#listen sometimes a girl just makes a playlist of all the songs she hears in f1 tiktok edits | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shaunamilfman · 23 days ago

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can't wait for love (to destroy us) [2]

pairing: Jackie Taylor x Shauna Shipman x Reader summary: The girls are still fighting, but at least you've made some weekend plans in the process. note: MDNI. More smut. masterlist

You hum along aimlessly to the music playing from the stereo, yet another edgy song you and Shauna both like that Jackie always playfully rolls her eyes at before turning it to something appropriately upbeat. But it’s just the two of you today, so the song plays on unchallenged. It’s strangely disappointing.

Shauna does that a lot, you’ve found: playing music that she knows the both of you like whenever she drives. It hadn’t been like this before the two of you had started sleeping together. No, back then she just subjected you to whatever band she was particularly into at the moment, often on loop. Sometimes you swear you can still hear that album ringing in your ears, the one she had chosen for the road trip from hell. Even now the opening chords to any of those songs made your eye twitch.

You’d once thought to ask her once what the name of the playlist was, assuming it had all been full of songs you liked only by coincidence. You’d been intent on stealing it for yourself, only to find yourself at a loss for words as you caught sight of your name as the title. Just your name. It wasn’t like the title was particularly intimate, none of the hearts or kisses you’d caught around your name in Jackie’s contacts, but the sight of it on Shauna’s phone made you squirm. She had immediately snatched her phone away the second she realized what had happened, visibly red and flustered for hours after. You didn’t press her on it–what would you even say?–but the memory of it lingered long after.

Moments like that made you hopeful, embarrassingly so, that you might mean something to either of them beyond the means of making the other jealous. It’s not like you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into when you first didn’t nudge away Shauna’s wandering hand at a party or didn’t push Jackie away as she claimed a seat on your lap. They hadn’t been arguing then. This particular spat wasn’t anything particularly special, but it had been going on long enough that you were starting to get a little concerned. Especially when no one would tell you what it was about.

You’ve just been delusional enough to think that there might still be a future in this, with them, but it’s been hard not to. How could you not when Shauna carefully curates playlists for the two of you to listen to, or when Jackie includes you in her constant teasing of Shauna?

You should know better, shouldn’t you?

You’ve been staring out the window long enough, eyes flicking across the familiar street corners and dingy shops on the way to the movie theater, that you almost cry out in shock as Shauna clears her throat suddenly. When you turn your head toward her, Shauna’s not even looking at you, intently focused on the road with only one hand on the wheel. You eye her arm curiously as it rests on the center console, unsure if you’ve ever seen Shauna take one hand off the wheel when it was only the two of you in the car.

After a moment of continued silence, you just mentally shrug it off, turning your head back to the window. Before you can even find your train of thought again, you hear Shauna clear her throat once again, more insistent this time. You give her an exasperated look, staring daggers into the side of her head. She still doesn’t deign to give you a response, simply tapping her fingers against the top of the gearshift. It’s deliberate, strangely calculated, like she’s trying to signal something while refusing to speak the words aloud.

If it were Jackie, you might suspect she was trying to passive-aggressively cue you in that you missed her getting her nails done, but if Shauna’s ever willingly seen the inside of a nail salon, you certainly weren’t privy to it. Just in case you make sure to look, if only to reassure yourself they’re still as polish-free as ever. They’re exactly as you remember, as they always are: clean, carefully trimmed short, and bare. No new rings either. Nothing about the gesture seems to give away her intention. Unless…

You turn your head to hide your smile at the realization, especially at the frustrated huff that leaves Shauna’s mouth as she thinks you once again failed to get it.

“Jesus Christ,” she mutters, her voice laced with exasperation and something even softer, maybe even embarrassment. Shauna grabs blindly at your arm, still gentler than you’d expect with how flustered she is, and pulls it toward her. Shauna laces your fingers together tightly as she rests your hands against your thigh, holding on like she half expects you to try to tug your hand away. The thought of Shauna trying to fight to hold your hand was certainly enticing, but you’re too afraid she might just take it away entirely.

When no such reaction comes, she starts to relax her grip, content just to hold your hand, only to find your fingers squeezing back tighter to make up for it. When you look at her again, her cheeks are flushed, lips pressed into a thin line as she stares intensely at the traffic light.

You sit in silence for the rest of the drive, enough that you'd almost forget she was even there if it wasn't for the warm weight of her hand in yours. Her thumb brushes against your skin, rubbing little nonsense patterns that make you want to ask her questions you shouldn't. You think the touch is more for her comfort than your own, the way she still can't meet your eyes seems pretty damning evidence, but she's never tried to hold your hand before.

