#i saw her speak in 2022 i think? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bruhnze · 5 months ago

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Apple tarts and tiramisu - Lucy Bronze x reader

Lucy Bronze x Barista!reader

Summary: this story takes place in 2022, when Lucy just moved to Barcelona, all fictional of course.

SMUT - MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 10k+ because i yap too much

Apple tarts and tiramisu

It was Monday 7:00, you had an opening shift and was already in the shop for a good half an hour to get the machines starting and take the chairs of the tables. You had opened the doors of the small coffee shop and the still fairly cool Barcelona air blew in. The shop was quite popular by the locals but not really known by others, there was a fairly steady customer base, there were also some offices nearby, from where business people sometimes came in for a coffee or lunch.

But your favorite customers were the football players of FC Barcelona, the coffee shop was down the street from the building where the club offered its players a house if they were international players or came from far inside of Spain.

In the middle of the morning rush an unfamiliar face walked in.

‘’¿Qué puedo hacer por ti?’’ (what can I get you) You said.

‘’Lo siento,’’ the beautiful women said in broken Spanish but with a nice accent ‘’todavía no hablo español, puedes hablar inglés’’ (Sorry, I can’t speak Spanish yet, do you speak English?)

‘’Oh yes, ofcourse’’ you smiled ‘’what can I get you?’’

‘’An iced matcha latte with soy milk please’’ The women said.

‘’Good choice’’ you stated ‘’finally something else then these café solos and cortados, and what is your name?’’

‘’Lucy’’ the women said smiling as she paid and walked to the other side of the counter were your colleague was making and handing out the drinks.

You went on to help the next costumers but not without watching ‘lucy’ as you just found out her name was, getting her drink after her name was called.

Lucy walked away with her drink and you couldn’t help but think about what brought her in, you thought she might be a tourist, even though at first you hadn’t expected that she couldn't speak Spanish, she didn't look like a tourist.

////

It went on like that for a couple of days, Lucy came in every morning that week. You worked Monday to Friday and had the weekend off, when you opened the shop again the next Monday you found yourself hoping to see the English lady again.

The past Thursday you had learned that she was English, that morning she had come in a little later and the shop was quiet, while you made her order you two had chatted, you asked how her pronunciation could sound so good if she could not speak Spanish, then she said that she could speak French and a bit of Portuguese and of course English, and that she was learning Spanish for her job, she had told you she moved from England to Spain for her job.

You hoped she would be in at the end of the morning again and not during the morning rush.

A few hours went by and you hadn’t had the time to wonder about her again because this Monday morning had been very busy and it seemed like about the whole office from across the street wanted a coffee today.

But then she walked in, and this time with a cute little white furred four-legged friend.

‘’Hola guapas’’ you laughed ‘’who have you brought with you, what a cutieee’’.

Lucy smiled ‘’hello, y/n, this is Narla, she is my dog’’

‘’Aw, why haven’t I seen her before!’’

‘’Well I didn’t know if the shop was pet friendly but this weekend I saw someone else with their dog in here so I thought it was okay’’ Lucy shyly admitted.

‘’Oh Lucy, you could’ve asked you know,.. also’’ you said as you pointed to the chalk mural behind you ‘’look, pup-cup and bowl of water $0,00’’ you read ‘’we love perritos here’’. (perritos = dogs)

‘’that’s nice, I bet she would love a pup-cup’ Lucy said, ‘’but also, I can only bring Narla when I have a day off, yesterday I played so today we have the day off’’ she turned to the dog ‘’right Narla, we are gonna have so much fun walking around Barcelona, don’t we’’ she said in a high-pitched voice, like most people do when they talk to their pet.

‘’Ahh’’, you said, ‘’now it makes sense’’

Lucy looked up ‘’huh?’’

‘’You’re a football player?’’ you smiled ‘’right?’’

‘’Yeah, I just signed for Barcelona, but what makes sense then?’’ she smiled questioning.

‘’Oh’’ you blushed only now realizing that you had kind of admitted that you had been thinking about her ‘’It makes sense that you know different languages and that you have come to this coffee shop every day, you probably live in one of the Barca apartments here’’

‘’Oh dear, you’re not going to stalk me, are ya?’ Lucy chuckled, partly laughing about your flushed cheeks.

You spilled a bit of the soy milk you were pouring, ‘’oh god no, sorry, I just- I- , we have a lot of barca players coming in, it is known that there are players live here, they come in quit often actually’’

‘Haha, don’t worry, I was just kidding, I actually got recommended this coffee shop by one of the girls, and actually, I kind of figured you already knew, which I guess makes me kind off a dick, so—’

‘’Nah, you’re not a dick, you're really nice, actually, can I offer you an apple tart? Its on the house, its homemade and it has no sugar in it, but it's not disgusting like the healthy junk’’

Lucy smiled broadly ‘’food is always good’’ , ‘’and with that description you have made me curious, so yes please’’

‘’Good’’ you said ‘’you can take a chair outside or here’’ pointing to the tables inside the shop ‘’or would you rather have it to go?’’

‘’Hmm’’ Lucy said while thinking about it, ‘’guess ill take a chair in the sun, I have the day off after all, might as well take it to the fullest’’

‘’ Yes, I would do that too, good choice, here is your matcha latte’’ you said as you handed her the cup ‘’I will bring the rest to your table in a second’’

‘’Thank you’’ Lucy said as she walked outside.

Two other costumers came in and you helped them, they wanted two coffees to go. After that the shop was empty again.

After a bit you came out with a little cup of whipped cream for the dog and the apple tarte for Lucy. ‘’There you go’’

‘’Oh thank you, that looks good, did you make that yourself?’’

‘’Nahhh’’ you said ‘’my mother made it, this is her cafe actually’’

‘’Ah, that was that beautiful woman behind the counter this weekend’’ Lucy said playfully.

You pushed her shoulder ‘’hey’’

‘’what’’ she acted offended ‘’can’t I call people beautiful? I thought that was nice, also I reckon you said ‘’hola guapas’’ just now, and although my Spanish is not very good yet, I do happen to know what that means’’.

You laughed now too ‘’yeah yeah , I guess if I said that, you can do that too’’.

Then Lucy asked you boldly ‘’Do you perhaps have a bit of time to sit with me? Or do you have to get back to work?’’

‘’I guess I can, shop is empty, but if someone comes I’ll have to go’’ you said as you took the seat next to her.

‘’How come you can speak English so well?’’ She asked you after the two of you had chatted for a bit.

‘’oh that’s a good story actually, I studied to be an English teacher, and after I graduated I did that for 2 years, but then my mom got the opportunity to open a bakery, but she couldn’t find people to hire for this shop, so she wanted to turn it down, when I heard that I resigned and now I work here every workday so my mom can bake’’

‘Wow’ Lucy said after her mouth was empty, while you had told your story she had eaten half of the tart ‘’I love that you did that, because this tastes amazing’’ ‘’but if I understand correctly, your mother works every day, seven days a week, isn’t that tiring?’’

‘’Yeah’’ you laugh ‘’but you don’t know her, she is inexhaustible, sometimes I think she has adhd, but lately it has gotten better with staff, she hired more people, she even went on a holiday this summer, she hadn’t done that in like 5 years.’’

You talked some more and it also touched on Lucy's own experience with adhd, you found out that she had recently been diagnosed, but that it helped Lucy to exercise and since that was literally her job, she said it didn't bother her that much on a day to day base. When new customers arrived, Lucy thanked you and you gave her a tip about a nice spot with a fountain and some greenery before she walked off.

////

This is how it went for a few weeks, Lucy came to get a matcha to go before her training or if she was free a matcha and an apple tart, sometimes she came in with others.

This day she hadn’t come in, it was already quit late in the afternoon and then you saw almost the whole Barcelona femenino squad rounding the corner.

You had just wiped the whole counter and had put everything away, ready to close the coffee shop for siesta time.

One of them entered the shop, and talked to you in Spanish ‘’Hey I was wondering if we could eat lunch here? I know it’s really late but our team had some meetings which were running very late, so the kitchen at the complex was already closed and Lucia suggested that we could eat something here, but we see now that you are already closing things down so I thought I would ask’’.

‘’Lucia?’’ You asked

‘’Yeah, she is one of our new players, English, there’’ she said, while pointing at the dark haired defender ‘’honestly she doesn’t shut up about the apple tarts here’’

Lucy had walked in after seeing Alexia point at her. But you stood with your back to the door, talking to the football player so you didn’t see her walking up.

‘’ohhh Lucy, does she go by Lucia, I thought it was Lucy’’ you said back in spanish.

‘’Both is fine actually’’ Lucy said behind you ‘’but why are we discussing my name when we could be eating pastries’’. She laughed.

You turned around, also laughing ‘’haha, yes sorry, tell them to come in and then you all can order’’

Not Lucy but Alexia walked away to get the teammates.

You asked ‘’so Lucia huh?’’

Lucy smiled ‘’Haha, both is acceptable, I mean on my passport is Lucia, but I guess because I grew up in England it just got Lucy and my dad was the only one calling me Lucia, but the Spanish girls like Lucia more I think, they all call me that’’.

‘’What do you like to be called the most?’’ You asked as the teammates were walking in and took chairs from the tables and handed out the few menus from the counter to each other.

Mariona called over ‘’Lucy you coming? You can sit here, what did you recommend again, I forgot what it was called’’.

‘’Oh I better go help her, but honestly I bet we could order anything and it’ll be tasty’’ she walked past you and whispered "but to answer your question, guapa is nice"

For a second you had to think about what she meant, but then it dawned on you, she had just told you she liked it when you called her guapa. Was she flirting? You thought and actually you hoped so, because if you were honest, the English lady was one of the most common topic of thoughts these last few weeks.

////

You had taken everyone’s orders and you now stood working behind the counter with the background sound of laughter and different conversations.

When the coffee was simmering, you grabbed the baked goods that had been ordered. While laying everything on plates on the tray you caught eyes with Lucy, she looked away quickly and pretended to listen to the conversations around her.

You kept looking at her while plating the baking’s and when she looked at you again you winked at her. Her cheeks flushed and she looked away again.

You grabbed the two trays and handed out the plates to everyone, ending at Lucy, ‘’the drinks are coming right up’’ you said in Spanish and repeated in English looking at Lucy.

‘’Nah’’ Salma said ‘’we say everything in Spanish to her, she wants to learn and she has to’’.

‘’Ah, español para la defensora inglesa, lo tengo’’ (ah, spanish for the english defender, got it) you joked.

‘’thanks Salma, I had just found someone in the city to whom I could speak normal English and not have to speak super slow and now you also order her to speak Spanish to me’’ Lucy groaned jokingly

‘’Sorry babe, pero tienes que aprenderlo’’ Salma said. (you have to learn it)

Everyone laughed and got caught up back in their own conversations.

You held Lucy’s shoulder ‘’we can stick to English if you really want that, but I was just thinking if you would like I can tutor you in Spanish, I normally teach English but I can teach you Spanish’’

You didn’t wait for an answer and quickly went back to the bar to serve everyone their drinks before you slipped in the back and started on some long overdue tasks that your mom had asked you to do a month ago but that were just boring storage chores.

After a good hour you went back in the shop, you still heard the girls talking and no one had pushed the call button on the counter so you knew the team was still occupied, you were freezing because the last 15 minutes you had spent in the freezer room doing inventory. With the clip board you went back behind the counter, ticking everything in to the laptop that was stood open.

‘’Hello’’

You recognized the voice before you looked up, it was Lucy.

‘’hola guapa’’ you joked after seeing she was stood by herself.

‘’oh yeah, spanish, so you were serious on your offer?’’

‘’Que’’ you pretended to not know English anymore.

‘’Eh .. me gusta .. acepte tu oferte .. oferta?.’’ (I would like to accept your offer about those lessons).

You smiled while you correct her ‘’Me gustaría aceptar tu oferta’’ “But okay, if we start doing lessons, we can keep Spanish for the lessons and stick to English for now”

‘’Thanks, it’s not fair really, the Spanish lessons I get are all about football and things around that, I cant really get by in real life with that knowledge’’ She huffed.

You got your phone out ‘’okay so when are you free, for me the weekend or evenings work best’’.

Lucy stared at you.

‘’The Spanish lesson?’’

‘’ah yeah’’ Lucy laughed nervously and also took her phone out of her pocket ‘’uhm, Saturday evening? I have a match in the afternoon so I have to rest after that,. but we can do it sitting down right?’’ She tried to joke but it came out sounding more cheeky then she had meant and she blushed immediately, ‘’I mean like we will not be running’’ she hastily added.

You laughed but replied bold ‘’Yes, we can do it sitting down and we will go really slow’’ but then added ‘’because fast Spanish is very hard to understand ofcourse’’.

Lucy got more at ease, realizing you didn’t mind her flirting even if it had come out unintentionally.

‘’Maybe we can text about the details?’’ Lucy asked handing her phone with the contacts open, ready for you to put your info in.

‘’Ah are you asking me for my number’’ you joked

‘’for educational purposes only’’ she stated ‘’and maybe to ask if the teacher would mind doing the lesson over some dinner?’’

‘’Dinner, that sounds nice’’ handing the phone back ‘’okay, just text me the details, I’ll be there, . with textbooks’’.

‘’Okay’’ Lucy said and turned around to go back to the tables.

You went back to the computer and wanted to get back to what you were doing until you heard her again.

‘’Oh I almost forgot I also came here to pay’’ she chuckled.

You laughed and typed something into the cash register before turning the card reader towards her. ´’easily distracted?’’

She typed in pin after tapping her card against the machine and murmured ‘’not easily but with pretty girls around, yes’’

‘’Oh I thought it was your adhd’’ you replied back

Lucy laughed ‘’oh yeah, maybe I should’ve gone with that’’

The register showed the little green check making clear that the payment was successful ‘’No, I think I like our little tradition,. Guapa’’ you said while handing her the receipt.

Lucy laughed ‘’Okay ill keep that in mind, thank you’’ while she took the receipt from you, her fingers brushed lightly against yours ‘’also thank you so much for staying open for us and making the kitchen dirty again, im sorry about that’’.

‘Haha, don’t worry, it was my pleasure, I hope everybody liked their food’’

////

The days went by pretty quickly, Lucy had texted you a few hours after the team had left the shop and after every time she had gotten a matcha latte she had texted you how good it was.

Today was matchday, also the day that you were going to teach her some Spanish over dinner.

Going from a teacher to a barista made you a bit more broke, a gap that you tried to overcome with some freelance tutoring and some translating jobs here and there, but one big improvement was the free time that had come with the change.

No more papers to grade, no more lessons to prepare. So now, just like every other weekend, you were done with breakfast and was thinking about what you could do this day.

After you had done some cleaning around the apartment, which was already pretty tidy and you had done the laundry, you suddenly thought about your ´date´ tonight, you plopped on your bed and texted your best friend.

@y/n: i met someone cute and tonight im gonna teach her Spanish , help what do I wear??

*incoming FaceTime*

You accepted laughing.

‘’What the actual fuck y/n!!’’ your best friend said.

‘’What?’’ You said, still laughing.

‘’No, don’t play games with me, I hear nothing for like two weeks from you, the last time we spoke was at the gym if I remember correctly, and here I was thinking, oh im sure she’s busy with some project again, damn maybe even helping out her mom, and now I find out you were withholding me from this information, share the details, now!!’’

‘’Hahaha, Im sorry, you know how I get, I forget everything around me when im busy’’

‘’yeah okay, now hurry up tell me everything’’

‘’I love that about our friendship, that we—

‘’Y/N! who , what, where, when? ‘’

‘’Okay okay, I met her in the coffee shop, she came in one day and since then she came in everyday, I found out she just moved here from England for her job, first I didn’t know what she did, then I found out she is a football player, because she told me, and a few weeks later she didn’t come in that morning but in the afternoon the whole team came in because they hadn’t eaten yet, so I took em in, while the shop was closed, then they were teasing her a bit about having to learn Spanish faster even though she just came to this country, and she does not even bad, I mean she has the accent under control, but she told me she is half Portuguese and also she speaks French…

You looked at your phone again, halfway through your ramble you had started staring out the window as you spoke, now you saw your best friend looking at you with her mouth open.

‘’what?’’ you asked ‘’did I say something crazy?’’

‘’Lucy Bronze?’’ She asked ‘’I think you spoke with Lucy Bronze’’

‘’Yeah she is called Lucy, funny how do you know that, although,, the team calls her Lucia actually and… she told me.. I could call her guapa’’.

‘’Wow, I mean, I know you said the Barca player visit your shop, hell, I even met some off them when I was there, but like, damn, you picked up one, and I will tell you how I know her name, she is one off the best players in the world, y/n damn, she won best player of the world did you even know that, also what? Guapa?’’

You explained everything with even more detail and when your friend was finally happy with everything she knew, she asked ‘’so you know she has a game this afternoon right?’’

‘’Yeah’’ you said ‘’I will watch that I guess, if I figure out how I can, you watch It right, can you explain how I can watch that, is it a tv channel?’’

‘’Bruh’’ your friend scolded ‘’I have tried to convince you so many times to watch with me, and now one hottie comes around and you do it in a second’’

‘’You should’ve told me the players were hot , I just thought you were watching for your PE teacher reasons, inspiration for your classes or something’’ you said.

‘’You have them in your shop every week y/n, you see by yourself how they look’’

‘’yeah I just hadn’t thought about it like that’’ you said ‘’wait what did you say her name was again, im on my laptop on Instagram, I want to look at her page’’

‘’Lucy B .. R.. O .. N..

‘’Ah, got it’’ you called out ‘’woah, she has a lot of followers jeez, hey you follow her’’

‘’Yeah, ever since she played at Lyon, that was really her prime, she was so good, she still is, but you know her age and everything..’’

‘’Age?’’ you asked ‘’and everything?’’

‘’She has had like 7 knee operations, and she is 31 I believe, in football that’s old., wait actually she is 31.. isn’t that a bit old for you?’’’

You thought about it ‘’well im 25, so I guess that’s fine, damn, is she really that old? She made a younger impression, hadn’t guessed’’

‘’haha, you should tell her that, in that order too, no actually I think I once saw in an interview that her age was a sensitive point for her, so maybe don't bring it up’’

You laughed ‘’pfft, im not not going to talk about such things, if her ego is to big or she has weird quirks im out’’ ‘’she is hot tho, damn, I scrolled down to far I think, Im now seeing a bikini pic, she has abs for days damn..’’

‘’well she sure is fit’’ your best friend said ‘’if I were gay I would want to bang her too’’

‘’Oh mierda’’ you called out ‘’fuck I liked it accidentally’’

Your best friend was dying of laughter ‘’guess she will very clearly know your intentions now’’

‘’Okay I followed her also and liked the top three pics as well, she probably wont even notice, with so many followers she surely wont have notifications on right?’’

‘’Yeah true’’ your friend said, serious again.

*@never2old4lionking started following you*

‘’huh’’ you said

‘’what’’

‘’some -never too old for lionking- followed me, its an account with like 550 followers and 500 following, im guessing it’s a) Lucy herself or b) a lucy stalker, what do you think?’’

‘’yeah stalker probably,, or maybe its like an secret account, because she is famous and all that, she cant follow her side chicks on her main’’

‘’Oh shut up’’ you huffed ‘’you pest, you-

You got interrupted by a dm, ‘’wait they send me something’’

@never2old4lionking: hola, you like my pictures? -L (maybe better known as guapa to you)

‘’OMG , it is her! Look’’ you screamed, and showed your laptop screen to your phone.

‘’Wow, reply!’’ your friend said ‘’just say you were curious about how you could watch the game because you don’t know how too and that’s why you looked her up’’

‘’Okay, lame excuse, but my brain is currently not working’’ you sighed as you typed something like that to Lucy.

@never2old4lionking: aw here I was, thinking you fancied me, and you were just looking for dodgy streaming links ☹

@y/n: why do think I was looking up how to watch, I have never watched a game, never knew there were hot people involved

@never2old4lionking: I thought you said the players are regulars at the coffee shop

@y/n: Do you have a link or what?

@never2old4lionking: I have tickets?

@y/n: what?

@never2old4lionking: its an at home game, so its around the block, just come and watch irl,

@never2old4lionking: I’ve heard the players look even better irl than on the screen 😉

@y/n: well if you put it like that..

@never2old4lionking: 1 or 2 tickets?

@y/n: I thought you were playing 😉

@never2old4lionking: hahah, your so funny! I mean do you want to take a friend with you?

‘’Say yes, say yes’’ your friend practically screamed as she heard you reading the conversation out loud while typing.

‘’Okay then’’

@y/n: ah, yes that would be nice, I have a PE teacher friend, they love football, she would be thrilled

@never2old4lionking: okay, I’ll send the e-tickets to you on WhatsApp, you sit In the friends and family section, ill try if I can spot you!

@y/n: watching my first football game live and in the family&friends section is something I would’ve never guessed

@never2old4lionking: first- like ever????

@y/n: yeah? Something wrong?

@never2old4lionking: yes? You have a friend that loves football, as you say, and you have never watched??

‘’See, I like her already, I told you sooooo manyyy times, just watch’’ your friend said excited.

‘’I can stop reading?’’

‘’ No no, okay ill shut up’’

@y/n: yeah, she asked me so many times to watch with her, she will probably either kill me when I tell her this or she’ll be your biggest fan, for getting me to watch

@never2old4lionking: hope the latter, need you alive tonight x

@y/n: yes exactly, Spanish lessons are v important ! I’ll tell her that.

@never2old4lionking: okay, ill see you soon, if anything doesn’t work just say you come for me, ill put your names on my list of guests

You shared your and your friends name and put your laptop off and away, ‘’ so now we can go back to what I was texting you about originally , outfits, but now thanks to you I have an extra event, not only teaching spanish but also watching her play, I don’t even have a barca shirt’’

‘’which is crazy by the way’’ your friend interrupted you ‘’but I have three, so you can borrow one, do you want a training shirt, a shirt with my name on the back or Putellas?’’

‘’Who is Putellas’’

‘’omg, wait ill send you a picture’’

…

‘’oh her!, yeah I like her, she asked if they could sit in the café, she is polite’’

‘’that’s the team captain- , ugh y/n I love you so much, do you know how many people would lose their shit by what just happened, getting tickets to watch them from an actual player’’

‘’okay calm down, they’re just people, and they happen to have a special job, but should I behave different then?’’

‘’no no, I think this only happens to you because you are so pure’’ your best friend said

‘’oh come on’’ you called out ‘’just say thank you for the ticket, not all this soppy shit please’’

////

After your friend and you had hung up, your mom had called if you wanted to eat at your parents tonight, you briefly explained the situation, telling her you were eating dinner at someone else’s house and the plan about teaching her some Spanish.

But your mother saw right through you as usual, "so a date" she said excitedly ‘’wait you should bring desert, I made tiramisu, ill drop it off right now’’

Before you could even begin to form an answer she had hung up, 15 minutes later your doorbell rang and a bit after that your mom was gone again and you had an entire glass tray of tiramisu in your fridge.

You texted her thanks with a red heart, knowing she was the best mother you could ever wish for.

Your mom replied, ‘’good luck, she’s cute, hope it goes well’’

You didn't understand why your mother would know she was 'cute' but replied 'thanks'

////

Your friend and you had gotten through all the entrances and security and were finally sitting on the seats assigned to you. You were both wearing a denim skirt and an FC Barcelona shirt.

The team was doing a warm up and there was music blasting trough the speakers ‘’damn’’ you said to your friend ‘’was it always such a spectacle, they are putting on a whole show’’

‘’I mean live in the stadium it’s a show yes, honestly I should’ve thought of this sceme wayyy earlier, what a master plan! You flirt with players, we get to go to the matches for free’’ she laughed.

‘’you can forget it bitch’’ you said pushing her side

‘’what’’ she innocently said ‘’if Bronze doesn’t work out you could try Putellas, she is fruity too, and your already wearing her name’’ she laughed at that last part.

You pushed your friend again ‘’well shut up otherwise this’ll be the first and last time , I didn’t want to wear your name, what if she thought you were my girlfriend’’ you fake gagged.

Now it was your friends turn to push you ‘there was another option you know, the training one’’.

‘’Okay maybe I want to provoke her a bit’’ you admitted.

Your friend looked at you stunned not even knowing what to say.

‘’what?’’ you shrugged ‘’it will be funny, and if not, then I know I wont have to waste time on her’’.

‘’And you wonder why you are single?’’

////

Your friends hand waved before your eyes , you blinked.

‘’hellooo y/n’’ ‘’ the ball is on the other side of the field you know’’ she whispered.

FC Barcelona was 4 nil ahead and currently in ball possession, but that was indeed not what you were looking at, you were looking at nr.15 who had pulled her shirt up to wipe her sweaty face and was now running forward again.

