “Cornering you in here like that. Asking questions he knows might throw you off.”

“Sure, sweet George had sneaky intentions,” you said, though a soft laugh escaped you.

“For sure,” Franco insisted, the faintest flicker of irritation crossing his features. “He’s too polite to make it obvious, but trust me, he knows what he’s doing.”

You couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not,” Franco replied, the smirk returning. His thumb moved again, a slow, absent stroke against your side as he spoke. “He’s clever enough to know when to push without it looking like he’s pushing.”

“And you think that’s what he was doing?”

“Even is he wasn't,” Franco said, meeting your gaze squarely. For a moment, his usual bravado was replaced by something more sincere, more grounded. “I just wanted to make sure he knows you’re mine.”

Your breath caught, the words hanging in the air between you like a delicate thread.

He must have noticed the way your expression shifted because he chuckled softly, his smirk softening. “You know, for now. Until this whole thing is over and you can go back to being everyone’s favorite single lady.”

You rolled your eyes, though your heart was pounding. “Oh, how noble of you.”

“Very noble,” he said, his tone teasing again. “It’s hard work being such a convincing fake boyfriend.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible?” he repeated, his smirk deepening. “Or exactly what you need?”

The moment stretched, his hand still resting on your waist, his touch grounding and unnervingly warm. For a split second, it felt like the world outside the kitchen had disappeared, leaving only the two of you in this small, quiet space.

“You know,” you said quietly, barely meeting his gaze, “Alexandra’s matchmaking ideas don’t exactly… line up with what I want. So you don’t have to worry about that.”

Franco’s brow lifted slightly, but the faintest smirk tugged at his lips. “Good to know.”

He cleared his throat, stepping back just enough to give you some space but not enough to completely break the connection. “Come on, sugarplum. We should get back before Lando starts a search party.”

“Right,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

He gestured for you to lead the way, his hand lingering just long enough to make your skin tingle before he finally let it fall.

As you stepped back into the chaos of the living room, you couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of your eye. The smirk was back, his confident demeanor firmly in place, but something about the way he’d spoken lingered in your mind.

…

The lake glistened under the pale winter sun, the ice reflecting the snowy peaks surrounding it. The group was a riot of scarves, gloves, and thick jackets, their breath visible in the crisp, cold air.

“Right, bets are open!” Lando declared, pulling his gloves tighter. “Charles versus Carlos: who’s wiping out first?”

“Carlos,” Max said flatly, tightening his own skates.

“I’m offended,” Carlos shot back, puffing his chest dramatically.

“I’ll take that action,” Oscar quipped, producing a crumpled bill from his pocket.

Meanwhile, Franco stood next to you, his hands tucked casually in his coat pockets as he watched the scene unfold with a grin. “Think you’ll make it through without falling, pudding pie?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Think you can go a full hour without making a comment like that?”

“Nope,” he replied, his grin widening.

Charles and Carlos were already on the ice, their playful bickering carrying across the frozen expanse as they started an impromptu race. Charles was fast but clumsy, slipping every few strides, while Carlos cackled loudly, skating circles around him.

Lando and Max, true to form, took their positions at the sidelines to heckle and place more bets.

You laced your skates carefully, trying to ignore the fact that Franco’s gaze was on you the entire time.

“Ready?” he asked as you stood, wobbling slightly.

“Don’t laugh,” you warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, though the smirk playing at the corners of his lips said otherwise.

The ice stretched out before you, gleaming under the pale winter sun like a vast, treacherous mirror. Each step felt like a gamble, your skates threatening to slip out from under you at any moment. Franco skated backward effortlessly in front of you, his movements smooth and confident, as if he’d been born to glide.

“You look like a baby deer,” he teased, his green eyes alight with amusement.

You shot him a glare, your arms flailing slightly as you tried to regain your balance. “Thanks for the support.”

“Relax,” he said, skating closer. His hands reached out instinctively, steadying you with a touch that was firmer than necessary but far from unwelcome. “You’re doing fine.”

“I don’t need your help,” you muttered, though you made no move to pull your hand away as he laced his fingers with yours.

He smirked, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles in a way that sent a small jolt of warmth through you. “Sure you don’t.”

Behind you, Lando’s voice rang out, cutting through the stillness of the lake.

“Max is going down! I can feel it!”

Max, ever unbothered, glided past with surprising ease. “You’re the one who’s going down, Lando,” he retorted without looking back.

Franco chuckled softly, his gaze flicking briefly toward the chaos around you before returning to your face. “You’re lucky I’m not like them.”

“What, loud and extremely present?” you quipped, your lips twitching in the beginnings of a smile.

“Exactly,” he replied, his grin widening.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the way your shoulders relaxed slightly under his steadying touch.

Taking a deep breath, you let go of his hand, feeling a surge of confidence as you took a tentative step on your own.

The sudden scrape of blades against ice drew your attention to George as he skated up beside you, his posture impossibly straight, his movements smooth and deliberate.

“Need a hand?” he asked, his tone warm and polite, as always.

You glanced at him, your heart sinking slightly at the hopeful look in his blue eyes. His hand hovered just in front of yours, an offer you knew he thought you might take.

“That’s sweet of you, George,” you said gently, forcing a small smile. “But I think Franco’s got it.”

His hand lowered slightly, and his expression shifted, though he recovered quickly.

Before the silence could stretch too far, you turned back to Franco, raising your free hand toward him. “Hold my hand again?”

Franco raised a brow, clearly surprised by the request, but he didn’t hesitate. His hand slid easily into yours, his grip firm and steady as he pulled you closer. “Anything for you, sugarplum.”

The words, playful as they were, carried a softness that hadn’t been there before, and for a moment, you forgot about the chill in the air.

George hesitated briefly, his gaze flicking between you and Franco, before nodding once. “All right then,” he said, his tone polite but slightly clipped. “I’ll let you two be.”

He skated ahead with a precision that seemed a little too deliberate, his back straight and his strides measured.

Franco watched him go, his lips twitching in the beginnings of a smirk. “Smooth,” he murmured, turning his attention back to you.

“Don’t start,” you said quickly, though the warmth of his hand made it impossible to sound annoyed.

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough for only you to hear. “You could’ve let him help, you know.”

“I didn’t want his help,” you replied, your gaze fixed on the ice in front of you.

“No?” Franco’s smirk deepened, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again in a motion so casual it felt intentional. “Guess I’m doing something right then.”

You didn’t respond, though your cheeks burned under his gaze. Instead, you focused on moving forward, your steps growing more confident with his hand in yours.

Around you, the chaos of the group continued unabated—Carlos yelling at Charles for cutting him off during their makeshift race, Lando shrieking as Max lunged at him with outstretched arms, and Oscar laughing so hard he nearly fell over.

But for a brief moment, it all faded into the background, leaving only the sound of your blades against the ice and the warmth of Franco’s hand in yours.

…

The chalet buzzed with noise and laughter as we stumbled back inside from the frozen lake. The warmth from the roaring fire hit me like a wave, thawing my frozen fingers and toes. Everyone was shedding layers—scarves, coats, gloves—creating a chaotic pile near the doorway.

“I had him!” Charles was practically shouting, his voice thick with indignation as he gestured wildly at Carlos. “He tripped me on purpose!”

Carlos, leaning casually against the back of a chair, raised a brow and smirked. “I didn’t trip you, mate. You tripped yourself.”

“Oh, sure,” Charles shot back, throwing his gloves down dramatically. “You just happened to be in my way.”

“Can someone trip him again? I need a replay,” Lando quipped, flopping onto the armrest of the couch with all the grace of a cat falling off a ledge.

“You’re all terrible,” Charles muttered, though the corners of his mouth betrayed his amusement.

“You know what’s really terrible?” Max cut in, pointing a finger at Lando. “Lando’s skating. I’ve seen toddlers with more grace.”

“Excuse me!” Lando sat up, mock-offended. “Who got you to fall, hmm? Oh, right—it was me. Call it strategy.”

“It was chaos,” Oscar said, sipping his tea as he perched on the edge of the couch. “Pure chaos.”

“Chaos,” Alexandra chimed in, walking past me as she unwound her scarf, “is you all trying to one-up each other like you’re in some kind of Winter Olympics tryout.”

“Alexandra, be honest,” Carlos said, leaning toward her. “Who was better—me or Charles?”

She pretended to consider it for a moment before shrugging. “Neither. You were both disasters in your own way.”

I snorted, pulling off my gloves and tucking them into my coat pocket. “She’s not wrong.”

Max turned his gaze to me, smirking. “Speaking of disasters, I saw you almost fall twice.”

“Almost being the key word,” I shot back, narrowing my eyes at him.

“You only survived because of him,” Max said, jerking his chin toward Franco, who was currently leaning against the fireplace like he had all the time in the world.

“Is that true?” Alexandra asked, her eyes flicking between Franco and me.

“Absolutely,” Franco said, his grin lazy as he met my gaze. “Graceful as ever, aren’t you, sugarplum?”

The group burst into laughter, and I felt my cheeks heat. I rolled my eyes, grabbing the hem of my sweater and pretending to brush off invisible dust. “I’m going to make hot chocolate. At least that won’t involve falling on my face.”

The kitchen was warm and quiet, a perfect escape from the chaos of the living room. I stirred the bubbling cocoa on the stove, letting the rhythmic motion calm me as the faint hum of voices filtered through the walls.

The door creaked open, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Franco stepping inside. His hair was still tousled from the cold, and his green eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and something softer.

“Couldn’t resist joining me, huh?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, someone had to check on the quality control of this hot chocolate,” he quipped, leaning casually against the counter.

I snorted, turning back to the pot. “As if you’re qualified to judge.”

He grinned, pushing off the counter and taking a step closer. “Bold words for someone who didn’t even add marshmallows.”

“They’re coming,” I shot back.

“Sure they are,” he said, his voice teasing but light.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. I focused on the cocoa, feeling his eyes on me. When I glanced at him again, he was fidgeting slightly, his hands shifting in his pockets.

“What’s up?” I asked, my brow furrowing.

He hesitated before pulling a small, slightly crumpled package from his pocket. “I wanted to give you something,” he said, his voice quieter now.

That caught me off guard. “You? Giving me something?”

“Yeah,” he said, pulling out a small package wrapped in slightly crumpled paper. He set it on the counter between us, his movements slower than usual.

“You’re serious?” I asked, eyeing the little package, still in shock.

“It’s nothing big,” he said grinning shyly. “I just… wanted to give you this before the whole Secret Santa circus starts later.”

I stared at the package, my curiosity piqued. “You’re not my Secret Santa.”

“Nope,” he said, popping the “p” as he placed the package on the counter between us. “I’m just really bad at following the rules.”

I looked at the package, then back at him. “Is this going to explode?”

“No, it’s not going to explode,” he said, his grin softening into something almost sheepish. “Just open it.”

I stared at the package for a moment before taking it, the weight of his gaze making my chest tighten. Carefully, I peeled back the wrapping, revealing a delicate gold bracelet with a tiny heart-shaped charm.

I turned it over, my breath catching when I saw the engraving on the back: Sugarplum.

“Franco…” I trailed off, brushing my thumb over the charm.

“It’s just a silly thing, got it in town this morning,” he said quickly, his words tumbling over each other. “For when this weekend’s over and you’ll start missing my nicknames. Or, you know, to apologize for dragging you into this whole fake-dating mess in the first place.”

“I don’t mind as much as I thought I would,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

He glanced at me, his green eyes flickering with something I couldn’t quite place. “Still. I thought it might be nice to have… a funny memory. Or whatever.”

I slipped the bracelet onto my wrist, the charm resting lightly against my skin. It fit perfectly, as though it had always belonged there.

The bracelet’s charm glinted softly in the light as it settled against my wrist, the chain fitting perfectly. I turned it over once more, running my thumb across the tiny engraving.

“You really didn’t have to do this,” I said, glancing up at him.

Franco shrugged, leaning back slightly against the counter. “I know. But… I wanted to. It felt right.”

I raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Right?”

“Okay, maybe ‘right’ is overselling it,” he admitted, his grin faint and a little sheepish. “But I figured, if we’re doing this whole fake-dating thing, we might as well have something to laugh about later. You know, when we’re telling everyone how much we hated it.”

His words were light, but something about the way he said them made my chest tighten. “I don’t really hate it,” I said quietly.

He blinked, his grin faltering. “No?”

I shook my head, the bracelet shifting slightly as I let my arms fall to my sides. “It’s been… weird. Definitely not what I expected, but not all bad.”

“Not all bad,” he repeated, his tone teasing but softer.

“Yeah,” I said, shrugging a little. “I guess I’ve gotten… used to you.”

He tilted his head, his green eyes narrowing slightly. “Used to me? Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Take it however you want,” I said, fighting back a smile.

“Noted,” he said, his lips curving into something closer to his usual smirk. “I’ll put it right up there with, ‘Franco, you’re annoying, but tolerable.’”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “Don’t push it.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “You know,” he said after a moment, his voice dropping slightly, “it hasn’t been all bad for me either. I mean, you’ve got your moments.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Moments?”

“Yeah,” he said, his grin softening. “Like when you aren’t rolling your eyes at me or threatening to throw something. Those are nice.”

I rolled my eyes instinctively, but the warmth in his gaze made my stomach flip. “Oh shut up,” I muttered, though there was no real heat in my voice.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us shifted, growing heavier, and I felt the distance between us shrink even though neither of us moved.

“You’re going to keep calling me Sugarplum, aren’t you?” I asked finally, breaking the silence.

“Oh, absolutely,” he said, his grin returning. “You’re stuck with it now.”

The room felt smaller suddenly, the warmth from the stove and the weight of his gaze wrapping around me like a blanket. My heart pounded as the silence stretched, the unspoken words hanging between us growing louder with every passing second.

“Franco,” I began, not even sure what I was going to say.

His eyes searched mine, his lips parting slightly, as though he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

Without thinking, I leaned forward and kissed him.

The movement startled him at first—his breath hitched, his hands hovering awkwardly—but then he responded, his touch finding my waist as he pulled me closer. His lips were warm and soft, hesitant at first, as though he wasn’t entirely sure he was allowed to kiss me back.

When my hand slid up to the back of his neck, threading through his hair, the kiss deepened. His grip on my waist tightened, his other hand brushing lightly against my arm before settling on my lower back. The air between us seemed to crackle, the faint scent of cocoa mingling with the heat of his touch.

He kissed me like he was trying to memorize it, his lips moving slowly but deliberately, as though he didn’t want to rush.

When I finally pulled back, my forehead barely brushed against his, our breaths mingling in the warm air of the kitchen. My cheeks burned, and my pulse hammered in my ears, but I couldn’t bring myself to step away just yet.

Franco’s green eyes searched mine, his usual confidence replaced by something quieter, softer. His lips parted slightly like he wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come right away.

“I didn’t think you’d do that,” he finally murmured, his voice low and uncertain.

“Good surprise or bad surprise?” I asked, my tone light despite the way my chest tightened.

“Good,” he said without hesitation, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Really good.”

His hands were still resting lightly on my waist, his thumbs brushing against the fabric of my sweater. The warmth of his touch was bringing my head back to earth, making the moment feel more real than anything that had come before it.

I wasn’t sure who moved first, but before I knew it, I was leaning back in, capturing his lips in another kiss. This one was slower, more deliberate, the kind of kiss that felt like an unspoken promise. His hand slid up to cradle my face, his thumb brushing softly against my cheek as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

The sound of the door creaking open made us jump apart, and I turned sharply to see Lando standing frozen in the doorway, his mouth hanging open.

For a moment, none of us spoke. Then, Lando blinked, his gaze darting between us as his brain seemed to catch up with what he’d just walked in on.

“Oh my god,” he blurted out, his voice a mix of shock and triumph. “You’re actually for real..”

“Lando—” Franco started, his voice low and exasperated.

“No, no, wait. This is—wow. I mean, Oscar’s gonna lose his mind. And ten euros.” Lando grinned, his excitement building.

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “Lando, can you please just—”

“Leave you to it?” he interrupted, smirking as he leaned casually against the doorframe. “Sure, I can do that.” 

The sound of his retreating footsteps was immediately followed by his voice erupting from the living room. “OSCAR! MAX! THEY’RE ACTUALLY TOGETHER! PAY UP!”

Franco let out a long sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’m going to kill him.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up unexpectedly. 

I glanced down at the bracelet on my wrist, the charm catching the light. The warmth spreading through me was impossible to ignore, a quiet certainty settling in my chest.

“Still worth it?” I asked, my tone teasing but soft.

His eyes flicked to the bracelet and then back to me, and the smile that followed was warmer, more genuine.

“Yeah,” he said simply. “Definitely.”

[whimsicalpolitical]

a request if I may… matty getting mad talking to someone on the phone and girlie is just watching him like😵‍💫😵‍💫 and he takes his frustration out on her😁

content warning: 18+ mdni, smut, p in v, dirty talk, spanking,

this has been going on for a while now: matty walking back and forth through the room and getting more frustrated by the phone call.