Jackie has, obviously. She loves to touch. She's clingy in a way that feels both endearing and utterly overwhelming, hands drawn to you like opposite ends of a magnet. But even she prefers to hold on to your arm, wrapping herself around it so tight she might as well have used glue. You've joked before that she must've been a purse in a past life.

The closest Shauna usually gets is her hand splayed across your back or resting heavily on your shoulder as she guides you where she wants you to go. The kind of touch that's less about affection and more about control. She's always so impatient when it comes to anyone else besides her or Jackie talking to you. It was one of the few times you could guarantee she would touch you outside of your occasional–quickly becoming consistent–hookups.

Which is to say, this is new territory for the both of you. You're not sure what to make of this, what conclusions you should draw from this. You know which conclusions you want to draw, but you've been burned before.

Every so often you sneak a glance over at her, just to watch the way her face twitches in irritation whenever someone does something in traffic she doesn't like. Normally you could count on Shauna to have cursed out at least one person by now, especially the guy that passed her only to slow down in front of her, but today there was nothing.

It's not an uncomfortable silence, but with Shauna it rarely is. Even when you know she's over there brooding, you rarely feel the need to interrupt her. There's just something about the way her face smooths out when she thinks that reels you in. None of that little tension that always follows her around. She creates most of that tension herself, but it's still nice to see her unburdened, if only for a moment.

“Are you ready?” Shauna asks suddenly, a little awkwardly. You jump at the question, realizing you'd been staring at the side of her head so long that she's already had time to park the car at the theater. Her face is redder than it was before.

She's noticed too, then.

You clear your throat, saying nothing as you silently open your door. You're about to shove your hands in your pockets as you walk toward the theater when Shauna grabs it again, holding it tightly between you as she drags you along.

You wish it didn't feel like a date.

…

You wonder idly as you glance around the mall if you could get away with just making a run for the doors. It’s not a serious thought, not one that you’d even consider if not for the desperation you feel watching Jackie pull her card out to pay for another bundle of bags you’re sure you’ll end up carrying as well. You doubt you could manage to get all the way out the door without tripping or plowing down someone unlucky enough to find themselves in your path. Also, who the fuck is stupid enough to try to pull a runner on the captain of a national-winning soccer team?

You, if this ends up taking much longer.

It’s not like you weren’t expecting this to take all day. You’ve certainly dragged Jackie into some stores she wouldn’t normally step into, but the longer Jackie hangs off of you and hands you all her things, the more you start to wish this was something it wasn’t. You’ve been feeling that way a lot lately, to your own chagrin.

It was hard not to, with Jackie looking at you like you put the stars in the sky more often than not. It makes you wonder how Shauna could even stand arguing with her when it meant not being on the receiving end of that smile, the one that lit up her entire face with it. Some people have such fake smiles, like the one you save for running into someone you barely knew in middle school but feel like you should acknowledge somewhat as you pass by, but every smile you’ve ever seen on Jackie’s face was achingly genuine.

You’re not sure how anyone could stand living like that, but Jackie makes it look so easy. She makes a lot of things look easy in a way that would inspire jealousy if you witnessed it in anyone else, but it only makes that feeling deep in your chest feel more and more daunting.

Daunting is an unusual description, but it’s one that seems to fit more often than not. As much as you wish the thing shared between you and Jackie and Shauna meant something, a part of you that seems to grow larger and larger each day is terrified of that being true.

What would it mean if they did?

What would that even look like?

Their dynamic has been ironclad since they were five years old, tested by fire and boyfriends and screaming fights about anything and everything under the sun. Friends come and go, but Jackie-and-Shauna were eternal. There’s not room for you in that, and you’re not sure if they could even stand to make any.

It’ll be fun while it lasts. If you keep reminding yourself that it might just become true soon. You’ve become far more invested than you’d originally planned, which seemed like a blessing at first–having two gorgeous girls who wanted to hang out with you of all people–had quickly turned into this.

“Hurry up,” Jackie complains, mouth close enough to your ear that you can't help from reflexively making a face. You try not to let it show how totally she’s startled you out of your thoughts. When did you start walking?

Her head rests against your shoulder as you walk, her hand tightly intertwined with your own as she wraps herself so tightly around your arm that she'd have to be surgically removed. Your other hand is, of course, tied down with all of Jackie's and your own purchases. The thin handles dig into your hand, not at all helping the general ache of that side of your body as you awkwardly try to shift them around in your hand.

“My hands are a little full,” you excuse dryly.

“That's quitter talk,” Jackie says brightly, holding onto your arm tighter in lieu of offering you any actual help carrying anything.