‘’Damn, did you see her abs’’ you quietly said

‘’Bruh y/n, since when are you such a horny mf’’ she quietly replied.

‘’Its been a while okay, but also she’s very hot, it cant just be me’’

‘’No there are thousands of thirstraps made about her’’ your friend laughed.

‘the what what?’’

‘’huh’’ she now looked at you ‘’you don’t know what those are?, oh you are in for a treat!’’

She quickly showed you some things on her phone.

‘’NO’’ you held a hand before your eyes ‘’í cant be watching this, this is not okay, I am supposed to meet the woman in a few hours, sit next to her and all that, eat dinner, teaching her Spanish, damn’’

‘’sorry’’ your friend said, putting her phone away and holding her hands in the air.

‘’Wait can I see it one more time’’.

‘’Nahhhh’’ she laughed, ‘’you are right, you have to act normal later, just watch her here, look’’

And you were just in time to see her score with an header assisted with a corner shot from Guijarro.

////

That evening, after you had changed at home, you rang Lucy’s doorbell with a stack of books in your hands.

‘’Hello pretty lady, come in’’ Lucy called trough the intercom.

On the table there was paella, you were sure she had ordered it, even recognizing were she had ordered it, because you loved that shop too.

‘’Sorry I didn’t have time to cook, I had this thing this afternoon’’ Lucy joked.

‘’Ah, no worries, I had a busy afternoon myself’’ you joked back.

‘’Yeah I tried to look for you but sadly didn’t see you, you did come right?’’

‘’Ofcourse, wouldn’t want to miss that header of yours, wait’’ you said as you got your phone ‘’ill show you pictures’’

You showed her the pictures of you and your friend, you paused when it was a photo with your back visible, look we had a really good view, ‘’thanks again for the tickets, my friend had the best time also’’.

‘’Nice shirt’’ lucy grinned ‘’didn’t have a better one?’’

‘’To be honest, I borrowed this shirt from my friend, I don’t own any football shirts'' you grinned ''but whats wrong with it, you don’t like your captains shirt?’’

‘’No you look good, bet you’ll look even better with Bronze on the back’’ Lucy said still grinning.

‘’Hm, I’ll think about it, maybe if she scores more beautiful goals like that, I’ll walk past the Barca store and grab one’’. You said, acting unbothered.

‘’Okay okay, challenge accepted, next goal I score, you will wear a Bronze shirt’’.

‘’Sure’’ you laughed.

////

The evening went on, the two of you ate and practiced some Spanish, the books hadn’t been opened at all, it was more like Lucy said sentences and you translated them into Spanish and she repeated them to you and then used them in context.

‘’And what is -you played well today-‘’ Lucy asked

‘’Do you just want me to say that to you?’’ you laughed

‘no no’ Lucy laughed ‘now it sounds really bad, yeah no, I want to say it to Aitana, she cant speak english at all really, now i just say bien bien bien to her every second, feeling like a fool’’..

‘’ah okay, its ‘‘jugaste bien hoy’’ you laughed.

Lucy said it a few times, you looked at her nodding because her pronunciation was perfect.

The two of you were sat at the same side of the table, turned in your seats, facing each other.

Then she said ‘’I really want to kiss you right now’’

‘’Okay, I don’t even want to know who you’ll be saying that to’’ you joked, but its "Tengo muchas ganas de besarte ahora mismo". You looked her in her eyes.

‘’si, me too’’ Lucy grinned as she leaned in.

You accepted the initiation and pressed your lips against hers. She tasted amazing and also a bit like the paella you just ate. She placed her hands on you, trying to get you closer. You obliged and scooted forward. After the gentle exploration of each others mouths you pulled away slowly ‘’hmm, that was nice’’ you said, smiling at her.

Lucy nodded and smiled back ‘’very'', ''and just for clarification, that last sentence I did just wanted you to say to me''. She said while turning her chair, so she had the back rest in her back again but was still facing you.

You leaned in again, smiling against her lips you whispered ‘’I figured’’ and you kissed her again.

Her hands found your hips again, trying to pull you even closer to her, which wasn’t possible because your legs where already pushed against hers. The kiss deepened and you had your hand on the back of Lucy’s head. She was still pulling you towards her, you pulled from her mouth and kissed along her jaw. ‘’Come here’’ Lucy said with a heavy voice. ‘’Are you sure?, aren’t your legs like… tired and in need for a rest?’’ you whispered in her ear and kissed it softly.

Lucy laughed and held your face in front of hers ‘’thank you for caring but I really want you to sit on my lap,’’ ‘if you want that too ofcourse’’

You got up on her lap ‘’I haven’t learned you a lot of Spanish and now I’m disturbing your recovery, I hope I don’t have a bad influence on you..’’ you said in a seducing voice pointing a finger in her chest.

‘’Well, it sounds bad when you list it like that, luckily the dinner went well, but maybe we should make an extra effort for dessert’’ she wiggled her eyebrows at you on the last part.

‘’Mierda!’’ you said as you stood up. ‘’Shit, dessert’’

‘’I’m sorry’’ she looked a bit shocked ‘’did I take it too far, too fast?’’

You took her hand and said ‘’no, no, sorry for scaring you, I just remembered when you said dessert, that I forgot the dessert, its still in my fridge at home, mom made it and wanted me to bring it’’.

‘’You talked with your mom about me?’’ she grinned as she stood up.

‘’yeah, well no, I said I was going to eat dinner somewhere else when she asked me to eat at home, and then she filled in herself that it was a date and then she dropped off a tiramisu and emphasized that I had to take it with me because she was sure my date would like it’’ you rolled your eyes at that last part ‘’but I forgot so I don’t even know why I bring it up’’.

‘’ugh, I love Elena’’ Lucy said ‘your mom is actually amazing you know’’.

‘’huhhh, how do you know my moms name???’’

Lucy chuckled ‘’the beautiful lady behind the counter in the weekends? Oh you know, we talk about our shared interests’’

‘’Like?’’ you asked, faking a stern look at Lucy.

Lucy chuckled again and closed the gap between the two of you ‘’just food, nice weather and you know.. you’’. She laughed ‘’funny story actually, this morning she asked me If I wanted to eat dinner with her and her husband, eh your dad, because I had inspired her to make tiramisu again but she had made 2 trays accidentally and now she had to much, but I said to her that I really liked the offer but that I had a dinner date tonight, but that wanted a raincheck, but that she didn’t understand,,.. speaking of that, how do I explain raincheck in Spanish’’

You laughed and gave her a quick kiss ‘’wait now her text makes sense’’.

‘’what did she say’’ Lucy asked excitedly.

‘’She’s cute, hope it goes well, . I wondered how she could ever know’’ when you saw her cocky smile you pushed her to her chest ‘’don’t let it go to your head stupid’’.

‘’Soooo, are we going to yours?’’ She asked.

‘’Well I guess if you want that dessert, then yeah’’ you said ‘’but the dessert you were talking about just now also sounds kinda good?’’

She gasped jokingly ‘’kinda good, you mean amazing, mind blowing, indescribable?’’

You laughed ‘’woooww, cocky much?’’

‘’Well I guess we should go to yours, then have both and you can rate it yourself’’ Lucy grinned.

////

The two of you were making out in the elevator but then the ‘ding’ sounded, that indicated you had reached the top floor, the floor of your apartment.

You had an apartment in the center of Barcelona, a quaint old building with nice high ceilings.

You opened the door and dropped your keys in the bowl that stood on the cupboard in the hallway.

‘’Wow’’ Lucy chimed ‘’this is nice, your place has so much character’’.

Your place had dark oak floors, and the accents of your interior were dark green with gold and orange accessories, there were plants here and there, including in the kitchen, where there were plants with edible leaves such as basil and chives. It was pleasantly cool in the apartment, not because of air conditioning but because the walls were so thick and all the window shutters had been closed all day.

‘’yeah i love this place, bought it a year ago through an acquaintance, I was really lucky getting it’’

Lucy smiled at you ‘’show me around?’’

////

After a while of looking at your view from the roof terrace you stood back in your bedroom, the air between the two of you thick with unanswered lust, as she stretched as you closed the balcony door you saw her abs as her t- shirt lifted up a little, she was wearing a t-shirt and shorts, and you saw an edge of her underwear, she was wearing boxers, - god - you thought to yourself - she's so incredibly attractive- and you couldn't help but I thought back to the thirst trap your best friend had shown you that afternoon.

You left the key in the door and walked over to her "where were we" you said softly in her ear as your hand disappeared under her shirt.

‘’hmm’’ she groaned as you placed wet kisses from her ear to her neck.

She picked you up and walked to your bed, "I believe we were kissing in the elevator, but I guess we can continue here."

Lucy sat on the edge of the bed with you on your lap, you pulled her shirt over her head, she wanted to do this to you too but you stopped her when you suddenly remembered that you hadn't put on any sexy underwear at all, you had wearing comfortable underwear that you had been wearing all day and when you changed to go to Lucy's for dinner you had only changed your clothes.

‘’Wait’’ you said ‘’i- im, I think im a bit underdressed’’ and your cheeks got red.

Lucy laughed ‘’and I thought your English was perfect, do you mean overdressed? because that's exactly what I wanted to help you with’’

You chuckled and held her shoulders, then you spoke in an uncertain voice ‘I mean my underwear, I’m wearing an ugly pair, I hadn’t really planned this far ahead’’.

Lucy brushed some hair out of your face, ''what do you want me to do, I'm sure whatever you wear you look perfect, but if you want me to do something or nothing, just say so, just talk to me pretty girl’’

You looked down and saw Lucy's beautiful body, she was wearing a black bra that fit perfectly around her breasts and below that her bulging abs were visible ‘’is it stupid if I put on lingerie now and then come back to you?’’

‘’I mean, you don’t have to do it for me, but if it gives you confidence I’m all for it’’ Lucy said as she took your hands from her shoulders ‘’or I can just undress you very quickly with my eyes closed’’ she smirked.

‘’Oh really, you don’t want to see, is that how much you care?’’ You teased pretending to be offended and crossing your arms.

She tickled you , making you squirm in her lap, you ducked to the side, onto the bed, and tried to crawl away from her.

‘’Okay okay, I surrender!!!’’ you screamed out laughing into the bed, almost running out of oxygen.

She rolled off of you and was now lying next to you on her side, you also turned to your side and you looked at each other, when your eyes met you both burst out laughing.

You stood up and she looked at you confused, ''give me one second'' you said to her, while quickly pulling a dark blue lingerie set from your closet drawer and disappearing into the bathroom.

That evening you wore tanned shorts and a matching blouse, both made of linen, with a very light green tank top underneath. You quickly took it all off and put on the blue set, then you just put your blouse over it, not caring to put on the pants and top anymore.

You opened the sliding bathroom door again and saw Lucy now lying straight on the bed, leaning on her elbows, with an expectant look in your direction. When she saw you, without pants, she sat up. You already walked over to her and climbed onto the bed until you were sitting on her lap again, for the third time this evening.

When your blouse, which you had not buttoned, fell open, her eyes took in your body.

''It's rude to stare'' you whispered as her gaze was still rested on your body.

She looked up, and you swore you recognized a twinkle in her eyes, ‘’sorry’’ Lucy said ‘’we talked about this before, pretty girls being distracting and all that’’.

You kissed her and pushed her back, forcing her to lay down again, after a hungry kiss your lips wandered to her jaw, neck, chest, then you removed her bra, she quickly cooperated.

You licked her nipples and placed some kisses along both boobs. You kissed lower and lower and landed at her stomach. You licked the lines of her toned muscles and sloppely kissed all the way to her hip bones.

She was still wearing pants, when you looked up you saw Lucy leaning on her elbows watching what you were doing, you raised your eyebrows as a form of asking for consent, she nodded eagerly, her eyes were full of lust and her pupils were dilated.

You undid the button of her pants and unzipped them, she already lifted her hips up to give you room to take off the shorts. Then you saw the black Calvin Klein boxers, with the white elastic band that you had seen a small glimpse of before, a dark spot was visible between her legs.

You placed your hands on the inside of her thighs and leaned towards her face for another kiss.

When your tongue slipped inside her mouth and your hands went a little higher up on her legs, she let out a low moan.

She tried to push the blouse you were still wearing off your shoulders, you took it off while you were still kissing and flung it somewhere next to the bed, you took of her underpants.

Lucy tried to flip the two of you ‘’nuh uh’’ you laughed after you broke the kiss and looked at her. ‘’don’t be impatient, let me make you feel good’’. You repositioned yourself so only one of your legs was in between Lucy’s and as you started kissing her neck again you pushed your knee against her core. Lucy groaned and her hips started moving, searching for some friction.

Leaving a trail of kisses along her body, you find yourself between her legs, you kissed her hips, thighs, groin, slowly working to her aching, throbbing pussy.

Lucy's hand found its place in your hair, she didn't hold it very tight but tight enough to direct your head to where she needed it most.

You decided you had teased her enough and started working with your tongue, after a few minutes she was a moaning mess, you licked her clit and also wanted to use your hand to satisfy her but you didn't know if she would like that so you looked up and asked "can I use my fingers?"

Lucy, who had laid her head down on the pillow, looked at you between her legs, your chin was glistening and there was a glint of lust in your eyes, which combined with you asking for consent could make her cum on the spot.

‘’mhmm’’ lucy moaned, her eyes rolling back ‘’please y/n, use your fingers’’.

In a few minutes you made her come, you had noticed that she wasn't really loud in the bedroom, well, of course you hadn't seen that much yet but so far it was only low groans and moans and the few words they had exchanged, you found it exciting when she had said your name and wanted to hear more.

So as you worked Lucy through her orgasm, you started to build up again, moving your fingers from circling her clit, back to inside her. Deserving a moan.

You brought your mouth back to her clit and hummed against it tasting her again. You sucked and licked, trying to discern from her reactions what made her feel best.

You took your time slowly working her up again, taking into account that she was still sensitive from the first orgasm.

When you found a good rhythm and did something that really worked for lucy, her grip on your hair tightened, "like that y/n’’ she said in a shrill voice.

Hearing your name from her mouth again was exactly what you needed and you pushed her over the edge again.

This time she came harder than the last, her legs clenched around your face, after her high, you gradually slowed your rhythm and cleaned her with your tongue.

You crawled up, because you wanted to kiss her again, and saw that she had a hand in front of her face, you pulled it aside and saw her with a completely blown out face, her cheeks were pink, her forehead was clammy and her eyes held complete bliss.

‘’Can I kiss you’’ you asked, not knowing if she would want to taste herself.

She looked at you smiling ‘’Of course you can, pretty girl’’.

‘’So… tiramisu?’’ Lucy asked as she pulled away from the kiss slowly regaining her consciousness.

‘’yeah’’ you said with a little disappointment in your voice, secretly hoping that she would give you something in return.

Lucy laughed, she had hoped this would be your reaction, now knowing that you wanted her as much as she wanted you, she said ''because I need some fuel for later'' and gave you one more kiss.

You threw a t-shirt and some briefs at her and walked to the kitchen, you were still wearing the blue underwear yourself, you put up your hair in a bun but you didn't put any clothes back on, enjoying Lucy's eyes roaming your body.

The cool air in the kitchen made your nipples hard, while you grabbed the tiramisu from the fridge and served it up, Lucy sat down at the cooking island on one of the stools.

"This feels like a dream" she said swooning, you looked up and asked "a dream?"

"Yes" she said, her eyes glued to your breasts "I'm in Barcelona with the prettiest lady I've ever seen, who just made me cum twice and now she's serving me the best tiramisu I will ever eat."

You laughed ‘’first of all, my eyes are up here’’ Lucy looked at you smugly ‘’and second of all , you haven’t even taste-

Before she could say another word Lucy had put a spoon full of the dessert into her mouth, her eyes rolled back dramatically and she moaned ‘’soooo delicious, definitelyy the best tiramisu I've eeever had’’.

You couldn't suppress your laugh, ''okay, even better, I was going to rate the two desserts, remember?’’ ‘’You don't like losing right, so you'll have to try your very best’’ you teased.

‘’i guess so’’ she smirked.

…

When you put the tray back in the refrigerator and put the plates in the dishwasher and was getting a cloth to wipe the counter, you felt Lucy coming up behind you.

She kissed your neck, while her hands held your hips, she whispered against your skin "I'm full of energy again" she kissed you just behind your ear, you shivered "how are you feeling?" Lucy asked.

‘’g- great’’ you muttered as Lucy pressed her front into your back.

‘’I forgot were your bedroom was, could you show me again’’ she whispered.

You giggled and turned around in her arms "got distracted during the tour?"

‘’Yeah like I told you before, pretty girls and all that’’ Lucy said to you and kissed you, she tasted like cacao and cream, you jumped a little when you were suddenly lifted up and grabbed onto Lucy tightly ‘’I got you’’ she said.

She walked you to the bed and carefully laid you down, you grinned at her.

‘’What?’’ Lucy asked suddenly a bit shy.

‘’You apparently knew where the bedroom was after all, I hope pretty girl wasn’t a lie..’’ you fake pouted.

‘’such a pretty girl’’ Lucy said as she sat on her knees between your legs, she looked at your breasts while her hands trailed up and down your thighs.

‘’do you like them?’’ you chuckled.

Lucy shifted her gaze to meet your eyes, she looked confused ‘’them?’’

‘’My tits’’ you said placing a hand on your chest ‘’you keep looking at them’’ you say still chuckling.

‘’hmm I don’t know, I haven’t met them properly’’ Lucy said resting her eyes back on your boobs.

That statement turned your chuckle into a laugh, you sat up a bit more and took of your bra, you laid down again, pulling a pillow under your head.

Lucy looked eagerly and repositioned herself so she could reach your nipples with her mouth.

…

She slowly kissed her way down, you felt the air on the wet trail left behind, you thought it took way too long, Lucy took her time and seemed to kiss every inch of your body except where you wanted it most right now.

The goosebumps all over your body and the palpitations between your legs were almost too much, Lucy looked up at you, as your back arched and saw your frustrated look.

“Let's finally take this off,” she said as her fingers pulled at the sides of your thong, you lifted your ass off the bed so quickly that she laughed and she imitated what you had said to her earlier that night ‘’don’t be impatient, let me make you feel good’’.

‘’Impatient?’’ you moaned ‘’I waited all damn day’’.

‘’All evening’’, she tried to correct you.

You shook your head, ‘’no, you knew what you were doing when you lifted your shirt during warm up’’ you said pretending to be frustrated.

‘’hmmm, told you it was hotter irl’’ she laughed as she took her shirt off.

Your gaze immediately trailed to her abs.

‘’And you called me out for staring’’ she gasped ‘’don’t burn holes in them please’’ she joked as she put her hands before your eyes and kissed you.

A moan escaped your throat as the kiss became hotter and her hands were no longer in front of your eyes but everywhere else on your body.

She lowered herself to your pulsating heat, gliding two fingers between your labia she looked at you. You nodded eagerly and bit your lip.

She teased your entrance with her fingers and pushed one in slowly, your head fell back on the pillow and you closed your eyes to be able to put all your focus on the sensations that overtook your body.

As she slowly pumped in and out she kissed your inner thigh, you groaned from the extra sensation.

When Lucy felt you were ready for it she entered you with a second finger earning her another moan from you, she watched your reaction closely and had figured your body out quit quickly.

With her tongue on your clit and her fingers working magic you were almost coming undone already, she looked up at you ‘’don’t hold back y/n, come for me pretty girl’’ she cooed.

When her mouth was back on your sensitive button it didn't take long before the knot in your abdomen untied and you felt your orgasm ripple through your entire body.

She lapped up your orgasm and looked at you from in between your legs.

That image sparked a new hunger within you and you were ready to continue, you looked at her with longing in your eyes.

She came up to kiss you, but before your lips touched she asked "would you like to sit on my face now?"

You gulped and almost ran out of breath to answer ''yeah'', you answered breathing heavily from anticipation and the aftermath of the orgasm you had just had.

She kissed you and steered your body so that you were sitting on her lap again, it was so effortless, lucy was very strong, it turned you on how it felt like you weighed nothing to her.

You moaned into her mouth as you tasted yourself on her tongue.

You were holding the headboard as you were riding Lucy’s face, she seemed to be just as lost in the action as you were, she held you down with her hands, squeezing your ass, making you lean even deeper on her face.

You had thrown your head back and the noises you produced excited Lucy even more.

She moaned beneath you, the vibrations of that making you feel even better than you already did.

When you rutted against her face a couple more times, you came again, you rode out your high and when you felt Lucy's grip loosen you got off and laid down next to her on the bed.

Your chest rose and fell violently as you tried to catch your breath again.

Next to you, Lucy was now laying on her side, looking at you with her head resting on her hand.

You turned so that you were now lying on your side as well.

She took your hand in hers, brushing your fingers with hers ‘’was it good?’’

‘’hmm, very’’ you said closing your eyes.

She kissed your neck and your chest again ‘’ready for more’’ she asked against your skin.

You were actually quite tired already, but your hunger for more off Lucy was greater than that.

You moaned as she took a nipple into her mouth, her hand travelling further down, she entered you again, with two fingers, not just one first to let you get used to it like before.

You felt the tension in your core building up again, Lucy had an effect on you that you had never had with anyone else, just by seeing her you got impossibly turned on

She positioned herself so that she was thrusting her lower body with her hand, the fingers of which were inside you.

Now that she was sitting up straighter you had a perfect view of her abdominal muscles that flexed with every movement.

The ungodly pace she maintained, that made you feel like your body was leaving itself, floating on a cloud of pleasure, could possibly only be achieved by professional athletes, and you were amazed that she managed to do this even after 90 minutes of playing.

When she reached for your clit with her other hand and stimulated it exactly how you needed it, you came for the third time that evening.

But it was a different feeling, it overtook you, you were completely disconnected from the world and swallowed up by a sensation of pleasure that you had never felt before.

You felt so much wetness between your legs that you thought you had peed yourself, you felt it gushing out of you and when Lucy pulled out her fingers only to dip her head in, you couldn’t control they way your body reacted.

You head flung back and you arched your back, your hips jolted.

Lucy played into it and tried to push you over the edge again without overstimulating you.

It worked because you felt it happened again, this time your liquid gushed all over the lower part of Lucy's face who was still not moving away.

You were a moaning mess and you couldn't feel parts of your body, you felt too weak to push her away but you couldn't take any more.

Just as you were about to try and talk she stopped and was now placing soft kisses on you, all the way back up and she ended with a kiss on your forehead before plopping herself down next to you.

You summoned every bit of energy within yourself to turn towards her and lay down against her, half on top of her, with your head on her chest.

Her hand was on your back and every now and then she trailed a light pattern on your skin with her nails.

After a couple more minutes of blissful silence she spoke ‘’how do you feel?’’.

‘’Hmmm’’ you uttered not quite being able to speak just yet.

‘’Do you have a bathtub?’’ she asked you.

You moved your head against her chest and made a noise, you were sure she wouldn't understand but she gently got out from under you and walked to the bathroom.

…

After you heard the bath running for a while, and hearing other noises you thought were from lucy looking for some clothes and towels, you saw lucy nearing you again.

You smiled at her, having regained some of your bodily functions again.

‘’Hey pretty girl’’ she said softly ‘’ready for a bath?’’

‘’Only if you join me’’ you said cheekily, you stood up and intended to walk to your bathroom only to find yourself stumbling over your own feet.

‘’woah’’ Lucy said as she caught you ‘’wait let me help’’.

You yelped as she easily lifted you of the ground and walked you to the bath, she lowered you in carefully ‘’is the temperature good?’’ she asked.

‘’Perfect’’ you say ‘’are you coming in too?’’ looking at her expectantly.

‘’In a second pretty girl’’ she said a placed a kiss on you forehead ‘’were do you keep you bed sheets?’’

Your cheeks became redder then a tomato as you told her were she could find clean bedding.

‘Heyyy’’ Lucy said while cupping your face ‘’your not embarrassed are you?’’

You looked away ‘’yeah I am a little bit, it felt like I wedded the bed and just now tripping over my own feet, that was also kinda embarrassing’’.

‘’No, don’t be please, you just squirted and your legs will work again after the bath’’ Lucy smiled at you ‘’don’t be embarrassed pretty girl, it was very hot’’.

…

After the bath the two of you were drying off and Lucy asked, "Do you want me to go or stay?"

You looked at her in surprise ''stay of course’’ .. ‘’or did you want to leave?’’

‘’No’’ Lucy said ‘’I really like to be with you’’

‘’Is this some weird way of saying the sex was good’’ you joked

Lucy laughed ‘’no, but I’m glad you feel that way, I meant that.. I .. I if we .. would you’’.