“fucking christ,” matty says gritting his teeth, “what’s your fucking damage?”

you’re sitting at the edge of the bed, done with your nightly routine and only waiting for your pacing boyfriend now.

sleep is the last thing on your mind though.

twenty minutes torture. matty’s little rage act makes your thighs ache because you’ve been clenching them together the second he started to cuss and swear.

“that’s not what i’ve been saying bro, fucking listen.”

your eyes stay on the veins on his forearm when he’s running his hand through his hair, letting a groan slip out of his mouth.

you bite your lip watching him, feeling your panties dampen as his conversation continues.

“you can fuck off with that.”

you inhale sharply and matty hears. he thinks you’re annoyed because you wanted to go to sleep right before his phone rang.

he walks towards you and cups your cheek as he mouths a ‘sorry’.

“actually, i’ve got better things to do, mate. calm down, roll yourself a spliff and chill out, will do you good, i reckon.”

matty is still standing in front of you, so close to touch, to do anything you want to do to him. your hands sneak around his body to his back over his soft shirt.

“nah, have a nice one, i will not fucking continue this conversation. jesus, yeah, you too.”

matty slides his phone into his back pocket, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. the tension in his jaw doesn’t ease even as he exhales sharply, muttering something about “fucking tosser.”

“i’ve been a right twat tonight,” he says, his voice softer now, almost contrite. the furrow in his brow lingers, though, like he’s still half-lost in whatever argument just happened over the phone. “sorry it took so long.”

you swallow hard, suddenly hyperaware of how close he is. the space between you is barely there, his knees brushing yours where you’re perched on the edge of the bed. his t-shirt clings to him in all the right ways, the faint sheen of sweat on his skin catching the light, and you can’t help but let your eyes wander.

you watch him for a moment, taking in the way his shoulders are still tight, his hands shoved into his pockets. he’s not looking at you directly, not yet, but the way his chest rises and falls in short bursts tells you he’s still got all that anger simmering under the surface.

“it’s alright,” you say softly, shaking your head. “but do you want to talk about it?”

his lips press into a thin line, and he tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling for a moment like he’s hoping it’ll swallow him whole. “no,” he says finally, voice flat. “you wanted to go to bed, yeah? you must be knackered now.”

you frown, your head tilting. “i’m not, though.”

he glances down at you then, his brow furrowing like he doesn’t quite believe you. “you should be,” he mutters.

you shake your head again, slower this time. “you should talk about it,” you murmur, reaching out to rest your hands on his forearms. your fingers skim over his skin, and his muscles twitch beneath your touch. “it’ll help. get it out of your head, and then maybe you won’t feel so mad.”

he snorts, shaking his head, his eyes darting away from yours. “what’s the point? won’t change anything. and, anyway, you shouldn’t have to deal with me when i’m like this.”

“i don’t mind,” you say, your voice gentle. your thumbs rub small circles against his arms, coaxing him to relax even just a little. “besides, it’s better than letting it fester. you’ll just drive yourself mental.”

he doesn’t respond right away, his gaze dropping to where your hands rest on him. his jaw tightens again, like he’s still debating it, still trying to work through it on his own. but you can feel the way his tension hasn’t eased, the way he’s holding himself so rigid, and you slide your hands up slowly, tracing over his chest now.

“or,” you say, your voice quieter, almost testing, “you could find another way to let it out.”

his eyes snap to yours at that, narrowing slightly. “what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, his tone sharp, defensive, like he’s daring you to say it.

your fingers spread out against his chest, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart under your palm. “it means,” you say slowly, your gaze not wavering from his, “you could do something to relieve that anger.”

his brow lifts slightly, and for a second, he just stares at you, his expression unreadable. and then he scoffs, shaking his head like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “are you serious?”

“what?” you ask softly, your voice even, steady.

“were you—” he starts, breaking off with a disbelieving laugh before leaning in closer, his eyes narrowing. “were you getting off on that? me losing my shit?”

your face flushes hot, but you don’t pull your hands away. instead, your fingers curl into his shirt, gripping it lightly as you hold his gaze.

“not like that,” you say quickly, though your voice wavers just enough to make him raise an eyebrow.

“not like that,” he repeats, his tone skeptical. his hands come down to rest on your thighs, his grip firm but not harsh, and he leans in closer, his eyes searching yours. “go on, then. explain it to me.”

you swallow hard, your pulse quickening as his thumb brushes over your cheek. “matty, don’t—”

“don’t what?” he cuts you off. “don’t call you out on it? don’t notice the way you’ve been watching me like you want to devour me. i saw, love. the way you clenched your thighs together.”

you open your mouth to retort, but the words die on your tongue when his lips brush against your neck, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin. his hands slide up your thighs, his fingers curling against the fabric of your sleep shorts.

“that’s dirty. thought you’re being a nice girl and you want to talk,” he scoffs, “instead you just want to be fucked.”

your eyes roll to the back of your head as he continues kissing your neck and his hands wandering to your upper thighs.

“fuck, you’re warm,” he murmurs, his voice rough in your ear. “and so bloody worked up, is this what my little tantrum does to you?”

you let out a soft whimper, your hands gripping his shirt to ground yourself. “matty…”

“say it,” he demands, pulling back just enough to look at you. his pupils are blown, and his chest rises and falls heavily. “say you like it when I’m like this.”

you hesitate for a moment, but the way his hands tighten on your thighs has you caving. “i like it,” you admit in a shaky whisper. “i like it when you’re… like this.”

“knew it,” he mutters before capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

the kiss is all-consuming, a perfect mix of frustration and desire. his hands wander freely now, sliding under your shirt to grip your waist. you gasp against his mouth when his teeth graze your bottom lip, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours.

when he pulls back he shakes his head, “you want me to be rough?”

“yes,” you breathe out as fast as possible.

“christ. alright. lay down, get on the bed.”

you nod and scoot backwards, your eyes fixated on matty, who’s already pulling his shirt over his head.

he looks divine. black jeans with a belt and no shirt, his tattoos on full display for you drives you insane. you squirm a bit, waiting for his next move.

he’s taking your feet into his hand, rubbing your skin softly.

“darling, i need you to be absolutely sure and if you don’t fuck with anything i do, you need to tell me.”

“i swear, matty,” you say, offering him a warm smile.

“perfect.”

you watch his face as he carefully and slowly grabs at the fabric of your sleeping shorts, pulling them all the way down.

“gonna let me do what i want to you then?”

“yes.”

his hands find your hips, he's sliding down the bed, just enough so his head is level with your middle, he dips his head down and presses his lips to the soft flesh, his teeth sink into your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, you involuntarily let out a soft moan.

he grips your hips more firmly, almost like you'll disappear before him if he doesn't, he moves his lips to your other hip and nips at your skin, "my fucking gorgeous girl, absolutely filthy for me," he says lowly, his breath hot against your skinz

you whimper softly as both of your hands find the nape of his neck. his mouth moves to the soft swell of your tummy and he nips at the supple skin right above your belly button.

he pulls away and peers up at you, eyes dark and full of lust, his mouth hovers over yours, "you drive me mental, you know that, love?" he whispers fervently against your lips, his fingers squeezing the meat of your thighs.

“i'm pretty crazy about you too, matty," you whisper, his cheeks flush pink at your words, still so bashful. he kisses the heel of your palm before patting the side of your thigh, "turn around for me darling, go on, all fours, need to see all of you," he smirks, his eyes full of intensity as they drag down your body.

you do as he asks and move to the middle of the bed, flipping onto your knees and walking your hands out in front of you, arching your back slightly and hiking your up ass in front of him, he moans at the sight.

"just like that," he praises softly behind you and your pussy throbs, a familiar sticky heat pools in your panties at his words. you playtully take a glance back at him, his eyes dark and half-lidded as he sits up and moves to his knees behind you, his hands run up the backs of your thighs all the way up until they meet the globe of your ass.

"look at you, so fuckin' perfect," he murmurs, oggling the curve of your ass as his index finger sneaks under the lace trim of your panties, taking the material between his forefinger and his thumb and lightly skimming his fingers down the lace, "jesus.”

matty scoffs, “s’kind of pathetic. drenching your little panties because i’m angry.”

his fingers roam down to your covered slit and you let out a soft gasp, which only spurs him on, he runs his fingers along the wet spot on your panties, smirking when he feels the wetness staining your panties, the tips of his fingers dip below your clothed slit,

"that’s my girl though, right? always so fuckin' wet for me.”

it should embarrass you, how easy you are for him but it doesn't because it's matty and knowing how much he revels in this, in you makes that small pinch of embarrassment fade away instantly...every single time.

you risk a look at him over your shoulder as he pulls his finger back out and in one swift movement he puts his finger between his lips, quickly sucking your arousal off his finger, like it's a mindless, habitual thing for him.

his hands reach for the waistband sitting on your hips, pulling the lacy fabric down, marveling at the dark fabric against your skin as he slowly drags the material down your thighs, his eyes catch the wetness soaking the lace while he pulls them down and he moans shamelessly.

“such a pretty cunt, darling.”

your eyes widen while you watch him bunch up the material and shove the lace in his back pocket and then his hand lands an affectionate smack to your ass, "eyes forward, i won’t say it again."

you tear your eyes away as he brings a firm hand to the small of your back, pressing you down and deepening the arch to his liking, you instinctively drop to your forearms- so pliant and needy for him-he brings his mouth down and sinks his teeth into the lush of your ass in approval.

“fucking christ,” he groans behind you, “you’re so easy. gonna let me do what i want to you just because you’re needy, pathetic.”

his hands grab your inner thighs, spreading your legs, now he has full sight of your glistening core, two thick fingers stroke through your folds.

"you’re a mess, darling, look at that- you’re dripping down your legs.”

his words make your cunt throb, you can't help the whine you let out, "matty, please."

matty laughs, “you’re a fucking beg. what do you want?”

"i need you, please do anything, please," you mewl, not caring how pathetic you sound.

but still, not enough for matty. a loud wet smack fills the room as he lays a firm slap to your cunt, your body flinches forward, the edges of your vision blurs and your aching, swollen cunt tingles and clenches at the harsh, yet welcomed contact.

he tuts, "that’s it? you need to try better than that, love. beg for it.”

"matty please, i want your cock. i want it," you whine and writhe beneath his firm palm.

"see? s’all i’ve wanted to hear," he cooes, his slick-coated fingers now soothing your folds. “wouldn’t be fun though if we already skipped to the best part, would it?”

he shifts behind you, sliding down off the bed, kneeling on the floor, he pulls you back towards the edge of the bed by your thighs. he tilts his head up just enough to dig his teeth into the meat of your upper thigh, just below the curve of your ass cheek and soothes the sting with a wet kiss.

you shiver, you're aching for him and his mouth is everywhere except for where you need him to be.

“stop writhing around like a needy slut,” he spits out, “you don’t want me to stop immediately, right?”

“no, no, sorry.” you plead, closing your eyes.

matty’s hands come up to grab the meat of your ass, spreading you open and gently pushing you forward for better access, he brings his mouth to hungrily kiss your inner thighs, tasting the sweet, sticky slick coating your skin and a pitiful moan slips from your lips.

“mhm, perfect.”

matty seems to have heard it and that's all it takes for his lips to make contact with your pussy, your breath hitches in your throat as he flattens his tongue and licks a long, slow swipe through your slicked folds, the first one always drawn out and meticulous and just for him.

“oh f-fuck.” you moan.

a pressure already begins to pull taut low in your belly, you're squirming in his grasp but his hands move to firmly grip your outer thighs, keeping you open for him and pressed flush against his eager mouth. he fucking laves at you, devouring and savouring you like he'd never get the chance again.

“such a perfect one, yeah. my favorite taste.”

the vibrations from occasional muffled moans and groans against your pussy make you chant his name over and over like a prayer, even though he's the one on his knees.

“jesus matty," you moan out, your eyes roll back into your head as the coil inside your belly wounds up so tight every muscle in your body tenses. you start grinding your hips back into his face, he groans in response and loosens his grip on your legs, letting you take what you need from him.

it takes a moment to come down from your high, matty not being a help at all with the same pace he has on your clit.

he flattens his tongue against your clit before he closes his lips around it, suckling it into his mouth and moaning around it, the vibrations from his mouth makes the coil in your belly snap, and you cry out, using the sheets beneath you to stifle the noises slipping through your lips.

“fucking god,” you moan, “matty- can’t.”

matty hums a “you can,” and immediately latches on again.

the tip of his tongue works small, tight circles on your clit around and around, only this time with more pressure than before and within minutes or seconds-you don't really know at this point-you feel the pressure building in your belly and it's growing stronger by every lick and suck from his mouth. his tongue flicks over your clit before he licks it into his mouth once more, closing his lips tightly, he gives it one last tight circle of his tongue and suckle to your clit and you break, your second orgasm crashes over you.

“matty,” you moan over and over again, your brain completely empty with thoughts.

a choked moan escapes you, your legs quiver as they threaten to close while your hands fist the sheets beside your head, the grip he has on your thighs holds you open for him while you come all over his mouth and he laps you up, savoring, slurping, and swallowing down everything you give him.

“fucks sake,” he groans, “perfect cunt.”

milliseconds pass and he shifts behind you, lost in the haze of your orgasm, you can faintly hear ruffling as he stands up. he leans forward, kneading your ass in his palms before bending down to lay another bite on your other cheek, this time with more fervor, leaving a mark, your skin tingles.

matty’s hand is on him, stroking himself slowly, while his other hand is touching your body.

“just a little toy for me, aren’t you, darling?” he asks, not expecting an answer, “gonna let me fuck you?”

matty positions himself right against your ass and places his hands on your hips again and squeezes, “talk to me.”

"not like this,” you whine, not daring to look back, “wanna see you.”

“aww,” matty pouts, “you’ve got too many wishes, you know?”

nevertheless he grips your thighs and turns you around so you’re on your back. you’re eyes are staring at him but it seems like you’re not there, your brain feels hazy.

“you’re alright, love,” matty says, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

you can only whine and grip the nape of his neck to receive a proper kiss.

“needy girl,” he murmurs, leaning down to give you a kiss, licking over your bottom lip before tugging it between his teeth.

your sounds are swallowed by his mouth as he keeps kissing you, grinding himself against your thigh.

“can-please,” you whine, stretching your arm out to find his cock, which is already leaking with pre cum.

matty lets out a quiet groan, you can't help but smile at this as you start to rub him between your legs, grabbing his attention back onto the task at hand.

“didn’t say you could touch me, love,” he grits out, “s’like you can’t get enough.”

“i can’t,” you smile, tugging at his hair, “can you please fuck me.”

you’re desperate. how could you not be with matty between your legs, right there.

matty slides inside of you roughly, not slow and steady, not giving you any time to adjust, he’s using you.

“fuck, this what you wanted?” he asks as his eyelids flutter closed.

he’s got one of your thighs in his grasp and he's pushing it up against your ribs as he begins a steady pace with his hips against yours. there’s strings of your slick attached to his upper thighs from your inner legs rubbing against him.

matty notices immediately, “fucking christ, you’re making such a mess, s’heavenly.”

“matty,” you moan, “you- s’perfect.”

“yeah?”

matty brings his right hand back down to continue flicking your clit back and forth with his wet fingers.

you bite down on his shoulder. your propped up foot thuds softly against his back as the other one grips onto the sheets.

"feel nice?" matty asks into your hair as you bite down onto him, “fucking enjoy yourself?”

“feel so perfect," you whine against him. "jesus, so good,” you slur.

his weight is pushing you down so you can't wiggle away from any of the stimulation he's giving you. it accumulates quickly and, just laying there and taking it, you don't get enough time to warn him you're close.

you’re clenching around him uncontrollably, rolling your eyes back and clawing your nails into his shoulder blades.

“let me have it, come on,” he groans, rutting into you as deep as before, “come for me.”

he fucks you harder, his pace frantic. "such a perfect cunt, darling." he groans, dipping his head into your neck to nip at your skin. “my gorgeous girl."

"oh, god, matty..." you cry, your orgasm quickly approaching, unable to stop it no matter how much you want to prolong the feeling.

it doesn't take long before your orgasm crashes over you, pulsing through you in waves, back arching off the bed as you reach out for anything to ground yourself. hands finding the back of his head, pulling him into your chest.

“just like that, perfect, darling.”

he follows soon after, his cock pulsing inside you as he empties himself into you, collapsing on top of you, his chest heaving.

“fuck,” he exhales, moving one more slow time again to torture the both of you.

you’re overstimulated, your legs hurting so good there are tears prickling in your eyes. you brush your hands over matty’s shoulders and back, humming as you try to love on him.

“you still angry?” you ask, smiling to yourself.

matty groans when he lifts his head to look at you, stealing a quick kiss, “nah. unless you want me to be,” he jokes.

“give me a break,” you giggle.

“i love you, darling,” he murmurs, sliding out of you, hissing at the cold air.

you scrunch up your nose in pain, your ass, thighs and the skin between your legs hurting real good.

“i’ll draw you a bath, don’t worry, love.”

you enjoy this the most. matty being the sweet boy you’ve known forever, his only mission to take care of you.