You scoff, the corners of your lips twitching up despite yourself. At least she was consistent. Jackie notices immediately, of course, and somehow grows even more smug. You hate how much the look works for her, the way it only seems to accentuate the face that’s hard enough to draw your eyes away from in the first place.

Jackie just hums, utterly unbothered, her cheek brushing up against your arm as she looks up at you. “You shouldn't be so comfy if you wanted me to hold onto things.”

“I'll try to work on that,” you mutter, wincing as she starts to drag you into yet another clothes store.

“Jackie.”

“Just one more,” she adds, as if you haven't heard that one before. There's a gleam in her eyes that tells you even she doesn't believe the words as they’re spoken. Still, greater women have fallen victim to the whims of Jackie Taylor.

“Just one more? More like just four more,” you mock under your breath, but Jackie just laughs as she hears it. She’s good at that, not taking offense to things that might irk others. You suppose she has to be, with Shauna as a… whatever they are.

“You're starting to sound like Shauna,” Jackie accuses, her voice light and carefree–just like the hands she refuses to lift to help you.

“Can't you just kiss and make up so she could do this?” The words are meant to be a joke, but it's immediately obvious that Jackie didn't take them that way. Jesus, what the fuck are they even arguing about?

Jackie's eyes narrow, her playful smile fading from her face. “Why, would you rather be with her right now?”

Trap. Trap. Trap.

“Of course not. I just know you miss her, is all.”

Jackie looks like she isn't entirely sure that she believes you, even though it's the honest truth, but decides she's going to drop it after she realizes that a few of the girls around you are staring. She clutches onto your arm tighter, as if to shield herself from their stares. Both of them seem to hate when other people look in your direction.

“Shauna,” she stresses, “did this to herself. Like usual.”

“What did she do?” You ask hesitantly.

It’s as likely to blow up in your face as it is for Jackie to just laugh it off, but you’ve been stuck between them so long you feel like you must have the right to at least ask at this point. You know Shauna wouldn’t agree, so you had refrained from asking her all day yesterday even as the question was burning in your mind.

Shauna certainly hadn’t noticed, or at least played it convincingly enough for you not to notice–which you doubt she’s capable of. She had been far more preoccupied with providing your favorite snacks, giving you that smug little smirk of hers as she snuck the box in the theater under her jacket. Truthfully, you doubted the usher got paid enough to care, but the look on Shauna’s face as she brought out your hard-won candy had been enough for you to keep that comment to yourself.

Jackie was a safer option for a lot of things, this line of questioning chief amongst them.

Jackie just shakes her head, reaching up to tap your nose with a touch of playful condescension. “Stop fishing. You're not good at it.” Despite the apparent harshness of the words, they're spoken entirely teasingly.

You just sigh, keeping the rest of your thoughts to yourself as you idly glance around the racks behind her. This wasn’t exactly what you would consider your type of store, so you were left to dutifully follow Jackie around as she ran her fingers over every hanger on every rack. She was so thorough, never leaving a single rock unturned if there was a price tag attached to it. You’ve watched Jackie circle a building three times trying to find the only classroom in it, but she could find a dress she wanted from across the store.

“Oh, look,” she says, grinning as she holds a shirt up to your chest. “You'd look so good in this.”

You take one look at it and crinkle your nose. “I would never–” A quick look at Jackie's hopeful expression aborts that thought before it leaves your mouth. “...Think to buy that for myself.”

Your smile only becomes more strained as she drags you off to try it on.

Great.

…

“Shauna,” you say slowly, reluctance coloring your voice as you look down at her from the edge of the bed. She's sprawled across it lazily, her hand resting across her stomach as her fingertips just barely tease inside the waistband over her boxers. You can't look away from the sight, eyes drawn to her leg as it rests against the wall.

“Yeah?” she asks, not even bothering to feign innocence. It's just blatant teasing, especially the way she spreads her legs just wider as she notices where your attention has been drawn.

She's just trying to keep you late, you know. You know as well as she does that Jackie's getting back from class soon, and she'll be expecting you literally anywhere else but here. You should go. Shauna's lips curl into a smirk, fingers sliding fully beneath her waistband, and suddenly the thought of leaving feels like an impossible task.

Where else would Shauna want Jackie to find you than knuckle-deep inside her?

This level of enticing wasn't something you previously thought Shauna capable of, but whatever cat-and-mouse game the two of them have been playing has only escalated as the days turn into weeks.

“You're going to get me in trouble,” you mutter weakly, climbing onto the bed between her spread legs in lieu of falling to your knees and begging for it. You can't resist the urge to reach out and touch, fingers gripping the inside of her knee as you spread her wider. Shauna just lets you, arching her hips up as her fingers hook in the waistband of her boxers and pulling them down her legs. You take them off for her as they reach her knees, dropping it off the side of the bed to the floor without a second thought.