‘’Oh spit it out’’ you laughed at Lucy getting lost for words ‘’ for a lady who just did all that, you can't be get all shy now’’ you poked her side causing her to drop her towel.

She quickly pulled it back up and around her and grinned ‘’do you want to date me?’’

You were still laughing about her nervousness but hearing the question you dropped your jaw ‘’you would want to date me?’’ you asked suspiciously.

She looked at you questioningly, and then a grin came on her face, ‘’yes I need unlimited desserts’’.

‘’’woowwww, you could just befriend my mom you know’ .. ‘’don’t need to date me for that’’ you scoffed.

‘’Well yes, those desserts too ofcourse , but they can not teach me Spanish’’ she said, still wearing that shit eating grin.

You gasped exaggeratedly and reached for your heart ‘’is that all I am to you, a Spanish teaching dessert’’.

‘’well I mean, we said you would give ratings but if I may take the liberty to compare only the flavors, I don't know which would win, tiramisu on a close second I think’’ she winked at you.

You were too stunned to speak.

She went on ‘’but if we discuss the complete picture, the tiramisu obviously doesn't come anywhere close’’

‘’You have such a way with words’’ you say ‘’such a way with everything’’.

‘’Thanks?’’ she laughed ‘’ I hope it’s a compliment?’’

‘’Yes, it’s a compliment, it’s the reason why I say yes to your question’’.

more parts

#lucy bronze smut #lucy bronze #woso fanfics #woso smut #lucy bronze x reader #smut #woso imagine #woso x reader

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lilacmingi · 3 months ago

Text

HADES (DISNEY VILLAINS AU)

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works. NO SPAM-LIKING PLEASE

Pairing: Hades!Hongjoong x fem!reader

Word count: 2,830

Note: This imagine is part of my Disney Villains series from 2022 on Wattpad! 😈 Also!! I have a new rule in place. NO SPAM-LIKING PLEASE! Reading through a series and liking the post when you’re done is fine, but don’t go through and like multiple imagines one after the next consecutively please! I don’t wanna get shadowbanned </3 if you wanna save multiple imagines to read later, like my masterlist instead!

It was a boring day in the Underworld. The flow of souls coming in was lower than usual, which meant Hongjoong didn't have much to do. His poilished, black nails tapped against the arm of his throne as he stared blankly into the flames before him.

He was bored to death.

He snapped his fingers, his two lackeys appearing in a puff of black smoke.

"You called?" Wooyoung asked, brushing his hair away from his face.

"It's a slow day." Hongjoong responded.

"We noticed." San added, suppressing a yawn.

"I was thinking we could have some fun in the mortal realm today. What do you think, boys?"

The duo shared a look, mischievous smirks tugging at their lips.

Hongjoong took that as a yes.

The three disappeared in a cloud of black smoke, appearing in the mortal realm somewhere away from the crowds. Hongjoong was quick to disguise himself in his human form. His extravagant, black attire was replaced with cream-colored robes to blend in. He looked at the two stood across from him.

"What have you got?" He asked, indicating for the two to show him their disguises.

In an instant, the pair turned into two children.

A wicked smile spread across Hongjoong's features.

"Perfect. No one ever suspects children."

"What do you want us to do, boss?" San inquired.

"Go wreak havoc. Steal something, harass the elderly, let the livestock loose in the streets." He ordered, listing off things that would cause disturbances.

"You got it." The two saluted Hongjoong before scurrying off into town leaving their boss to watch the chaos ensue.

You strode through town, perusing the different carts lined up along the dusty streets. You didn't need anything in particular, you just wanted to get out, stretch your legs, and get some fresh air.

Suddenly, you heard a commotion from somewhere behind you. You turned around to see what was going on, and when you did, two little boys ran by nearly knocking you off your feet as they did so. You stumbled a bit but was quick to regain your balance as you saw the two kids run over to a nearby fruit cart. You couldn't help but notice one of them going to steal an apple. Just when you were about to speak up, the lady running the small business began shouting at them, shooing them away. You frowned, feeling sorry for the two boys.

"Excuse me." You called out, stepping towards the fruit cart. "What's going on?"

"These two ruffians tried to steal my goods!" She spoke harshly, her voice a bit gravelly.

"They were just hungry, I'm sure."

"Lady, do you see the chaos these two have caused?" She pointed to the other vendors' carts lining the street. Some appeared to have things knocked off, the sellers trying to gather their goods out of the streets.

"I'm sure they didn't mean to. They were probably just having fun and weren't paying attention. Right?" You asked, turning to the children.

They both nodded.

You then bent down to their level, looking at the two of them. One had short, choppily cut black hair, the other longer brown hair with subtle waves. They both looked to be around the same age, maybe seven years old. You weren't too sure. Either way, you weren't going to leave them without making sure they were alright and out of trouble.

"Where are your parents?" You asked.

Neither said a word.

"Do you have parents?"

The one with brown hair nodded while the one with choppy black hair shook his head. You weren't sure what to think of that, so you chose to overlook it.

"Are you guys hungry? I'll get you something."

The two shared a glance before nodding.

You stood up to face the lady running the fruit stand.

"I'd like two apples, please."

"For these two delinquents?" She asked, harshly.

"I'm giving you business, so why does it matter who I give them to?"

The vendor pressed her lips together, knowing she couldn't possibly refuse a paying customer.

"Alright." She huffed, taking the money from me.

"Thank you." You gave her a friendly smile, picking two apples from the woven baskets on the cart and handing them to the boys.

"Thank you, Miss." The brown-haired boy smiled, his cheeks round like bread.

Hongjoong, who was watching from a distance witnessed the whole thing. He felt something in his chest when he saw how kind you were towards San and Wooyoung. It was an odd feeling he hadn't felt before—ever. He wanted to talk to you right that instant. He then stepped out of his hiding spot and began walking over.

"San! Wooyoung!" He called.

You lifted your gaze at the unfamiliar voice, your eyes landing on a man with straight, black hair. He had a prominent nose that came to a point; it was dainty and reminded you of a fairy. He hurried over to the two children, crouching down to their height.

"There you two are." He spoke.

His voice was unique. It was a bit higher than you expected, but so light and airy. You could listen to him talk all day.

"Oh. Do you know them?" You inquired.

"Yes. I'm their... older brother, actually."

"Ah. I thought they were lost so I bought them apples. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. That was very kind of you." He went quiet for a moment before piping up. "I'm Hongjoong. That's San and that's Wooyoung."

"I'm Y/n." You introduced yourself.

"Nice to meet you." Hongjoong smiled warmly.

"Thank you, Miss Y/n." The boy with the choppy hair, who you now know as San, thanked you.

"Yeah. You're really nice." Wooyoung spoke up.

"Thank you, boys. You're awfully kind."

"You were so nice to my brothers, I feel like I should do something for you in return. You know, as a way to say thank you." Hongjoong spoke.

"That's alright. You don't have to do anything for me."

"I insist."

"Well, if you must."

"Would you be interested in a visit to the theater?"

"The theater?"

He nodded with a smile.

"That's a very nice offer."

"Is it something you'd be interested in?"

"I would."

"Wonderful." He beamed.

His smile was incredible. His teeth were stunning and so white. You'd never seen anyone with a smile as perfect as his.

"We could meet by the colosseum tomorrow when the sun reaches the top of that mountain." He pointed.

"That works." You nodded.

"Are you going on a date with my brother?" Wooyoung asked.

"Date?" You parroted.

You and Hongjoong both started denying it.

"No, no, no." You shook your head.

"I'm just thanking her for being nice to you two." Hongjoong clarified.

The two boys gave both of you skeptical looks.

"Alright, well we should be going." Hongjoong spoke up, pushing his brothers forward. "I'll see you tomorrow."

The next day, you met Hongjoong outside the colosseum as promised. You put on your best robes, wanting to impress the handsome man. It seemed he was thinking the same as you, because he showed up wearing nice robes as well.

"You look wonderful." He complimented.

"So do you."

"Ah. Really?" He asked, pushing his hair back.

"Yes. Very handsome." You told him.

"Shall we head inside?" He nodded towards the colosseum entrance.

"Of course."

He offered you his hand, which you gratefully took and allowed him to lead you inside.

The both of you got seated and waited for the chairs around you to fill up.

"I love coming to the theater." Hongjoong commented. "It's a nice break from work."

"What do you do?" You asked.

"Oh." He seemed caught off guard by the question. "I'm a... supervisor."

"A supervisor? What do you supervise?"

"The dead."

"Oh. So you're a coroner?"

"Yes, exactly! That's what it's called." He nodded.

"Don't you get creeped out being so close to dead bodies?"

"Well, I don't really deal with the bodies."

You gave him an odd look. "Isn't that what a coroner does?"

"Oh, um, I mean, it's not so bad. I just look at the body and document the person's time of death, so I'm not around them for too long."

"Hm." You hummed in response.

"The show's starting." Hongjoong pointed.

The two of you continued to spend time together for the next few weeks. Hongjoong took you to incredible places and did many fun and exciting things with you. It was never boring when you were with him. Always something new.

The both of you walked hand in hand as Hongjoong took you home. Your hair was adorned with flowers Hongjoong had placed in there. You had even placed a few in his locks as well. You had just gotten back from watching the sun set on a hill overlooking the city. It was the most perfect evening ever.

"Thank you for today." You told him, leaning your head over on his shoulder.

"You're welcome. I'm glad you had a good time."

"It was wonderful, as usual. You always seem to find a way to one-up the previous date."

"Oh, so these are dates now?" He asked with a smirk.

"Of course they are. That visit to the theater was a date too."

"How so?" Hongjoong inquired.

"I know you didn't just invite me to the theater to thank me for being nice to your brothers."

"Alright, you got me." He chuckled. "I needed an excuse to see you again."

"So you admit you were smitten from the start?"

"You could call it that." He smiled, fondly. "What about you?"

"I was quite taken with you too." You admitted.

"I knew it." He grinned.

"Liar." You laughed, shoving him playfully.

Your heart sank just slightly when you saw your home come into view. You always hated saying goodbye to Hongjoong, but you knew you'd be see each other again soon—you always did.

The two of you came to a stop at your front entrance.

"I don't want to leave." You told him.

He smiled a bit as he brought his hand up to cup your cheek.

"I know."

"Thank you again for the wonderful afternoon."

"Of course, darling." He smiled warmly, his thumb caressing your cheek, sending a rush of tingles throughout your body. "Now go get some rest."

You nodded as Hongjoong's hand fell from your face.

"Oh. There's something that I want to tell you. It's pretty important. Can you meet me at the building overlooking the botanical garden tomorrow after sunset?"

"Why can't you tell me now?"

"It's not the right time."

"And tomorrow is?" You inquired.

"Yes. So, will you meet me there?"

"Of course, Hongjoong."

"Thank you."

You stepped inside, glancing back at the charming man.

"Sweet dreams." He whispered.

You gave him a small wave before closing the door.

It took you a while to get to sleep that night, as all you could think of was what Hongjoong might want to say to you. He could want to officially ask you to be his girlfriend, that would make you really happy. Or it could be something else. You tried not to think of anything negative as you finally forced yourself to go to sleep.

You approached the building Hongjoong asked you to meet him at. Your hands were slightly clammy as you headed to the balcony in the back. The sun had gone down, bathing the scenery in its cloak of darkness. You had wondered why Hongjoong wanted to meet at night, but chose not to question it.

You admired the beautiful nighttime scene and the way the bright moon cast shadows over the trees and sculptures in the garden sitting below. It was somewhat eerie but beautiful at the same time.

"You showed." A voice spoke up.

You turned to see Hongjoong approaching.

"Of course I showed." You smiled. "I told you I would."

"Thank you."

"You said you wanted to tell me something?"

"I do." He confirmed. "Well, I also want to show you something."

You stood and waited, watching as he took in a deep breath.

"Watch this." He instructed with a smile.

He held his hand out, a rose engulfed in blue flames appearing out of thin air.

You stared at it in awe, unable to comprehend how he conjured the flower out of nothing and also why it wasn't wilting under the flames.

"How did you do—" You were cut off when you looked up to see Hongjoong standing in front of you, but he looked different—very different.

His normal black hair was now blue, matching flames of the same hue were coming off the ends of his locks. His outfit had changed as well. Instead of his usual cream-colored robes was now an odd-looking black outfit made of some sort of leather. He donned a large feathery coat on top with a black skull on his shoulder. It was nothing like you had ever seen before. The outfit wasn't the only thing that changed. His brown eyes were now covered in heavy eye makeup, black shadows smudged around his intense eyes.

His entire look was, in a word, otherworldly.

"Hongjoong?" You asked, shocked by his new appearance, unconsciously taking a step back as the rose fell from your hand.

"Y/n, just let me explain before you freak out, okay?"

You took in a deep breath, staying silent and allowing him to continue.

"I'm not actually human. I'm god of the underworld."

Your eyes widened in shock and mild horror.

I've been going on dates with the god of death? You thought in disbelief.

"I couldn't come right out and tell you because I didn't want you to run away. I wanted you to get to know me for me."

Hearing him say that made you pause for a moment. He's right. You probably would have ran away if he came out looking like he did.

"I'm still the same Hongjoong, I just look a little different is all."

He had a point. It's not like he's some monster. He's still Hongjoong.

"So, San and Wooyoung aren't your brothers?" You asked.

"No." He shook his head. "They're my henchman."

"And you're not a coroner." You said it like a statement.

"No."

You let out a short sigh. "I can't be mad at you. You had good intentions. Also, you did kinda tell the truth about your profession. You do supervise the dead."

"That I do." He chuckled. "So, does this change the way you feel about me?"

You smiled softly. "No."

Hongjoong took a few steps forward, reaching his hand out. His jewelry-clad fingers glimmered under the moonlight as he waited for you grab hold of his hand.

"Your nails." You commented, glancing at his black colored fingernails.

"You like them?"

You nodded. "I've never seen anything like it."

"Well, sweetheart, things in the Underworld are a bit different than they are here."

"I imagine so." You said, glancing at Hongjoong's outfit.

"Maybe I can show you one day."

"You can take me there?" You asked.

"Of course. I'm king, so I make the rules."

You chuckled.

Hongjoong pulled you close, his arms wrapping securely around your waist. Your breathing quickened as you realized how close your faces were.

"Will you be my queen, Y/n?"

"What?" You choked out.

"Not now, but someday. Will you be my queen and rule the Underworld by my side?"

"That's a difficult question to answer at the moment."

"Then let's start with girlfriend first. How's that?"

"Good. That I can handle." You nodded with a light chuckle.

Hongjoong smiled, his thumb gently ghosting over your bottom lip.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, his voice so gentle it made your heart flip.

All you could do was nod your head.

The gap between your mouths was closed instantly as Hongjoong's lips met yours, nearly taking your breath away. His hands briefly squeezed your sides as his lips pressed harder against your own.

"You're so beautiful, darling." He murmured before diving back in for another kiss, his hands roaming your waist as yours stayed firmly planted on his shoulders.

You pulled away, gazing into his eyes.

"I don't want this night to end." You admitted, your fingers playing with the black feathers of Hongjoong's coat.

"It doesn't have to. We can always take a walk through the garden or gaze at the stars."

"That sounds romantic... but first I'd like to try that kiss again." You grinned.

"As you wish, my dear."

When Hongjoong asked you about ruling the Underworld with him, it caught you off guard. However, the idea of being by his side made you happy and the thought of it was rather appealing. Maybe one day you would accept his offer. As of right now, you'd like to take things slow and just have a normal relationship—well, as normal as a relationship with the god of the Underworld could be.

Seonghwa: Maleficent ⟡ Yunho: Captain Hook ⟡ Yeosang: Evil Queen ⟡ San: Cruella de Vil ⟡ Mingi: Dr. Facilier ⟡ Wooyoung: Hyena ⟡ Jongho: Gaston

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

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#hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #kim hongjoong x you #hongjoong x y/n #kim hongjoong x y/n #ateez imagines #hongjoong imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fantasy au #ateez disney villains au

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fangirl-dot-com · 10 months ago

Text

Is That Subway Surfers? - 1k Special

GUYS WE ARE OVER 1K FOLLOWERS! I NEVER EXPECTED THIS TO HAPPEN OH MY WORD

It's only been, what, two months since I started "To Do is to Dare"? That's crazy!!

So for celebration, here is a little backstory on how Arthur and Reader met and a little look into her early Dams days with him and Ollie!

TAG LIST IS CLOSED!

Thanks for all the love!!

December 2022

You hung your head as Vito went over the details one more time.

“Ok, kid. Dams wants to sign you for your last year. And you’ll be partnering with Arthur Leclerc. You know him?” You manager questioned as he held his iPad.

You only rolled your eyes. “I know of him. Isn’t his brother the Ferrari driver? Uh, Charles?”

Vito nodded at your limited knowledge. “Bingo. Dams thinks that the two of you have similar driving styles and that he’ll push you to win the championship.”

You looked down at your iPad that was in your hands. Arthur’s smiley face stared back at you. A list of his credentials were to the left of the picture. You looked back up at your manager. You were thankful for another chance, but you were skeptical.

“Prema didn’t want to keep me for one more year?” You let out a scoff at the end for a good measure. The team that helped you through Formula 3 and your first two years of Formula 2 suddenly dropped you after a few mistakes: mistakes that honestly shouldn’t have happened.

Vito’s hand dropped on your shoulder and he crouched down to eyelevel. He gave you a sympathetic smile. He knew you were nervous of the unknown and he wished Lorenzo could have been here for you. But, he was trying his best.

“Kid.” You locked eyes with him, tears in your lash line. “I know it’s scary, but give the team a chance. This could be it.”

It meaning your last chance to win the championship and maybe get a foot in the door for a future Formula 1 seat. Your next best bet would be to get a test driver seat for McLaren or even Red Bull. But your chances were slim as most of the top teams already had who they wanted with several year contracts in place.

You put the iPad down and took multiple breaths. If you were to give the ok, you’d be meeting your future teammate very quickly.

A trying smile formed on your face. “I think I’ll miss Ollie though. He was a cool kid.”

Vito granted you with another eyeroll. “You speak as if you’re like 5 years older than him.”

Realistically speaking, you were almost two years older than the British driver. But, his “childish” antics made you feel as though you really had to watch out for him.

Vito continued, “And that kid loves you to death. You just need to get over your thoughts of you being unlovable.”

Your head swayed back and forth and nodded. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let’s go meet this, uh, French dude?”

“He’s Monégasque.”

You clicked your tongue. “Ah.”

Vito packed up his bag and the iPads and led you out of your small Nice apartment. The drive to the headquarters wasn’t a long one. You just spent the majority of it watching small raindrops fall down your window, hoping that the smaller one would win the imaginary race that was going on in your head.

“Kid, we her-…”

“DANG IT YOU SHOULD HAVE WON!” Your fist hit the door. You suddenly froze and turned to look at Vito, who was already staring at you. The two of you then suddenly burst into laughter. It took you two a while to calm down, but you eventually made your way into the large building.

The hallways were a bit confusing, but you and Vito finally made it to the conference room. Sadly though, the two of you were the last ones there. A blond boy was sitting in one of the plush chairs, looking intently at his phone.

You guessed he didn’t hear you come in, as you were able to take a seat right next to him. Your eyes barely glanced over, before you saw him playing your favorite mobile game.

“Is that Subway Surfers?” you whispered as you watched Vito introduce himself to the other adults in the room.

Arthur practically jumped out of his chair at the new voice right in his ear. His wide green eyes were met with you, trying not to laugh too hard.

He stuttered out in broken French, “Je – je suis vraiment desole. Je ne savais pas que tu etais la et j’aurais du faire attention, et oh mon dieu, tu es vraiment jolie et maintenant je divague...”

(I – I am so sorry. I didn’t know you were there and I should have been paying attention, and oh my gosh you’re really pretty and now I’m rambling…)

You only stared as he was falling over his words. You put a hand on his leg and he shut up quickly.

“First off, I legit didn’t understand a word you said. And second, whatever it is, it’s fine! I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that.” You flashed a bright smile at him.

Arthur tried once again, in English with a heavy accent, “I, uh, am sorry. I should have been paying attention. I’m Arthur.”

He held out his hand for you to take. Your hand grasped his and you shook it.

“Hi Arthur, I’m Y/n. It’s nice to meet my teammate for this season.”

He flashed you an even larger smile. In your mind, you thought he was adorable. He let out a small laugh as he turned off his phone.

“It was Subway Surfers. I love the game.”

“So do I! It’s so much fun.”

“Are you two done flirting already or can we begin to talk contracts?” Vito’s voice pulled the two of you from your little bubble. With sheepish smiles from both of you, you turned your attention to the CEO.

The meeting was a few hours long, and by the end of it, you were starving. As you were leaving, Arthur grasped your hand, which made you stop. Vito just calmly said that he’d be waiting in the car.

“Yes?” You cocked your head as you looked up at the taller boy.

He had a shy smile as he looked down at you. “Would you like to join me and my friend for dinner? We’re just going to a local restaurant and it’s not too far.”

As your brain was trying to come up with an excuse, Vito yelled from where he was standing by the vehicle. “She would love to! Just have her give you her address. Have fun kid!”

And with that, he got into the car and drove away. All while you were standing next to Arthur with your mouth open. You quickly closed it to not look like a loser.

“Uh, I guess I’ll come with?” It came out more like a question, but Arthur just went with it. He led you to his car and you were surprised it wasn’t a decked out Ferrari.

You only smirked. “Not a Ferrari guy?”

Arthur rolled his eyes as he got in the driver side. “That would unfortunately be my brother. I might be part of the academy, but we don’t get any fancy treatment.”

You snorted at that. “Yeah, I’ve never actually been a test driver for any team. I have my own management and everything.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows but didn’t ask anything else.

The ride to the restaurant was fairly quiet and not awkward. Around halfway through, he had finally turned on the radio.

And although Arthur didn’t drive a fancy car, he was not above valet parking.

“Hold on,” he told you as he quickly got out and skirted around the front to open your door. You looked up at him with a shy smile.

“What a gentleman.” He hand firmly but gently grasped yours as he led you through the doorway.

“My maman would have my head. Ah, there’s my friend.” Arthur pointed to a table near the back.

But to your surprise, you definitely recognized the brunet that looked bored to death.

“Ollie!” you called out.

The Brit’s head whipped up at the sound of your voice. A giant smile formed on his face as he stood up. You quickly brought him into a hug.

“I didn’t know you knew Arthur?” He questioned as the three of you sat down. Arthur called the waiter over so that you could get a drink.

You looked over at the green-eyed driver. “Hmmm, just met today actually.”

Arthur sipped his water. “We’re teammates for this year.”

Ollie looked back and forth, ideas forming in his mind. But, he wouldn’t be telling the ideas to you any time soon.

“What is that smirk for,” you questioned.

“You totally scared him when you met him. Didn’t you?”

“You scared him too?”

Oh, boy were you screwed for the next years.

(What you didn’t know was that these boys would become two of you very best friends. And maybe one of them would become something more.)