[levis-poison-is-my-medicine]

Today Only

(The Tea Lovers Pt. 9)

A Levi x reader fanfic

Crossposted from AO3

You've got the perfect plan for Levi's birthday – now Levi just has to play along. What could go wrong?

tags: fluff and humor, silly and sweet, tea-obsessed fem!reader with their head in the clouds (word count: 3.2k)

(Part one) / (Levi x reader Masterlist)

You sneaked across the foyer of the scout's headquarters, stifling a yawn. Maybe you could still get in some shut eye before morning assembly. You hadn't slept a wink all night, having waited at the docks for the first ferry of the day, and now you were chilled down to the bone. It was still criminally early, and you couldn't wait to slide under your warm covers. At least you were already in your pajamas.

You tiptoed around a corner, colliding with something solid.

"No!" you gasped, protectively wrapping your arms around the box you were carrying as you fell flat on your butt.

You squinted up at the unexpected obstacle, which, or rather who, was glaring down at you.

"Levi?" you asked, blinking in confusion. A smile formed on your lips, but then it froze – he wasn't supposed to see his present. You scrambled to your legs, attempting to hide the box as you hurried past him.

"Where do you think you're going?" He grabbed your wrist. "Care to explain why you are late?"

You winced, trying to tuck the box under your arm without drawing any attention to it.

"I missed the last ferry, that's all. Sorry if I made you worry."

Levi's eyes narrowed at your response. "Ferry? Were you in Mitras? Don't tell me you were there for t���"

"It wasn't like that," you said quickly. "This is private, okay? I'm not obligated to talk about it. And I don't want to." You had to look down to try to hide the smile tugging at your lips. Lying had never been your strong suit.

"Still, you should have told someone where you were going," he said sternly, not loosening his grip on your wrist. "You can't just disappear like that, with no way to reach out to you."

You glanced back up at him. There was an intensity in his gaze you had never seen before.

"I guess you're right," you murmured. "I didn't plan this. I was only supposed to be gone for the day."

"But you weren't. Something could've happened," he muttered. He looked away briefly, letting out a sharp breath. "Just don't do something stupid like that again, okay?"

"Okay," you said. "I promise."

Levi nodded and let go of your wrist.

"Actually, should we do a pinky promise?" You held out your pinky.

"No."

"They are stronger, didn't you know? If you break them, your pinky falls off."

He snorted. "You don't actually believe that nonsense, do you?"

"You're no fun," you pouted, but there was a gleam of mischief in your eyes. Before he could respond, you quickly grabbed his hand, intertwining your pinky with his.

Levi went still for a moment, his gaze flickering down to where your hands were connected.

"Fine," he muttered. "But don't go breaking it."

"Of course not. I want to keep my pinky, remember?"

He rolled his eyes. You gave him your biggest smile, relieved to see that he didn't seem mad anymore, and released his hand to suppress a yawn.

"By the way, how come you're still awake at this hour?" You leaned in slightly, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, which were even more pronounced than usual. Levi didn't say anything, his eyes briefly meeting yours before flicking away again.

"You should really get some sleep," you said. "I'm heading to bed, too. I'm so tired." Giving him a quick smile, you added, "Good night!" before scampering away, hugging the box with his present to your chest.

"Night? It's already morning," Levi grumbled, but you were already out of earshot.

– –

In the end, you barely managed to squeeze in one hour of sleep. That wasn't enough to dull your excitement, though. Only a few more days until Levi's birthday, and there was still so much to plan.

Determined to not lose any precious time, you went up to Erwin's office, wielding a letter of apology. You couldn't afford to to be delayed by disciplinary actions – it was best to be proactive.

You knocked once, then stepped inside without missing a beat.

"I'm so sorry for being late. Please accept this letter of apology as a token of my sincere, most heartfelt regret." You placed it on his desk. It was five pages long, packed with every minuscule detail you could've possibly thought of.

Erwin acknowledged it with a weary nod. "Ah, the prodigal child has returned."

You grinned. "Yes! And we have many important things to discuss."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do we?"

"Uh huh. I've devised a plan."

"A plan...?"

"Yes! For Levi's birthday, to be exact. And you happen to play an important role in it!"

"Of course I do," he muttered, heaving a resigned sigh.

"Don't worry," you said, practically bouncing with excitement. "It's not that hard! You just have to keep him occupied while I decorate his office and set everything up. Maybe you can call a meeting and just talk about whatever."

Erwin didn't seem to keen on the idea.

"Just for an hour, or so. If you're unsure how to fill the time, I made flashcards with suggestions."

With a proud flourish, you set down a small tower of paper cards in front of him.

The first card read: 'Striving Beyond the Horizon - A motivational speech for the upcoming expedition'.

He glanced at the flashcards, his brow furrowed slightly. "... I don't think these will be necessary, thank you."

"Suit yourself!" You picked them back up, accidentally dropping one in the process.

Erwin took it from the ground, reading it slowly, his lips twitching slightly as he took in the dramatic wording.

'Why do we keep going? What compels us every day to put on this uniform, to march towards the unknown, towards the Titans?' [Make a dramatic pause here, maybe sweep your arm out in a grand gesture to buy more time.] 'I believe there to be meaning in the journey itself, in the act of moving forward, the striving… in each of the discoveries we make along the way. Not just about the Titans, not just about the world outside, but about ourselves.' [Make prolonged eye contact here.] 'It is not just our knowledge that grows in our ever-present push against the horizon. No. We too, grow as people. As we challenge the walls, we challenge what it's like to be human.'

"Did you write an entire speech?" Erwin looked at you incredulously.

"I may have gotten a little carried away," you admitted. "It should be about an hour long, if you follow the additional directions I put in."

Erwin ran a hand over his face. "While I commend your effort, I don't think Levi would sit through an hour-long speech just for him."

"Yeah, you might be right about that." You gave him a sheepish smile. "But since this is you we're talking about, I'm sure you will figure out other ways to keep him away from his office. I have complete faith in you!"

Erwin rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking thoroughly exhausted. "You're going to great lengths for Levi."

"Of course! He's saved my butt more times than I can count. I have to give back somehow."

He scrutinized you for a moment, then shook his head. "Does Levi know you're back? If not, you should probably tell him."

"Yep, he caught me this morning when I came back, gave me a solid talking-to."

"Good. He was up all night worrying about you."

You shot Erwin a look of disbelief, then chuckled. "Haha, good one. You almost had me here. But this is Levi we're talking about."

"I'm not joking," the commander said matter-of-factly.

"Well, he probably just couldn't fall asleep. You know how he is," you replied with a shrug.

Erwin exhaled sharply. "Sure." He motioned to the papers on his desk. "I should get back to work."

"Yeah, I shouldn't keep you any longer. Thanks for agreeing to be a part of the plan though, you're a huge help!"

You beamed at him, then turned to leave. Erwin looked after you blankly. Had he really agreed? Well, with you, he figured there was rarely any other option.

– –

The alarm sounded before dawn, rousing your roommates with groans of confused annoyance. You sat up straight, feeling the excitement rush through your veins. It was the 25th of December – time to set your plan into motion.

You made your way to the mess hall kitchen, ready to kick off the first phase of your operation. After that, you went back and forth between your room and Hange's office many times – she'd kindly allowed you to store everything there, so you'd be faster setting everything up later.

As you hustled and bustled about all day, you avoided Levi like a ninja, even skipping breakfast to ensure you wouldn't run into him until it was time – teatime.

About an hour before the big moment, you crept towards Levi's office. Hiding in the shadows just around the corner, you waited patiently, listening intently to the sound of Levis footsteps as he disappeared into Erwin's office. When you were certain he was out of sight, you emerged from the shadows with a mischievous grin.

"Time to get out the good stuff."

You darted across the hallway to his door, eager to go inside and start the next phase of your plan. There was just one little problem – it was locked.

"No! Don't do this to me!" you implored the lock, but the door refused to budge, unsympathetic to your pleas. With a small, frustrated whine, you gave up. There wasn't any time to try this yourself – you'd need someone who was good with their hands.

Without hesitation, you started running, sprinting all the way to Hange's lab. You burst through the door with a dramatic little jump, but then couldn't get a word out, too busy catching your breath.

"Woah now, what's got you galloping in here like a wild stallion?" Hange asked you with a grin.

"Code… Purple," you gasped between breaths, alluding to the colors of the signal flares used during expeditions.

"An emergency, huh? Should we drop everything and panic, or can I help?"

"That depends," you panted. "Do you know how to pick a lock?"

Hange rolled up their sleeves. "Oh, you bet I do."

Next thing you knew, you were kneeling next to Hange on the floor in front of Levi's office, watching them rummage through the toolkit they brought along.

"Nice! This one should do the trick!" They inserted the small, makeshift pick into the lock, wriggling it around carefully. You could hear something shift inside, giving in to the deft movements of Hange's hands as they twisted and turned the pick just the right way.Click, then click again.

"Done!" Hange said with a triumphant grin, and pushed down the handle. The door swung open easily, making short shrift of the fortress that was Levi's office.

"You're a gem!" You flung your arms around their neck.

"More like a crook who steals gems, now that you've made me your partner in crime," they said conspiratorially, waggling their brows.

You giggled. "Don't pretend I'm a bad influence! There's no way this was your first time after what I've just witnessed."

"Maybe I'm just a natural," Hange said, feigning innocence.

"Nice try, but I'm not buying it."

"Okay, okay," Hange said, hands raised in mock surrender. "You got me. I'm a total scoundrel."

You giggled again. "And I'm so glad for that – this totally saved my butt. But now I really need to hurry!"

"Good luck!" Hange gathered up the evidence of your crime and winked at you. "This will be our little secret." Then they set off in the direction of their lab, whistling a jolly tune.

You cracked your knuckles. The game was on again.

– –

An exquisite fragrance filled the room as you gently lifted the infuser from the new teapot, having allowed it just the right amount of time for the flavors to fully unfold.

You took a brief moment to admire your work – the desk was adorned with a lavender tablecloth, in the center of which perched the new tea set in all its elegant glory. It was surrounded by dainty little plates of tea biscuits you had baked this morning, all of them shaped like tiny Levi's with a unique pose or outfit. Soft, flickering candles were scattered between them, casting a warm, inviting glow. Behind the table you had hung a handmade paper garland, spelling out 'Happy Birthday, Levi!' in bold, purple letters.

"Perfect!" You clapped your hands and put on one of the silly birthday hats you'd crafted, emblazoned with 'Squad Levi' in bold, and 'today only' in smaller letters beneath. You'd told everyone to put it on around teatime, though you doubted most would actually go along with it. There were special versions for Petra and the rest of the squad, replacing 'today only' with 'for reals'.

You headed for the door with an excited grin. It was time to fetch the birthday boy – wouldn't want the tea to get cold.

You ripped open the door to Erwin's office, shouting "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LEVI!" at the top of your lungs.

A lot of heads turned your way – it wasn't just Levi in that room with Erwin. There was the entirety of his squad, and squad Mike, too. You gave them an awkward wave. A beat of silence passed. Then everyone started cheering and donning their birthday hats. You breathed a sigh of relief.

"Let's adjourn this until tomorrow," Erwin said, also putting on his birthday hat.

You couldn't believe your eyes. Levi seemed to feel the same way. "Not you, too," he mumbled, but there was an almost imperceptible quirk to the corners of his mouth. Petra and Lynne practically swooned at the sight. Oluo bit his tongue, trying to imitate him. Nanaba just rolled her eyes.

Amid the chaos, you grabbed Levi's wrist. "I need to show you something," you said, pulling him along with you.

"It's in here." You pulled open the door to his office.

"Thought I locked that," Levi muttered.

You didn't reply, a huge grin spreading across your face instead. Stepping aside, you made a grand, sweeping motion towards the table, eager for him to see the fruits of your labor.

"Ta-da! Do you like it?" Not giving him any time to respond, you immediately added, "It's a tea set. For you. Made from the finest porcelain of the most supreme quality. I'd know, since I was there when it was made. For a part of it, anyway. It was so much fun!"

With a bright smile, you handed him one of the cups. He held it by the rim in that strange way he always did, and turned it in his hands, quietly studying the design. You watched him intently. There was a subtle raise to his eyebrows, and his lips were slightly parted.

"This must've been expensive," he said finally, his gray eyes meeting yours.

"Maaybe...“ you said. "But do you like it?"

"Of course I do," he said matter-of-factly, his gaze still fixed on you. "Don't be stupid."

"Yay!" You jumped with delight. "I'm so glad you do! Totally worth every penny, then. Only the best for my fellow tea lover."

Levi snorted. You snatched the cup from his hands.

"Time for tea," you said, solemnly pouring the hot liquid into the cup.

"I made biscuits, too." You passed him one of the small plates. He glanced at them, his brow furrowed.

"They're you by the way," you said happily.

"...I can see that."

"Aren't they absolutely adorable?" You popped one into your mouth. "Mmm."

"Tch. I can't believe you just ate me," Levi said wryly.

"Sure did! And I'll have you know you were absolutely delicious."

He stared at you for a moment, then shook his head, letting out a dry chuckle. "Now that's just cruel."

You grinned. "Just try one, you'll see."

You selected a Levi in his cleaning get-up, wielding a tiny mob. "This one should clean your palate nicely." You chortled."Get it?"

Levi rolled his eyes. "After that shitty joke, I'll need something to clean my ears instead." But he ate the biscuit, anyway.

"That's so mean," you pouted. "It wasn't that bad."

"If you say so." Levi took a sip of his tea. His eyes widened. "That's... the tea from South Maria."

"Yep, you guessed it, just like I knew you would. A true connoisseur, through and through." You gave him a warm smile.

"But you only have so little of it," he murmured.

"True. That's why I saved it for a special occasion."

He huffed. "This hardly–"

You didn't even let him finish. "It's your birthday! If that's not a special occasion, then I don't know what is. Besides, there's no way I could've drunken it without you."

Levi set the cup down with a faint clink, then met your gaze, his eyes lingering on you just a little longer than usual. "Why?"

"Everything's more fun when you're around." You shrugged.

Something flashed in his eyes then, an involuntary flicker of something intense searing through his usual cool demeanor, but it was gone before you could fully catch it.

You suddenly felt a strange warmth spreading through you, not unlike the sensation of drinking hot tea, only it was in your chest. The unfamiliar feeling made you shift in your seat, unsure of its cause. You glanced up at Levi.

His mouth twitched, as though he might say something, but instead he just reached for his tea again. You took a sip of yours, too.

"Wow, it's even better than I thought! Out of this world delicious!" you exclaimed. The rich flavor encompassed your senses, and you closed your eyes to savor every last drop.

When you opened them again, Levi wore an expression you rarely saw on him. It was barely more than a subtle curve of his lips, but he was definitely smiling.

The warmth in your chest returned with a sudden lurch.

You absentmindedly brought a hand to your heart, bunching the fabric of your shirt in your fist.

"Right," you said, reaching behind you. "I made you a hat, too. You should put it o–"

"No."

"Didn't think so." You set the hat down on the table anyway. "I'll just put this here in case you change your mind."

Levi shot you a look that said everything: no chance in hell.

It made you giggle.

"Sooo... How do you like your birthday so far?" You clasped your hands under your chin. "I wasn't sure what you usually like to do on them, so I just kind of went with a tea party theme."

"Can't say I ever really celebrated my birthday before. So this is a first. But…" He paused, his gaze briefly softening. "It's… nice."

You couldn't help but smile, a wide grin forming on your face. "I'm so happy!"

"But don't think you won't have to clean this up later," Levi muttered.

"I know, I know." You both knew he'd end up helping, anyway.

A/n: Happy birthday, Levi! Thank you for giving me the motivation to start writing fanfic! (and to keep my place a little bit cleaner, lol.) Btw, I've also written a one-shot for LeviWeek, which will be out in a few days! Let me know if you wanna be tagged for it!

Tag list: @thechaoticarchivist, @mmm-alhaitham, @nironasaran, @leviiheichou, @huffleruffplant, @shutupp1, @iifrui, @shakysif, @ickearmn, @omlyurslvi

[spiderm444rk]

LOST IN TRANSLATION - mark lee smau

20. can you two stop flirting ?? (written)

not proofread

You glance at Mark, who keeps absentmindedly picking at the strings of his guitar with one hand. He’s nervous, you can tell, and honestly you get it. This is a big day for everyone after all - all students want to know who will become the newest member of the band.

“You got this man, okay ?” Donghyuck dramatically places his hand on Mark’s shoulder, patting it repeatedly. “You’ll do good. You’ll do the best, actually. If someone’s capable, it’s you.”

“Yeah, fuck those losers who think they’re better just because they major in music.” Jisung scoffs. “We’ll see if they’re really as talented as they claim to be. Or if they’re just too dense to study a real major.”

“You say that like you aren’t failing two subjects already.” Mark mumbles, but doesn’t look up from his guitar.

Jisung’s eyes widen when Donghyuck giggles at him and puts a hand on his chest. “M- me ? Failing ? I’m doing perfectly fine.”

Donghyuck snorts at him. “We all know that’s a lie. You got like 6 points from the last physics exam.”

“But I can retake it ! It doesn’t mean anything !”

You look over at Jeno, who’s mostly been quiet ever since he joined you and Mark here, scrolling through his phone. It seems like he’s used to the two boys always bickering. He’s munching on some chips that Donghyuck and Jisung brought, and as soon as he notices your gaze, he smiles, still with his mouth full, and offers you the pack.