“This isn't a good idea.” You try again, eyes drawn between her legs as her fingers tease across glistening curls.

“No,” Shauna agrees, nudging you with her knee. “I think Jackie would lose it if she saw this.”

“It's not…” You trail off as one of her fingers dips inside, a groan leaving her lips as she quickly adds a second. “It's not right to mess with her like that. You guys keep putting me in a bad position.”

“And what?” Shauna asks with a scoff. ”You think fucking both of us makes you the good guy?”

She gives you a glare, though weaker than you know she's capable of. “You guys keep putting me in a bad position,” she quotes mockingly. “You didn't seem to mind when I rode your fingers in the back seat of my car. Or when you and Jackie fucked on my bed–yeah, you thought I didn't know about that?”

You squirm at the look on her face as she tells you this, wondering if Jackie had told her the moment she got back to their room. Did she spare no detail in her retelling? The thought of Jackie sharing how she had coaxed you, teased you, and finally broken you down until you agreed to use Shauna's vibrator on her sent a wave of heat right through you.

“Did you think I wouldn't notice? The sheets weren't even washed.” She sounds almost offended at that. You flush guiltily–Jackie had promised to take care of that particular encounter.

The memory of the way Jackie had almost smirked as she kissed you goodbye flashes through your mind, and it's suddenly clear that taking care of it had never been a thought in her mind. God, that woman could drive you crazy.

“Jackie left my vibrator for me to find.” Shauna scoffs. “My vibrator. Like it was a trophy. She couldn't even be bothered to put it back in the drawer.”

“And you. You're so full of it,” she adds, her voice low and mocking as her fingers pick up their pace again. “Pretending you're caught up in something you don't want.”

Shauna waits a moment, like she's waiting for you to try to defend yourself. Even if you wanted to defend yourself, and you definitely don't–not with the way her chest heaves when she's angry, or playing at anger–you're not sure you could even come up with a decent excuse. It's not right what you're doing, no one knows that better than you, but neither of them have seemed to care enough to confront you yet.

This is the closest anyone's ever come to speaking the words aloud, and even Shauna doesn't seem upset about it. The way her eyes keep drifting to the sliver of skin that peeks out where your shirt had ridden up tells you that much. The subtle–and you use that word lightly–way she grinds against her palm every time she catches you staring back confirms it for you.

Shauna likes this game, and you can't fault her for it. There's something about the way she looked at Jackie in your lap last week that hasn't left your mind since. A strange mix of jealousy and desire, like she couldn't quite decide who, if anyone, she wanted to take the place of. Maybe you could manage to swing both of them by the time this whole thing ended if they didn't end up just cutting out the middleman entirely.

When no excuses come flying from your lips, she just nods, rolling her eyes. “So, shut the fuck up and give me what I want.”

You lean closer, grabbing her thigh and rubbing slow circles into the skin with your thumb. Shauna lets out a shaky sigh at the touch, pressing her leg into your hand.

“What do you want?” you ask finally, watching the way her fingers still thrust readily inside herself. Your fingers itch with the urge to take over for her, to swat her hand away and take its place. Her rhythm hasn't faltered for even a moment, like your little spat was doing nothing but turning her on more. You wouldn't be surprised if it did, if watching the look of defeat crossing your face only made her want to go harder.

Shauna, you had learned, was easy to turn on if you knew where to start. Even easier, somehow, when you didn't.

“What do you think?” She asks, her voice rough, wavering as you dig your thumb painfully into her thigh. Your efforts are rewarded by a choked little moan, like she's fighting not to give you the satisfaction of knowing she likes it.

Shauna slips her free hand up her shirt, letting the fabric pool around her wrist just under her chest. You can see the way her hand moves beneath her shirt as she palms at herself. Her back arches into her own touch, the movement deliberate–she knows exactly how good she looks like this. You can't look away as she effortlessly commands every little inch of space available to her.

Your grip on her tightens subconsciously as you stare unblinkingly, feeling the muscles in her thigh flexing beneath the rough touch. She's starting to tremble, breath hitching as she jerks against her own touch.

“I think you want to be mean,” you say.

“Mean?” She echoes with a little laugh. “I think you've been spending too much time with Jackie.”

You shrug, acknowledging she probably has a point. Jackie has really been clinging to you since she and Shauna started arguing.

“I think you want me to watch.”

“Do I?” She asks, voice dripping with mockery.

“I think you're being petty. I'm not the one who didn't let you watch.”

Shauna's expression falters for a moment, smug confidence giving way to shock. She doesn't allow herself more than a moment of vulnerability before scoffing. She doesn't give up another argument against it, which tells you everything you need to know.