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 am I interrupting something? tagged: olliebearman and arthur_leclerc

liked by y/n_nation, y/n-fan, y/n_is_on_top, and 10,839 others

olliebearman no comment?

prema_y/n ahaha prema racers back together

y/n_fan well, until prema dropped her... y/nxarthur well, now we get ollie AND arthur content so I'm not complaining

arthur_leclerc btw I wiped it right off

olliebearman YOU TAKE THAT BACK y/n.89 girls, girls, girls, let's not fight

prema_trio your honor, I love them

best_rookie_y/n anyone else here from 2024 and is here to see how little y/n was

olliebearman has posted

olliebearman who's the third-wheel now hmmmm? tagged: y/n.89 and arthur_leclerc

liked by premaracing, olliebear2, y/n_lover29, and 15,983 others

y/n.89 still you?

y/n&friends they are so hot

ollie_is_my_guy I could take them (but not in a fight)

olliebearman he is not THAT funny

arthur_leclerc yes I am y/n.89 ollie is a certified Arthur haterrrrr olliebearman then you'd be a certified Arthur loverrrrrr y/n.89 shut UP

y/n_nation our girl and her boys :D

arthur_leclerc has posted

arthur_leclerc why are we always at restaurants? tagged: y/n.89 and olliebearman

liked by y/n.89, olliebearman, charles_leclerc, and 58,284 others

y/n.89 because we like food (and none of us can actually cook)

charles_leclerc felt arthur_leclerc go away

thur_thur_92 I wonder who won

olliebearman me arthur_leclerc me y/n.89 wrong, it was me

best_trio_2023 they all give chaotic gen z energy and I am here for it!

y/n_loves_ME its the fact that Arthur is technically the oldest cause he's 22 right now while y/n is 19 and Ollie just turned 18

y/n.89 yet he still acts like a child

rb_y/n we need this trio to get back together in 2024 ASAP

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 they watch kung-fu panda ONCE tagged: olliebearman and arthur_leclerc

liked by y/n_nation, f2_fanatic, prema_trio22, and 19,274 others

y/n_updates BAHAHAHAHA cause this is so true for everyone

arthur_leclerc I am the Dragon Warrior

olliebearman um, no, you're more of a Master Oogway y/n.89 I am definitely the dragon warrior, ollie you can be the goose y/n's-favorite HELLO?

f2-fanatic I'm going to miss this group in a few months since y/n has to leave after the championship, and I don't know if Arthur is confirmed for next year :(

f2-trio SHHHHHH WE DON'T SPEAK OF THAT

y/n.89 I look amazing for once

y/n_nation ONE MORE RACE AND YOU GET THAT CHAMPIONSHIP GIRL!!

y/n.89 with olliebearman and arthur_leclerc has posted

y/n.89 wherever we go, we'll somehow end up back together

liked by damsracing, fredderikvasti, y/n_nation and 11,783 others

y.n_ON-TOP I'm going to miss this

olliebearman this was actually sweet?

arthur_lecerlc yeah, weird. are you feeling ok? y/n.89 no, this is more like I feel threatened? you both follow me everywhere

rookie_y/n I know she's done in f2, but where will she go after?

y/n'sfavperson as of right now, we don't know. basically all doors for f1 are closed y/n_updates well, she was wanting to possibly be a testing driver for McLaren but rumor has it that they just side Bianca Bustemante

vito_official can't say that I'll 100 percent miss the three of you annoying me all the time, but I will miss the three of you

olliebearman I KNEW YOU LIKED US arthur_leclerc LETS GO vito_official I take it back? y/n.89 no

y/n4f1 we just need a miracle right now - for her to somehow get into f1

f1_news GUYS DID YOU JUST SEE??? CHECO JUST ANNOUNCED HIS RETIREMENT

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @aeh2 @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @cassie0sstuff @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19

#arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc imagine #arthur leclerc #ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman imagine #formula 2 x reader #formula 2 #formula 2 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x driver!reader #f1 fanfic #arthur leclerc x y/n #arthur leclerc fluff #arthur leclerc fanfic #Arthur leclerc #Charles Leclerc mentioned

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alexanderwales · 5 months ago

Text

My Very Brief Time as a Korean Rice Farmer

When my wife had been working at her company for ten years, her boss offered her a two week trip anywhere in the world she wanted to go. It was a small company, maybe thirty people, and she'd been one of the first employees, when they were even smaller.

We had wanted to go to Japan, but this was 2022, and they were still closed for COVID when we were making the plans. We decided on South Korea instead, which was my personal preference over Japan anyway (kimchi and k-dramas and the Joseon era!). I used Duolingo to learn Hangul (the script) and not all that much actual Korean.

We went to Changdeok Palace early in the morning on our second day in Seoul, getting there just before it opened. It's a huge place that's right in the city, surrounded, as most things in Seoul are, by other buildings. The Palace is actually a number of buildings built by a number of kings from the Joseon era.

Right when we came in, we were quickly approached by a guy in a blue hanbok. "Hanbok" is a word that means "traditional clothing" or something like that, so it's not actually descriptive, but it was powder blue and looked fancy. He had glasses and a slightly uneasy smile on his face, and approached us from far enough away that I had time to wonder if he was approaching us, and if he was, what he wanted.

"Excuse me, how long were you going to be here today?" he asked.

"We don't have plans," my wife said. "We were going to be here all day, long enough to see everything."

"Would you like to participate in a festival?" he asked.

We looked at each other and told him sure, and then followed him as he talked. (We passed a group of thirty children who had just been admitted with their teacher, and they seemed excited to see foreigners, so they kept yelling "Hello!" to us, which was probably the only English they knew. We waved and said "annyeonghaseyo!" back to them.)

What I thought was going on at this point was that we were getting upsold on something. I figured that we were going to see something special and extra, and then get charged for it. Whatever, we were on vacation, I was fine with that. We hadn't been in Korean long, and I thought "maybe they just station guys like this by the gate to rope people in". It was weird, but we were in a place where we didn't understand all the customs or speak the language, and my policy had been "just roll with it".

I did think it was weird that we were hoofing it across the palaces, and thought it was more weird when we went past a gate and into a place where no one else was apparently allowed. Our guide spoke good English, but when he'd been talking it had always been "the festival" or "the event" and "you'll be there most of the day" and "we'll make sure you have what you need". We were not clear on what was going on.

He mentioned that there would be a rice harvest, which I thought was weird since we were in a historical park in the middle of Seoul.

He told us that he'd give us a tour, because there wouldn't be time later, so he guided us through the Joseon-era gardens and temples. There was no one around, because that part of the grounds wasn't open until later in the day, so we got to see everything and ask whatever questions we wanted to ask, which has got to be the best possible way to experience a place. I was mostly struck by how much work it must have taken to make all this stuff and had lots of "down with the monarchy" feelings. There's a huge pond that's in the shape of the Korean peninsula, and god damn must that have taken a ton of time without a backhoe.

We were eventually taken a small place where they were setting things up, with a bunch of people milling about, and it was only then that we saw the rice: a small plot of it, no more than twenty feet to a side.

The rice was, in historical times, planted there so the king would have some understanding of what the crop yields would be like, since rice was the lifeblood of the country. It was harvested and inspected and whatnot to get some sense of the agriculture of the country, because anything that happened to the rice in these conditions was probably happening to rice all over the kingdom.

This rice harvest wasn't something that they just do with tourists every now and then, it only happens on this single day in the entire year, and me and my wife were two of the five people who would be doing it. The other three were all Korean government people of some kind.

They took us to a building and got us changed in our hanbok. "Hanbok" means "traditional clothes", and usually is associated with a nice and historical outfit, like someone in England dressing up in Regency era clothing. Here, it just meant "traditional farmer clothes".

Problem: I am six feet tall, which is quite tall for a Korean.

This woman was trying to dress me, and both because I was a bit overweight and quite tall, it was just not going well. My wife thought it was hilarious.

The other part of the kit was some orange rubber boots, which were not traditional but did prevent us from getting covered in mud. This is the most that I have ever looked like a goose.

When they were ready for us, we were handed tools to cut the rice. The ideal motion was to grab it around the base, move the hand up, then cut at the bottom. I am pretty sure that the thing we were handed was a sickle.

We got warned five or six times that they were extremely sharp, meant for slicing through the stalks of grain, and because there was a bit of a language barrier, the guy handing them to us kept nodding as he tried to make sure we understood that there was no small amount of danger.

My wife, five seconds after being handed her sickle, lunged at me with a "Hiya!" like she meant to stab me in the stomach. I jumped, five or six Koreans around us jumped, and my wife laughed and laughed. (My wife is great.)

When the photographers got there, we went into the muck and began harvesting. There were what felt like fifty photographers taking pictures of us while very loud drums played a traditional song and some people danced around us. We preened in front of the cameras, trying to take direction as best we could, and tossing the harvested rice off to the side so that two men with giant hammers could pound on it and make it into something like mochi (I think called tteok, but there was a lot of Korean happening).

After the photographers had gone, we had a little break, then were made to harvest rice in front of a group of Korean people, most of whom were, I think, either government functionaries or personalities or something. The drums were going again, I was sweating in my hanbok, and left hoping that my glasses wouldn't fall into the mud.

A third rice harvest was done for tourists, and the drums started up. I think this was the weirdest one for me, because I was a tourist on display for other tourists.

After the last of the rice was harvested, we had an interview with the largest English-speaking TV station in South Korea. All the questions were casual chit-chat questions, and I figured that only five or ten seconds would make it on air for a puff piece (which is what happened, with my wife hogging all the screen time).

When we had finally changed back into our normal clothes, we were given gifts by way of thanks, two wooden cups that we now use in the bathroom to hold toothbrushes, along with a pound of rice each (though not the stuff we'd harvested, which was made into tteok and we did get a chance to eat).

Our guide was super nice to us, answered some questions about what it's like to live in South Korea, and talked to us about places for us to visit. Over the next few days, we were able to find a few puff pieces on the internet, all in Korean.

I'm pretty sure they do this every year, always with token foreigners, and I hope some day I'm telling this story to someone and they say "oh yeah, that happened to me too".

#south korea #travel #stories

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eroselless · 5 months ago

Text

PATO - FIVE

series masterlist | part 3 | part 4

[charles leclerc x reader, carlos sainz x reader]

warnings: pregnancy, angst, breastfeeding, spanish and google translated french

note: Yikes, the way I wrote charles is lowkey toxic, mb lol. This part reminded me of a picture i saw ages ago about how men and women deal with breakups, dudes moving on immediately and end up being sad after a few months and women being sad for a bit and then moving on after a few months.

Anyways, shoutout to my baby sisters for being my main inspiration behind Lucero and for helping me figure out what babies do at 13 months lol I apologies in advance if some things don’t make sense, I tried my best to imitate the way they used to speak and use that for Lucero.

Although not necessary, I listened to this playlist while I did all my writing and editing. It’s a nice bittersweet blend. If you guys wanna give it a listen, I think it would enhance the feelings in this part :)

We’re bouncing a little with the time jumps again but as always, they have the dates so its easier to track :) Happy reading!

MEXICO, OCTOBER 2024

Charles staggers into the hotel room, chest heaving as if he’s been sprinting miles without rest. His chest constricts, each breath coming out in shallow puffs as he struggles to recompose himself.

“Mon cœur?” he hears come from the bedroom and he no longer has it in him to hold back. Alexandra peeks out, eyes full of concern as she approaches the sobbing man. His face is buried in his hands and he would give anything to blend into the wall he’s leaning on. Guiding him to their room, she sits him down, slotting herself between his legs as he grips tight around her middle. His tears soak through her shirt as his body wracks with loud sobs.

Frustration, anger, sadness – they all jumble together in his mind. Alexandra runs her fingers through his hair, murmuring comforts and feather light kisses into his hairline and waits for the sobs to soften before speaking.

"Mon cœur, que s'est-il passé?" she asks, gently pushing his face away from her torso. My heart, what happened? She cradles his face as he looks up at her, silent tears staining his face. “That little girl we met today... she's my daughter. I didn’t know.” His voice is hoarse when he whispers, full of regret and guilt.

Alexandra’s eyes widen at the admission. “Charles, comment a-t-elle pu te cacher quelque chose comme ça? C'est... impardonnable," she says, her tinged with sympathy and indignation. How could she keep something like this from you? That's... unforgivable.

Charles shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut, a few tears still escaping down his cheeks. His sobs are fading in quiet hiccups as he slowly regains his breathing. “No, Alex. It’s not her fault. I’m the one who wasn’t there, it’s all my fault. I didn’t care enough, I left.”

She’s puzzled at his confession, lost in the depth of his sorrow. “What?”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

MONACO, DECEMBER 2022

You’re lying partially on your side, arm draped over your bare chest as it rises and falls at a steady pace. He watches as you turn away, hair cascading over your back. The sheets are wrapped just over your middle, your upper body completely exposed to the air. The soft morning light filters through the room and Charles can’t help but think of the events last night.

He can still hear your voice as it echoes through the room, begging him not to stop. He can feel the crescent moons you’ve pressed into the thick muscles of his back. The ghost of your lips still lingers on his skin, like the stain of red lipstick on the collar of a white shirt.

He leans over your sleeping figure, dragging his nose over your shoulder and pressing a ghost of a kiss there. It rouses you just enough to murmur a drowsy protest. “Don’t go,” you whisper and reach out for him, the tips of your fingers barely catching his skin. He is already on his feet.

"I'll be back soon," he lies, slipping out before you can say anything else. He busies himself with mundane tasks, filling his day with errands that could be left for later. He thinks of you, all on your own, in your shared apartment waiting for him to come home. As you always did. He drives across the city, glancing at his phone as your messages roll in, swiping them away almost as quickly as they came.

The truth was, being at home was proving to be increasingly difficult as time went on. His home with you, once a sanctuary, felt like a pressure cooker ready to pop. He loved you, doted on your every move but the constant fear of his career and unrelenting scrutiny of the public had slowly started to suffocate him. He couldn’t bear to break your heart and burden you with his overwhelming amount of feelings. What if he’d never be good enough for Ferrari, good enough for you? With every moment he spent away, he kept sinking into his own mind, choosing to ignore you and your attempts at breaking down his walls. He hated being away from you but he couldn’t help but pack you away into a corner of his mind, where he knew you’d be waiting for him, day in and day out.

He comes home late that night, the guilt of having to face you gnawing at him. It's well after sunset and the night air is cool, the breeze turning icy. He walks through the door, expecting the lights to be off but is surprised to see you leaning over the sink, rinsing off dishes.

Your face lights up when you see him, a tender smile he knows is only for him.

“Cha, you’re back,” you exclaim, turning to face the counter closest to the wall. You pick up a plate, filled generously with a meal that he could tell you spent a great deal of effort on. It’s gone cold in his absence.

He only gives you a small smile, pressing a light kiss to your temple. He can’t help but feel a little surprised at your good mood. But he can’t bring himself to match the enthusiasm you carry in your voice.“I’m not really hungry,” he mutters, eyes not meeting yours. “I think I’ll just shower and head to bed.”

Your smile falters as he moves towards your bedroom, hurt flickering across your face. “But.. I made this for you. You’ve been out all day, I thought we could eat together.”

He forces a smile, trying to appease you and end the conversation quickly. “I appreciate it amour, really. I’m just really tired.”

He can feel your eyes on him as he turns away, heavy with unspoken words. If he knew then what he knows now, he would've stood in that room and held you close. He would’ve tried harder to keep you by his side. He would’ve told you that he loved you. But he didn’t.

She’ll come back, it’s okay, his thoughts echo while he stares at the door as you run into the night. You’re his rock, his anchor. His home. Weeks trickle by slowly and he can feel you slip away as more time goes by. He eventually stops thinking that he can hear your keys jingle in the lock at the front door. Your scent no longer clings to the bedsheets and the lush scented detergent you would buy gradually runs out. He slowly begins placing your things in boxes and taking them into storage where he hopes one day you’ll come to get them. Soon enough, he erases you from the apartment completely and it's as if you were never even there.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Charles shakes his head, his breath hitching. “I would do that often when I was home. I would lavish her with affection, trying to make sure she knew that I loved her with my whole being but…” he stops, pressing shaky fingers to his lips as if his breath is completely depleted. “I would find reasons to leave, seeking comfort in anything that wouldn’t make me think of what I was feeling inside.”

"Why?" Alexandra asks softly, her hand gently stroking his back.

"I was scared," he admitted. "Scared of losing her, of not being enough. I thought keeping my distance, both physically and emotionally, would protect the both of us, but it only drove her away."

Alexandra's heart aches for him as he confesses. She knows Charles loves her but as his emotions spill out before her, she can’t help but feel like the other woman. She feels guilty as this new feeling is born and grows quickly. He’s confiding in her and the only thing she can think of are the doubts beginning to spiral in her mind. Trying to mask her discomfort she wraps her arms around him, his body relaxing against her as his breath gets smoother.

"You did what you thought was best, Charles. You made mistakes, yes, but now you’ve learned and can move to find a better way forward," she says as her hand rubs up and down his back.

Charles shakes his head. "I was selfish, Alex. I was so focused on my fears that I ignored her needs. I wanted to build a life together, to have a family. I pushed her away, and now... now I have a daughter I've never met."

Alex swallows hard as tears begin to bead in her eyes. She tries not to think too much about what he’s saying. She tries not to think about how this could make or break them. Would he still want to build something with me? Have the family he’s always wanted with me?

“But you're here now and that’s all that matters. It’s not going to be easy but you can still be part of Lucero’s life and maybe, in time find a way to make amends.” She meets his gaze once again. The whites of his eyes are now red, only making the green around his iris look more brilliant than it did before. “Thank you, mon amour. For being here, for listening. I don’t deserve you.”

She gives him a small smile, pushing away the feelings of insecurity that are now growing in the back of her mind. “Nous allons nous en sortir. Juste… ne m'exclut pas, d'accord ? Je ne peux pas t'aider si tu ne me laisses pas entrer.” We’ll get through this. Just… don’t shut me out, okay? I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.

“Je promets,” he nods, pulling her into his arms again. I promise.

Charles is exhausted as he lays in her arms later that night, face pressed into her chest, snug against her heart. Alexandra lies awake in the darkness, the thought of you overtaking her mind. Her hands tenderly brush over Charles’s hair, his deep breaths tickling her skin slightly. There will always be a part of him that belonged to you. And it makes her wonder, with Lucero and you beginning to take your places in his heart, would there still be room for her?

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The sun gently peeks through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. You stir from your sleep, eyes heavy as you turn to the sound of Lucero’s cries. You begin to pull yourself up, pushing the sheets off of you. You hear a string of tsks next to you, Carlos gently pulling you back to bed.

“Tu quedate aqui,” he says quietly, his voice rough. “Yo voy por ella.” You stay here, I’ll get her.

You mumble a slurred ok, nodding with eyes still very heavy as you settle back down. Eyes still puffy with sleep, you settle on now propped-up pillows. Pulling at the straps of your sleep shirt, you slip the top off. You watch hazily as Carlos moves to Lucero’s makeshift crib, his steps quiet and measured. He coos at her and you can see her little hands reach out for him, legs kicking in frustration. “Buenos días, mi patito,” he says, cradling her close. “Ya vamos con la mamí, no te preocupes.” Good morning, my duckling. We're going with mummy, don’t worry. It makes your heart flutter as he stares at her with his gentle eyes, pressing a kiss to her hand as it goes to poke at his chin.

He makes his way back to the bed, watching as you adjust yourself in your spot. Lucero babbles, her initial upset fading into a groggy murmur as she nestles into the crook of Carlos’s neck. Her thumb catches on her lip as she tries to suck on it.

Carlos chuckles as he watches her latch onto it, gently pulling it from her mouth. “No, señora,” he says teasingly. No, ma'am. “No thumb-sucking, little miss.” His gaze is warm as he hands her to you.

The room fills with a peaceful silence as Lucero latches on, her small body relaxing in her mother’s arms. She holds on tightly, almost insatiable as she feeds. Carlos climbs back into bed, propping himself up on one elbow. His gaze is fixed on the two of you, eyes soft as he sees how devoted you’ve become to your little one, the love and connection strong between you.

He can’t help but feel a sense of awe as he continues to watch you. He can’t help but admire how far you’ve come, the bond between you and Lucero beautiful and pure. The feeling of protectiveness and devotion to the two of you grows every day. He catches him thinking of the babe as his own, his daughter. She meant everything to him and he can’t bear to even imagine his life without her in it. Yet, he knew that Charles had a right to be a part of her life too, no matter how much it hurt to have to share that role. It's a thought that fills him with warmth but follows with a pang of bittersweet reality.

With Lucero’s cries ceased, you gaze down at her. You're engrossed with how peaceful she looks, her little nose pressing into the flesh of your breast, little hands holding you as close as she can. Her eyes are beginning to droop again as her tummy fills up. She sighs in her stupor, pausing briefly before continuing.

You can feel Carlos’s gaze on you. He looks at you in adoration, fingers ghosting over Lucero’s chubby legs. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, sitting up as he does. Taking a deep breath, he breaks the silence. “Do you wanna talk about last night?” he asks gently. “And what comes next?”

The question hangs in the air briefly, heavy with the weight of this new reality. You take a deep breath, mind coursing with different thoughts and emotions. “Not really, no.” You confess with a dry chuckle. If you could stay in this moment, just the three of you, you would without a second thought. “But we need to.”

He takes another deep breath, nodding. His expression is thoughtful as he threads his fingers through yours, bringing your hand up to his lips. “I know,” he says quietly. “I was thinking… If we’re going to do this, maybe we should also think about involving Alexandra.”

You blink in surprise, your eyebrows furrowing. “Alexandra?” you repeat, voice uncertain.

Carlos nods, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah,” he says slowly. “I know its complicated, but she’s a part of Charles’s life. If he’s going to be in Lucero’s life, she might be too.”

Your expression is still a puzzled one as you respond. “I hadn’t thought about that,” You admit. “Do you think it's a good idea?”

Carlos sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “But I think we should at least be open to it. Lucero deserves to know everyone who loves her. And I’m here, i know it’s not the same but I feel that because of that, she should be there too. We can’t ignore that.”

Your heart aches slightly at the thought, fear and hope swirling in your chest. “I’m scared, Carlos,” you say, voice beginning to tremble. “I don’t want to make things harder for her.”

Carlos leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I know,” he whispers, eyes trained on her little figure, still sucking away. “But we need to think about what’s best for her in the long run. We’ll take it slow and be there for her every step of the way.”

Your eyes begin to fill with tears, your grip on Lucero tightening slightly. “What if it doesn’t work out? What if it hurts her?”

Carlos’s eyes soften, and he cups your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. “We’ll do everything we can to make sure she’s okay,” he says firmly. “We’ll protect her. But we can’t shield her from everything. She deserves the chance to know her family, even if it’s complicated.”

You nod slowly, heart heavy with the weight of the decision. “Okay,” you say softly. “We’ll try. But we have to be careful. We have to make sure it’s what’s best for her.”

Carlos smiles, his eyes filled with love and pride. “We will,” he promises. He presses his forehead to yours.“We’ll figure it out together.”

Lucero had finished feeding, her eyes now drifting closed as she snuggles against your chest. You look down at her daughter, feeling a swell of emotion as you cradle her closer. Her jaw trembles slightly, a sign she was tired once again. “I just want her to be happy,” you whisper, voice breaking slightly.

Carlos wraps his arm around you, pulling the two of you close. “She will be,” he says gently. “She has you. And she has me. And now, she has a chance to know her father too.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

BRAZIL, NOVEMBER 2024

The sun is high over Sao Paolo when you arrive to the paddock. The air is electric with excitement, spectators slowly filling up the stands around the track. Their conversations create a gentle buzz that echoes above the garages.

Carlos makes his way into the paddock, smiling at photographers and journalists as they wait for his entrance. They don’t miss the small body he holds in his arms and the woman that trails closely behind him, fingers intertwined with his.

Your eyes scan meet the people waiting for you to enter, a delicate smile gracing your lips. Once in the Ferrari garage, you take release a breath, one you didn’t know you’d been holding back.

“Are you sure this was a good idea?” you ask Carlos as you’re settled in the back of the garage. A sudden wave of nerves washes over you as you can see a couple photographers clicking away around the garage. “Bringing her here?”

Carlos leans on one of the tables with you, nodding, fingers gently brushing over her wispy tufts of brown hair. “She seems to like it,” he points out as she squeals happily, pulling at the wire that connects to the big headphones Fred passed to her as you entered. “Besides, it’s good for her to see where Charles and I spend so much time.”

You smile, the concern still evident in your eyes. “I just don’t want her to feel overwhelmed.”

“She’s tougher than she looks,” Carlos says, fingers going to lovingly pinch at your arm. You know he’s referring to her but the look on his eyes makes you think he might mean you too.

Lucero spots the red car being worked on and babbles excitedly as she sees the garage technicians checking around the car.

“Cah-loh!” she exclaims, her voice a mix of wonder and determination. “Sí, Lu, un carro,” you correct gently. Yes, Lu, a car. Her attempt at say carro was endearing, the R sound still elusive for her baby tongue. Car. “Es rojo. Puedes decir, rojo?” she claps her hands, ignoring your request. Its red. can you say red?

Carlos chuckles, leaning down to kiss her head. “Lolo’s going to drive el carro rojo, mi amor.” he says to her, pointing to himself and adding a soft vroom as he begins to imitate a car with his hand. He makes almost a flying motion with his hand in front of you before gently whooshing it towards the bubbly baby, tickling her tummy. She giggles, managing to grap his hands and pulls at his fingers. She holds them up to her face, a soft gargle of buh buh buh falling from her lips.

Lucero catches the eye of Charles as he makes his way into the garage, his eyes lighting up as he approaches you. He’s wearing those god-awful bleached jeans again, the odd stripes something you always teased him about. You just don’t see the art yet, he’d often say.

He gives Carlos a side hug before hesitantly leaning over you and wrapping his arms around you. It sends a wave of nerves through the both of you. He lets go quickly before he can think much of it and crouches slightly to meet Lucero’s eyes.

“Bonjour, ma petite amour,” His voice is soft as he speaks to her. Hello, my little love. There’s an eager smile on his face, one that masks the nerves that were bubbling just beneath the surface. It’s one you recognize.

Lucero looks at Charles, suddenly clampering into your arms, tucking her face into your neck. Charles’s heart clenches at the sight. “Muñeca, dile hola a Cha,” you say, his nickname rolling off your tongue with ease. Doll, say hi to Cha.