You smile back gratefully and grab a handful of chips from the pack. “Thanks.”

Jeno is definitely the most peaceful one in the friend group. You didn’t even have to spend that much time with him and you could already tell he’s kind and respectful, and also always willing to be there for the people he cares about. You’re starting to understand why Jaemin likes him. And honestly ? Good for him. He definitely needs someone stable in his life.

But since you’re usually the one doing most of the talking, it feels odd, sitting in silence with Mark who barely said anything in the last two hours and his three friends who you saw like twice in your life. But you understand that Mark needs you right now and you’re willing to sit this one through if it makes him feel better. The boy almost had a meltdown when you tried to stand up and go get some coffee, thinking you’re leaving him there by himself. You can’t do that to his pour soul.

Mark suddenly groans again, stretching a little in his seat and resting his head against the wall behind his head. “Y/n.”

You pause in surprise and turn to him. “Yeah ?”

“Will you be mad if I don’t make it ?“

You blink and have to chuckle a little, leaning closer to him. “Mark… this is your chance. You aren’t doing it for me, or the boys, or anyone else. You’re doing it for yourself. Why would I be mad at you ?”

He takes a deep breath to calm himself down, but it turns out to be a little too deep, resulting in a cough. “I don’t know. What if you trusted me a little too much and I’m just not good enough ? You spent so much time with me while I practiced, had to listen to me rant and stress over everything-“

“And I did it willingly, didn’t I ?” You tilt your head, your eyes full of affection. “Have I ever complained about it ? I liked spending that time with you. I’m glad I got to share your experience and learn something about you. And even if you don’t get in, it’s alright. Stuff like that happens. There’ll be other opportunities. It’s not the end of the world.” You smile reassuringly, nodding at him a little. “But I know how you play and I genuinely believe in you. Stay calm and show them what you got, guitarist boy, hm ?”

Mark raises his head, finally meeting your gaze. His lips are parted in surprise and he stays silent for a few seconds, just taking your words in. But before he can even get the chance to respond, Donghyuck scoffs, crossing his arms. “Can you two stop flirting for one day, at least ? Ugh.”

Mark’s cheeks immediately heat up. “We weren’t flirting-“

“You’re just mad that there’s a hot redhead present and she’s not giving her attention to you, but someone else.” Jeno chuckles and throws the now empty pack of chips away from across the room, surprisingly getting it into the dustbin. Jisung nods appreciatively at the shot and Jeno shakes his head again.“You don’t have to pretend that you don’t, Hyuck.”

You look between the boys, suddenly feeling a bit out of place. “Uh…”

Mark chuckles and rubs the back of his neck shyly, not enjoying the heavy atmosphere right now. “Don’t mind them. They’re being stupid.”

Donghyuck opens his mouth to defend himself but is interrupted by the sound of the speakers turning on:

“Hey everyone ! This is Taeyong speaking. All students who are going to audition for the position of our new guitarist, please gather in the auditorium hall and pick up your number. We’ll call out your number when it’s your turn to perform ! Good luck, everyone !”

The speakers turn off again and all five of you just kind of sit there in silence, stunned. Then you notice the slight pressure on your thigh and look down, only to see Mark’s hand gripping your leg, hard. Mark follows your gaze and curses, retracting his hand immediately. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m just so nervous-“

“It’s fine.” You stand up, turning around to face the boys. “So this is it, then. Are you ready ?”

Donghyuck and Jisung exchange glances while Jeno just looks between Mark and you suspiciously, but you don’t pay any attention to that. Mark groans and grips his guitar a bit tighter. “I hope I am…”

“You can do it, Mark.” Jisung speaks up. “You’re talented. Embrace it.”

“Exactly. Just stay confident and don’t fuck it up, hm ?” Donghyuck ruffles his hair, to which Mark scoffs and pulls away.

“Plus, we’ll be in the audience.” Jeno stretches a bit and also stands up. “You aren’t alone.”

Mark takes a deep breath and nods. “I know. It’s not the end of the world either. I just need to stay calm…”

You grab his free hand and pull him to his feet. “Yeah, but if we don’t hurry up, you’ll be the last one to perform and I don’t think you want that, Mark.”

His eyes widen and he looks at you in horror. “God, no I don’t wanna go last…”

“Yep. So let’s go.” You wave at the boys quickly, already dragging Mark away. “We’ll see you guys later.”

Mark also waves at them, walking away like he’s dreading every step, basically hugging his guitar tight to his body for comfort. You snort but don’t comment on it until you both reach the auditorium hall. When you look at him, Mark is already staring at your face, looking like a deer caught in headlights. You coo at him, carefully fixing his clothes as you both wait in the queue for his number. “You’ll do well, Mark. There’s nothing you should be worried about.”

“I know, I can’t help it. Sorry.” He watches your fingers play with the button of his shirt.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” You shake your head. “I’m just saying, I believe in you. And I’m already proud of you, no matter what the results will be. You proved yourself to me already, you know ?” You smile and look up to meet his eyes, a little taken aback by the intensity of his gaze on you.

He reaches out, gently pushing a few strands of hair away from your face. You gasp quietly in surprise, your breath catching in your throat at the unexpected action but you let him, not pulling back. He doesn’t look away from your face either, appreciating your closeness silently.

“I really can’t ever thank you enough, Y/n.”

“You thanked me plenty of times already. It’s getting pretty annoying, honestly.” You grin, crossing your arms.

“Yeah, but I mean it. I’d probably chicken out and not audition at all if it wasn’t for you. You push me to be good. I didn’t- I didn’t know how to do that before.”

You stare at him, not knowing what to say. Yeah, Mark was always a bit shy, and also quiet as hell before you practically forced him to be friends with you, but you wouldn’t say you’re the reason why he’s doing so good right now, after all he’s the talented one-

“Next !”

Mark breaks the eye contact to go pick out his number and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. You watch him check the small paper, turning it around in his hands. “I got 38.”

You also glance at the paper. “Well, that isn’t so bad, is it?”

Mark shakes his head, putting it in his pocket. “Nah, it’s fine.” He takes a deep breath again, rubbing his arm, visibly stressed as hell, even though told him not to be. “I’ll try to find you in the audience, yeah ?”

“Mark-“ you groan and wrap your arms around his shoulders firmly, not giving him any room to protest. But based on how his hands practically fly up to your waist to hug you back, he wasn’t going to. “I told you you’ll do great. I love the way you play. And I’ll love seeing you on that stage. Take deep breaths, okay ?”

Mark nods against your neck, ignoring how the guitar is poking both of you right now since he’s still refusing to put it down entirely. “I know. I know…”

You pat his head affectionately, a smile starting to spread on your face. “Do you want me to record you ? So you can watch it when you’re done ?”

He freezes. “You’d do that ?”

“Of course I would. What do you have me for ?”

He nods against your neck again, still not letting you go, but then he sighs and takes a step back. “I should go in… I’ll find you later, yeah ?”

You chuckle and nod reassuringly. “Mhm. I’m not going anywhere.”

He starts walking backwards slowly, not wanting to look away from you yet. “Yeah. So see you later.”

“Later.” You smile to yourself as you watch him leave, and you have to turn around and hide your face so you dont start giggling out loud at the way he almost knocks down an entire shelf with his guitar. This is going to be a long day.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─

A/N: i wrote this last night while drinking champagne i hope it still makes sense somehow🤗🤗

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[sugarushwriting]

“look what you made me do”

stalker jungwon part 2

adult content featured

yes there will be a part 3

you awoke with a startle after a nightmare. you sat up quickly on the bed that you were tucked into, the windows covered by thick curtains.

you looked around quietly, swallowing air, as you tried to remember what happened.

blood. chipper. maya.

shoot! when you removed the comforter from your legs and went to move off the bed and stand, you fell to the hardwood floor below.

“ouch!” you screamed in agony, tears coming to your eyes as you hugged your leg in pain.

you forgot all about the bear trap around your leg.

with a thud, jungwon came running up the stairs and threw the door open to the bedroom, a look of panic on his face.

he had originally been watching you through the nanny cam, but went outside to handle some business. he came back in and heard you cry out.

“hey, you’re okay!” he rushed to your side, helping you up gently, lying you back on the bed.

you sniffled, and your eyes went wide noticing the blood on his neck. “stay away from me, you, you freak!” you yelled, trying your best to scoot away.

jungwon wasn’t fazed nor was he mad. you were traumatized and he was slightly to be blamed for it. his smile faded to a thin line, eyes of worry focused on you.

all you could think of was poor maya in the wood chipper, asa and danielle hanging in the barn. if that was even still the case.

“what did you do to them?” you silently sniffled, trying to hold sobs.

jungwon bit is lower lip, “do you mean asa and danielle?”

you nodded slowly. jungwon hesitated to tell you. but he kept it simple with the truth. “they’re alive.”

you sucked in a breath. could you believe him? “how do i know you’re not lying?”

“i can show you.” he replied. you thought about it. could you stomach the way they looked? you barely could stay awake when the trap got you.

“why are you doing this?” you whispered so softly, he barely heard you.

jungwon went to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, it caught you off guard, you flinched. he slowly put his hand down with a frown.

“why the blanket? how did you get those pictures of me?” you continued. the blanket he covered you with before he snatched you.

pictures of you at work. in public. in your apartment. naked.

“you can guess how i got those pictures, squid.”

squid. why did that name—nickname—sound so familiar? jungwon noticed your body react to the nickname he gave you when you were close. before your accident and losing your memory.

“have you been stalking me? us.” jungwon nodded, unashamed. “why, jungwon? i—i understand how we treated you in high school was so bad—and i’m genuinely sorry for it—,”

“let’s not talk about that, right now.” jungwon cut you off immediately, his tone and mood changing.

“what did we do so bad that made you want to stalk and kill us?”

jungwon hurriedly stood up and started pacing. it really wasn’t you. or even asa. little less danielle. maya and kelly were originally his main targets.

“you three never knew the torture i went through with maya and kelly.” jungwon says, running a hand through his hair. “it wasn’t just the teasing from all of you. kelly and maya deserved what they got. to be honest, they got off easy in my opinion.”

“jungwon, what did they do to you?”

“not now squid.”

“why do you call me squid?”

“it doesn’t sound familiar? like at all?” jungwon stopped pacing to look at you with hope in his eyes.

you shrugged. “it triggered something through me, but no, not really.”

“are you hungry? i can make you food.” jungwon changed the subject. before you could decline that you weren’t hungry, your stomach betrayed you and rumbled.

“oh, um, sure.” you nodded, unsure how you’d even be able to get up at this point. you could barely stand up on your own, let alone run away from this psycho.

“i’ll bring you breakfast in bed. you need to rest that leg. when i got you, the trap was pretty deep and the wounds don’t look good under the bandages.”

jungwon walked towards the bedroom door, and you noticed a dog sitting there waiting for him. you smiled unknowing at the dog, just happy to see something alive other than jungwon.

your thoughts were clouded from the night beforehand. he really killed maya. was he going to kill danielle and asa next? what about you? you had to stay alive. you were going to fight to stay alive so you could get help.

what did maya and kelly do so bad to fuck jungwon up like this?

footsteps padded against the hardwood, jungwon coming in with a plate of breakfast. your favorite breakfast.

he placed it in front of you slowly, you picked up the fork and slowly took a bite, moaning in relief at how good it tasted.

jungwon swallowed, his adams apple bobbing up and down at hearing you moan.

no. he wasn’t going to that to you. with you. not now. the pictures and videos he had were enough to help him rub one out when needed.

“uh, jungwon, this is really good. thank you.” you politely replied with a nod.

jungwon took a seat at the edge of the bed and stared at you while you ate. “do you really not get any type of memory from the nickname squid?”

you shook your head at him. “enlighten me.”

“i don’t want to freak you out.”

you snorted. “you stalked and kidnapped me and and my friends. killed one of my friends in front of me, jungwon.”

jungwon laughed softly. “guess you have a point.”

“just tell me why do you call me squid?”

“because when we were younger you got inked on by one, and ever since then you never liked them.”

“younger?”

jungwon sighed, “that’s enough trip down memory lane for now. finish eating.”

“will you take me to go see asa and danielle?”

“only if you promise not to throw up.”

about an hour later you had finished eating, and was prepared to go out. jungwon helped you walk down the steps, outside. you went slowly, but jungwon seem to not mind.

when you got to the barn, your heart sank in pure anxiety of what you may see in front of you.

jungwon, face plain of any emotion, opened the barn door and helped you hobble in there.

thankfully asa and danielle were no longer dangling from the ceiling chains, but rather seated in hay and chained to poles beside them.

both were left in the undergarments, and you knew they had to be cold. they hadn’t moved when you two came in.

“i gave them something to help them sleep. rest.” jungwon stated. “they’ll need their energy.”

“why?” you whispered out.

“it’s hunting season.”

you turned to look at jungwon with pure disgust. “please, jungwon, just let them go.”

jungwon’s lips went in a thin line as he stared at you. “why should i?”

“maya and kelly were your main targets, okay? the rest of us learned our lesson. just please let them be.”

“i’ll have to ask my coworkers.”

“coworkers?”

jungwon nodded. “ni-ki and kai. need to make sure they’re okay with it too.”

“it was all three of you?”

“mainly me, but they helped.” jungwon stated.

you looked at him in disbelief. “i’ll do anything if you just let them go. please.” you begged.

“i’ll think about it.” jungwon said before turning around walking back to the house. he left you to hobble behind him slowly, your leg still in pain from the trap.

you got to the porch steps, jungwon held the door open for you. “actually fuck this!” you snapped. “tell me right fucking now why you are doing this!”

jungwon laughed. “or what?”

you looked around the yard, and saw a big rock. you leaned down carefully to pick it up.

“what? you’re gonna throw it at me? try to kill me with it?” he taunted.

“no. i’ll bash my own head in!” you yelled, ready to drop the rock on your head as you held it above.

jungwon ran as fast as he could down the steps and tackled you to the ground, making the rock fall out of your hands.

little did he know, there was another big rock behind you. so when you fell, your head landed on the rock, instantly knocking you unconscious.

“no, no, no! wake up!” jungwon pleaded, trying to shake you awake. blood covered his hands from the back of your head. “no, you can’t do this. i can’t lose you again.”

he cried holding you close. jungwon quickly picked you up and ran to his truck, putting you in to drive you to the emergency room.

while the doctors worked on you, he had texted ni-ki and kai who were actually visiting in town, and asked them to clean up the barn mess. no other text was sent or explanation needed.

he couldn’t say too much and incriminate himself or them. they texted back with a simple ‘ok’ and ‘no problem.’

“mr yang?” jungwon stood up when the nurse called his name.

she smiled. “your wife is doing great. a little drowsy and confused, but she’s awake and alert, and the doctor is with her. follow me.”

you two weren’t married. but they didn’t need to know that. they didn’t ask for a marriage license or proof. jungwon just knew he had to be the one only to know about your condition.

he walked into the hospital room you were in, the doctor finishing flashing the light in your eye. your eyes went wide seeing jungwon, but you stayed silent, fear in your eyes and body.

“hello mr. yang.” the doctor greeted. “mrs yang, your husband has been so worried about you!”

the doctor and other medical staff left the room, leaving you and jungwon.

“wi—wife?” you stumbled out.

“you say anything else, and i will make sure you never see outside again.” jungwon threatened.

you hung your head in silence, twiddling your thumbs, afraid to say anything further.

jungwon spoke, “they said you hit your head pretty hard but you should be okay. you’ll be here for a while as they keep an eye on you. and i’ll be right by your side.”

you kept silent. you got comfortable in the hospital bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin, your back facing jungwon.

this seemed to be a nightmare that would never end.