You could really rub it in if you wanted to, but you'd rather focus on her.

Her eyes narrow warningly as you lean forward, her leg tensing like she was likely to kick you if you tried anything she wasn't allowing. She looks more confused than anything as you lean right past her hand, only to groan as you lick a stripe up the contours of her stomach.

“God. Fuck,” she moans as the back of her hand grazes against your skin, motion limited by the contact, but she can't seem to give a fuck. With the way she gasps and writhes beneath you, you can't imagine she's too concerned with anything but her own pleasure. You can hear her so much clearer now as you nip at her abdomen, worrying the flesh between your teeth to the slick sounds her fingers are making.

In your wake, you leave trails of red marks across her skin you hope turn into hickeys, if only for the thought of her pressing her fingers into them as she gets herself off at night while Jackie pretends to be asleep one bed over. Listening to Jackie confess that particular bit of information was easily the most embarrassed you've ever seen her.

“Keep going,” Shauna demands, her voice breaking as her hand slips out of her shirt to fist in your hair. The command is half-hearted, utterly betrayed by the way she moans your name like it's the only thing keeping her going.

You mouth at one of the marks you've already left her, and the contrast between the sting of your teeth and the warmth of your mouth against her skin has her falling apart beneath you.

When she finally reaches her peak, it's almost violent in its intensity. She comes hard, arching up the bed high enough that you have to move with her. Her fingers falter for a moment, but she doesn't stop, grinding her palm down hard even as her thighs shake wildly.

She lets out a series of soft whimpers as she relaxes back onto the bed, almost melting into the mattress. You can already tell you'll be up next given the way she was already starting to squirm beneath you. You can't say that you mind, still as eager now as you have been all night to get your mouth on her.

Her breathing is rough and labored, her chest moving rapidly with each breath. She absently runs her fingers through your hair, her nails scratching pleasantly at your scalp. You could fall asleep like this if she would let you, or if your neck wasn't starting to ache from being bent over like this.

You pull back, arms wrapping under her thighs, and you pull her down the bed with you. She lets out an undignified squeal as she's dragged across the sheets, tugging hard at your hair in revenge as you settle onto your knees at the foot of her bed. The thought of staying bent over in that position any longer filled you with dread.

Shauna would be doing this on your terms, at least.

…

You're visibly startled as the door opens, none more than Jackie herself as she stares at the two of you in shock.

“Those are mine,” Jackie says weakly, eyes fixated on the sight of Shauna's boxers on the ground in a heap of your clothes. Your eyes widen slightly, propping yourself up on your elbows as you peer over the edge of the bed.

“I think you'll find,” Shauna says slowly, “That they were mine first.”

“I stole them fair and square,” Jackie protests. “You took them out of my drawer to–to…”

You groan, burying your head back in Shauna's pillow as the two of them start up again. Shauna rubs absently at your back, fingers stroking gentle circles that lull you into that space right between being awake and asleep. You comfort yourself by imagining she's doing it out of affection for you, rather than wanting to make Jackie jealous, but the thought feels unlikely even as you let yourself daydream about it.

…

And if later that night you woke up to find the two of them fast asleep in Jackie's bed, it was no one's business but your own that you quietly pulled your clothes off the floor before you hastily made your way out into the hall. Deliberating over whether to take the jacket Shauna kept forcing on you had almost gotten you caught as Jackie stirred, but you just left it where it lay and crept back toward your own dorm.

They've made up.

It's a good thing.

#yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets x reader #shauna shipman x reader #jackie taylor x reader #minors dni

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trippinsorrows · 4 months ago

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looking through your eyes + twenty two

authors note: this one may leave people a bit confused by certain things.....that's intentional.

cw/tw: fluff, angst, and smut

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 9k

“Nu uh!”

“Uh huh!”

“Nu uh!”

“Uh huh!”

“Girls.” To his credit, Roman does his best to not interfere or get involved in the midst of his girls arguing. He prefers letting them work it out among themselves, and they typically do. But, there are times, like this, where he just doesn’t have it in him to listen to their bickering. “Stop arguing.”

Lina is the expected one to protest, and she doesn’t disappoint or prove his prediction wrong. “But, daddy—”

“Lina, be nice to your sister.” He looks over at his other twin daughter. “Leya, you have to share.”

The quieter of the two looks less than pleased at his instruction and is clearly in one of her few talkative moods, protesting like her sister, “But, it’s mine, daddy.”

“It’s gonna be mine if ya’ll don’t stop fighting.” Rarely does he have to be strict with them, but they’ve both been on one all day, and Roman is going off barely four hours of sleep because their baby brother decided to make it one of those nights for his parents. “I’m not gon’ tell ya’ll again.”