You poke gently her little tummy, pulling her attention to her father. He smiles at her as she peeks out from behind your hair. You guide her hand gently towards Charles and she meets him in the halfway, her little fingers wrapping around his. “She’ll warm up,” you reassure. “It’s a lot for her, all these new faces and places.”

Charles nods, a slight flutter of uncertainty vibrating through his chest. “I understand,” he says. “I’m just happy to see her.”

Carlos observes the exchange, emotions swirling in his chest. He can’t help the protectiveness and understanding that bubble up as he sees this. He moves away from the table only to have Lucero reach her arms out for him.

“Vienes conmigo, estrellita?” he asks as she pulls away from you and Charles, oblivious to the emotions of the adults around her. Are you coming with me, little star? She points excitedly at the car again, prompting Carlos to get near it. Buh buh buh she tries quietly.

“Bah bah,” she finally manages, voice loud as she proceeds to bury her face into Carlos’s shirt. He lets out a giggle as she does so. “Baba, bluum.” he looks at her with wide eyes, bouncing her in his arms. He glances over at you, jaw slack as he identifies what she’s trying to say.

Charles’s smile falters momentarily. She means papa, he thinks. He masks his broken-heartedness quickly and turns to you. “She seems to really like the cars.” He comments, trying to keep his otne light.

“She does,” you say, glancing between the two men. “Maybe she’ll be a driver someday, like her father.”

“Maybe,” Charles says, his voice sounding like it’s far away. The word father hangs in the air, shrouded in a veil and he’s not sure if you mean Carlos or him.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Unraveling the Ferrari Enigma: Carlos Sainz Arrives with Mystery Woman and Baby, Spotted Again with Charles Leclerc at Brazilian GP

In an unexpected twist at the Mexican Grand Prix, Ferrari driver Carlos Sainz was seen arriving hand-in-hand with a mystery woman and a baby, sparking widespread speculation and intrigue within the F1 community. The woman, identified by sharp-eyed fans as Y/N L/N, the elusive former girlfriend of Sainz’s teammate, Charles Leclerc, has rarely been seen publicly, adding to the mystique surrounding this revelation.

Y/N L/N, who maintained a low profile throughout her relationship with Leclerc, has remained a figure of intrigue among fans and the media. Leclerc, known for his privacy regarding personal matters, never publicly acknowledged L/N, making this unexpected appearance alongside Sainz and the child even more startling.

Adding to the speculation, L/N and the baby—whose identiy remains undisclosed—made a second appearance at the Brazilian Grand Prix, further capturing the attention of the F1 world. Observers noted that not only were L/N and the child seen with Sainz, but they were also frequently spotted around Leclerc, intensifying curiosity about the current dynamics within the Ferrari team.

The repeated public appearances of L/N and the child have ignited a flurry of questions regarding their connection to Sainz and Leclerc, and what this means for the Ferrari drivers off the track. Could this development cause tension between Sainz and Leclerc? With the high stakes of the racing season and the close-knit nature of the F1 community, the unexpected appearance of L/N and the baby has undoubtedly raised eyebrows and sparked numerous questions.

a/n: Hi friends! If you’ve gotten this far, thank you so much for reading! Any feedback, reblogs and likes are appreciated, they seriously keep me so motivated <3

What do you guys think about this little news item? I enjoyed coming up with the one I made back in part 2, I thought why not make one for this part? Should I keep adding them in every now and then?

tags: @kravitzwhore @janeh22 @apollosfavkiddo @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @tremendousstarlighttragedy @sltwins @bwormie @marshmummy @honethatty12 @staplerrrr @smithieandy @loloekie @musicheaux @jeondeluxe111 @dessxoxsworld @xoscar03 @emryb @yl90 @poppyflower-22 @a-distantdreamer

strike through => tumblr won’t let me tag you!

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz imagine #charles leclerc imagine

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heyiwrotesomethings · 2 years ago

Text

Flower Dance

Haley (Stardew) x She/Her Reader

A/N: I liked the idea, but I don’t think I executed it as well as I hoped I would because I got impatient. Still not too bad though I think. I wrote this in November of 2022. Sharing it now because why not. Word Count: 2,383

“Ew, no.”

Haley had regretted the words as soon as she had spit them out like an defensive cobra.

Hurt was written all over the farmer’s face as she recoiled from Haley like she had been burned.

Haley saw the year’s worth of progress she had made getting out of her shell and becoming friends with (Y/n) crumble before her very eyes. She tried to say something, anything, to peddle back from the harsh way she had answered, but (Y/n) recovered first. At least somewhat.

“…Alright then, sorry. A simple no would have sufficed.” She mumbled. “Excuse me.”

Haley reached for her but froze halfway before withdrawing. Her hands fell to her sides in tight fists.

Why did she say that? It was only (Y/n), the sweet farmer who had taken the time to scale Haley’s walls to find her soft and more vulnerable self within.

Daffodils in the spring, ice cream in the summer, sunflowers in fall, pink cake in winter… (Y/n) had been nothing but nice to her even from the beginning when Haley insulted her clothes and earthy scent. Back then the farmer had been able to brush her off, but Haley’s words definitely had a direct impact this time.

She didn’t mean to speak to her like that. She had just been startled that (Y/n) would even think to ask. The thought of dancing with her made Haley’s face burn and her heart thump in her ears. She wasn’t sure if it was excitement or fear that was causing those reactions, but clearly fear had won out when she opened her stupid mouth.

What should she do now?

“Haley,”

Haley turned to find that Alex was walking up to her. She tried to school her expression into something more neutral before he got too close to notice.

“The dance is starting soon. Are we partnering up again this year?”

Haley scanned the field for (Y/n) and bit the inside of her lip when she couldn’t see her. She was the Flower Queen, she was expected to be a part of the ceremonial first dance. As much as she wanted to go look for (Y/n) and apologize, that would have to wait. It would be better to talk to her when her heart stopped pounding anyway.

“Yeah,” Haley nodded, linking Alex’s elbow with hers, “let’s get in position.”

When they did find their places, Haley watched the usual pairs link up. Finally she saw (Y/n) conversing with Robin and Demetrius on the sidelines. Haley remembered last year, wondering why the new farmer hadn’t bothered to come to the dance. At first, she thought she had some kind of sense of superiority over the townsfolk, but it was a traditional town event after all, not a club in Zuzu City. It would probably have been uncomfortable after only being a part of the community for a couple weeks.

Now a year later, (Y/n) had felt comfortable enough to join in on the festivities and Haley had surely made her regret stepping away from her busy farm life with the utterance of those two stupid words.

Good job, idiot.

She continued to watch over Alex’s shoulder as Leah unexpectedly walked up. Leah? Leah usually danced with Elliot. What was she doing sidling up to (Y/n) like that? Haley looked around for the writer, but he was nowhere to be seen. Was he sick or something?

Haley looked back in time to see (Y/n) smile kindly at something Leah had said and felt something burning within her as Leah offered (Y/n) her hand and the farmer took it.

“What’s going on behind me that has you squeezing my shoulders like that?” Alex asked, craning his head back, “It kinda hurts.”

“Nothing.” Haley snapped.

She turned her head away from (Y/n) and Leah, trying to ignore them bonding over being the newest residents of the valley and how Leah’s first Flower Dance went. How Leah taught (Y/n) the steps, something that could have been Haley’s honor not even ten minutes ago.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” Alex winced, “Come on Haley, I can feel your nails through my shirt.”

“Sorry.” Haley eased up a bit, but her steely gaze still lingered on the two women butchering the steps while snickering to each other.

Haley was furious. They were making a mockery of the long standing tradition! That was definitely what was pissing her off. Not the fact that she could have just as easily been in Leah’s shoes, helping (Y/n) find her footing and laughing with her instead—

“Too tight again Haley, damn!” Alex hissed, finally twirling Haley around so he could take a look at what was pissing her off so bad that she felt the need to leave him bruised.

“What am I supposed to be seeing here?”

“Just drop it.” Haley nearly growled.

“Ohhhh,” Alex winced upon spotting Leah and (Y/n) spinning together, “I get it. Well, they could just be dancing as friends like us you know. You’re not out of this yet.”

“What are you talking about?” She grumbled.

“(Y/n) and Leah. I figured farm girl would steal my spot this year. I was kinda hoping for it too,” Alex pulled at his collar, “this outfit is always so itchy.”

“Why would I dance with her? That makes no sense.” Haley shot defensively, not loud enough for anyone else to hear, but loud enough to make Emily peer over Shane’s shoulder to try and see what her sister was so grumpy about.

“Uhh, don’t you like her?” Alex asked with uncertainty, “I could have sworn—“

“I do not!” Haley fumed, heart pounding and face flushing once again, “Why would you think that?”

“The last time we were in your dark room. I mean, dude, like, a loooot of your pictures lately have been of (Y/n)…”

“I needed to have a gallery that showcased humans and nature for an online class!” Haley defended, though her cheeks blushed darker, “I sure as hell wasn’t going to ask that weirdo in the mountains if I could follow him around for a couple days. (Y/n) was the obvious choice.”

“I don’t get why you’re so defensive about it. It’s cool if you like her or whatever. You know I don’t care. Emily definitely wouldn’t. I think no one would mind as much as you seem to, or you’re at least in the minority on the subject.”

“I. Do. Not. Like. Her. Like. That.” Haley gritted out.

Alex sighed heavily. Why did Haley always have to be so stubborn? He had an idea, but it was going to be just a little mean…

“Oh whoa, they’re totally making out.”

“What?!”

Haley’s heart dropped as she yanked Alex around so she could look at (Y/n) and Leah again. They weren’t kissing, nor did it look like they had been. They were still clumsily dancing together as they talked.

Haley turned her eyes back on Alex, who dared to wear a smug little smirk on her face that Haley desperately wanted to slap off.

“You do like her, Hales. You haven’t liked anyone in forever! And as your best friend, it’s my job to help you shoot your shot. Come on, let’s dance over and see if we can’t get you to cut in.”

“No, Alex,” Haley pulled him back, a touch of fear in her voice “I, I can’t. Not after what I said. She must think I’m such a bitch.”

“What are you talking about?”

“She already asked me to dance, Alex,” Haley groaned angrily at herself, “and do you know what I said? I said, ‘ew, no’.”

“No.” Alex sucked in air through clenched teeth.

“Yeah, try coming back from that. She’ll never talk to me again.”

“You could tell her you’re sorry. Say you got so nervous you insulted her. That might help.”

“Oh sure.” Haley scoffed.

“It would be better than doing nothing!” Alex whined. “Haley, before (Y/n), I was basically the only person you ever talked to. You really stepped up this year and I’d hate to see you close yourself off again.”

(Y/n) and Leah seemed to have grown tired of dancing and went to join the sidelines once more and Haley looked to the grass at her feet. She wanted to say to hell with it. People come and go all the time, just look at her parents and their never ending trips. However, she couldn’t bring herself to slip away from (Y/n). She didn’t want (Y/n) to slip away from her either.

“What do I do, Alex? She’s not going to want to talk to me after this.”

“We’ll think of something,” Alex promised, giving Haley one last twirl, “We’ll think of something.”

***

“H-hello?” (Y/n) called out as she entered the Secret Woods.

She had received a letter in the mail that morning, urging her to arrive at her earliest convenience. She had half a mind to suspect it was the bear again, although the only thing she had been instructed to bring was herself, not syrup.

As she wandered further into the clearing, she faintly heard music playing and decided to follow it. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Haley flattening a table cloth over a large tree stump. The sting of yesterday was still very fresh in her mind. Surely Haley didn’t send her that letter… she took a step back, but her foot snapped a twig, causing Haley’s head to snap up.

Haley quickly finished what she was doing, hands moving clumsily from nervousness. She dried her sweaty palms on the back of her skirt and then took a deep breath as she approached (Y/n).

“Hey,” Haley said, her smile looking a bit too pained to be sincere. Much like the polite smile (Y/n) was trying to hold.

“Ah, sorry Haley. I didn’t know—“

“I want you here,” Haley spoke quickly, “I wrote the letter.”

“You did? Why?” (Y/n) asked, her body language defensive. After yesterday, she wasn’t too keen on listening to whatever Haley had to say. She didn’t think she knew Haley as well as she thought she did.

“Because I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I- I was totally out of line. I’m really, really sorry.”

“But why did you say that at all? Haley, that really hurt me.” (Y/n) crossed her arms over her chest.

“I know, I regretted it as soon as I said it. I was just scared I guess. I didn’t expect you to ask me to dance and I know that’s a dumb excuse, but I swear I didn’t mean it.”

“What were you scared for?” (Y/n) asked softly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Because I,” Haley took in a shaky breath, “I like you a lot.”

“You were scared to accept my invitation to dance because you like me?” (Y/n) tested the words on her tongue, finding them just as confusing as when Haley had said them.

“Yeah, well, when you repeat it back like that it sounds dumb,” Haley blushed, “but, ugh! You know me. I’m not easy to get along with. I also don’t like being vulnerable so this whole thing is killing me now, but, I also like you too much to not try to apologize so,” Haley tentatively held her hand out to the bewildered farmer, “will you please let me have this dance in an attempt to redeem myself?”

(Y/n) studied the offered hand for a moment, making Haley so nervous she stopped breathing, but then (Y/n) gave her a small smile and took Haley’s hand.

“Okay.”

Haley inhaled deeply, feeling a weight come off her shoulders. She hurriedly put her free hand around (Y/n)’s waist and took the lead. Her skin tingled when (Y/n)’s hand came to rest on her shoulder.

“Thank you.” Haley breathed a sigh of relief.

“You know, you really surprised me yesterday,” (Y/n) began, making Haley wince, “I know you can be a little grouchy, even mean sometimes,” Haley wished the ground would swallow her whole,

“but the more we got to know each other, the more I got to see who you are trying to protect, the person who are underneath the prickliness. Granted, the prickliness is just as much a part of you, but I think it’s cute when you’re a little snarky,” Haley bit the inside of her cheek. She felt like she should be insulted, but (Y/n) finding something about her cute was making her blush,

“I was hurt when you turned me down like that yesterday, but I was also worried that would be the end of our friendship.”

“Why would you worry about that? If the shoe had been on the other foot, I would have said good riddance.” Haley asked, mentally kicking herself for possibly giving (Y/n) the idea to back away now.

“Yeah, I kinda did feel that way at first,” (Y/n) admitted, “but when Leah helped me cool down, I at least wanted to know why you reacted the way you did. I’m glad you reached out to me before I did, because I honestly had no idea how to approach the subject.” (Y/n) said with a sheepish grin.

“What, are you afraid of me or something, Miss spends-all-winter-in-the-mines?” Haley Scoffed.

“Oh definitely.”

“Really?”

“You are scarier than you give yourself credit for.”

Haley tried not to laugh, but she couldn’t help it. She lowered her head to rest against (Y/n)’s shoulder and giggled, making (Y/n) laugh as well.

They swayed through a couple more songs before Haley pulled back and asked (Y/n) if she was hungry before motioning back to the the covered tree stump. They ate and talked together while listening to the portable radio Haley had brought along. When there was a lull, Haley asked,

“Hey, it’s not exactly the Flower Dance, but there’s always a dance floor at the summer Luau… be my dance partner?”

(Y/n) perked up, giving Haley another smile that gave her butterflies, “I’d like that.”

“Awesome.”

Maybe by summer she’d work up the courage to ask (Y/n) if she wanted to be her girlfriend, but this was perfect for now. Alex was going to need to help her with a plan, but when (Y/n) reached across the stump the tuck a bit of Haley’s hair behind her ear, she was feeling a little better about her chances.

#stardew valley x reader #stardew valley oneshots #stardew valley haley x reader #sdv haley #sdv haley x reader

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ellesthots · 1 month ago

Text

Fateful Beginnings

XXXV. “bittersuite domesticity”

parts: previous / next

plot: you and Bruce bond, a task more pleasant than either of you anticipated.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, substance use, fluffy fluff 😏

words: 8.1k

a/n: i think y’all are gonna like this chapter 😇 yes the title is a play on words... iykyk (🎵)

Suddenly, idling at Rai’s had much higher stakes.

You tried to relax and peruse the back aisles, but more customers arrived. You got in line behind the older lady while Rai attended to his kind community member duty of speaking with her like an old friend. Elderly residents nearby weren’t able to get out much, and he picked up a lot of the slack. Except right now, that duty had you frustrated and overwhelmed in waiting, the grumble in your stomach starting to have a bite. At this point it had to have been fifteen minutes, meaning Bruce would be up in your apartment in fifteen… fuck.

You did a last circle around the store, eyes flitting between snacks, slushies, candies… You kept looking back trying to catch his eye, hoping he might get the hint and step aside for a second to help you. It wasn’t working, and your leg was beginning to sore. Glancing at her cart, they still had a bag or two to fill. Shit.

You grabbed a few extra candies and got in line behind her, resigning to stay put and let fate take over. Upon hearing the rustling of your items, she looked over her shoulder and grinned at you. “Skittles! Oh, I love those little things. Have you tried the sour ones? I keep them stocked for my grandson. Speaking of…” She held up a hand to Rai and wandered back to the candy aisle. Fate!

“Can you check me out really quick?” You showed your few items, and he nodded. “In a hurry, huh?”

“Yeah. Would you be able to grab me some uh,” You peered through the glass and saw the tabbouleh was out, and you chose the item falling into vision next. “Chicken tenders. Can I have half a pound?”

“Sure.” He bagged it, glancing as he closed the bag to see the woman arriving back. He handed it over and winked at you. “You can come back sometime this week and pay.”

”Really? I can—”

“Here you go.” The lady placed a few bags of sour skittles on the counter with a smirk. You nodded to Rai who nodded back, and after a quick thanks, hurried back up to your apartment. He’d be there in seven minutes. He seemed like the person who was usually early.

By the time you made it back to your apartment, it was the time of his arrival. You hoped he was caught up in traffic or something (not likely…) and tossed the food on the counter, the legs of the dining table scraping against the floor in the most grating fashion as you pulled it in front of the couch. Midway through unplugging the television in your room and prepping to carry it out, you heard a knock at the door. You hoisted the TV into your arms and staggered through the door to place it on the table, where it looked unseemly. On your way to let him in, you noticed you didn’t have an outlet nearby. Ugh.

Bruce had given himself a pep-talk on the drive, coaching himself on what to say to you. He knew he wanted to apologize, that much was extremely clear. He went back and forth on telling you the pity thing, because the revelation was genuinely so simple, but endowed crucial context…

It was starting to sprinkle; end of August meant Fall was practically a week away, which was a slippery slope to the highest crime events of the year. Going into 2024, he didn’t think he’d have to worry about an election for at least another year or two, and he wrestled back fears of another Election Night 2022 debacle.

Soon he’d be able to get back out there; usually this time of night he’d be headed down to the basement after a quick meal with Alfred. Drawing up some plans for the evening (that were usually disposed of due to unforeseen circumstances) before suiting up. He expected his body to feel more antsy to get back to it, or feel considerably slower, neither of which he did. His wounds were healing, his left leg still ached but nothing he couldn’t drag his mind away from. Tonight felt quiet. Nights like these invariably left him suspicious.

He waited a few minutes in his car, parking in the same alley he’d dropped you off in. His palms were starting to perspire, knowing he was going to answer to you in whichever way you held him. As much as he desired to spend the whole night stalling, that was his problem. He’d been avoiding you earlier, avoiding being cared about, and avoiding being caring. While he didn’t much care about the implications of isolation and avoidance as far as he was concerned, he didn’t like you being in the blast radius. If the hugs had told him anything, it was that you were already hurting more than enough. He was done putting you in jail for the crime of caring.

You deserved a proper apology, and that was what he’d give you.

Walking toward your apartment while the nightcrawlers were just getting started made him uneasy. Every man he passed on the sidewalk that looked down at his phone had him biting his cheek, gripping the fabric of his jacket pocket, enraged. Which of these pathetic freaks wrote about you?

As he reached your unit, the rage was dimming. When you opened the door, he noticed you looked tired, but not exhausted–that was good. You stepped aside for him to walk in, and he shed his top layers, fighting against his manufacturing to make sure the apology actually got past his lips.

Bruce was in a black outfit, with his usual thick jacket and hoodie pairing. Your body had an immediate response to his presence after the argument, reflexively turning away from him and stiffening. Locking the door behind him felt superfluous in his presence, but you did it anyway.

He removed his jacket and hoodie as he walked the expanse of your floor, draping them over the back of a chair. Your eyes searched his body for evidence of injury or duress, and for about the millionth time since you’d been around him or Alfred, you wished they didn’t read body language like the written word. His tone was soft, apprehensive. “I thought you might want some company.”

Thought I might want some company? You narrowed your eyes and crossed your arms. “So you’re not in crisis?”

“You thought I was in crisis?”

You looked to the ground. “We argued again, so.”

He didn’t appreciate being perceived to the point of recognizing character changes, like how strange it was for him to request a movie night. He rarely asked it of his parents as a kid, their busy schedule leaving the invitation up to them on the rare occasion it ever came. Alfred was always the one to initiate after their deaths, but he’d stopped asking after the twentieth time Bruce had isolated to his bedroom instead.

Thinking back to how busy his mother had been, a thought struck him: were all the ‘vacations’ she went on actually her being admitted to Arkham? Had they hid it that well? Something must have flit across him then, because your eyes were darting across the plane of his face with increasing confusion.

He shook his head while he recovered words. Even thinking about the photos of his mother Riddler had posted didn’t render him as discomposed as this morning, when simply being around you felt like a knife lifting his nailbeds. Alfred had made some unfortunate points that painted you in a much better light. “I’m not in crisis. I wanted to apologize for how I acted earlier. I was avoiding you.”

You didn’t know why you got anxious when he said that, but you did. He put his hands in his pocket and struggled to make more than intermittent eye contact. He heaved a large sigh, which made you especially attuned to what he might say. Swore you could feel the hairs of your inner ear buzzing with anticipation.

“I appreciate you opening up to me.”

Hearing words like apologize and appreciate felt foreign from Bruce. You’d heard variations of them before, yet it remained uncanny. Like his mouth wasn’t used to forming the words. They didn’t seem to roll off his tongue.

“But…?” You braced yourself for him to assert that the two of you couldn’t speak anymore. That a boundary had been crossed. That he appreciated you opening up, but he didn’t want that to happen anymore. That he was glad to have helped you, but he didn’t want to make it a habit.

His brow cocked. “What do you mean?”

Your tone was petulant, brittle. “You appreciate my opening up, but ‘we don’t have to do this anymore’. Or maybe you’d rather ‘I don’t want it’?”

An extended silence, leaving a lot of room for your mind to fill the blank. Some time for your eyes to roam about his outfit, his hair, his face. The wear evident in his shirt, seeing some of his skin peeking through. A hole at the bottom of his left pocket. How he double-knotted his Converse.

When he spoke next, it was through closed eyes. “I’m not good at this. I’m not used to any of it.”

The hugs? The conversation? Being cared about? The whole city cared about him. The whole internet. In some ways, the whole world. “Used to what?”

“The only care people have shown me is through pity.”

You felt one of your defenses shatter, your shoulders becoming a bit lighter. “About your parents?”

He nodded, becoming sheepish. He detested being this open, it drained him, but he wanted to return the favor of your earlier vulnerability. “Yeah. Everyone still looks at me like I’m that kid. No one saw me, they saw what happened to me.” And you saw me hung unsaid, on the edge of his teeth. “You checking on me and opening up felt like pity. Everything does.”

It felt fucking weird to use his words like this. His voice was going dry from talking so much, even though he really hadn’t talked much at all. Maybe it was the things he wasn’t saying. He wanted to look over at you, but the adrenaline coursing through his veins at feeling exposed was excruciating. If he looked at you right now before you spoke, he’d fill in the blanks. The valley between his share and your response felt painfully raw.

You said what you thought, your mind thunking the pieces into place plainly and neatly. “That makes sense. I never thought about that.” It wasn’t the most flowery response, but you noticed his shoulders stop tensing. “I’m sorry if I played into that.” You sighed, feeling like you should’ve put the pieces together sooner yourself, without him having to hand it to you on a platter. Hmm. Why might someone who endured a national tragedy as a child be annoyed with people’s concern?

The sound of a knock at the door startled you. You and Bruce exchanged a look, and you backed off while he walked to the peephole. It was then that you realized you hadn’t checked it before opening it earlier, assuming it was him. You couldn’t forget again.

His hair rustled against his forehead as he turned around. “It’s Gordon. Probably here for your statement.”

“You can hide in my room.”

He walked into it and shut the door seconds before you opened to two officers, only one of whom you’d seen before.

“Is this the residence of Y/N Y/L/N?”