[slushiebonez]

wagegang is kev rad rick n streber so adding dexter would be like. wagegang+ yeah thats what im calling it

anyways. wagegang+ driving / car headcanons. very long so its under the cut. also this takes place in michigan because i live there lol viva la midwest

kevin has a license but doesn't own a car. He wanted to pay for it himself instead of his parents so right now he's stuck on a bike since I don't think there's much public transit in a small town like that lol. Not bad since his work isn't too far of a ride (one of the reasons he chose it), but it gets kinda dicey on grocery runs. When he can't fit everything in the front basket or a backpack he hooks a milk crate to the back. As for driving, he's a very cautious driver. Maybe too cautious, being on the highway makes him hella nervous, especially in inclimate weather or when people are going fast because some people do not know how to behave on the highway. in michigan if youre on the highway youre probably gonna end up going like at least 10-20 miles over the speed limit or else people will get mad at you and kevin is gritting his teeth the whole time. Always does his best to go the speed limit and always uses turn signals, less out of fear of the law and more out of fear of crashing. Would tell you to put your seatbelt on because he doesn't want you cracking the windshield with your face, that costs money. Once hit someone's bumper while trying to park and got so worked up over the idea of having to pay someone's insurance over it that he had to get out of the car and sit on the curb for a few minutes to chill the fuck out. Strongly opinionated on the roundabout vs four-way intersection debate. When someone pisses him off on the road he fumes and growls about it under his breath for the next ten minutes. Keeps a little travel bottle of hand sanitizer in the cupholder. road trip snacks of choice are hi-chews, andy capps cheddar fries and an arizona tea (either raspberry or arnold palmer).

streber got a hand-me-down dark grey ford focus from his parents in high school and has been driving it since. named it sheila. plays ferryman for the gang when theyre going somewhere, and sheila bears the scars of it. despite barely passing drivers ed as a teen hes surprisingly probably the safest driver. Sometimes makes illegal turns at intersections because he doesn't wanna go around. very particular about the "driver gets radio privileges" rule. will full-body lean over someone in the passenger seat if he needs to and will not announce that he is dong this before he actually does it. once yelled at kevin to get in the car while leaning over to the passenger window and snagged one of his belt chains on the center console / gear shift and they were almost late to the event while he tried to untangle them. glovebox and center console are full of extra napkins from fast food places, if you spill something or sniffle a little he'll toss them at you from the front. if you eat something in his car he'll hand you a napkin, and if you refuse it he'll ball up a few of them and throw them back at your head. will tweak out if you leave crumbs in his car. rad got him one of those little vampire rubber duckies and he keeps it on the dashboard. becomes incredibly distraught any time he sees a dead animal on the side of the road and will slam on the brakes if a deer looks like its about to cross. When someone pisses him off on the road he yells in the car and hits the horn but tries to get it together afterwards. will talk shit about drivers long after. mean mugs people at red lights. road trip snacks of choice are sour gummy candy, those tins of flavored almonds, and a faygo (usually either redpop or cream soda).

radford got a permit but never actually completed the hours to get a full license. calls shotgun any chance he gets, and almost always tries to fuck with the radio. keeps getting put on navigation duty since he calls shotgun, and is pretty good at it until he gets distracted, at which point he completely loses the route. champion of calling out an exit or turn as they're already passing it. has left many a mark on streber's car. the list includes stupid anime stickers he stuck to the rear window and then couldn't get off, baby on board bumper sticker he got as a gag, stain on the back seat from trying to steal a sip of kevin's slushie after a gas station run and spilling it all over both their laps, and a different stain from the time they picked up his little brother from the fair and he threw up because he ate way too much funnel cake and got convinced by his friend to ride those shitty whiplash-inducing mini coasters like five consecutive times. amongst many other incidents. behind the wheel he's an alright driver, but has a bad tendency to miss turns or almost hit stuff. offered to drive robert to school to get hours on his permit and almost immediately hit a curb and busted the tire. accidentally break checks people with some regularity. hangs air fresheners in the family car but never takes off the old ones, so they collect into a massive swinging cardboard flail weapon. first time he tried to do a Michigan Left he almost caused an accident. if a window fogs up he'll draw on it with his finger no matter how many times he's told to stop and that it smudges the window. it takes a lot to piss him off while driving as he usually laughs off mishaps or bad drivers, but if he gets mad enough he'll try to roll down the window to yell at / flip off the person, in which whoever else is in the car has to remind him he needs to keep his eyes on the road. points out a deer crossing sign or a road work ahead sign every time without fail. road trip snacks of choice are a pack of twizzlers or those sour punch straws, fritos or bugles, and a lemonade.

dexter has a license through some sort of miracle, seeing that he had to retake the test like five times from fumbling it so bad. not because he's a totally bad driver, hes actually pretty good behind the wheel. other than not using turn signals, most of the time he doesnt use his turn signal and just goes for it. the main issue is his absolutely godawful road rage. anybody having sub-optimal behavior on the road, inclimate weather, traffic, most things will piss him off. once he gets pissed he gets reckless, curses people out loudly and flips them the bird, hits the horn and steering wheel, punches the dashboard and hits his head against the seat headrest, break checks people and tries to cut them off, etc. in any other seat hes fine, but the moment he's put behind the wheel he loses all composure. not allowed to drive streber's car anymore under most circumstances after scratching the hell out of the passenger door trying to cut someone off on the highway (unfondly remembered as The Pontiac Incident). As a passenger he's more toned-down, at least to the degree dexter possibly could be. points out roadkill every time he sees it despite the fact that it makes streber upset. has a bad habit of slouching down in the back seat and putting his knees against the back of the passenger seat with the seatbelt resting near or on his throat. streber had to stop hard at a light once and it choked dexter so hard he was coughing for minutes, now does the slouch somewhat less or just opts not to wear a seatbelt. will shit talk other drivers for you whether you want him to or not. forgets to kick the snow / mud off his shoes before getting into the car unless directly told. incredibly good with navigation, but rarely volunteers or overrides radford's volunteering. His mom has an old beat-up car, but he doesn't really use it because he doesn't want to mess up his mom's car (he knows he has road rage issues, he just usually doesn't care about the consequences unless it's his mom. if he has to drive his mom somewhere, he does his best to behave for her). somehow always manages to leave cat hair on streber's car seats and it pisses streber off so bad. road trip snacks of choice are warheads / toxic waste / other stupidly sour candies that burn your taste buds off (which he always tries to convince radford to try them and thinks its hilarious when he reacts to the sourness), bag of beef jerky, and a gatorade (usually red, green or orange).

rick has a license simply because his family made him go get one the moment he hit 16, but he rarely ever uses it and by this point it's probably expired. he doesnt drive because he doesnt like to lol, not only because its a lot of effort that he doesnt like putting in, but also because there are far too many things to focus on at once and if you whiff one people start getting mad at you, at which point he just quits lol. his preferred and favorite seat is the back seat on the left by the window, if its available he will take it immediately without saying anything. everyone knows thats rick's spot so they let him have it every time, even when its inconvenient, because if he cant have his spot he lowkey quietly sulks and it brings down the energy in the car. never suggests places to go or things to do but if you ask him to come along he'll usually say sure and get in the car because being taken somewhere "fun" with the minimal amount of effort is something he's capable of accepting lol. number one champion of putting on his headphones and staring out the window quietly until they get somewhere. When he's actually behind the wheel he's... fine, it's serviceable, but it is also kinda nerve-wracking to put the depressed guy in michigan driver traffic lmfao. can follow a map fine but forgets to actually announce the directions and / or doesn't care enough to actually bother so they rarely put him on navigation duty. the guy who prefers the car trip to the actual location (he is real for this). he doesn't road rage out loud, if someone does something stupid on the road he's just silently pissed off and sighs and white-knuckles the steering wheel till hes out of that area. go-to road snacks are whatever is cheapest, saltiest, or sweetest (he has little to no preference).

if any of these headcanons don't make sense its because i dont have a license and have never done drivers training yet lmfao

[bluenerdtastemaker]

Maybe There Is Hope

Yuki Tsunoda x Liam Lawson | Rated T | 11.3K

--

--

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I hated him. I hated everything about it. - Anonymous

Liam Lawson wasn’t sure why he clicked on the video. Maybe it was boredom, maybe it was the algorithm pushing it onto his feed, or maybe it was the title—"Anonymous Letters: Confessions of Broken Friendships"—that tugged at something buried deep in his chest.

It was a Jubilee segment. He’d seen a few of them before, strangers sitting in dimly lit chairs, reading letters from people they would never meet. Honest, raw stories. This one was no different.

A young girl with a soft voice started reading.

"I worked in a field where you had to be a predator. If you weren’t, you’d be eaten alive. And for a long time, I thought I was okay with that. It’s just how things are."

Liam’s chest tightened, but he brushed it off. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard metaphors like that before. Competitive sports were cutthroat. Everyone knew it.

"I had a best friend in that world. We started as teammates in a junior program, and we were inseparable. We laughed, supported each other—even when the results were bad, even when the rumors started. We promised we’d have each other’s backs."

His hand paused mid-reach for the remote.

"But then, in 2024, things changed. One of us was going to get promoted to a bigger role. It was down to me and him. I thought it was going to be me."

Liam sat up straighter.

"I had better stats, more experience. I was ready for it. But they chose him."

The girl’s voice cracked, and Liam’s stomach dropped.

"He got it with less than six trials. I smiled when it happened. I told him I was happy for him, but inside, I hated him. I hated everything about it. Was it because of the way I talked? The way I acted? Did I come off too strong? I don’t know."

His heart was pounding now.

"I told myself it was just one bad decision. That I’d find something better. But then time passed, and the opportunities stopped coming. Eventually, I was forced to leave that world. And my best friend—he didn’t call."

Liam’s vision blurred for a moment. He didn’t need the girl to keep reading. He already knew how this story ended.

Yuki.

"I left everything behind. I hated him. Hated myself for hating him. I wished I could say it to his face, but I didn’t. We never talked again."

The girl paused, her voice softer now.

"Sometimes, occupations or life destroy what you thought was your light. And sometimes, you can’t stop it."

Liam barely heard the rest of the video.

Yuki had vanished after 2025. No interviews, no social media posts—nothing. At first, Liam thought he just needed space, time to process everything. But days turned into months, and then years. And Liam hadn’t reached out. He didn’t know why. Maybe he thought Yuki would come back. Maybe he thought he’d be mad.

But he never imagined this.

Liam turned off the video and grabbed his phone.

There was no hesitation. He pulled up Yuki’s old number, fully expecting it to be disconnected. But the message box was still active.

Liam: I’m sorry.

He stared at the screen. The three dots popped up almost immediately.

Yuki: Why now?

Liam swallowed.

Liam: Because I just saw you.

There was a long pause, then;

Yuki: I didn’t think you’d care.

Liam: I do. I always did.

The dots hovered for a long time before disappearing. Liam stared at the empty screen, his heart sinking, but then—

Yuki: We need to talk.

And Liam finally exhaled.

–

Liam leaned back in the plush leather seat of his private jet, eyes fixed on the endless stretch of clouds outside the window. The hum of the engines filled the silence, but it did nothing to drown out the thoughts racing in his head.

Yeah, this job had done wonders for his bank account. Private jets, penthouse apartments, tailored suits—he had it all. But the weight on his chest didn’t care about any of that. Success had a way of amplifying the emptiness instead of filling it.

He wasn’t the one to blame. He knew that. He’d just played the game the way it was designed to be played. He’d worked hard—harder than most—and he deserved that position next to Max. He’d earned it.

Yet, no matter how many times he told himself that, Yuki’s face always surfaced.

Even now, three years later, it lingered. That half-smile Yuki always wore like armor, the sharpness in his eyes that made you forget he was barely over five foot three. Liam had thought that smile would always be there, but when it disappeared, it left behind a void that no amount of podiums or championships could fill.

The plane touched down in Okinawa under a hazy sky. Liam stepped out, sunglasses shielding his eyes from the glare, and turned the small slip of paper in his hand. An address.

He’d double-checked it more times than he cared to admit. A quiet island where the majority of the population was elderly. It didn’t match the image he’d held of Yuki for so long—the fiery, unstoppable force that tore through the junior circuits like he was born to do it.

But here he was, standing in front of a modest home that smelled faintly of saltwater and earth, clutching a wrinkled piece of paper like it was a lifeline.

Yuki lived here now. Not just lived—thrived, if the stories Liam had managed to dig up were true. He ran a restaurant and art business, which honestly didn’t surprise Liam in the slightest. Yuki had always had a talent for turning chaos into beauty.

Still, knowing Yuki was doing well didn’t stop the nerves twisting in Liam’s stomach as he stood at the front door.

He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and rang the bell.

The door opened, and there he was.

Yuki Tsunoda.

But not the Yuki Liam remembered.

This Yuki was broader, stronger. The kind of build that came from heavy lifting and labor instead of gym sessions and simulators. He wore a loose short-sleeve shirt that showed off his tan skin, his toned arms, and—Liam’s eyes caught—an intricate sleeve tattoo of sakura blossoms winding from his shoulder to his wrist.

His ears glinted under the sunlight, three earrings in one and two in the other. Liam almost didn’t recognize him. Almost.

But the sharpness in his gaze—that fire—was still there.

Yuki’s eyes narrowed.

“…Liam?”

Liam swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. “Hey.”

Yuki didn’t move, didn’t speak for a long moment.

Then he stepped back, leaving the door open just enough to let Liam through.

“Come in,” Yuki said, his voice low, unreadable.

And just like that, Liam stepped into a world he thought he’d lost forever.

–

The house was quiet. Too quiet for Liam’s liking.

He followed Yuki inside, the faint scent of paint and cooked rice lingering in the air. The place wasn’t big, but it felt lived-in—warm, but guarded. Yuki led him to a small living room where the walls were lined with framed artwork.

They sat across from each other.

Yuki didn’t speak at first, his eyes locked on the table between them. Liam tried to take in everything—the way Yuki’s fingers curled tightly around his glass, the way his shoulders rose and fell just a little too quickly.

Then, Yuki exhaled, sharp and heavy. “So. You saw the video.”

Liam flinched. The words were heavier than he expected.

“It was you,” he said quietly, more a statement than a question.

Yuki scoffed, shaking his head. “Not exactly.” He looked up then, his gaze sharp and unrelenting. “It was my sister’s idea. She thought if I didn’t have the guts to talk to you, maybe a stranger reading my words would make you listen. I was waiting for your message, hence why I still keep that number.”

Liam swallowed. “Yuki—”

“Don’t,” Yuki cut him off, voice firm but trembling. “Let me say this first.”

Liam shut his mouth, his chest tightening.

Yuki leaned back, his arms crossed, exposing more of the sakura blossoms inked into his skin. It made Liam feel even smaller somehow.

“I hated them,” Yuki started, his voice low and controlled. “Those two old men who smiled at me, promised me the world, and then threw me away like trash the second I wasn’t convenient for them anymore. I gave them everything—five years of my life—driving cars that weren’t good enough, hearing excuses that didn’t make sense, and still, I kept showing up.”

Liam’s nails dug into his palms.

“They told me to be patient, to wait, that my time would come. But it didn’t, did it?” Yuki laughed bitterly. “When 2026 came, and the seat was full, I knew I was done. Not good enough for them. Never good enough.”

“Yuki, you were—”

“No,” Yuki snapped, his voice cutting through the room. “You don’t get to tell me that. Not now.”

Liam bit his tongue.

“Do you know what it’s like, Liam?” Yuki’s voice broke, just a little. “To give everything and still not be seen? To know that no matter what I did, no matter how fast I was, no matter how hard I fought, it was never going to be enough?”

Liam didn’t answer.

“Because I’m Japanese? Because I’m not loud enough, not tall enough, not charismatic enough? Or maybe because I refused to smile and play their games when they wanted me to?” Yuki’s jaw clenched, his shoulders shaking. “They said I needed to be more marketable, easier to sell. What the hell does that even mean?”

Liam shut his eyes, guilt clawing at his throat.

“And you,” Yuki whispered, and Liam froze. “They used you, Liam. You don’t even realize it, do you?”

Liam looked up, and Yuki’s eyes were already on him, dark and tired.

“They used you to make me feel small,” Yuki said. “Every time you got praised, every time they pointed at you and said, ‘Look how good Liam’s doing,’ it was a reminder that I wasn’t enough. And I hated it. I hated them for doing it, and I hated you for being part of it—even though I knew it wasn’t your fault.”

Liam’s breath hitched.

“But you know what the worst part is?” Yuki leaned forward. “I didn’t say anything. Not to them. Not to you. Because I cared about you too much to ruin what you had. I couldn’t take that away from you, even if it hurt me.”

Liam opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“And now?” Yuki sat back, arms dropping to his sides. “I’m here. Running a business on a tiny island, trying to pretend I don’t care anymore. But I do.”

The silence was suffocating.

Finally, Liam spoke. “I’m sorry.”

Yuki didn’t move.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see it,” Liam said, his voice trembling. “I should’ve noticed—I should’ve said something, done something—but I didn’t. I was so focused on my own career, my own goals, that I let them turn me into something I never wanted to be.”

He exhaled sharply, hands trembling as he gripped his knees.

“And the worst part? I knew it was happening.” Liam’s voice cracked. “I saw how they treated you, how they talked about you when you weren’t in the room. I heard them compare us—over and over again—and I let it happen because I was too scared to speak up. Because I was afraid it’d be me next.”

Yuki’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes softened.

“I hated myself for it,” Liam admitted. “I still do.”

The words hung in the air between them.

Yuki sighed, leaning back in his chair. He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers brushing against the edge of one of his earrings.

“I wish you didn’t apologize,” he said quietly, and Liam blinked, taken aback.

“What?”

“It’s not your fault,” Yuki continued, his voice steady but low. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Liam. You just… played the game better.”

“That’s not—”

“It is,” Yuki cut him off, shaking his head. “It’s a fucked-up sport. It’s always been like that—cutthroat, political, and ugly under the surface. It’s never just about talent, is it? It’s about timing, connections, and luck. And for once, it worked in your favor.”

Liam’s breath hitched, his guilt still clawing at him, but Yuki’s expression didn’t waver.

“I don’t hate you for that,” Yuki said softly, and that hit harder than Liam expected.

“But—”

“I hated everything else,” Yuki admitted. “The way they treated me, the lies, the fake promises, the way they talked about me like I was a project that didn’t work out instead of a person.” He paused, his gaze distant. “I hated how they made me feel small. How they made me feel like nothing I did was ever enough, even when I gave them everything I had.”