A shared set of downward gazes followed by another shared ‘yes, sir’ leads to them both switching their attention from the tablet to one of their playthings in the backyard.

Roman runs his hand over his face as the backdoor opens, revealing Solana’s smiling but tired face. She’s operating off just as many fumes as she is.

“He finally go down?” She nods at his question, moving to sit on his lap, Roman wrapping his arms around her.

“Eventually.” She chuckles, placing her phone on the rattan chair next to them, Roman seeing the footage of the nursery showing their son sleeping. Finally. “Could be worse. Remember when we had to do it with the both of them?”

Roman offers a small smile. He certainly does. “He takes after his sisters.”

Solana’s smile dims a bit as she caresses his cheek. “You should go try to take a nap. I can watch them.”

That’s an immediate no. “I’m fine.” A default answer for him. He gestures to the now laughing twins, explaining, “especially since they seem to be in one of their moods.”

Solana frowns and then rolls her eyes. “Wonder where they get that from?” Giggling, Solana kisses his cheek and again tries to convince him to do what he’s absolutely not going to do. “Seriously, Ro, I can handle it. They tend to get like that sometimes when you’re out of town anyway.”

At that, he looks over at her. “Really?” She nods. “You want me to talk to them?” Cause as much as he loves his girls, he has never and will never put up with them disrespecting their mother. That will always be where he draws the line.

With anyone.

Solana shakes her head and instead moves to settle her head in the crook of his neck. “Let them just be kids.” Roman grows quiet, picking up on the underlying meaning to her statement. An agreement they both made with each other during her first pregnancy.

That they would give their kids the childhood they never had.

“They’re happy, baby.” Years of being together has allowed both husband and wife to practically learn and know each other like the back of their hand, which is why Solana is so easily able to hear Roman’s unspoken concerns. “We all are.”

Her words, like her mere presence and everything else about her, are comforting to Roman. He holds her a little tighter, lips gazing over her temple.

Solana, however, overhears the return of the argument between their twins, the sixth or seventh time this morning alone. And right as Roman goes to handle it, she shakes her head. “I’ve got it.”

Watching her walk away, Roman allows his gaze to linger on her a little longer. One thing for certain, two things for sure, Solana only gets finer with age. Three kids later, her already curvy body has filled out even more, giving him all the temptation and stripping him of all resolve whenever she tells him she’s ready for another baby.

He’s just counting the days for that request, already accepting the fact that it’ll only be a matter of time before she’s showing him the next sonogram.

It’s just a continuation of his inability to ever deny her of anything she wants.

Roman grabs his phone, hearing it vibrate. Most likely an update from—

“Roman!”

The phone is dropped, and Roman has never moved so quickly, shot up so fast as he sprints off in the direction where Solana went only to find there’s a vacant space, yard void of any and all items, play equipment, greenery, even the pool.

What remains is the girls sitting on their knees, on the dirt, a piece of clothing between the two of them, but it’s the red dampness of the clothing that makes his heart stop. That makes Roman go dangerously still.

Blood.

It’s blood.

Dropping to his knees, the girls are on either side of him, his voice is eerily calm as he asks, “where is she?” Unlike his tone, Roman is anything but calm. Every single vile, evil, violent thought is crossing his mind at just the thought of someone daring to hurt his wife.

To take her.

Leya sniffles to the left of him. “You have to save her, daddy.” His head snaps to her, confused by her words, confused by the fact that he’s not freaking out more, by the fact that he just somehow knows that Solana has been taken. “She won’t have much time.”

“Mommy can only fight with us for so long.” His attention switches to Lina, her comment leaving him just as perplexed as her twin. “You’re gonna have to trust them, daddy.”

“What?” He breathes. The weight on his chest is intensifying by the fucking second. “I don’t—”

“It’s the only way to save her.” Leyah reaches for his arm, her little mouth formed into a frown. “They’re gonna kill her if you don’t.”

His chest nearly explodes at that one word.

Kill

But, it's when the next statement that leaves their mouths, at the same time, that does him over.

“And they’re gonna kill us too.”

Roman shoots up from the bed, half expecting to find Solana startled awake by his sudden movement, only for him to snap his head to the right to see the normal rise and fall of her body as she continues to sleep. Peaceful. Content.

Alive.

Roman shuts his eyes and runs his hand through his wavy hair. What the fuck was that?

Taking advantage of the fact that she’s still asleep, Roman is careful with how he peels the blankets off of him. He grabs his phone off the nightstand and makes his way out the room. Down the hall and descending the steps, Roman finds placement outside on the patio, away from it all so he can try to make sense of what just occurred.