You nodded. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Detective Gordon, as you could see via his badge, stepped in alongside a mustached officer. Martinez was his name tag. “We’re here to collect your statement on the assault that occurred 28th of August, on the corner of Bushnel and Tally. I’d ask if now is a good time, but we’re already late to collect, our apologies.”

You invited them in and tried to play off that they had nowhere to sit. “I’m waiting on some new furniture,”

Det. Gordon shook his head, taking out a notepad. “All good, ma’am. We should be no longer than a few minutes.”

And a long few minutes it had been. They asked only the most basic of questions, such as where he kicked you, any words he said, any threats he made, and if you were aware of any prior history between you and the assailant. Martinez held up a camera, asking if there were any visible injuries. You held out your hands initially, seeing the scabs on top of the knuckles, but you’d forgotten if they’d come more from trying to stop Bruce than the man himself. You stuck to showing them the bruise on your thigh, which you hadn’t had the chance to look at. Deep red, purple and gravelly, looking like you’d been skidding against the sidewalk. You figured falling out of his vehicle didn’t help.

Surprisingly, they knew about that too. You figured a certain vigilante had been the informant.

“Let me summarize to make sure we’re on the same page.” Det. Gordon flipped a few pages back, adjusting his glasses. Martinez was looking at the ground in front of him, his hand situated on his hip. He seemed to only be here for backup, maybe they had to come to these things in pairs. “Wednesday evening, you received a call from…” His voice dulled as he recited the events in perfect detail, each additional sentence drilling into you how intense the past two days had been. After what felt like a lifetime, he finished. “Is that correct?”

You nodded, your throat closing. Bruce had really saved you twice in forty-eight hours. Probably an attempt to cope, you thought about how Walter never had to worry about anything like this.

“I need verbal confirmation, ma’am.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Det. Gordon sighed, scribbling something else. “Looks like we’ll need to pay Mr. Wayne a visit.” Martinez perked at the statement, and you suppressed the ghost of a laugh. If only he knew Bruce was in the next room.

Det. Gordon closed his notebook, tucking the pen into the spiral. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Y/L/N. We’ll get back to you sometime in the next week with further details. Sorry that happened to you.”

“Yeah, sorry that happened.” Officer Martinez tipped his hat at you in apology, following behind Det. Gordon, gently shutting the door. Not three seconds later did Bruce step out of your bedroom, face contorted in serious consideration.

“It never takes them that long to get a statement. Something big must have happened.” You could see in his eyes he was thumbing through all sorts of information in the back of his head. You giggled, a sound Bruce didn’t find completely unusual (everyone had different reactions to traumatic events, after all), but the sound itself embedded in his chest. You laughed again, and it pushed deeper. “What?”

“You just look so serious.” Another laugh slipped out, which snowballed into a laughing fit. Bruce wondered if you might start crying again, like you had the last time you laughed in front of him like this, but you didn’t, doubling over in bursts of giggles. His body was a disorienting blend of feelings in response.

When you opened your eyes after gathering yourself, your vision was hazy, your head a bit dizzy. Your chest felt light, and your eyes caught on the tenders sitting to your right on the countertop, your stomach grumbling. You fished one out of the bag, your eyes rolling back at its decadence. God, so fucking good!

Oh, fuck. You’d taken an edible an hour ago. You didn’t think you’d taken that much.

Bruce side-eyed you, having averted his eyes after feeling his stomach jump at the rolling of yours— suspicious of how quickly your face had fallen and how fast you moved from task to task. “Are you o—”

“I took an edible. Right before you called, I forgot.” You cracked a laugh at the absurdity of it all, unable to contain the humor bubbling inside, but quieted yourself by focusing on eating the food. Your stomach was like an empty pit. You finished eating your singular chicken tender without further accidental innuendo, and became worrying, serious. Your shoulders deflated. “I’m sorry. If you don’t want to be around someone high, I know you don’t do substances, it’s probably weird,”

He interrupted with something he hoped might break you out of your slumped state, because he didn’t feel weird. “I actually took some of the edible you gave me back in spring.” As expected, your face lit up… with confusion, and awe.

“You said you never do them.”

“It was an interesting night.” You didn’t need to know that was precisely when he’d decided his persona, developing it while his brain was slow and the world was blurred. You sat in thought for a moment.

“But that doesn’t mean you’re okay with being around someone who is.”

“I’m more concerned if you are comfortable with it.” He’d noticed the TV wasn’t plugged in, but before moseying over to try and find a plug, he wanted your answer.

You shrugged. “I mean, yeah. We’re just watching a movie or whatever.” You messed around in the bag some more, procuring a bag of Skittles. He hadn’t had one of those since he was a kid.

Even lacking sobriety, your perception skills remained intact. You held the bag out to him. “Have some.”

He took the bag and opened it, pouring a few into his palm. You dug around some more, the sound of thin rustling plastic filling the silence, and pulled a pouch of Sour Patch Kids. He didn’t know if he’d ever tried those.

You opened the bag and each ate some handfuls of the respective candies in silence, your face puckering a bit at the sour sting. Bruce noticed a small bottle of rosé in the corner by the bread cabinet, unopened. It was far from the best idea on a night like this, both inebriated, a day after a man had threatened to have you killed, but he gestured to it regardless. “Mind if I have some?”

“Don’t just have some because I’m high, dude.” You popped another candy in your mouth. Bruce shrugged and walked toward it. You shook your head, but with his back turned he couldn’t tell, forcing you to voice your concerns. “Seriously.” Your tone fell from its casual cadence to a darker tone, firmer. “You said you never do it,”

“I’ve had alcohol before, I’ll manage.” As he approached the bottle, he hadn’t quite known what had possessed him, but as his ears attuned to the rustle of the plastic and his eyes acclimated to the physical space, he realized he felt more free. If he drank at home, he’d either have to be alone in his room or in the kitchen with Alfred. He could never at a social event, because he didn’t attend them to be social, he attended them to analyze. Letting anything lower his inhibitions around the likes of Convoy and Gavenstein wasn’t an option. However, now it felt fun. He grabbed the neck of the bottle, and you spoke with a start.

“Wait, your meds. Can you drink on them? Will it make your symptoms worse?”

Bruce recalled a ‘use caution when consuming alcohol’ warning on the outside of the bottle. It didn’t say no… “Should be fine, won’t have too much.”

“Bruce.”

He glanced over his shoulder at you, your face knit with worry; it ruffled him, but he blocked his thoughts before they became too rigid. This isn’t pity, this is concern. Concern was borne of care. You cared. Instead of turning away, he’d care back. He hummed on ideas for a shake. “Would it make you feel better if I called Crane?”

You nodded, bewildered that his tone bore no sarcasm or annoyance. He took out his phone, and you counted the subtle rings barely heard on the other end. Dr. Crane picked up after two. You couldn’t hear his voice, too muffled, but you could hear Bruce’s.

“It’s Bruce, yeah. I had a question about my medication.”

You watched as he pressed the phone to his ear, how he slowly meandered around the kitchen, looking at his shoes as he spoke. Warmth flooded you seeing him seem perfectly fine. This was the first time neither of you had been in crisis since. All you were going to do was watch a movie. No trying to stop him from hurting himself, no worrying about where he was, or what he was doing, none of him saving you.

Bruce hung up, thwarting your daydream. “Should be fine. Are you fine with it?”

You met his steady, bright blue eyes and felt a jolt in your chest, like falling down the stairs in a dream. You looked down at the bag from Rai’s, the red THANK YOU in copied prose crinkling about. “Yeah.” You shoved the feeling away, cracking a joke instead. “If you’re fine with not having million-dollar wine.”

He chuckled, the same way he had when he held you. Mostly internal, through his nose, his chest moving more than anything else. You studied him unwrapping the lid, reaching into his pocket for his keys that, of course, had a pocket knife attached. Watching him uncork it put you in a trance; the subtle ripple of his back with the movement, the pop of the cork coming undone beneath his fingers.

You’d been curiously silent behind him; when he finished opening the bottle he turned around, meeting your half-lidded eyes. Your head was in your hands, framing a sleepy grin. His stomach lurched, fluffs of anxiety toiling within it. The last time he’d felt this way was when Selina had unexpectedly kissed him. Confusing to have it appear now, in such a different context.

He channeled his focus instead on finding a glass. You didn’t have any flutes, but he withheld a joke about it, not wanting to make you uncomfortable or come across pompous. He poured a hefty glass, his wrist tipping further the more he felt your eyes on him.

The high created a delayed reaction, and you realized too late that he’d watched you gawking. Gawking? Was that what you were doing? You grabbed another tender and your juice before turning around to scoot the table closer to the outlet, desperate to shake off whatever stupor you’d been unconsciously put under.

Bruce would’ve jumped in to help, but he thought the distance would be good right now. He didn’t like the way his attention pulled toward you, or the way his hands shivered around the glass. Thankfully, his voice was unaffected. “Anything you had in mind to watch?”

You finally plugged the cord into the wall, and unceremoniously plopped onto the far side of the couch, leaving the whole right side open. “You can pick.” A wash of relief settled over you at having been the first to sit, not wanting to be the one to gauge how close to get if he’d sat first. Bruce wandered over with his very full glass of wine, and sat about a foot away. It still felt too congested.

“I got nothing.” He adjusted into the cushions, taking his first sip of wine. His left side was lit like a live wire.

You turned on the TV and flipped through some channels while he sipped. You had to force your eyes to remain strictly contained to the screen, a task that was monumentally difficult through the peak of your edible. “There’s this one show everyone’s talking about online. We could try watching the first episode, it’s like an hour.”

Bruce nodded, resting his hand with the glass on his right thigh. “Sure.”

You clicked it, thanking the ultra-fast wifi in the building for an immediate loading. You might have died if you had to stare too long at a black screen, the uncomfortable portrait of you sitting together reflecting back.

You both sat like that for the duration of the episode; in silence, with the occasional sip from Bruce. The first half was one of the more awkward things you’d experienced; you were acutely aware of how high you were, and how alone you were with him. You’d nearly taken double the dose earlier, and you probably would’ve freaked the fuck out if you had.

About halfway through the episode, you began to get sucked into the show—in a bad way. The acting was terrible, absolutely piss-poor; this resulted in a few sideways glances to Bruce which he reciprocated, each time his cheeks becoming a little more flushed from the alcohol. As the episode ended, you became one with the couch, the high beginning to taper, and your nerves the same. Bruce was about three-quarters done with his drink, probably the equivalent of one and a half shots if he downed the last bit.

As the first episode’s credits ran, you sat in a dumbfounded hypnosis. This was what everyone had been raving about? Huh? Your high’s slow descent left you less inhibited. “…That was so fucking bad.”

Buce nearly choked on his wine, evidently having taken a sip just as you spoke. You turned toward him. “You don’t agree?!”

He shook his head, licking his lips to catch the drops of wine that’d escaped in his almost-coughing recovery. His voice was more animated than you’d heard it before. “I was hoping you wouldn’t click ‘next episode’.”

A second of silence and you both laughed, his cheeks moving from a light rose to sunburn in tandem. He gave the impression of a lightweight; for once not drinking with Mar, you weren’t the least liquor-experienced. His laugh was cute, more full than you’d anticipated, but you could barely hear it over your own. “I don’t know how people can stand it.”

He stuck his hand out to the TV, his brow furrowed with such pure befuddlement you started laughing again, to which he giggled through his next sentence. “The officer was so obvious. Anyone with half a brain would’ve figured it out… is that the premise of the show? Whodunnit?”

“I thought it was the unassuming friend, I thought that was obvious.”

Bruce’s hand slapped to his thigh, his head cocking toward yours with a gentle eyeroll. “You’re joking.”

“Let’s go to the last episode! I’ll be right.” You grabbed the remote and clicked through the fifteen episodes between, each click evoking a scoff from him.

“The friend would be so cliche.”

So disdainful for someone wrong. “And the suspicious officer wouldn’t be? It’s so on the nose.” You clicked PLAY, now taking a while to load up.

“Which would make someone overlook it, like you’re doing now.”

“Alright detective.”

The episode opened to a black screen fading in, showing someone’s hands, lingering there, the metal handcuffs clinking. You and Bruce sat forward in your seats as it panned up to reveal the friend in custody.

“I TOLD YOU!” You paused the show and tossed the remote aside, gloating.

Bruce smirked, taking another sip of wine. “What if it’s a fake out?”

You’d never pulled out your phone so fast, and shoved it in his face when it confirmed your suspicions. “Hmm!”

“Alright, alright.”

“Hand over the baton, bucko.”

He side-eyed you, his mouth curling into an amused smirk. “‘Bucko’?”

“Can’t believe I outsmarted the ‘world’s greatest detective’.” As soon as the words passed your lips, the reality set in of who you were sitting next to, and anxiety nipped at your skin again. It was easy for you to dismiss his power when you were angry at him, or begrudging about it; when he had all your systems activated, wanting to run, scream, fight. Not when your guard was down, and you were under a green haze. Not when he was sitting comfortably on your couch.

“Suit might be a little short for you.”

His attempt at humor shocked your nerves again, dulling them. “Didn’t know you were capable of making a joke.”

He grinned, cocking an eyebrow as he sipped the rest of the wine. You’d never imagined him this relaxed. His shoulders down not from defeat, but relaxation; his eyes half-lidded not from desperation, or succumbing to whatever darkness lay within him, but wine’s subtle embrace. Even his legs were more splayed out, casting their net wider, his normally chiseled jawline dulled as his head sank into the back cushion.

You liked him like this, and felt braver. You sat back against the couch to match, tilting your head toward him, his already tilted toward you. “So what else does Bruce Wayne do?”

He looked confused.

“Public you. Do you just go to City Hall meetings, occasionally a shopping spree that totally isn’t a photo-op?”

He chuckled under his breath, his words coming out a little slower. Whoa, you really liked making him laugh. You wet your lips, subconsciously shifting nearer. “About to go to campaign events.” He met your eyes again, an act that was rapidly becoming a slippery slope. Every time he did it you felt more and more comfortable there. “What about you?”

“Campaign things? Yeah, I don’t have much else to do. I’ll try to be at every event.”

“You’re genuinely interested in Gotham politics?”

“Would I rather be home? Maybe, but it’s fascinating. The fact it got sprung on so quickly…”

“Been meaning to pay Reál a visit.” He stayed looking at you the entire time, and you drank up every second of it.

“I was thinking that too.” You mimicked his earlier laugh without conscious awareness. “If only we could pair up. Alas…”

He shrugged, the ripples in his shirt moving with his shoulders. “We could.”

You laughed again; whether it was the weed or his more friendly company, you’d figure later. “No way.”

“You could chaperone my visits. Be my transcriber.” He grinned at you, not giving away how much of it was a joke.

You rolled your eyes at him, playfully. “That’d be making me your personal assistant, Bruce.”

He liked when you said his name. “Guess you’re right, Y/N.”

A few seconds of silence rattled around your chest like a ping-pong ball. “If that happened, shit. Whatever credibility I have left would tank.” You looked at the screen, still paused on the friend’s form in the striped outfit.

“Don’t want that.”

You stared at each other, then busted laughing again. It felt different than how Dr. Vry had sneered at you in the meeting, mocking the notion of you having a name to protect; this was harmless, and if you hadn’t already picked up on it, you could tell by his smiling glances between laughs. Mmm, this wasn’t…

Wanting to ask him this since the candidates were first announced but never having the opportunity, you shot your shot after the din lowered. You grasped for anything platonic to settle the rhapsody that threatened to overwhelm you. “Which candidate are you liking?”

Bruce shot you another look, making your stomach flip. He was teasing. “You care about the billionaire’s opinion on city politics?”

“I am rubbing off on you!” You beamed.

He rolled his eyes in that same way, the grin sneaking into your eyes filling his chest like a balloon. He could hardly breathe around it. “I won’t endorse.”

You squinted. “Why not?”

“People could think whoever I endorse paid me off. Could have the opposite effect.”

You nodded, pondering it for a second. You were more relieved than you’d let on. “That’s better than what I thought your reasoning was. Thought I’d have to fight you.”

“And what did you think it was?”

“Some apolitical bullshit.”

He sighed, the whisper of a smile on his cheeks lifting it nearly into a laugh. “For someone who acts like they know me so well,”

“And when did I claim to?” This was the most pleasant ‘argument’ you’d ever had.

“Maybe it’s more your tone.” You could’ve sworn he winked at you.

This conversation had the aura of a flotation device; barely holding you both afloat. “I don’t know how I feel about a man talking about my tone. Especially one as sunshiney as you.”

“Touché.”

Laughter filled the room again. It was becoming easier and easier now, like a contagion. Bruce lightened his inflection, making it almost sing-songy. “What about you? Who do you like?” You held in a laugh that would’ve projected flecks of spit across the room. You felt ridiculous, and weird, alongside such vast enjoyment. You never, ever thought his company could be so agreeable.

“Only barely looked into them, but March seems about as stellar as a politician can be.” You were surprised you could still think so clearly; usually by this point of the edible, you were crashing into your pillow. His presence tonight was captivating, and you held back a flash of panic having thought that.

You hadn’t been looking at him, holding in a laugh having forced you to stare at his frayed black shoes, but you caught him laughing in your periphery, shaking his head. Your suspicious glare prompted him to elaborate. “You missed when he came to a meeting, it was like you were speaking through his body.”

“Now look who claims to know me so well!”

“That’s right, you hate the idea of taxing the rich and using the funds to help the less fortunate.”

You blushed, biting back a wide grin. “You’re so annoying.”

“Mmhmm.”

You gave him a once over while he checked his phone, mulling over how this simultaneously felt incredibly natural and out of character for him. Was this one of the ‘last good days’ people talked about? What Dr. Crane told you to look out for? An unusually elevated and expansive mood, inevitably leading to a crash, or signaling a resignation to the end? You didn’t want to kill the vibe, but felt that same pull to be the responsible one. “Really, are you okay?”

Bruce attuned to the shift in your body language as if it were his own. His knee-jerk response was to deny and reassure you he was fine. Truly, he wanted to tell you to stop asking him, and stop concerning yourself with his wellbeing. The alcohol had infiltrated, his walls dropping with far less resistance than usual, allowing him to start thinking through the tunnels of emotion without much fight. He felt okay right now, unnervingly so, but when he thought back to going home, about stepping out of the confines of these walls, it all felt heavier.

“It’s okay if you’re not. I’m not fine, either.”

He glanced over at you, your eyes blinking more than usual from the marijuana, slightly unfocused, but trying. He looked at his hands in his lap, fiddling with the tip of his pinky.

“And you don’t have to share because you think you owe it to me.”

Any other day he would’ve bristled at such blatant concern, but right now it cocooned him in comfort. Made his cheeks warmer than they already felt. He recalled your head snapping to the conference door when he’d slipped into his Batman modulation, an action that had him staring at you too long, only half-hearing Gordon on the other end. Had his breath catch before leaving.

“I want to. It’s just new to me. Talking, socializing, parading those rooms.” That physical pain returned to him, and he gestured to you. “Someone knowing besides Alfred. And the mental stuff.”

He expected you to be bored, for your eyes to have glazed over, but your attention was eager. You weren’t even wringing your hands together as you usually were. You spoke gently, but in a fashion nowhere similar to coddling. He wanted to lean closer to you.

“How’s that been?”

His chest puffed with a sharp breath, the rosé swirling in his gut. “No more owls, if that’s what you’re asking. The medication’s been fine, makes me feel a bit jittery, not hungry. That’s about it.”

“It’s gotta be hard to adjust to.”

He nodded, opening his mouth to speak. You spoke first.

“You’re also under the influence, I don’t want you to regret sharing anything.” Now you wrung your hands together.

His eyes searched yours, continuously floored at how often you chose the response least expected. No one else would look out for him like this. None of the people at City Hall, at least. No one in any rooms he’d ever been in. The next words out of his mouth spilled from unadulterated confusion, unable to scour his mind for an obvious answer. “How are you able to do that?”

His brows were knit together tight, all semblance of humor gone. Your voice was softer. “Do what?”

“Look past my reputation.”

You didn’t know how much he’d like the answer, but you said it anyway. “I guess I don’t idolize that stuff. Supreme wealth and influence. I actually hate it.”

“What makes you hate it?” He leaned closer to you, feeling the strongest pull to completely unravel you like a spool of thread.

You noted his swerve from questions about his wellbeing, but didn’t tempt it again. You’d given him an out for a reason. You kept to task, shifting your body toward his without thought. “I don’t like hoarding resources when so many people are without.”

“That’s why you’re watching a movie with him.” You were like a hearth, warm, bright, and he wanted to keep adding kindling.

“Touché.” You grinned, hoping he wouldn’t see the color brought to your ears, but resigned to the reality he undoubtedly did. “I do hate that about you.”

“Would it help if I hated it too?”

“But you’re still not doing anything about it.”

Even when you were interrogating him, listing off his inadequacies, it didn’t dampen the hospitality he felt toward you. He didn’t even care it felt disorienting to admit he liked it. Alcohol was a dangerous drug, his eyes in a constant deliberation between focusing on yours or your lips. “What do you think I should do?”

“You really want to hear it?”

He nodded. He could listen to you talk all night.

You released a sigh from the bottom of your lungs. You floored it without thought for how it might come out with your jumbled, free-flowing mind right now. “I think people should be housed. Given food, access to resources. Like actual access, not handing them a paper or telling them a phone line when half of them don’t have phones. There are more empty apartments in the city than people houseless.”

Damn. “Really?” You were so passionate about this… it was enchanting.

“Yes.”

“So, subsidizing those units?” He’d hand you his card right now. He’d do just about anything you asked right now, his focus growing increasingly singular, the room crowding.

You nodded. “Making it free until people get on their feet. Work with the next mayor to draw up a new budget.”

Underneath the bloom of the alcohol, he felt himself beginning to simmer. He sat back a little. “And what if they just want to loiter?”

“What if they deserve to?”

Bruce didn’t have a response, thrown yet another curveball by you.

“Wouldn’t you want to relax and recover if you spent the last few years out on the streets, and you finally had a shower and a warm bed that’s all yours? A kitchen with food? We could partner with local charities and businesses to provide food and stubs.”

We. His mind zoomed on it like a magnifying glass. He shifted his weight, feeling unsettled. This was verging on a massive argument, tempting a trigger on his fight or flight, your conversation yanking him in opposing directions. “What about people with criminal convictions?”

“Your moral compass needs some nuance.”

Bruce bristled, the thought of criminals being handed a check to live comfortably off the government feeling as wrong as kicking a puppy. What did criminals do to deserve comfort, safety? They’d taken his parents from…

Something flashed across Bruce’s face for only a millisecond, his shoulders slumping. His brows knit together, barely, like a half-formed thought. He scanned the ground in front of him before subtly clearing his throat.

They hadn’t taken his parents from him. One person had. One man pulling the trigger. Christ.. He blinked a few times, vowing to dig into it more later. Something about the greater revelation hidden inside made that thought feel like the inaugural brick.

Thankfully, all he had to do to abandon the thought was focus back on you. The alcohol rendered his ruminations less sticky, but you stickier. He was starting to recognize the contours of your face. His initial balk melted into trust. “Nuance. I’m listening.”

His gaze falling on you was beginning to feel like a third place. Maybe a first. “You’re actually listening to me?”

Your pleasant surprise did heavy-lifting on the mood. He razzed. “Guess it’s the alcohol.”

You paused before sinking into his capturing charm, fretting over how out of character this was. Mood lability was one of the terms Dr. Crane had taught you, but before you could get too wrapped up in your thoughts, Bruce pulled you out of the early waves like a trained lifeguard. He positioned his body toward you, leaning even closer, tilting his head to better meet your wandering eyes. The second he tethered you there, he let down the anchor. “I’m safe.” He nodded slowly, just enough for you to register it.

Soft ebbs of his wine-tinged breath caressed your nose. You looked away, but his lullaby ‘hey’ drew your eyes back. He nodded firmer now. “I promise.”

You bit your lip, tears studding the rim of your eyes.

“I’ll keep promising until you believe me.”

Instead of the whimper that wanted to escape, a single tear fell, and his eyes followed it until it dripped off your chin.

“I don’t take your trust lightly.”

He’s so sweet like this. Another tear, overwhelming sensations swinging on monkey bars in your chest cavity. You brushed it off with the back of your palm, shaking out your hands as much as you could in the small space between you. His focused attention felt permeating, like standing too close to the sun. You let out an embarrassed laugh, struggling to play off your emotionality. “I know every time you bring it up I start crying, and I don’t know why, but. I can handle it. I want to be a resource.”