Liam swallowed hard, his chest tightening.

“But you?” Yuki’s eyes met his again. “I could never really hate you, Liam. Not in the way I hated them. It wasn’t always like this.”

Liam’s shoulders sagged in relief, but the weight of Yuki’s words still lingered.

“I was angry,” Yuki continued. “At the system, at the people who pulled the strings, and yeah—sometimes, I was angry at you too. Not because of who you are, but because of what you represented. Because every time they praised you, it felt like they were telling me I wasn’t good enough.”

Liam clenched his fists, but Yuki just sighed again.

“And I’m sorry,” Yuki said, and Liam froze. “For letting it get this bad. For shutting you out when I should’ve said something sooner. But I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to drag you down with me.”

“Yuki…” Liam’s voice cracked.

“I mean it,” Yuki said, his voice softer now. “I don’t want you carrying this guilt. You deserved that seat, Liam. You worked hard for it. Just like I did.”

Liam bit his lip, forcing himself to stay quiet even as his heart screamed at him to argue.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Yuki added, and for the first time, his voice faltered. “I thought we’d both make it. That we’d be there, side by side, at the top. But life doesn’t work that way, does it?”

Liam shook his head. “No. It doesn’t.”

Yuki leaned forward then, resting his elbows on his knees. “I never wanted to hate you, Liam. And I don’t—not anymore. But I needed time. To let it go. To figure out who I am without all of that.”

“And did you?” Liam asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Yuki hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. I think so.” He gestured to the room around them. “This? It’s not what I thought my life would look like. But it’s mine. And I’m happy here.”

Liam’s chest ached, but it wasn’t the sharp sting of guilt anymore. It was something gentler. Something closer to hope.

“I’m glad,” he said softly.

Yuki smiled, small but genuine. “Me too.”

Liam watched as Yuki stood up, stretching his arms before heading toward the kitchen. The subtle shift of muscles under his tanned skin and the glint of the sakura blossom tattoo peeking from under his sleeve made Liam’s breath hitch, but he quickly averted his eyes when Yuki turned to glance back at him.

“Have you eaten yet?” Yuki asked, pulling open the fridge.

Liam rubbed the back of his neck. “Plane food doesn’t count, right?”

Yuki snorted—soft but familiar—and Liam found himself momentarily frozen, the sound tugging at something in his chest. It wasn’t loud like before, not the sharp laughter Liam used to hear echoing in the paddock or during late-night calls after races, but it was still Yuki. And maybe that was enough.

“Sit down,” Yuki said, already pulling out ingredients. “I’ll make something quick.”

Liam obeyed, settling at the kitchen island as Yuki moved around with practiced ease. He was calm—focused in a way Liam didn’t expect. Yuki had always been restless, bursting with energy even when exhausted, but this Yuki? He was deliberate. Measured. Different.

And undeniably attractive.

Liam swallowed hard, eyes trailing over the curve of Yuki’s shoulders and the slope of his back as he chopped vegetables and peeled shrimp. The tattoo inked along his arm shifted as he moved, and Liam blinked, forcing himself to look away when his cheeks began to burn.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He cleared his throat, eyes flickering to the stove where Yuki was stirring rice in a wok. The faint scent of garlic and soy sauce filled the air, and Liam latched onto it like a lifeline.

But his thoughts kept circling back.

Yuki had changed—a lot. He wasn’t loud or hyper anymore, and there was a weight to him now that Liam wasn’t sure how to define. His English had a thicker Japanese accent than before, probably from spending the last three years in Okinawa, and even the way he carried himself felt more grounded, more mature.

Liam had changed too. He wasn’t the wide-eyed rookie he once was. He’d bulked up, hardened under the pressures of the sport, but sitting here now, watching Yuki cook like it was second nature, Liam couldn’t shake the feeling that Yuki had grown in ways he hadn’t.

And maybe that was what made it so hard to look away.

“It’s done,” Yuki said, breaking Liam out of his thoughts. He turned to find Yuki setting two plates of fried rice down on the counter, steam curling up from the shrimp scattered on top.

Liam grabbed a fork without hesitation, shoveling a bite into his mouth—and nearly choking.

“Since when can you make fried rice this good?” Liam blurted, eyes wide as he went in for another bite.

Yuki raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement tugging at his lips. “You think I survived three years here without learning how to cook? I owned a restaurant man.”

“No, seriously,” Liam said between mouthfuls. “This is—damn, Yuki.”

Yuki huffed, shaking his head, but there was the faintest trace of color dusting his cheeks.

“Shut up and eat.”

And for the first time in a long time, Liam smiled.

–

Liam stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up and hands already submerged in soapy water. He scrubbed the plates with a focus that was entirely unnecessary, especially since Yuki’s kitchen was spotless to begin with.

“Liam—”

“Already started, can’t stop now!” Liam interrupted quickly, flashing Yuki a grin over his shoulder before turning back to the dishes.

Yuki huffed, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter. “I wasn’t asking.”

“And I wasn’t offering,” Liam shot back, his tone light but his heart thundering in his chest.

Yuki shook his head, muttering something in Japanese that Liam didn’t catch. It sounded exasperated—probably a curse—but Liam just smiled to himself and kept scrubbing.

The sound came next. A soft, high-pitched meow.

Liam paused, sponge in hand, and turned toward the source of the noise.

“No way,” he said.

Another meow, followed by the soft padding of paws against the tile. And then there they were—three cats, all staring up at him with wide, expectant eyes.

“Yuki,” Liam said slowly, voice dangerously close to disbelief. “You have cats?”

Yuki didn’t even look up. “Don’t judge me.”

“Judge you? No, I’m impressed.” Liam crouched down, extending a hand, and immediately one of the cats—a sleek black one with a little white spot on its chest—sauntered over and rubbed against his fingers.

The second cat, a fluffy orange tabby, flopped onto its back, clearly demanding belly rubs.

“Oh my god,” Liam whispered. “They’re adorable.”

“They’re a menace,” Yuki countered, though the affection in his voice said otherwise.

Liam looked up just in time to catch it—that soft, almost shy smile on Yuki’s face as he knelt down to scoop up the third cat, a gray and white one that curled up easily in his arms.

And Liam? He was doomed.

Because Yuki had always been attractive—sharp-edged and quick-witted, equal parts fire and charm—but this? The soft edges, the calm demeanor, the subtle strength in the way he held himself now? It was something else entirely.

“You’re staring,” Yuki said, looking down at him with a raised eyebrow.

Liam blinked, scrambling to cover. “I was admiring the cats!”

“Right,” Yuki said, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he set the cat back down and leaned against the counter again, watching as Liam stood up, suddenly hyperaware of how close they were.

The tension shifted then—subtle but undeniable.

It wasn’t new. Liam knew that. It had always been there, simmering quietly between them even when they were teammates—late-night talks, lingering looks, and smiles that meant more than they should’ve. But now? It felt sharper. Hungrier.

Yuki must’ve felt it too because he cleared his throat and stepped back, suddenly very interested in rearranging the spice jars on the counter.

“So,” Yuki said, his voice steadier than Liam expected. “You’re good with cats.”

Liam latched onto the topic like a lifeline. “I mean, they seem to like me.”

“They like anyone who gives them attention,” Yuki said flatly, but Liam caught the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Guess I’ll have to come back, then,” Liam said without thinking.

Yuki froze, just for a second, before forcing a laugh. “For the cats?”

“Sure,” Liam replied, but they both knew better.

The weight of it hung there between them—unspoken but heavy. And as much as Liam wanted to push, to close the space between them and figure out exactly what the hell this thing between them was, he didn’t.

Not yet.

Instead, he knelt back down, letting the orange tabby paw at his hand, and pretended not to notice the way Yuki kept looking at him.

–

They settled into the living room, Yuki on the couch with one of his cats curled in his lap while Liam took the armchair across from him. The plates were clean, the cats were fed, and the tension that had hung between them earlier had softened into something more manageable—familiar, even.

“So,” Yuki started, absentmindedly scratching behind the cat’s ears. “How’s life?”

Liam snorted. “You mean outside of flying in private jets and avoiding PR nightmares?”

Yuki raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. The real stuff.”

Liam hummed, leaning back. “Busy, mostly. Traveling, racing, pretending I don’t check your Instagram stories even though we both know I do.”

Yuki’s cat stretched, yawning as if it, too, was judging him.

“Funny,” Yuki said, smirking slightly. “Because I could say the same.”

Liam’s eyes widened. “Wait—you—”

“Relax,” Yuki said, waving him off. “It’s not like I’m scrolling through your tagged photos. Just...keeping up.”

Liam let out a breath, his lips twitching. “That’s a relief. Because if you’d seen half the things people edit me into—”

“Oh, I’ve seen them.”

Liam groaned, covering his face with his hands, and Yuki actually laughed—a real one, light and genuine. It made Liam’s heart lurch in his chest, but he pushed it down and refocused.

“So what about you?” Liam asked, lowering his hands. “I mean—art? I still can’t wrap my head around that.”

Yuki shrugged. “I always liked it. Had time after retiring, so I started sketching. Posted a few online, and somehow it blew up.”

“Blew up?” Liam repeated. “Try exploded.”

Yuki flushed slightly, brushing off the comment.

“No, seriously,” Liam pressed. “You’re Takako.”

Yuki winced at the name, but Liam wasn’t done.

“The Takako. The one everyone lost their minds over when that first series dropped in 2026? The one with the gallery showing in New York last year?”

“Stop.” Yuki groaned, hiding his face in the cat’s fur.

“No way,” Liam said, grinning. “I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner. I mean, the pen name threw me, sure, but the art? It’s so...you.”

Yuki peeked up at him. “Is that a compliment?”

“Obviously.”

Yuki rolled his eyes but looked pleased anyway.

“And the mascot thing?” Liam asked.

Yuki shrugged again. “Perks of being Japanese. People are used to anonymous artists with avatars. Makes it easier to keep my privacy.”

“And you’re nominated?”

“Maybe,” Yuki said, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile.

Liam shook his head in disbelief. “Unreal. Yuki Tsunoda—the guy who used to sneak instant ramen into hotel rooms—is an award-nominated artist.”

Yuki smirked. “And you’re still just driving in circles.”

“Hey!” Liam protested, but he was laughing too.

Yuki leaned back, stroking the cat in his lap. “Anyway, what did I miss? The grid gossip. I know you’re dying to spill it.”

Liam’s grin turned wicked. “Oh, you’re not ready.”

Yuki raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Max confessed to George,” Liam said, savoring the way Yuki’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Bullshit.”

“I swear.” Liam held up his hands. “They’ve been soft-launching for months now, and George finally posted a picture of Max holding his dog like a baby in their private. It’s disgusting.”

“No way.”

“Way.” Liam smirked.

“And Charles and Carlos?”

“Still together.” Liam smirked. “You know they went Instagram official last year. Viral, even. Lots of dramatic vacation pictures and shirtless selfies.”

“Yeah typical,” Yuki muttered, but the corners of his mouth twitched.

“Oh! And Pierre and Esteban.”

Yuki perked up at that. “What about them?”

Liam leaned in, eyes glinting. “Kissed.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Yes, Yuki. I swear. Kissed and now dating. Apparently, they used to be in this weird situationship for years before actually making it official. It was a whole thing.”

Yuki’s jaw dropped, and he ran a hand through his hair. “I need to message Pierre. Immediately.”

Liam laughed, watching Yuki scramble for his phone before realizing he didn’t even have Pierre’s new number. “I’ll text him for you later,” Liam offered.

“Do it,” Yuki said, still reeling. “God, I really missed everything.”

Liam’s grin softened as he took in Yuki’s expression. “Yeah, you did. But they’d all be thrilled to hear from you, you know.”

Yuki hesitated, fingers brushing the phone screen in his hand. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s been so long, god damn, I left and the entire grid turns into a soap opera.”

Liam watched him carefully then, the way his shoulders had relaxed and his expression had softened. It was like seeing glimpses of the old Yuki again, and he couldn’t stop the fond smile spreading across his face.

“Still,” Yuki said, from the phone now looking at him. “It’s nice to know they’re doing well.”

“And you’re doing well,” Liam pointed out.

Yuki blinked at him, looking almost startled by the sincerity in Liam’s voice.

“Yeah,” Yuki said quietly, slowly avoiding eye contact with the blond man. “I guess I am.”

And for a moment, they just sat there—two people who had drifted apart and somehow found their way back to each other.

Suddenly, the peace was shattered by the most chaotic noise Liam had ever heard. A high-pitched yowl echoed through the room, and before he could even register what was happening, one of the cats had launched itself off the couch, landing on the counter with a loud thud.

The other two cats, apparently on some sort of coordinated mission, joined in on the madness, darting around the room with wild abandon. One of them knocked into the bookshelf, sending books cascading to the floor with a crash, while the other went straight for the mug on the counter. Liam barely had time to react before the cat swiped the mug off the edge, sending it hurtling toward the floor.

"NO!" Yuki yelped, diving forward to catch the mug, but the cat was faster. It tumbled down, crashing against the counter with a sharp, horrifying clink, shattering into pieces.

"That is THIRD mug this week!" Yuki groaned, falling back on his heels. His eyes met Liam’s in frustration, but the sight of the cat now sitting on the counter, looking entirely pleased with itself, was too much.

Liam burst out laughing, but that didn’t stop the chaos. The cats were still everywhere—two had jumped onto the coffee table and were now batting at Yuki’s art supplies, and the third had decided that Yuki's lap was the perfect place to take a nap again.

As Yuki reached for the stray cat on the table, his foot caught on the corner of the rug, and in a flash, he tripped—straight into Liam.

"WHAT—" Yuki gasped as they collided, arms flailing. For a moment, everything seemed to slow down, like they were trapped in an action movie scene. But instead of gracefully stumbling backward, Yuki found himself toppling straight into Liam, their bodies crashing together in a hilarious, jumbled heap on the floor.

Liam’s heart skipped a beat, his body going rigid at the sudden contact. For a moment, all he could hear was the rush of his own heartbeat, louder than a Formula 1 car at full throttle. He froze, looking down at Yuki, whose wide eyes were locked onto him.

"SHIT, sorry!" Yuki yelped, scrambling to get up as quickly as possible, but his arm brushed against Liam’s chest, sending a shock of warmth through him. "I—uh—didn’t mean to—"

Liam blinked rapidly, his face turning an alarming shade of red. "No, no, it's fine," he muttered, trying to push himself off the floor and stand, but his legs felt a bit wobbly. "I’m good. Totally fine."

Yuki scrambled to his feet too, looking flustered, his cheeks turning pink. "I—I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking—"

"No worries, really," Liam managed, but his voice was higher than normal. His heart was still racing like he was about to go into a race. "It’s all good."

Just as they both tried to regain some semblance of composure, the third cat meowed loudly from the counter. With a smug look in its eyes, it gave the broken mug a gentle nudge, and it clinked off the edge, sending a small piece flying into the air.

Both Yuki and Liam froze, eyes darting between the cat and the mess.

Yuki sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "That’s it. I’m getting a dog."

Liam couldn't hold it in anymore. He laughed so hard, his stomach hurt. The absurdity of it all—the wild cats, the unexpected trip, the chaos—was enough to finally break the tension between them. He couldn't stop laughing, even as Yuki scowled at the mischievous creatures wreaking havoc in his apartment.

The sound of laughter filled the room, echoing around the small space, and for the first time in a long while, everything felt right.

–

The sun hung low in the Okinawan sky, bathing the small seaside town in a warm, golden glow. Liam followed Yuki into the modest, cozy restaurant tucked between older, weathered buildings. The wooden beams and hanging lanterns gave the space a timeless charm, and the scent of fresh ingredients and simmering broth filled the air.

“This is it,” Yuki said, gesturing around as he led Liam inside. “Welcome to my second home.”

Liam took it all in—The restaurant was small but cozy, with wooden beams and soft lighting that made the space feel warm. It had the kind of charm that invited people to linger a little longer after their meals, chatting over tea or quietly enjoying the ambiance. Liam stepped inside and immediately felt out of place in his designer shirt and watch, but Yuki didn’t seem to care. He moved with ease through the space, flipping chairs down from tables and tidying up before the evening rush.

“This is your side gig?” Liam asked, leaning against the counter as Yuki set out utensils.

“More like my sanity project,” Yuki replied, flashing a quick smile before gesturing to the kitchen in the back. “Cooking helps. Keeps my hands busy.”

Liam didn’t miss the way Yuki’s voice softened, like he’d said too much and was trying to backtrack. But then Yuki shrugged, falling into a familiar rhythm. “It’s nothing fancy—affordable, good food, nothing pretentious. This island’s mostly retirees, so that’s what works.”

Liam watched him, his hands moving quickly as he prepared ingredients, and for a moment, he was transported back to their younger years—when Yuki used to talk about opening a restaurant someday. “You really did it,” Liam murmured.

Yuki paused, glancing over his shoulder. “What?”

“The restaurant,” Liam said, smiling faintly. “You used to talk about this all the time. You said you’d have a place where everyone could eat well without worrying about money.”