The dreams of what feels like some type of alternative reality have become the norm for him. He has them at least a couple times a week, and while he’s still not sure what to make of them, they haven’t really bothered him. Until now.

Because how can a dream–turned–nightmare in which his wife is taken and possibly worse not bother him? Not to mention the strange, almost foreboding warning of his fictional children.

Trust? Roman doesn’t do trust. Shit like that gets people killed in his world.

It has gotten people killed in his world.

But despite the heaviness of the latter half of the dream, there is one thing that Roman picked up on. That he has this weird almost sentimental reaction to.

Lina.

Leya.

This is the first time in any of the dreams that names for the girls were used.

There’s a strange sense of contentment he feels at the thought of it, a sense of clarity provided at no longer dreaming about two nameless children but two children, named and identified.

Lina and Leya

Pretty names. Roman can admit that, but they feel…..shortened. Like that’s only part of their names. Nicknames.

It makes him wonder what the full names are.

And before Roman realizes it, he’s grabbing his phone and opening up the notes app.

Lina Reigns

Leya Reigns

He’s not sure why he’s writing them down. He just knows that he wants to.

“Roman?”

Solana stands before him in one of his shirts, arms crossed over her body, a worried expression on her face.

She doesn’t wait for the usual invite, for Roman’s long arms to extend and settle her on top of his lap. She does that all on her own. Brown eyes searching his face, she pushes back some of his hair. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

His answer is more default than anything, not an intentional deflection but still one nonetheless. “Nothing. Just….can’t sleep.”

“Bullshit.” Solana cussing is such a new experience for him, Roman having to fight back a small smile at how innocent the profanity sounds leaving her mouth. Like it’s too lewd for someone so innocent to be stating. “Talk to me.” She shifts on his lap, asking in a gentle tone, “was it a bad dream?”

Bad is an understatement, but he’s not too keen on letting her know the depth of what it included. Nor does he necessarily want to reflect on it. “Something like that.”

“Roman…..” And right away, without her even needing to say it, he knows. Knows what she doesn’t need to say.

He’s not entirely ready to tell her the extent of these dreams, so he’s intentional with leaving out the not so little fact that it includes them having children and focuses on a part of this latest one. “It was about you.”

She looks taken back by that but still encourages him to continue, her fingers now moving to massage his scalp. “Go on.” But he’s certain that it’s when he looks away, when he focuses on the dark, almost obsidian night sky that obscures the forestry surrounding the house, he knows that she knows. “Oh….”

“Yeah.” Roman doesn't know what else to say. Doesn’t want to say anything else. He doesn’t even really want to fucking talk about this, wants to forget the damn ‘dream’ ever happened, wants to just go back to bed and try to get some fucking sleep.

But, that would be too easy, and rarely in his life are things ever easy.

“Roman, look at me.” Solana’s soft, caring tone pulls him from pessimistic cognitions. “Nothing’s going to happen to me, Ro,” she whispers, bringing her hand to his bearded chin, forcing his unsettled gaze on her. “I promise.”

He wishes that her words provided more comfort. There’s some level, just not a lot, because Roman has had his fair share of nightmares over the years. Most from after that night. Some…..some before. Some he’s never once spoken about and never plans to. Too…..too many bad, difficult, unmanageable emotions attached to them.

“You’re thinking a lot,” she whispers. The way she’s learned to read him so well feels almost too impossible to be true. He’s always prided himself on being an enigma, but with her? His inscrutable disposition melts away into something transparent and lucid.

He chuckles, but it’s void of any emotion. “I’m always thinking, Sol.” Always thinking. Always planning. Always strategizing. Just always in a state of always.

Solana shakes her head, gently protesting. “Not with me. I don’t….I don’t want you to think when you’re with me….just…..just be.”

Be.

Roman is unsure if he even knows what that is anymore.

If he ever did in the first place.

And he admits as such. “I don’t….I don’t know how to do that.” A strange, uncharacteristic admission from the man who always has everything together. Because he has to. Because he’s never been granted the space to not have to.

Solana ghosts her lips over his forehead, his eyes shutting as he holds her a little tighter. “Then we’ll learn together.”

________

Roman has a high sex drive. This is something Solana has always heard through the grapevine, among…..other things. But, her finding out about his sex drive is something she’s experienced herself. Is currently experiencing.

His large, strong hands remain placed and seated on her back, exploring her soft skin that has a soft sheen of sweat that’s built up from the exertion of her body. Her thighs ache a bit as does that sensitive space between her legs, both from the current stretch of him inside her as well as not being entirely recovered from their passionate lovemaking session just hours prior.