He mused on that a moment, the only evidence of it being the subtle shifts of his eyes focusing on yours. “If I ever feel like that, I’ll call you.” He measured your reaction with a fine-toothed comb, not wanting to ask too much, needing to straddle the line between comforting you and burdening. You nodded and withdrew your phone from your pocket, leaving him swimming in repose.

You handed him your phone on the New Contact page, and you watched as he input his number. Your breathing was deep and shallow altogether, confused, like the tendrils of flame that scorned your stomach lining as your eyes outlined the shadows of his hair across his forehead, like the electricity that zapped your nervous system when he spoke to you like that, the undulating depth of his blue eyes…

You busied yourself flipping through more streaming channels. Another popular show made you click, this time one Mar had personally recommended. He handed the phone back, glancing at the TV. He didn’t want to watch anything right now, he wanted to keep talking to you. But he didn’t really want you to keep feeling upset, either. He nodded for you to press PLAY.

It started how any flashy drama does, with a wild cold open. Your attention followed the commotion, flashing to a scene in a silent office. Pretty soon, the screen fuzzed out to unintelligible static. Tears streamed down your cheeks from the emotion of the scene, and Bruce leaned closer. His voice was hot in your ear, peppering goosebumps across your skin. “Let me.”

He pressed his lips to your cheeks, kissing away your tears. The clip of your heart thundering in your chest had you gasping at the contact, pushing yourself up to your knees to bring your mouth to his. His lips were soft and enveloping, turning your gasps into panting whines. His cologne squeezed your throat, leaving you breathless.

“Y/N…” he moaned your name into your mouth, a sound that went straight between your thighs. Your phone thudded against the ground, freeing up your hands to thread through his hair. The sounds he was making… Your arms collided, both having the same idea at the same time to pull the other’s shirt off.

Just as his shirt pulled over his head, you opened your eyes, jolting up. You felt your phone slide from your thigh to the couch cushion, still open to New Contact: Bruce. He rustled beside you, blinking slowly back into the room. You both looked entirely unmussed, a foot away. Everything still intact. You both had dozed off, apparently.

It was a fucking dream.

Looking at the screen showed you’d both been out for around half an hour, the show playing on. He ran a hand through his hair, stretching his neck from side to side while he yawned. You averted your eyes in case he could beam into your thoughts. “Um, I need to pee.” You gulped and rose unsteadily to your feet, all but racing to your bedroom.

You rested your forehead against the door once it shut, a gasp of breath leaving you. You twitched hard at the ghost of his lips on your neck, shaking your head while you ran to the bathroom, running ice water in the sink. You cooled your hot hands and placed them on the back of your neck and cheeks, letting your eyes shut.

Dreams are strange. Fickle and unintelligible. The coolness was bringing you back down, settling your heart rate before you inevitably passed out. You spent another few minutes there, avoiding your hair as much as possible as you tethered yourself with each press of your fingers to your face. You shook your hands out, jumping in place. Whew. The images and sensations were fading safely into obscurity, the temperature defogging the haze of your high.

Padding back to your bedroom showed the time to be around ten. The nap had only made you more tired. When you walked back out you focused on your kitchen island, ignoring the giant, screaming, flashing lights coming from the couch. You yawned, and he got up in response. “We fell asleep quick. Don’t know what that says about the show.” He said it so casually, but your mind was positively tumbling all over itself. You nodded, your mouth drying.

You weren’t aware that he was internally stewing over how seamlessly he’d followed your lead once you’d passed out, and all of the embarrassment that was following now that he was awake. He didn’t know that you were holding in a scream.

You brightened so he wouldn’t pry, watching him stretch himself more alert. “I know, I guess the week caught up with me!” Forced to look at him, you clamped your teeth against your tongue in preparation. It was needed.

“I’ll walk. Text you when I make it back?” He wanted to get ahead of your anxieties, knowing if the roles were reversed he’d demand it of you. He simpered. How egalitarian.

“Oh uh, yeah! I’ll text you when I get to bed.” Suggestive. “So you can have my number.” The recovery was far from smooth, but you were struggling to capture an impossible feat of looking at him but not perceiving him. He gave a small thumbs-up as he pulled the hoodie over his head and buttoned his jacket. Once his back was turned toward the door it was easier, but not by much.

He opened the door, peeking over his shoulder. “That was fun.”

“It was nice to have company. Even if it was yours.” In anguish, you clawed back to jests in a futile attempt at normalcy.

He laughed under his breath once more. “Even if it was yours.” His barely-there grin was the last thing you saw before the night crashed to an end.

Jesus fucking Christ.

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coochiequeens · 4 months ago

Text

There's something satisfying about when an abusive man is called out by other men. Or at least one man.

Rest In Infamy, You Haunted Castle

Why I believe the Neil Gaiman accusations

By GRAHAM LINEHAN JUL 19, 2024

I only met Neil Gaiman once, at an upscale dinner party where Derren Brown had been hired to do magic tricks like in the old-timey days. Between astonishments, Gaiman and I withdrew to a quiet corner where I pretended to be pleased that he was giving me a signed copy of ‘Sandman’. One of the unexpected advantages of being cancelled is telling people who took part in my harassment what I really think about their work, but this was a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, so I said the right things and we went back to being bamboozled by Brown’s invisible craft.

To give credit where it’s due, I later read Gaiman’s ‘Coraline’ to my kids which had them simultaneously terrified and hooked, and thanked him for it. Whatever my feelings about his earlier work, he was a real writer, practising his own invisible craft. From the evidence of that book, I thought he was probably a decent person too, an impression that continued until 2022, when we started to get into it over The Issue.

I may have asked why he wasn’t speaking out on behalf of JK Rowling, who was undergoing one of her regular cancellations for refusing to pander to the spoilt brats who loved her books but missed their meaning. A big name like his might have shifted the conversation and given her some much-needed support. He might perhaps have persuaded some of his fans to give the matter another look. This was when I assumed people like him acknowledged biological reality but worried about ‘coming out of the closet’, as it were. It took me years to realise that almost every celebrity mate of mine believed, or was pretending to believe, in the fashionable, American mind-cancer of ’gender’.

But back then, I was still astonished to find that he was a carrier of the virus, the mass delusion that by sheer coincidence, turned up after the arrival of the Internet. Whether it was Bill Bailey or Neil Hannon, Robin Ince or Matt Lucas, Arthur Mathews or Jimmy Mulville, it was always the same story. A sudden cloud of amnesia would form around my celebrity mates, a real peasouper, from which they suddenly could not see why we need female-only spaces, or why unhappy teenage girls will not find a miraculous cure for their woes in a double mastectomy. Far from sharing any of my urgency in the need to stop children from being irreversibly harmed in gender clinics, they instead downplayed, deflected and dismissed. “I never ask you to join in with my animal activism” grumbled Neil Hannon on one of the occasions I begged for his support.

“Couldn’t you pretend women and children are animals?” I thought.

My usual trajectory during these conversations saw me shifting from gobsmacked disbelief to fury and despair. The disloyalty made me angry, but knowing my friends did not care about their own daughters, wives, sisters and mothers was, and continues to be, destabilising in the extreme.

Gaiman went one step further. I can’t find the tweet, so I may be paraphrasing, but he said

"I hope you're kinder if your daughter ever hopes to transition."

I can think of no uglier thing to say to a parent. For girls, ‘transition’ means double mastectomies in their teens, hysterectomies in their mid-twenties, early menopause and a four times greater chance of having a heart attack than males of the same age. To have this decaying goth wish that horror on my daughter was more than I could bear. I wanted to rip his throat out.

Like a pair of grappling cowboys falling off a rooftop, our fight spilled into email. I sent Gaiman this article about the Tavistock. It was clear when he wrote back that he hadn’t absorbed it Like most celebrities in this fight, he appeared to have lost the ability to read.

“As I said before Graham, I hope that you'd be kinder if it was one of your kids who wanted to transition. “

He actually said it again. The piece was right there, detailing exactly what was happening to the children unlucky enough to wander through the Tavistock’s doors, and he chose to repeat that disgusting thing. Why?

That same year, just months before Gaiman was advising me on the value of kindness, a 22-year-old woman (‘Scarlett’ in the podcast) arrived at his Waiheke Island home in New Zealand for a babysitting job. Upon her arrival, she discovered that Gaiman’s wife of the time, Amanda Palmer, had suddenly remembered a sleepover, an appointment the child was apparently eager to attend.

So she and junior drove out of view, leaving the 23 -year-old Scarlett alone with Gaiman for the night. Within a few hours the 61-year-old man, without warning or invitation, appeared fully naked and slipped into the other end of her bath. Scarlett alleges that over the next three weeks, they embarked on a semi-consensual relationship, where Gaiman routinely ignored the boundaries she set. She alleges that he became angry when she would refuse these demands, used a belt to beat her, insisted she call him ‘Master’ and once sexually assaulted her so violently that she lost consciousness.

“… (the sex) was so painful and so violent that I fainted. I passed out, lost consciousness, ringing in the ears, black vision, the pain was celestial, you know, which is a strange word to use, but I couldn't even describe it in language. And when I regained consciousness and I was on the ground, I looked up and he was watching the rehearsals from Scotland of whatever they were filming, I don't fucking know. And he didn't even notice that I was passed out. And you know…there was blood. It was so so, so traumatic, and I asked him to stop. I said it was too much.”

Scarlett is a compelling witness despite, or because of, her contradictions. Certain things paint a picture of consent—she sexted Gaiman, to which he would send careful replies—and she laughs nervously when she talks about the alleged abuse. But when Gaiman’s side of the story is put to her, she turns cold as a knife and shows flashes of fury that she—in her telling—young, inexperienced and dazzled by Palmer and Gaiman’s fame and lifestyle, was used so casually and so brutally.

A few years back, I wrote about becoming a sort of Jessica Fletcher figure on Twitter. ‘Murder, She Wrote” but with paedophiles and predators. “Just as murderers seemed drawn to any location Jessica presented herself, “ I said. “My opining about women's rights and safety on Twitter appeared to attract the kind of men who can't sit still during a spelling bee.”

Among my adversaries was Peter Bright, the Ars Technica writer now doing twelve years for trying to buy two children to abuse. Luckily the children didn’t exist and the parents were actually FBI agents. Our exchange was brief and concerned safeguarding. I’m sure you’re all astonished to discover that he was against it.

Then there was ex-Labour MP Eric Joyce, who argued with me about the safety of mixed-sex loos in schools and was done for possessing the worst kind of child abuse images. More recently, I tangled with ‘Lexi’, who is now serving time for rape.

They all had one thing in common. They couldn’t leave alone those of us who were actively opposing the trans movement's assault on safeguarding, an assault that chimed nicely with their plans for the future. Each was returning to the scene of a crime not yet committed, each picking at a scab on their own character.

In 2018, at the height of #MeToo, Gaiman tweeted “On a day like today it’s worth saying, I believe survivors. Men must not close their eyes and minds to what happens to women in this world. We must fight, alongside them, for them to be believed, at the ballot box, and with art, and by listening, and change this world for the better.”

Well said. I certainly believe the women in ‘Master’. During my Jessica Fletcher period (a period which continues) no-one except Gaiman ever mentioned my kids. I think he knew it would cause me distress, and the second time he said it was just a twisting of the knife. Many of my colleagues in the media joined in with the trashing of my reputation, but Gaiman went that extra mile. I believe this is because he is a sadist. I think he is a man who finds pleasure in the suffering of others, and a man who does not see women and girls as fully human.

This was my final letter to him.

Dear Neil

I notice you’re still pretending you can’t read the Tavistock story. If you ever try and lay that curse on my kids again I will certainly share our exchange. Your privileged beliefs are harming children so to paraphrase Will Smith, keep their names out of your fucking mouth.

Thank you for giving me one last chance to say that JK Rowling will be remembered as a hero and you as a traitor to the kids who loved your books.

Rest in infamy, you haunted castle.

All the best,

Graham.

#Rest In infamy neil gaiman #Graham Lineham is speaking the truth #Neil Hannon commpared campaigning for women's rights to animal activitism #Neil gaiman refused to stand up for JKRowling #Neil gaiman allegedly became angry when the 23 year o.d woman would refuse the demands of the 61 year old #Neil gaiman allegedly used a belt to beat her #Neil gaiman allegedly insisted she call him ‘Master’ and once sexually assaulted her so violently that she lost consciousness.#Peter Bright is the Ars Technica writer now doing twelve years for trying to buy two children to abuse #Ex_Labour MP Eric Joyce who argued with me about the safety of mixed-sex loos in schools possessed the worst kind of child abuse images #Neil Gaiman dragged Linehams kids into their conversations #Neil gaiman used the gender cult for his own image yet attacked two biological women

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goldfades · 1 year ago

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✮ 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟏 = 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞, zegras' have more fun

♡ ─ summary | y/n shows off her first week of uni and the captain of the hockey captain purposes something...

♡ ─ warnings | absolutely nothing, maybe mention of needing to bulk??, and playful insults/"bully" (per usual)

♡ ─ taglist | tbd

♡ ─ ev's notes | ahhhh i'm so excited for this series, please send in some requests if you have any! i'm still thinking about who i want little miss zegras to end up with, can y'all help me with that LMAO. i'm so indecisive

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ynzegras ann arbor, michigan

Liked by trevorzegras, lucafantilli, pchandler68 and 7,261 more

ynzegras | week 1 @ umich, done ✅ tagged: briesbagels, lhughes_06, dylanduke25 september 2, 2022

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briesbagels | so YOU stole my camera???

↳ ynzegras oops... mb it just ended in my luggage, idk how

↳ pchandler68 I LITERALLY TOLD YOU BRIE. U WERE WRONG.

↳ briesbagels a. i'm never wrong 😗 and b. you did steal my anaheim sweatshirt i saw it on facetime

↳ ynzegras how does bro fit in that, he needs to BULK!!

↳ trevorzegras y/n skinny shaming scandle?

↳ ynzegras scandal**

lhughes_06 | that's such a terrible pic y/n, how could you do me and dylan like that???

↳ ynzegras yall look fine... stop being dramatic

↳ lhughes_06 we look like 2 middle aged fathers taking a pic after helping their kids move into their dorm 😟😑

↳ dylanduke25 speak for yourself man, i look sexy 🥵

↳ pchandler68 fr that smile 🥵🥵

_quinnhughes | LUKE lmao 😭

↳ ynzegras HAHAHAHAH HES SO FUNNY

↳ _quinnhughes he looks scared

↳ lhughes_06 she forced me to take that pic so YES i was scared. 😣

↳ trevorzegras BULLIES. they are BULLIES. first me and griffin, now luke and dylan. u have a problem y/n

↳ ynzegras idk ab bullying but it's pretty funny

pchandler68 | is that my cup in the fourth picture??

↳ ynzegras no bruh i brought this from home

↳ pchandler68 FUCKING LIAR THATS MINE. GET UR OWN CUP

↳ briesbagels GET UR OWN SWEATSHIRT. its a cup, get over it 😑😑

dylanduke25 | lovely pic y/n🫡 great photograph taking skills

↳ ynzegras thanks bud 🤞🏼

griffinzegras | i see you've found another brother huh?

↳ ynzegras awww u jelly?? ur still my fav

↳ griffinzegras YEAH ID HOPE SO?? I AM UR BIOLOGICAL BROTHER 🤨

↳ ynzegras i actually i take that back, i think i got a concussion from ur fucking driving

↳ griffinzegras who bought you starbucks for the past two years EVERDAY before school?

↳ ynzegras i can't remember CUS I HIT MY HEAD SO HARD

trevorzegras | miss you sista

↳ ynzegras i literally saw u like two days

↳ trevorzegras i can still miss my baby sis

↳ avazegras 📸📸 hmm? baby sis?

↳ trevorzegras i miss u both okay??????

↳ ynzegras sure... okay

nolan_moyle | new hockey manager??

↳ ynzegras yeah no

↳ nolan_moyle please 😥😥 it would mean the world to our lukey boy

↳ lhughes_06 na i really don't care

↳ nolan_moyle not helping our case there 😐😐

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defectivevillain · 4 months ago

Text

born into blood

pairing: Ghostface/Reader (can be platonic or romantic)

reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

summary: Christina Carpenter wasn’t the only woman to have an affair with Billy Loomis… Your mother did too. You’re Billy’s child, just like Sam Carpenter. But you saw what happened to Sam—so you keep silent. Your father’s real identity is a secret you will take to your grave. At least, that’s what you think. Then, one day, Ghostface comes calling…

word count: 2.2k | ao3 version

warnings: canon-typical violence, character death; attempted murder, strangulation, blood, hallucinations; scream (2022) spoilers.

notes: I wrote Ghostface with he/him pronouns, but he remains nameless—so feel free to imagine whichever killer you want.

thank you @palefaceswhore for the beta! 🖤 any remaining mistakes are mine.

You don’t usually answer phone calls from unidentified numbers. But you had a job interview a few days ago, and you still haven’t gotten a response from the company, so you accept the call and bring your phone up to your ear with hope brewing in your chest. You thought you did a decent job in the interview, and you hope the recruiters thought the same.

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of breath on the other line. Dread begins to prickle across your skin. Your tongue feels stuck to the roof of your mouth. Just as you summon the courage to speak, the other person speaks. “What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A shiver runs down your spine at the familiar voice. You immediately hang up and slam your phone face-down on the table. With quick breaths, you pick up your phone and shakily open your phone app again, blocking the contact. It’s not the first time you’ve gotten a prank call mimicking Ghostface, unfortunately—since the Stab movies first came out, unruly teenagers have started doing it rather frequently. But your particular situation is a bit different than that of the average person. After all, Billy Loomis is your father.

For the longest time, you had no idea. But once you turned sixteen, your mother sat you down and told you the truth: she had an affair during her marriage, and that affair resulted in your birth. Safe to say, you were sick to your stomach. That revelation only proved to be much worse, however, when she revealed exactly who she slept with: Billy Loomis, one of the original Ghostface killers. A murderer.

It took you a long time for you to begin trusting your mother again. And a small part of you knows that you’ll never look at her the same again—both because of what she did and because of the years she spent keeping it a secret from you. When you finally moved out from her house, you were mostly relieved. Leaving that house meant leaving it all behind. You didn’t have to meet your mother’s eyes and see a killer’s malice reflected in them any longer.

Time passed and you slowly moved on. Ultimately, you decided that it would be ridiculously dangerous for you to tell anyone. You’ve kept that promise to yourself since your mother first confessed the identity of your father to you. You can only hope the secret dies a swift death, never seeing the light of day. After all, Billy Loomis is dead. You can take comfort in that… right?

Then you hear about Sam Carpenter, and everything comes rushing back. The world had slowly moved on from Billy Loomis, as the Ghostface mask was passed from killer to killer. But once Sam Carpenter was unwittingly thrust into the public eye, you saw your quiet life slowly crumbling before you. You didn’t need to know Sam personally to know how she must’ve been treated for her parentage. The public villainized her—even with incontrovertible proof that she wasn’t the killer. Ghostface is everywhere now. You can’t avoid him, no matter how hard you try. All you can do… is hope that no one else discovers the identity of your father—otherwise you’ll be pursued with vengeance, just as Sam and her friends were.

A ringing sound draws you from your thoughts. You frown and walk through your living room, attempting to discern the source of the noise. Once you walk into the kitchen, you realize that it’s your landline—the one that was supposedly disconnected. You’ve never given out that number to anyone. Hell, the phone hasn’t been used in years. It rings again and you flinch, before shaking your head in disbelief. You should just ignore the call, obviously. But that’s against the rules, a voice in your head whispers. In the movies, if you don’t answer, he’ll just come out and stab you in the back. At least this way, maybe he’ll give you a chance at life. You know this isn’t a Stab movie… but your hand moves of its own accord, grabbing the phone and bringing it to your ear.

“That wasn’t very nice.” That warped, deepened voice sends chills down your spine. “Don’t try that again.”

You’re starting to think that maybe, just maybe, it isn’t a prank call. And on the small chance that this is really happening—that Ghostface himself is calling you—hanging up would be a death sentence. You swallow hard and remain on the line, despite everything in your head screaming at you to hang up and run away as fast as you can. You try to take slow, measured breaths as you look around the room for signs of his presence. You don’t see anything.

“Good,” Ghostface says patronizingly. You try to take a deep breath. It isn’t your father. But that doesn’t quite matter—that deepened, warped voice still reminds you of him. “Now, let’s try that again. What’s your favorite scary movie?”

You rack your brain and try to think of something to say. “… Saw .” You eventually respond. Admittedly, it’s hard to focus on the conversation. All you can think about is the high probability that Ghostface is outside of your home—or, hell, even in it—already.

“Really?” Ghostface hums interestedly. “Not Stab ?”

��No,” you respond, your heart jumping in your throat. The mere mention of the movie franchise is enough to make you nervous, as you remember your father. Something stews in your chest and your fingers tighten around the phone as you hold it to your ear.

“Why not?” Ghostface asks innocently. His voice is mocking. “It’s about your father, after all.”

You’re silent, entirely frozen as a victorious cackle sounds through your phone.

“Oh, you thought no one knew?” He continues. “Billy Loomis was a player, and that’s no secret.”

“What do you want from me?” You choke out. You’ve spent more than twenty years outrunning your father’s reputation—doing everything in your power to ensure that no one ever knew your connection to him. And now it’s all slipping away from you. All your hard work is slipping down the drain, falling through your fingers like granules of sand.

As if sensing your unease and distress, Ghostface’s voice has a triumphant lilt to it. “What I want…” He breaks off, “is for you to give in. ” You stare ahead in shocked silence. The taste of bile settles on your tongue. “It’s time for you to carry on your father’s legacy.”

The call abruptly ends. Immediately, you whip around and brace yourself against the kitchen counter, dread churning in your chest. You’ve seen the Stab movies—once Ghostface hangs up, he reveals himself to his victim. You grit your teeth and frantically search your drawers for a knife. When your hand closes around the knife, you turn around to find Ghostface standing right in front of you. The knife in his hand glitters at you mockingly.

“Come on,” he says, his voice still distorted and deep. You squint at him, surprised that you don’t see him holding a voice changer in his hand. There must be something fixed to the inside of his mask. Unfortunately, you’re not given the luxury to muse on that thought, as he steps even closer and forces you to back up against the counter, before standing still. You can sense his eyes boring into you through the mask. “I’ll give you a free shot. It’s your birthright.” Ghostface reaches out with his free hand, taking your hand in his and tilting your knife up until it points at his shoulder.

You swallow hard, your heart thundering in your chest as you try to grasp the reality of the situation you find yourself in. You’re standing before a killer and he’s willingly giving you a chance to weaken him. Despite knowing that you should take the shot he’s giving you, all it takes is a flicker of your father’s visage in your mind’s eye for you to shake your head stubbornly. Making the first move is far more difficult in reality than you expect it to be. Besides, while he’s certainly antagonized you, Ghostface hasn’t actually harmed you yet. Stabbing him without being provoked isn’t something you can get yourself to do, no matter how hard you try to tell yourself that you need this advantage he’s giving you.

Silence stretches on, settling in the air between you. Ghostface is standing far too close for you to be comfortable, and his grip on your arm is extremely tight. Eventually, he exhales. “I gave you a chance,” the killer shrugs. Despite that statement, he’s still grasping your hand. “Now, I’m afraid your cameo has come to an end… The killer’s child becomes the victim. It’s poetic justice!”

You don’t get a chance to pick apart that statement before Ghostface is lodging his knife into your left side and pulling it back out forcefully. You scream, quickly pressing a hand to the wound in a rather futile attempt to stop the bleeding. As you fall to your knees, you return the blow and sink your knife into his thigh. He hisses and falls to the side, giving you time to sweep his feet out from under him and clumsily get to your feet. Through your pain-hazed vision, you manage to navigate through your kitchen and into the living room. Remembering your phone in your pocket, you take it out and attempt to call emergency services, only for Ghostface to slam into you and tackle you to the floor. You try to throw him off, but he looms over you and tries to stab you again. You manage to roll to the side, letting out an uncomfortable hiss as the movement sends pain flaring up your side. His knife lodges into the floor beneath you with a solid thunk.

“That’s it,” he spits, grabbing your shirt collar. “Bastard.” The insult is punctuated by a harsh thud, which you realize moments later to be the sound of your head hitting the ground. Your vision is spiraling and blurring as his hands move to your throat. You immediately try to push him off.

Suddenly a bright light flashes before your eyes, and your father is staring down at you with an unreadable expression. His eyes fall to something near your side and you follow his gaze, remembering the knife that is still lodged into the ground. In his enraged fervor, the killer hasn’t seemed to notice it. It’s nearly right in front of him—you’ll have to be very quick to grab it. Your vision is practically pulsing at this point, but even through the blurriness, you can see Billy Loomis’ twisted grin.