Yuki turned back to the counter, but Liam caught the slight upward tilt of his lips. “Guess I wasn’t lying.”

By the time the regulars started calling, asking if Yuki was open tonight, Liam was already seated at the bar, quietly observing. Yuki didn’t hesitate to say yes, flipping the sign on the door to welcome them in. And that was when Liam saw it—Yuki in his element.

The tension Liam had seen earlier, the guarded way Yuki held himself, melted away. Here, Yuki smiled. He laughed. He teased the elderly customers who came in one by one, treating them like old friends. Liam saw how they adored him in return, bringing little trinkets or baked goods to share.

It was only when the bell above the door jingled that Liam snapped out of his thoughts. An elderly woman shuffled inside, holding a reusable shopping bag and wearing a wide-brimmed sunhat. Her wrinkled face broke into a smile the moment she saw Yuki.

“Ah, Yuki-kun!” she greeted, her voice soft but warm.

“Obaa-chan!” Yuki beamed, wiping his hands on a towel before bowing slightly. “You’re early today.”

“I wanted to see you before the sun went down,” she said, then turned her sharp eyes toward Liam. “Who’s this?”

Yuki looked slightly amused. “My best friend,” he said casually, and Liam’s heart stuttered at the words. Despite Yuki it in Japanese, Liam understood it. Best friend. God, he’d missed that. But something about the title felt uneven, like it didn’t quite fit the shape of their relationship anymore.

“You can sit with him while I finish up.”

The old woman didn’t hesitate to walk straight over, gesturing for Liam to pull out a chair for her, in which he catched on quickly. He obliged quickly, sitting across from her as Yuki went back to work behind the counter.

“You’re Yuki’s friend?” she asked in slow, deliberate English.

Liam nodded. “Yeah. From a long time ago.”

She squinted at him, as if examining his soul. “You are far away from home, yes?”

“Yeah,” Liam admitted. “But I wanted to see him.”

Her lips pressed into a thin smile. “Good. He needs friends. Too alone here. Always working, always busy. Never resting.” She glanced over her shoulder at Yuki, who was flipping something in the pan with practiced ease. “He smiles, but not like before. Guarded. Always guarded.”

Liam felt something ache in his chest as he looked toward Yuki’s back, watching the way his shoulders shifted as he cooked. It was true—Yuki had changed. He wasn’t the vibrant, reckless force Liam had once known. He was quieter and steadier, but there was an undercurrent of something heavy beneath the surface.

“He looks out at the sunset sometimes,” the woman continued, her words simple but cutting. “Like he is waiting. Or maybe longing for something.”

Liam swallowed thickly, gripping the edge of the table. “I—”

The old woman patted his hand gently, surprising him. “You talk to him. Don’t let him stay in shadows. It’s no good for the heart.”

He stared at her, unsure of what to say, but she simply smiled and stood up, muttering something about needing to get back home before dark. Liam watched her leave, her words echoing in his head long after the door jingled shut behind her.

When he turned back, Yuki was setting a plate down in front of him, giving him a curious look. “What did she say to you?”

Liam hesitated before shaking his head, forcing a smile. “Just... that I should eat before it gets cold.”

Yuki smirked, clearly not buying it but letting it slide. Liam picked up his chopsticks, but as he took his first bite, his eyes kept drifting back to Yuki—this version of him that was so familiar yet so different.

Because as much as Yuki had built a new life here, surrounded by warmth and laughter, Liam couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still missing—and that maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with him.

–

The night had slowed into something softer, quieter. The restaurant was cleaned, the dishes put away, and the elderly regulars had shuffled home, leaving behind faint traces of laughter and conversation. Liam stayed behind to help Yuki lock up, and by the time they made it back to Yuki’s home, exhaustion was starting to creep in.

It didn’t take much convincing—or rather, Liam’s stubborn insistence—for Yuki to end up sharing the bed instead of the sofa.

“No way,” Liam had said, hands on his hips, blocking the living room like a wall. “You’re not sleeping on that thing.”

“It’s fine, Liam. I—”

“No,” Liam interrupted, dragging Yuki’s blanket toward the bedroom. “Don’t even argue. Come on.”

Yuki grumbled but followed, muttering something under his breath that Liam pretended not to hear.

Now, hours later, the room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains. Yuki’s breathing was steady, his back turned to Liam, the faint outline of his sakura blossom tattoo peeking out from under the loose sleeve of his shirt. Liam had tried not to look, but it was impossible to ignore.

Lying there, with the sound of the waves in the distance and Yuki so close he could feel the heat radiating off him, Liam felt restless. He couldn’t sleep—not with the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on him.

He exhaled softly, his voice barely a whisper in the stillness.

“I don’t think I ever told you,” he began, unsure if he was speaking to Yuki or to himself, “how much it meant. Having you there.”

Yuki didn’t move, his breathing steady, and Liam took it as permission to keep going.

“I thought about it a lot,” he admitted, his voice breaking just a little. “You were the one who kept me grounded. When things got overwhelming, or when I felt like I didn’t belong, you were there. And then—then you were gone.”

His fingers tightened against the blanket, guilt rising in his chest.

“I hated myself for letting it happen. For not fighting harder for you. And I know I had no control over any of it, but still…” He trailed off, swallowing the knot in his throat.

The words lingered in the air, and Liam suddenly felt ridiculous. Yuki was probably fast asleep, blissfully unaware of his late-night confession.

“I just—” He sighed, quieter this time. “I miss you. More than I think I realized until now.”

The room fell silent after that, and the weight in Liam’s chest slowly eased as sleep began to pull him under.

What he didn’t see was the way Yuki’s eyes opened, dark and sharp in the dim light. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe too loudly—just listened.

And when Liam’s breathing evened out, signaling that he was finally asleep, Yuki turned onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

Liam’s words replayed in his head, over and over, cutting deeper than he wanted to admit.

Because the truth was—he missed Liam too.

But saying it out loud? That scared him more than anything.

–

The next day, neither of them brought up what happened the night before, leaving it unspoken. Yuki decided to make a call, informing everyone that the restaurant would be closed for two days so he could spend some time with Liam. It was the only time he ever did this. Since Okinawa is such a small island where everyone knows each other, the regulars understood and sympathized with the restaurant owner’s decision.

The roar of Yuki’s motorcycle had long since died down, leaving only the soft hum of cicadas and the distant crash of waves against the shore below. They were perched at the top of a hill, the kind of place that felt untouched by time. From here, the entire island stretched out before them, bathed in gold and amber hues as the sun dipped lower.

Liam sat on the grass, his legs stretched out, while Yuki leaned against his bike, arms crossed as the wind toyed with the strands of his hair. For a while, neither of them spoke, content to let the silence stretch between them. It wasn’t awkward—not anymore.

But Liam should have known Yuki wasn’t the type to let things fester forever.

“I heard it,” Yuki said suddenly, breaking the quiet. His voice was calm, but it carried weight—heavy and unflinching.

Liam blinked, turning to look at him. “What?”

“Last night,” Yuki clarified, not looking at him. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, sharp and unwavering. “What you said.”

Liam’s stomach dropped. The words he’d spoken in the dark, half-confession and half-regret, came rushing back all at once.

“Oh.” He scrambled for something—anything—to say, but Yuki cut him off.

“It’s okay,” Yuki said, finally turning his gaze toward Liam. “I’m not mad.”

Liam let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, but before he could relax, Yuki kept going.

“But I need you to know something.”

The tone in Yuki’s voice made Liam sit up straighter.

“I didn’t leave because of you,” Yuki said. “Not really. I left because I needed to get away from it—everything. The pressure, the expectations, the way it felt like I was constantly drowning just to keep up.”

Liam swallowed, the guilt tightening again. “Yuki—”

“I hated it,” Yuki interrupted, and for the first time, there was venom in his voice—raw and unfiltered. “I hated how the sport made me feel like I wasn’t enough, no matter how hard I tried. I hated how it chewed me up and spat me out, and I hated how I couldn’t stop loving it even when it hurt me.”

Liam flinched at that, but Yuki didn’t let him sit with it for long.

“I hated myself for not being stronger,” Yuki said, softer now. “For not being able to keep going. But I hated the system more—for making me feel like walking away was my only option.”

Liam didn’t know what to say.

“I didn’t tell you any of this back then because I didn’t want to drag you down with me,” Yuki admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “You deserved your chance. You worked for it. And if I had said something—if I had lashed out—I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself.”

Liam’s throat felt tight. He wanted to argue, to tell Yuki that he should have said something, that he deserved better—but he also knew Yuki didn’t need that right now.

Instead, Liam reached out, grabbing Yuki’s arm and pulling him down to sit beside him.

“I’m sorry,” Liam said, the words barely scraping past his lips.

“I told you to stop apologizing,” Yuki replied, but this time, there was no bite to it.

They sat there as the sun dipped lower, the sky painted in streaks of orange and pink. Liam glanced at Yuki—at the tattoos and the earrings, at the leather jacket and the guarded expression that had started to soften.

“You’re still my best friend,” Liam said suddenly, surprising even himself.

Yuki turned to look at him, his eyes searching Liam’s face for something unspoken.

“…I know,” Yuki finally said. “You always were.”

And just like that, something shifted—something unspoken but understood.

Yuki leaned back, resting on his elbows as he looked out over the horizon.

“You know,” Yuki said, smirking just slightly, “I was really tempted to make you ride the moped instead.”

Liam burst out laughing, the tension breaking completely.

“I would’ve murdered you,” Liam shot back, nudging Yuki’s shoulder.

Yuki grinned, and for the first time in what felt like forever, it actually reached his eyes.

–

Yuki watched as Liam laughed, the sound ringing out like music, and for a brief moment, Yuki couldn’t help but think about how much things had changed between them. How much Liam had changed.

The Liam he used to know had always been the lanky, quick-footed kid, with a wide grin and sharp eyes. He used to be all wiry muscles and endless energy, always cracking jokes and never staying still. But now, sitting next to him, Yuki could see how much more solid Liam had become. There was a weight to him now—his shoulders broader, his chest a bit wider, the muscles on his arms defined even through the simple t-shirt he wore. Yuki found himself glancing over, just for a second, before quickly looking away.

It wasn’t just his body. It was how Liam moved now—more controlled, more sure of himself. The reckless energy that used to make him seem like he was always on the edge of falling apart had been replaced by something steadier, something deeper. There was a quiet confidence in the way Liam held himself now, as though he was no longer trying to outrun everything.

Yuki couldn't help but notice it—notice him.

The way Liam's eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled, or how his lips curved into that smirk Yuki used to know so well. And those eyes... They used to be full of mischief and youth, but now, they were different. There was something in them—something Yuki couldn’t quite place but that he knew was there.

It made Yuki’s chest tighten in a way he wasn’t used to.

He glanced at Liam again, just for a moment, catching a look in Liam’s eyes that was almost unreadable, but definitely not the same as before. It was like there was a quiet curiosity there, something that hadn’t been present when they were younger.

And suddenly, Yuki became painfully aware of how close they were, the way their shoulders brushed as they sat next to each other on the grassy hilltop.

He hadn’t meant to, but he let his gaze drift again. He caught the way the sunlight seemed to highlight the contours of Liam’s jawline, the way his chest rose and fell as he laughed, and he felt an unexpected flutter in his stomach. Yuki’s heart skipped a beat, and he quickly turned his head, looking out at the sunset.

“Stop staring,” he muttered under his breath, but even as he said it, he knew that wasn’t really the problem.

He was aware.

Too aware.

It was strange—having Liam so close, knowing that the boy he used to know so well had changed, and yet still carried some pieces of the past with him. Yuki wasn’t sure how to reconcile the way things were now with the way they used to be.

But one thing was clear: There was something different between them now. Something neither of them had quite addressed, but it was there, just beneath the surface, lurking.

Yuki knew that the look Liam had given him earlier hadn’t been just friendly—it had been something else. Something more.

And as much as Yuki tried to push it away, he couldn’t ignore it. He couldn’t pretend it didn’t affect him, because it did. It affected him more than he cared to admit.

So, he did what he always did when things got complicated—he buried it.

“Alright, alright,” Yuki said, clearing his throat and looking at Liam with a teasing grin. “Enough with the sappy looks, yeah? You’re ruining the sunset for me.”

Liam laughed again, but this time there was a hint of something else in his voice—something Yuki couldn’t place, but that sent a flicker of warmth straight to his chest.

Maybe he wasn’t the only one feeling the shift.

–

The night was thick with unspoken words, the air heavy with something neither of them wanted to name. Okinawa’s quiet buzz seemed to fade into the background as Liam and Yuki sat in the small, dimly lit living room. Everything about the evening felt too real—too final. Tomorrow, Liam would be leaving. He would be back in Austria, back in the factory, preparing for the second half of the Formula 1 season. Yuki, once again, would be left alone, facing the emptiness of his quiet life.

But tonight was the last night. The final night they had together before things went back to how they had always been. It should have been easy—comfortable. They had known each other for years. They should have been able to slip back into their old dynamic. But the silence between them was loud, and the weight of all that had passed between them, all that had been unsaid, sat in the room like an elephant.

Liam stood by the window, his back to Yuki, staring out at the night. He didn’t know what to say. What could he say? His mind was a whirl of thoughts—of memories and the electric tension that had been building between them for years. It was maddening, this distance between them. So much time spent pushing it away, hiding from it. And now, with so little time left, he was struggling to breathe.

Yuki, on the other hand, had been quiet too long. His eyes, which had once been playful, mischievous even, now seemed faraway—guarded, like something was holding him back. But tonight, Yuki knew. He couldn’t stay quiet anymore. The ache in his chest, the longing, the hurt—it was too much. The time they had shared here, these stolen moments, had awakened something in him that he couldn’t ignore.

Yuki stood up abruptly, his movements sharp and decisive. He crossed the room in two long strides, his heart pounding in his chest. Without thinking, he reached for Liam, his hand cupping his face. And then, in a moment of utter recklessness, he kissed him.

It was sudden—unplanned, an impulsive act born of frustration, of desire, of the overwhelming pull between them. It was a clash of lips, a rush of heat, of something that had been building for so long that neither of them could hold it back any longer.

Liam froze for a fraction of a second, his mind scrambling to catch up, to make sense of it. But then it was as if something clicked inside him. He kissed Yuki back, his hands moving to Yuki’s waist, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Yuki’s body was warm, so warm, his lips soft but insistent, as if he had been waiting for this moment, too.

It wasn’t perfect, and it certainly wasn’t careful. The kiss was messy, chaotic, as if their bodies were trying to make up for lost time. Yuki's fingers threaded through Liam’s hair, tugging him closer, and for a brief moment, the world outside ceased to exist. It was just them, tangled together, caught in the rush of something neither of them was ready for but both had wanted for far too long.

Yuki’s hands slipped under Liam’s shirt, feeling the heat of his skin beneath his fingertips. He groaned softly, his fingers brushing against the hard muscles of Liam’s torso, each touch sending sparks through him. He wanted more—he needed more. Liam’s body was real, solid, and alive beneath his touch. And Yuki couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t stop the way his body reacted to Liam’s.

Liam’s hands moved quickly, almost desperately, tugging at Yuki’s shirt, pulling it off over his head. The moment the fabric came off, Yuki’s tattoos were revealed. The intricate designs stretched across his body like a map of his past—motorsport-related ink, logos of cars he had once driven, and delicate cherry blossoms that symbolized his Japanese roots. Liam’s eyes widened, taking in the sight of Yuki’s body—of the tattoos that marked him as his own, as someone who had lived a life far beyond the simple confines of this small island.

Yuki watched the way Liam’s gaze lingered on his body, the intensity in his eyes making him feel exposed. But it was a good kind of exposure. It was the kind of vulnerability that felt like freedom, the kind that told him that he didn’t have to hide anymore.

Liam’s hands roamed down Yuki’s back, and the touch sent a shiver down his spine. His body reacted to the pressure of Liam’s fingers, his breath coming faster as they stumbled toward the bedroom. It was like they couldn’t get there fast enough, as if the distance between them wasn’t enough. Liam was pulling him closer, urging him forward, until finally, they fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs.

Yuki didn’t hesitate. He kissed Liam again, deeper this time, pulling him closer, feeling the heat of his body. Liam responded with equal intensity, his hands roaming across Yuki’s skin as if trying to memorize every inch of him. They were both lost in the kiss, in the sensation of their bodies colliding, of finally being able to touch, to feel, to express everything they had hidden for so long.

Liam pulled away for a breath, his chest heaving as he looked down at Yuki. His eyes were dark with desire, and Yuki could see the storm brewing inside him. But there was something else there too—a softness, a tenderness that took Yuki by surprise. Liam wasn’t just here for the heat of the moment. He was here, with Yuki, because something deeper had been awakened.

Yuki pulled him back down, not wanting to break the contact. He didn’t want to stop. He wanted to feel Liam’s hands on him, his lips on his skin, forever. But before they could continue, Yuki paused, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“Liam,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t keep pretending. Not anymore.”

Liam looked at him, confusion flickering in his eyes, but Yuki could see the understanding in them too. He could feel it in the way their bodies were pressed together, in the way the air between them had shifted. They were no longer just friends, no longer just two people sharing a space. They were something more. And for the first time in a long time, Yuki didn’t want to run away from it.