Ghostface brutally tightens his grip on your throat and rips the air from your lungs. You’re writhing and thrashing against him, but his hold is strong and unflinching. You don’t have much time, so you make a grab for the knife and manage to free it from the floorboards. It clatters to the ground and suddenly, both you and Ghostface are reaching for the weapon. With a stretch that sends bolts of pain down your forearm, you manage to clasp the knife first—and you don’t hesitate to bury it into Ghostface’s neck. His hands fall from your neck and you frantically inhale, coughing and choking as you push yourself to your knees. Saliva falls from your lips and you wipe at it with your free hand, before focusing your attention on Ghostface once more. He’s sprawled on the ground before you, clasping at his neck in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. But blood is positively oozing out of him, and his form promptly slackens.

You’re still not convinced. Doesn’t the killer always miraculously lurch forward at the last moment, when the victim thinks they’re dead? You decide you’d rather not test that theory, and settle for yanking the knife back out of his neck. The blood loss will kill him, if he isn’t already dead.

After a few more moments staring down at Ghostface and contemplating your next move, you grab at his wrist and feel for a pulse. There’s nothing—a notion further punctuated by the way his arm promptly crashes to the floor when you release it. Your attacker is dead.

The adrenaline that kept you alive begins to fade, leaving you with a bone-deep ache and a stinging sensation in your side. The knife slips from your grasp and falls to the floor with a deafening clatter. Ghostface’s blood is pooling beneath him, and your hands are painted crimson with it. You’re shaking extremely hard, your chest burning from your near suffocation only moments prior. Your equilibrium is all off, and you’re forced to watch from an outsider’s perspective as the world sways and tilts to the side as you fall back down to the ground. Shadows are crawling across the room; when you blink, you see black boots on the ground next to you. Your father crouches down and stares at you, his expression unreadable through your foggy vision. He almost looks to be resisting the urge to reach out to you. A tear crawls down your cheek as you hear sirens in the distance.

“Well done.” Billy Loomis says, his voice reverberating through your ears. He crouches down even more, until he’s sitting next to you. With ghosts for company and pain stitching your body together, your vision quickly fades to black.

thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

general taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @kingkoku @the-ultimate-librarian @gayaristocrat

friendly reminder that i don't give permission for my writing to be shared to other sites, stolen, copied, translated, or used in any way. thanks!

#defectivevillain #gn reader #male reader #transmasc reader #nb reader #scream #scream x reader #scream franchise #x reader #x gn reader #ghostface x reader #ghostface x gn reader #ghostface x male reader #ya ya

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buttercupjosh · 1 year ago

Text

Jump Then Fall (The 4 times everyone else thinks you’re Quinn’s romantic partner and the 1 time you actually are)

(Gif credit to @gabelandeskog)

Word count: 5,045

Genres: strangers to friends to lovers

Warnings: none

A/N: I’ve had this specific idea in my mind for about 2 years but never wrote it out because I decided to write other things first and took certain things from this concept and kinda put it into my other stories but after Quinn was named captain in September 2023, I decided to write it out. (Speaking of my other stories, I did write a Quinn fic in 2022, which you should check out). The title and this story is based off of the song, Jump Then Fall by Taylor Swift. It’s set from this past week (October 7th-14th), with additional fictional elements added. (Yes, I decided to publish it on Quinn's birthday because why not?) It’s written with a female reader in mind because I’m a female of color but the reader doesn’t specifically have to be a POC or a woman and there’s little dialogue. As always, I’m open to any and all feedback, comments or questions; just put them in my inbox or dm me. Thank you so much in advance for reading, I appreciate it😌

(P.S. I have other stories (linked here) that I have written for other players as well if you want to check it out)

“I was enchanted to meet you” -Enchanted by Taylor Swift

Prologue

Losing in a fantasy sports league can come with many different types of punishment, whether it’s being forced to eat a pancake for every wrong player you picked or putting in extra money in the winning jackpot. Your punishment for losing in the fantasy sports league you participated in was wearing a very 2014 Tumblr-esque “lol ur not Quinn Hughes” shirt that your best friend got you as a gag gift for Christmas to a Canucks game. This punishment came at a convenient time when you already planned to be in Vancouver for a work conference. Accepting your fate, you proudly donned the cringey t-shirt at the game, and as expected, people did look at you weirdly. What you didn’t plan at all was that your game seats happened to be located next to where a group of some of the Canucks WAGs were sitting. Lenasia, Ethan Bear’s fiance, noticed your shirt and immediately began talking to you. You explained to her why you were wearing such a thing and that clicked an idea in her brain. Lenasia turned away, began talking again to the other WAGs she was with, and was also frantically texting someone. After a brief period, Lenasia faced back towards you and told you to wait after the game because she had a surprise for you. You had a slight inkling of what that surprise was but silently hoped that it didn’t actually come true.

After the game was completed, Lenasia led you through the tunnels of Rogers Arena and told security that you were with her. It felt weird to hear her say that, considering that you just met her a few hours ago. You stood together outside of the Canucks locker room and the feeling of embarrassment continued to rise within you as the guys filed out, some of them laughed at your shirt and then, you saw him. Quinn was right there, less than 10 feet away from you. Your suspicions were right; you would have just settled for a signed item from him and have no interaction with him but you were actually going to meet him right now. You felt like you were going to pass out but tried your best to maintain your composure. Lenasia introduced you to Quinn and told him the same story of why you were wearing a shirt with his name on it. Quinn didn’t fully quite understand why the shirt was such a big deal but agreed to take the photo with you. He was nice enough to wrap his arm around you with a side hug and being that close together oddly felt natural and comfortable for two people who had just met for the first time. After the photo was finished being taken, Quinn kindly offered to sign your shirt so he inked his signature on your right shoulder. You thanked Quinn and Lenasia again for everything and left to return to your hotel. It was a lot to process but you were rightfully shocked that you started your night fulfilling some silly punishment and ended it by meeting the person whose name is on your shirt.

The following day, you sent the photo of you and Quinn from the night before to your friends and your friends joked in the groupchat that if you played your cards right, you might be next in line to date him. Yes, you posted about it on Instagram and tagged Quinn so everyone knew you actually met him. Since the day after you met was an off day, Quinn had some time to scroll through Instagram and he saw your post. Seeing your post led him to see all of your posts and eventually, he ended up in your DMs.

Do you always look that cute wearing someone’s name?, an Instagram message from a very familiar verified account read. You couldn’t believe it and thought you were somehow dreaming when you read Quinn’s message but it was very much real. You replied back: I guess I always do but I only wear the names of attractive guys and considering this is my only piece that has an athlete’s name, I guess you should consider yourself lucky ;) It felt odd to shamelessly flirt with a famous athlete (considering that most of them wouldn’t give you the time of day anyway) but it wasn’t like you were actually going to date him or be his friend anyway (or so you had thought).

The flirty interaction eventually led to the exchange of numbers and to a long message chain between the two of you that would extend on for months. You did return home from your trip to Vancouver and maintained a long-distance friendship with Quinn. Your friendship with Quinn was great; you trusted each other, shared some secrets, did virtual movie nights together sometimes, sent memes back and forth, told some of your closest friends and family about the other, and communicated on the phone constantly. Once of your favorite things to do with Quinn was that he would always call you during your morning commute to work and on his commute home after his games to decompress after the game. Since you didn’t live in an area where there was an NHL team, your options for seeing Quinn again in person were limited and you weren’t sure if you were going to ever see him again. It felt weird to ask about seeing each other in real life so everything was just kept online until one day, the timing was right to move things offline.

————————————————————

About a year into your friendship, the right opportunity opened up for you to return to Vancouver to see Quinn again. To the delight of many, Quinn was named Captain of the Canucks and he invited you out to his first game as Captain. You were important enough to him that Quinn wanted you to be there to celebrate that amazing accomplishment; you were surprised by the invitation but excited at the prospect of seeing him again. You used some of your remaining vacation time and paid for your plane ticket to and from Vancouver; Quinn wanted to pay for something so he placed you to stay in the nicest hotel that Vancouver has to offer. You were thrilled to spend a week in Vancouver and hopefully make some fun memories with Quinn while you were there.

Your anticipation for seeing him was slightly halted when Quinn revealed that he couldn’t pick you up from the airport because your flight arrived at the same time that he had captain responsibilities to fulfill in the community so you and Quinn agreed to meet to have dinner later on that evening. Emma, Anthony Beauvillier’s girlfriend, picked you up from the airport to take you to the hotel; you had never met or interacted with Emma before but you appreciated her kind favor. The drive from Vancouver International Airport to the hotel (which Quinn did not tell you beforehand because he wanted it to be a surprise) was normally a 30-minute drive, which turned into an hour drive due to traffic. While you and Emma waited in the rush hour traffic, you talked and learned more about her, her relationship with Anthony, what things are like in Quebec, and what it’s like to be a hockey WAG. Emma had a lot of questions about your relationship with Quinn and was curious as to why you, his romantic partner, weren’t around as much before. You corrected Emma by telling her that you and Quinn were just friends and nothing more and you came to support him as your friend.

“Are you sure you and Quinn are just friends because he must really like you a lot to pay for you to stay here?”, Emma asked as you pulled up to the Fairmount Waterfront hotel.

You replied yes, you were just his friend and she handed you over your room keys that were passed to her through the chain of command. You thanked Emma for giving you a ride and you both mentioned wanting to hang out with each other again.

Quinn was not kidding when he told you that you would be staying at the best hotel in Vancouver; your room had spectacular views of the Vancouver Harbor and was very fancy. As you got ready for your dinner with Quinn, you began to reflect on your conversation with Emma about him. You could admit that he was endearingly handsome and had qualities that you were looking for in a boyfriend but you and Quinn never really discussed romantic pursuits and outside of that initial flirty exchange when you first started talking to each other and the occasional compliment, there wasn’t much flirting really going on between you. You had always assumed that Quinn had someone, whether it was someone in Vancouver or in Michigan, waiting in the wings for him. Your thoughts were interrupted when you got a text from Quinn that he was coming up to the room. It was happening; for the first time in over a year, you got to see your internet best friend in person and you were ecstatic. Although he had a copy of the hotel room key, Quinn knocked on your hotel room door and a smile beamed across both of your faces as you recognized who was standing at the doorway. Quinn engulfed you in a long-awaited hug and you rocked back and forth. There were many areas in his life that made him feel delighted but hearing you laugh was one of the best sounds to him and holding you in his arms was the greatest feeling.

After separating, you realized that Quinn was dressed for a night in while you were dressed for a night out. The weather app indicated that a storm was rolling in so Quinn dressed to stay in at the hotel, order food, and have a movie night, while you were willing to brave the rain to try some of Vancouver’s cuisine. Quinn thought that you looked nice and wished that he communicated to you that Vancouver storms were no joke and you looking cute in your rain jacket wasn’t going to push him to go out in such weather either. He also really wanted to spend time with you without the distractions that come from him going out in public. You agreed to order in and changed into more comfy clothes while you waited for the food to arrive. Preseason hockey was over so Quinn decided to treat himself (and you) to some authentic Chinese food from his favorite place. As you and Quinn indulged on the delicious Chinese food, you began catching up with each other on what had occurred in your lives recently. As Quinn shared what had been going on his life lately, you heard all of the words he was saying but the only thing you were thinking about was how you just wanted to be together and you would lose focus sometimes as he spoke. You and Quinn kept talking so much on so many different topics that it was almost midnight before you decided to watch a movie. You settled on watching Ferris Buller’s Day Off before drifting off to sleep.

————————————————————

For Quinn, it felt surreal to wake up the following morning next to you. After being in contact with you for over a year, here you were, right there, sleeping peacefully on the other side of the bed. Throughout the night, Quinn was respectful of your boundaries and no lines were crossed, everything was kept PG. You were awoken by the sound of water running coming from the bathroom and waited for Quinn to emerge out. After he came out of the bathroom, you discussed the day’s plan (which there wasn’t really one) and decided to go to breakfast at a very special place. Quinn still had some time off before the first game of the season so you had even more extra time to spend with him.

On the car ride to the restaurant, you began to imagine what it would be like to live in Vancouver. Sure, this wasn’t your first time there but you saw it in a different light as you were gazing outside of the car window with Quinn by your side. You arrived at your destination and Quinn got out and kindly came around to open the door for you; it was a sweet gesture that he didn’t have to do.

The restaurant was the same cafe that Quinn and Petey tended to frequent and the wait staff at the restaurant was so familiar with him, down to the point that they knew his exact order: plain buttermilk waffles topped with whipped cream, strawberries, raspberries, and sides of bacon, potatoes, and guacamole. The waitress, an older woman named Louise, reminded you of an endearing grandmother figure; she even put your meal on the house as a treat. After the meal concluded and you were on the way back to Quinn’s car, a fan was waiting right outside of the restaurant for an opportunity to meet the captain of their favorite team. The fan approached you, Quinn’s romantic partner, to take their photo together. You wanted to correct the fan for being wrong but you also could tell that Quinn wanted to get going so you let it be; besides, Quinn didn’t even hear the fan address you as his lover. Quinn later on apologized for the fan encounter but it wasn’t an issue for you, you understood who he was and the things that came with being a famous athlete and you expected something like that might happen while you were together. You continued on the rest of your spontaneous day, being touristy around Vancouver, visiting Gastown, Stanley Park, and Granville Island with the cutest tour guide.

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Your time in Vancouver coincided with Canadian Thanksgiving. Dinner is usually held at the team captain’s house and since Quinn is the captain, dinner would be held at his place but since his apartment couldn’t quite hold the entire team, Tyler Myers offered to host dinner at his home. It was exciting to celebrate a holiday together and learn more about each other’s Thanksgiving traditions but it also made you feel a little nervous because you would be meeting more of Quinn’s teammates and spending time with their families. The Canucks team’s Thanksgiving dinner was potluck style and everyone had to bring something so you and Quinn offered to bring a dessert. You decided to make pumpkin chocolate chip cookies and Quinn graciously purchased the ingredients for you and let you use his kitchen. Quinn was a good sous chef; he actually enjoyed baking with you and you both had fun together. You even got into a little squabble over who would wash the dishes before agreeing that you would wash them and Quinn would dry them. After the cookies were done, you both got ready for dinner.

On the car ride over to the Myers house, your mind began to wander, contemplating about the domestic moment you shared earlier with Quinn and how you would want more moments like that with him. Quinn felt the same way but wasn’t sure how to verbally tell you that. Before you knew it, you had arrived at your destination. You casually mixed and mingled with the other Canucks players and their families; as expected, some of the players had kids and the kids were curious to know who you were and you explained to them that you were Quinn’s friend. Tristan, Tyler’s son, asked if you were Quinn’s lover friend and you were going to tell him no but you were interrupted by the message that dinner was about to be served so you let it go.

Despite your initial nervousness about the event, dinner actually went well and your cookies were a hit. The other Canucks players and their wives and girlfriends accepted you well into their group; they liked you for you and they liked you with Quinn. Due to the fact he’s their captain, some of the guys pushed Quinn into giving a speech and he expressed his thankfulness and gratitude on such a special holiday; he even looked at you when he mentioned how glad he was to have the people in the room as a part of his life.

During the post-dinner relaxation time, you and Quinn settled into watching the CFL game that was on before Tristan came up to ask the both of you to play hide and seek with him and his sister, Skylar. The football game wasn’t that interesting to either of you so you both agreed to play. Since you were the guest, the kids had you count first.

As you were looking to see where Quinn and the kids were hiding, you observed around the Myers home and began to think about how this was something that you had desired to have one day; a home full of love, laughter, and children. You checked the guest room closet to see if anyone was hiding in there before greeting Quinn by shouting BOO as soon as you opened the door. Instead of stepping out to help you find Skylar and Tristan, Quinn pulled you back into the closet and shut the door for a quiet moment alone. Quinn’s heart was beating super fast, not just because you inflicted fear into him for a brief second, but also because you were close to each other inside the dark closet. You obviously couldn’t see in the darkness but Quinn kept staring at the presumed outline of your mouth because he wanted pull you closer and kiss you so bad. Quinn almost had his chance to ask but was interrupted by the sound of children’s feet pattering on the ground and the door opening. Tristan quickly corrected you that as the counter, you were not allowed to hide until it was your turn to hide. An all-too-familiar chuckle came out of Quinn and you rolled your eyes at him since he was the one who caused you to break the rules before playing another round of hide and seek with the kids.

When it was time to say goodbye, Tristan and Skylar came over to give you a departing hug and Tristan loudly said that he had fun with you, Quinn’s special friend. It warmed your heart to hear his little voice say that to you. Before dropping you off back at the hotel, you had asked Quinn if he was going to stop and get his annual Thanksgiving apple pie slice from the bakery. He had mentioned his Thanksgiving tradition to you only once but it meant a lot to him that you had remembered that. Due to the fact that you made dessert from scratch, Quinn forgot to pick up the pie beforehand to bring to the party and the bakery with the pie that he enjoyed was already closed, but it was okay. Quinn didn’t mind skipping his tradition because he got to make a new memory with you. You and Quinn had such a good time at the Thanksgiving dinner and you had quietly hoped to get the opportunity to spend more holidays together.

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The Canucks home opener was finally here. It was both exciting and nerve-wracking for Quinn; he knew that this day was coming but it felt a little more surreal that it was actually here. Quinn’s parents, Ellen and Jim, even flew in to watch their son receive his official captaincy before jetting off to go watch Jack and Luke at the Devils home opener the following day. You felt a bit of deja vu being back at Rogers Arena, since that was the place you and Quinn had met over a year ago, but that deja vu feeling came in a good way. It was fun to watch warmups with the other WAGs and you got to see Emma again. As warmups went on, you held J.T. Miller’s son, Owen, in your arms while Natalie Miller held her daughters, Scarlett and Scottlyn, closer to the glass to give them a better view to see their father on the ice. Since the day was very busy for Quinn, the only time he got to see you was for a brief second during warmups. Quinn’s heart swelled up with joy when he saw you at the glass, holding baby Owen and he also thought you looked so stunning and beautiful in your outfit. He wanted to pass you a puck but instead, he gave you a quick wink and passed a puck to a young fan with a sign and continued to skate around.

Warmups were over and the game was about to start soon so you went up to your seats. Instead of having you sit with the other WAGs, Quinn got you a ticket next to his parents. Of course, Quinn wanted you to meet his parents for the first time in a much more formal way but due to the limited time that you all had in Vancouver, it was slightly more convenient for you to meet his parents while at the game. It was a little awkward at first to meet Quinn’s parents because you were just Quinn’s long-distance friend and meeting the parents is a big deal but Jim and Ellen already knew who you were because you were important enough to their son that he had told them about you. Ellen mentioned to you that she suspected you were dating Quinn because he spoke so highly about you, indicating a possible crush but always shut it down by mentioning that you were just friends.

When it was time for Quinn to be introduced as captain, you got delightful goosebumps on your body because you were so proud of him. You already knew he was captain but watching some of the old Canucks captains pass the torch over to one of your best friend’s brought a rush of happiness to you; your heart even skipped a beat as he put on the jersey with the “C” on it. The game itself was amazing; the Canucks beat the Oilers 8 to 1 and Quinn had a 3-point night. Throughout little moments during the game, Jim and Ellen would ask you different questions about yourself and share tidbits about Quinn; it was nice that they were actively engaging and getting to know you. You were worried that Jim and Ellen wouldn’t like you as a person and for their son but it turns out that they enjoyed your presence and it also didn’t hurt that it was really fun to cheer for Quinn alongside his parents.

After the game was over, you, Jim, and Ellen walked down the same tunnels to the Canucks dressing room that you had walked to over a year ago when you met Quinn for the first time but this time, you weren’t as nervous to see him. Still experiencing the high from the evening’s successful game, Quinn was so ecstatic to see you, waiting for him with his beloved parents. When Quinn had invited you to come to his game, he had imagined seeing you again in those familiar halls with his parents in his mind and that moment of imagination came true. In his post-game interview, Quinn had mentioned that he would hold onto the night’s memories forever and you would also hold onto those memories in your own way too.

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Since the Canucks had to leave for a roadtrip after their home opener and you were leaving soon, you had one last day to both celebrate Quinn’s birthday early and also to do something to say farewell to you. Instead of just a big fancy birthday/goodbye dinner, you and Quinn decided to go out for a day on the golf course and out to a casual dinner afterward; you also had to run a few errands because Quinn needed to grab some things before leaving on his upcoming road trip. Quinn picked you up to go with him to drop off his parents at the airport so that you could see them again and he wanted your opinion on some things when he went to IKEA. The car ride over to the airport was fine and Jim and Ellen didn’t mind getting in some extra time with their potential child-in-law. You and Quinn stepped out of the car to help with their bags and give his parents a goodbye hug. While you were giving the Hughes family some space and waiting in the car, Ellen whispered in her son’s ear that you were a keeper. His mother was right and Quinn had known that from the moments that he spent with you, the conversations you shared together and you were everything he ever wanted. Quinn had the keys to unlock your heart but he just needed to use them. Throughout the entire time you were there, Quinn began mentally preparing himself to confess his feelings for you somehow but those plans always fell flat because the anxiety of not being sure if you liked him romantically lingered throughout the air and he was scared to ruin the friendship you shared. He was falling for you hard but he was afraid to take that leap.

With one final wave goodbye, Jim and Ellen left for their flight to New Jersey and you and Quinn continued on the day’s itinerary. Goodbyes were always going to be a bit difficult, no matter who or what you were saying goodbye to. Quinn tried to not wear his heart on his sleeve and be strong but you could tell that Quinn was sad to see his parents go so you reached over and gently placed your hand on top of his. Quinn told you thank you and you shared a quick glance with him before arriving at IKEA. Instead of immediately telling you how he felt, you and Quinn aimlessly wandered around the large store; you had mentioned to Quinn that his apartment was missing a floor lamp in the living room so that he didn’t have to use the overhead ceiling light as much and he took you to IKEA to help him pick one out. Thursday afternoons at IKEA were quiet so it was almost like you and Quinn had the whole store to yourselves. As you walked through the store, you and Quinn looked at the different room setups and asked each other what you liked and disliked about each room setup; you also both began to imagine what it would be like to share a home together. Quinn even absentmindedly grabbed onto your hand and your fingers interlocked together for a brief second before you found the lamps and slipped your hand away to look at them. You picked out a black floor lamp that matched the aesthetic of Quinn’s apartment and continued to wander around the store until you reached the cash register. Quinn didn’t try to hold your hand again and neither of you brought up that moment for the rest of the day. Your time at the golf course was fun; being the self-proclaimed golf expert he was, Quinn did win the game.

Quinn decided that he wanted to have his birthday dinner/last meal with you at Moxie’s. While you waited for your food to arrive, you gave Quinn his birthday gift. It was challenging to get a gift for someone who could afford plenty and rarely mentioned what they wanted so you got Quinn a signed copy of Golf Kitchen, a cookbook that included recipes from some of the most famous golf clubs around the world, and a grill set that looked like golf items; it combined two of his interests: cooking and golf. Quinn was a bit taken aback by your gift because you didn’t have to actually get him anything; your presence and time spent with him was a gift within itself. He had mentioned it before but Quinn was so grateful to have you as a part of his life and he was going to miss you tremendously once you returned home. You would miss him so much and were sad that your great time with Quinn was coming to an end; you still had an extra full day in Vancouver before your flight early Saturday but the Canucks were leaving for Edmonton on Friday after morning skate.

After dinner, Quinn walked you up to your hotel room and you and Quinn continued to soak up all of the time you had left together as much as you could before the inevitable departure came. Before leaving, Quinn passed you a signed warm-up puck from last night’s game, mentioning that he owed it to you. You held the piece of rubber in your hand, smoothing your fingers over his signature.

“So now, you own two things with my name on it”, Quinn cheesily told you.

You were trying to hold back your tears and masquerade your emotions but you began to sob while embracing Quinn for one last time. Quinn felt a bit emotional too and he blurted out that he was in love with you; he decided to be brave and not let the fear take over. You thought your mind was playing a trick on you when you heard him so you looked up at the green eyes that were staring and waiting for a reply from you.

“Did you just say that you’re in love with me?”, you hesitantly asked.

“Um, maybe I should have kept that to myself. I’m sor-”, Quinn rambled.

You cut Quinn off with a kiss, something that he had been waiting a while to experience with you. You repeated that you had loved Quinn back as well. A long wave of relief rushed over the both of you; the jump was worth the fall and you were there to catch him. You didn’t have to say it out loud but Quinn knew that you would always be there for him. Quinn asked if you were available to come back to visit him for Christmas and New Year’s. Maybe losing in a fantasy league wasn’t so bad after all.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #Quinn Hughes x reader #quinn hughes fic #vancouver canucks #hockey fic #my writing #hockey writing #hockey imagine #please read my story

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