He kissed Liam again, pulling him back into the abyss, into the overwhelming tide of desire and longing that had been building for years. Neither of them had the strength to fight it anymore.

They tumbled into the night, their bodies tangled together, lost in each other. Yuki’s hands roamed over Liam’s body, feeling the rough edges of muscle and skin, tracing the lines that had hardened over the years. His fingers traced the scars and the tattoos, feeling the marks that told the story of Liam’s life. And Liam, in turn, explored every inch of Yuki’s body, his touch tender but insistent.

For the first time, there were no barriers between them. No hesitation. No walls. Just two bodies, entwined, the bared skin intertwined with the tattoo-covered one, falling into the abyss of everything they had been hiding for so long.

And as they kissed, as they gave in to the heat between them, Yuki knew—this wasn’t just a goodbye. It was the beginning of something new. Something neither of them had ever expected, but both had needed all along.

Their bodies moved together, a symphony of passion and need, and neither of them was willing to stop until the world outside no longer existed. Until all that remained was this—this moment, this feeling, this connection that neither of them could deny.

–

The room was still, save for the occasional sound of the wind brushing against the windows. The night had fallen deeper, the only light now a faint glow from the streetlights outside. The chaos of earlier had subsided, leaving an overwhelming sense of peace.

Liam and Yuki lay tangled beneath the soft, worn blanket, their bodies spent and warm. They had cleaned up, both moving in quiet synchrony as if they were scared that even the slightest movement might break the delicate air between them. But now, in the aftermath, all that remained was the comfort of being close.

Liam lay behind Yuki, his chest pressed gently against Yuki's back, his arm draped across his side. Yuki’s body, small but firm, fit perfectly against him. He could feel Yuki’s breath, steady and deep, as if he were still processing everything that had just happened. Liam closed his eyes for a moment, his hand unconsciously moving up and down Yuki’s arm, soothing and rhythmic.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight of everything—the miles, the months apart, the years of unspoken words—seemed to lift. In this small moment, everything felt right. The reality of the night had settled, and now there was only silence. The comfortable kind, the kind that allowed both of them to exist without the need for words.

But the silence between them grew too heavy, and Liam could no longer ignore the turmoil swirling in his chest. He needed to say it. He needed to speak his truth. He had never been good at these kinds of moments, the delicate ones where emotions ran deeper than anything he had ever known.

With a deep breath, Liam shifted just slightly, his face burying itself into the crook of Yuki's neck. He inhaled deeply, the scent of Yuki’s skin mingling with the fresh scent of the ocean breeze that lingered in the room. He let his breath steady, his hand gently brushing against Yuki’s side.

“Yuki,” Liam began, his voice softer than usual. “I don’t think you understand what this—what tonight—means to me.” He hesitated, feeling his heart beat faster, like a racing car ready to take off. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like everything is different now. Everything we’ve been pretending—it’s like we’ve both been running from it. From what we really feel.”

Yuki remained quiet for a moment, and Liam wasn’t sure if he was listening or if the words had startled him. But then Yuki shifted, rolling just enough so that his back was to Liam, his face half hidden in the pillow. But Liam could feel the tension in his shoulders, the way he stiffened as if he was bracing himself for something.

“I think I’ve known for a long time,” Yuki said quietly, his voice low but steady. “But... I’ve been scared. Scared to admit it. Because if I do, it means things can never go back to how they were. And part of me... part of me doesn’t know if I can handle that.”

Liam’s heart skipped a beat. He had been so caught up in his own thoughts, his own feelings, that he hadn’t stopped to consider Yuki’s fears. He could feel the uncertainty in Yuki’s words, and it hit him hard. The truth was, neither of them had ever been good at confronting what they really felt. They had danced around it, pretended it didn’t matter.

Liam reached out, his hand settling gently on Yuki’s waist, pulling him a little closer. His touch was soft, almost reverent. “Yuki, I...” He didn’t know how to continue. The words felt too big to fit into the space between them, but he couldn’t back down now. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to go back to the way things were before. I can’t.”

There was a long pause, one that stretched on for what felt like an eternity. The weight of their unspoken truths hung in the air, thick with the things they hadn’t said. Yuki was still, but Liam could feel the faint tremor in his body. He could sense that Yuki was processing everything, considering the weight of Liam’s confession, his own feelings.

Yuki finally turned in his arms, his face now fully visible, his expression unreadable but gentle. “I don’t know what to do with this,” he whispered. “With us. I’ve always thought of you as my best friend. But this... this is different.”

Liam's thumb brushed gently against Yuki's skin, his gaze locked on his eyes. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “We don’t have to figure everything out right now. But I can’t go back to pretending I don’t care. Not after tonight. Not after everything we’ve shared.”

Yuki’s eyes softened, and for a moment, Liam thought he might say something more. But instead, Yuki closed the gap between them, his lips pressing against Liam’s in a quiet kiss. It wasn’t desperate like the first, but it was still full of the same urgency, the same emotion. Yuki’s lips were soft against his, and as they kissed, Liam felt everything they hadn’t said—everything they had been too scared to admit—finally begin to unravel.

When they pulled away, there was an understanding between them. Unspoken, but clear. They didn’t need to have all the answers. They didn’t need to figure out the future right now. But tonight, here, in this small bed, in the comfort of the warmth they had created together, they could simply be.

Liam’s hand moved to Yuki’s cheek, his thumb brushing over his skin, his heart full of something he couldn’t name, but it felt like home. “I’m not going anywhere, Yuki,” Liam whispered, his voice full of sincerity. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

Yuki’s gaze softened, his hand resting over Liam’s chest, where his heartbeat was still racing. “I don’t know what tomorrow holds, Liam,” he said quietly. “But for tonight... I’m here. With you. And that’s enough.”

And with that, they lay there, wrapped in the comfort of each other’s arms, knowing that whatever came next, they had taken the first step. Together.

–

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting soft beams across the room. The air felt different today—more fragile, like it was holding its breath. The events of the night before seemed to have changed everything, though neither of them had spoken much about it in the hours that followed. Now, as the sun rose higher, it was time to face the reality of the inevitable. Liam had to leave. The season would continue, and he had commitments to fulfill in Europe.

Yuki was already up, packing a small bag with a few things, his movements deliberate but slower than usual. He seemed lost in his thoughts, his gaze distant as he folded clothes into his suitcase. Liam watched him from the bed, lying on his back, arms behind his head. He didn’t know what to say. The words felt inadequate, but he knew this moment had to come.

The silence was heavy, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that lingered when two people had finally come to terms with what they felt but didn’t yet know how to say it out loud.

After a while, Yuki turned toward him, his expression unreadable, but there was a softness in his eyes. “I’ll walk you to the airport,” Yuki said quietly, breaking the silence.

Liam nodded, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. “Thanks, Yuki.” His voice was thick with emotion, but he couldn’t help it. Saying goodbye always felt like an impossibility, especially now. Not when everything had changed.

The drive to the airport was quiet, the hum of the motorcycle engine beneath them the only sound as they made their way through the streets of the small island. Yuki’s leather jacket fluttered slightly in the wind, and for the briefest moment, Liam wondered if they could just drive forever—if they could escape the reality that was waiting for them on the other side.

When they arrived, Yuki parked the bike and turned off the engine, the soft clink of the key as he pulled it from the ignition ringing in the still air. Neither of them spoke immediately, both of them knowing the end was near. It was the kind of goodbye that neither of them was ready for.

They stood for a moment, the silence between them now a heavy weight that neither wanted to carry. Liam’s chest tightened, the realization that this was the last time he would see Yuki for a while settling deep within him. His hand instinctively reached out, and before he could stop himself, he pulled Yuki into a tight hug.

Yuki’s arms wrapped around him just as quickly, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The world around them felt far away, like nothing existed except the two of them in that single embrace. Liam could feel Yuki’s heart beating against his chest, steady and strong, and it gave him the strength he needed to say the words that had been swirling in his mind all morning.

“I’ll miss you,” Liam whispered, his voice thick. “I don’t know when I’ll see you again, but I’ll make sure to contact you. I promise.”

Yuki pulled back just slightly, his hands on Liam’s shoulders, eyes meeting his with a softness that made Liam’s heart ache. “I’ll miss you too,” Yuki said, his voice steady, but there was a trace of something deeper in his words. “We’ll figure it out. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Liam chuckled softly, though it felt like it was born out of nerves more than humor. “You better not. I don’t know if I could handle that.”

Yuki smiled, a small, knowing smile that made Liam’s chest tighten. “We’ll see each other again. When the time is right.”

Liam nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat. He had to let go, he knew that. But it didn’t make it any easier. He took a deep breath and offered Yuki a small smile, trying to mask the feeling that threatened to overwhelm him.

“You better take care of yourself, Yuki,” Liam said quietly. “Promise me you won’t work yourself too hard. I don’t want you burning out on me.”

Yuki raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk. “You’re one to talk. You drive race cars for a living. Don’t tell me you’re not pushing yourself to the limit every single day.”

Liam laughed softly, his hand resting briefly on Yuki’s arm. “Touché. I guess we both have our ways of taking things too far.”

Yuki’s expression softened again, and he placed a hand on Liam’s chest, just over his heart. “Take care, Liam. I’ll be here, waiting for when the time comes to see you again.”

Liam smiled, his throat tightening once more. He stepped back, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He had to go now. He didn’t want to drag it out any longer than necessary.

But before he could turn to walk into the airport, Yuki’s voice stopped him. “Hey, Liam.”

He turned, looking back over his shoulder at Yuki.

“You’re always welcome here,” Yuki said with a slight nod, the weight of his words settling between them. “No matter where you go. Just remember that.”

Liam’s heart swelled, and without thinking, he crossed the small distance between them and pulled Yuki into another quick hug, holding him tightly for just a moment longer. He could feel Yuki’s warmth, his steady heartbeat, and for a brief second, he wished they could freeze this moment in time.

“I’ll be back,” Liam said, his voice resolute.

Yuki didn’t respond with words, but instead, gave him a small smile, the kind that spoke volumes more than any sentence ever could. The promise was made, not with grand gestures, but with the quiet understanding between them.

As Liam turned and walked toward the airport, he didn’t look back, but the weight of Yuki’s presence lingered with him. He knew, deep down, that this wasn’t goodbye. It was simply the beginning of something they had both been too afraid to admit.

And when the time came, they would find their way back to each other. They had to. Because this—what they shared—was too real to let slip away.

[untilsfe]

Y'know, I really think Stan wasted Inazuma. Like, my interest in Jei dropped off a cliff in general after a certain point, but I especially hate that Inazuma was sacrificed on the altar of Jei's repeating narrative. I didn't like Jei possessing Inazuma in general, but that said I think her going on to live past his control would have been way more interesting than her just dying anyway.

Dude, so sorry for answering so late. But as you can probably tell, I just got the volume you are talking about for Christmas and read it on speedrun. Hope my reactions can tell you something

Umm, spoilers???? Or something.

...

FOR EVERYTHING SACRED IN THE WORLD!!! WHA- WHY?! I'M - - MMMMM!??

Dear anon, I couldn't agree more with you!! I have to admit, since Grasscutter Jei's contributions to the story of Usagi were pretty boring. Kind of a reminder that he was still there, but didn't really more than that.

He redeemed himself with his origin I guess, tho, at what cost? Inazuma. And was it worth it? I surely don't know...

When the idea of Jei possessing Inazuma was introduced I really had great expectations. Mainly because I thought Inazuma would put up a fight. I mean, it was demonstrated that her will was strong enough to overcame Jei a couple of times and recover her conscience.

What was done to her was just plainly unfair. Specially since she had a really wonderful and interesting backstory and yet, we barely have stories with her being more relevant as a character of her own. Not as the objective to pursue or a vessel puppet.

I don't know if Sakai just wasn't interested in that arc anymore or if he wasn't sure of how to end the story without killing Jei?? Because I'm guessing that's the reason he would mistreat Inazuma this way, I can't picture another "razonable" reason. To save Jei's character lineup and keep using him in the future.

At this point I can't even be mad. Just really disappointed. I wouldn't even have minded if she ended up the same way she did, but at least give me something more to it, damn. Because, as I said, it feels unfair; not in a sense of helplessness like in the story of Noodles, where I can feel Kitsune and Usagi's efforts get overpowered by their own limitations. It's just unfair because the story gave us a cue that could've indicated Jei's defeat, and beyond that, Inazuma deserved a better end, as the fighter we know she was.

But yeah, guess we got a replacement with another character pretty similar in tone —that Sakura girl— and that's all.

Look how they massacred my girl Q-Q

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

not to be salty on main again but now that i got to the end. the "we wanted the choices that carry over to matter" really was just bullshit huh

[bunnyboy-juice]

spent the first hour and change at work deleting some old files and am having a grand ol time laughing at myself for not realizing i was a lesbian sooner

[bayofwolves]

they did this to shane

[faaun]

i feel rly sad and conflicted abt one of my best friends on earth but idk who to ask for advice bc i usually would have consulted her in this situation lmao

[the-cpu-system]

Local teenage girl hates her dad and seeks comfort in the idealized AI version of him 🤣🤣🤣😝😝😝⁉️⁉️⁉️

Dialogue from an rp !!

[paperlovesadness]

Me seeing all the comments under Glasto-themed posts blaming Alex for being sick and calling off Dublin

I'm barely able to fold that knife though.... And I'm not trusting myself that it'll stay folded.

[tr0ubl3d-tr4n53nd3r]

I opened up about my body image issues and people called me a horrible person, told me I'm invalidating people with eds and that I'm body shaming people? God what the fuck? Ive got no fucking support system in real life and the Internet just hates me I guess.

[here-there-were-dragons]

my mother is absolutely convinced of some nonsense conspiracy theory that (in her words) "originally humanity lived in peaceful all-woman societies of goddess worshippers who took care of eachother and lived in harmony, while males were roving loners that had no society and never cooperated. that changed when the men banded together and overthrew the peaceful woman-dominated societies, and enslaved us all." and, according to her, this is proof that a woman-dominated world would be innately more peaceful, and that men are innately violent and evil and should be either barred from holding any legal power or leadership roles or at least should be (again in her words) "gelded like bulls" to remove their testosterone before even being considered for such a thing.

she also evidently believes that the problem with all religions today is primarily that they aren't "goddess worshippers", because she seems to think goddess religions are inherently peaceful and pure too and seems to be especially obsessed with "Isis" in particular. the very very few times she's openly considered it unambiguously bad for some population or another to have been exterminated (she's got a bad case of devil's advocating genocide brain), she's gone out of her way to make up some crap about how said people were a peaceful society of goddess-worshippers, almost always of isis. delusions of isis-worship seem to be the only thing that ever causes her to consider any arab or middle-eastern culture, society, or ethnicity to be relatively uncomplicatedly undeserving of extermination, in fact, because every fucking time she doesn't immediately start devils-advocating it and making remarks about how "the rest of the world should box them in and let them blow eachother up" it's when she's whinging on about how whatever specific micro-ethnicity she's thinking about are or were traditional persecuted isis-worshippers.

the sole major exception to her weird fixation on isis worship justifying worthiness of life is the whole israel thing going on, in which she has consistently made very obvious that literally the only reason she's against the genocide of palestine is because it gives her an excuse to even more openly hate jewish people than she already did. and honestly i'm not sure even that's true because i think she's made some offhand remarks about palestinians having probably been peaceful isis worshipers before the jews infected them with christianity or something anyway.

so for the last, however fucking long it's been i've been constantly having to listen to her go off about how this behavior is in the jew's blood or whatever and that they literally invented all genocide because somehow the concept didn't exist before them and wouldn't have ever been invented by the rest of humanity without those jewish aliens dropping it in i fucking guess apparently and she furthermore goes on about how every single genocide and mass-oppression movement in history is directly inspired by them, ESPECIALLY the nazis, and THEN i have to listen to her rant about how, basically, wwii was something they entirely brought on themselves by "dominating the economy and treating everyone not them like shit" and the nazis were just "using their own tactics back at them". and then she goes on a rant about how the people the original jews exterminated back in the day (aka the first ever genocide, which they invented, because jews invented genocide and hate according to her) in the middle east region were peaceful matriarchal isis-worshipers.

and then she starts making comments about arabs being backwards and palestinians either being mysogynist muslims that should be boxed in to blow eachother up with everyone else or secret peaceful isis worshippers corrupted by men's cruel hand, sometimes in the same sentence, entirely dependent on which group she's more in the mood to hate at the time.

it's exhausting. beyond exhausting. her sole purpose in existence seems to be to have the singularly most exhausting set of politics physically possible to fit into one person.

just, sometimes i think, if there really is anything at all to the incredibly stupid and inexplicably popular idea that anyone or anything has a Purpose tm to exist for, i feel like my mother's purpose is to be walking proof to me of a Type Of Guy That Is Real, cause i sure as fuck would have trouble inventing this mess if it wasn't standing right in front of me spewing confusingly bipartisan hate. all of her thoughts and opinions are these long winding nonsense chains that feel like if that man carrying thing sketch about the friend with confusing politics was a person. on meth.