Truthfully, Solana hasn’t a clue just how she’s ended up engaged in intimacy yet again, possibly him needing a distraction of sort form his dream. But Roman occasionally sliding his hands to her hips, guiding her up and down, back and forth on his impressive length seems to be just enough, more than enough, to keep her hands on his shoulders, her fingers pressing into his skin, her teeth gnawing into her bottom lip to keep her from alerting his aunt and cousin just what they’re doing this fine early morning.

But, it’s that thought that has her trying to express said concern, to share the slight level of guilt she feels at doing this under his aunt’s roof. It feels almost….disrespectful? And maybe that’s too strong of a word. Regardless, she just has a feeling about it.

“Roman…..” Solana hates that his name on her lips is more carnal than anything, a moan, essentially. Far from what she needs. Still, she pushes through. “We—we can’t—”

His deep chuckle under her followed by another slight lift of her body as he continues to fill her, physically and figuratively, “can’t what?”

Damn. It’s so hard to resist the devil when he makes the sin feel this good. “Th—this.” She’s not sure she’s even making any sense right now. “It’s—disresp—shit.” Roman is forever adroit, knowing just what to do and how to do it, because one minute he’s licking his bottom lip, the next minute his mouth is latched onto her breast, sucking on her areola in a way that makes it exponentially more difficult to not scream her pleasure from here to kingdom come.

“Ro….” Her hand shifts to the back of his head, his soft, wave locks intertwined in her fingers as Solana manages to keep her steady pace rocking atop of him. He’s so deep inside of her, reaching her stomach it damn near feels like. “Oh my god.” Head thrown back from the erotic of it all, a deep chuckle leaves his talented mouth as he detaches and switches to kissing along the swell of her heavy breast.

“You really wanna deny me this?” His voice is both teasing and curious, hands massaging her sides, gently helping her continue to ride him. “Could watch you and this beautiful body ride me for the rest of fucking time….”

Solana seems to hone in on two words. Beautiful body. She still somewhat struggles to wrap her head around just how a man who looks like Roman could be so enamored with her physically. Even with all the scars, the cellulite, the stretch marks, the fat, he looks at her like she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He makes her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. It’s overwhelming and fills her with so much love, Solana bringing her hands to his bearded face for a sensual kiss to express that love and adoration.

Kissing Roman is also moving its way up her list of favorite things to do. A list that almost entirely includes him, because as much as he indicates and even shares how he can’t get enough of her, she feels the absolute same way about him.

Roman deepens the kiss, Solana loving the feel of their chests pressed together, how he almost protectively clutches her close to him. They hold onto each other almost, so deeply entwined, two troubled souls who somehow found each other in the midst of chaos and sorrow. A joint healing of sorts.

Not even half an hour later, both having found their release, Solana lays on his chest, her fingers tracing the intricate patterns of the tattoos that’s etched onto his chest, one of her favorite things to do when they’re together like this. She loves everything about Roman, his body included, but his tattoos hold a special place for her. She knows it’s part of his cultural background, but a large part of her would guess that the placement was intentional. The ink on his arms to help shield bad memories, a night of unfathomable loss and trauma.

She knows what that’s like. Knows what it’s like to carry around those scars. Another area where they can relate, shared loss that they can find comfort for, in each other.

Eager for her spent body to be one with his, she moves even closer, a small smile on her face when he tugs her nearer and kisses the top of her head. His affection with her always adds yet another layer of safety and protection she feels with him.

Feelings she hasn’t had in forever. If ever.

“I wanna ask you something, but if it’s triggering for you, then we dead it, okay?” Solana is obviously taken back by his statement, and while there’s a small chunk of her nervous about what he’s about to ask, she doesn’t want to shut him down.

Eyes focused on the window beside the bed that unveils the rising sun and subsequent kaleidoscope of dawn colors that paint the sky, she answers, “okay.”

“How were you mentally on our wedding day?”

Solana frowns. That’s the last question she expected to leave his mouth, but the more she thinks about it, thinks about the worksheets Gail had told her she showed Roman, Solana can almost bet she recalls one of those questions asking about the last time she felt suicidal prior to her attempt.

And she’d answered honestly.

On her wedding day.

Something she’s almost certain he knows and is referring to. In a slightly indirect way. To avoid being too……raw. “Roman—” She doesn’t quite know how to address this, how to explain it in a way that makes sense to him but is also not too heavy for her. “I—there was just….there was a lot going on.”

“Because of me.” Her eyes shut. She hates the tone of his voice. Low and subdued. Like he feels guilty about something, like he did something wrong. “Because I sped everything up without actually giving you time to….” Roman takes a deep breath, and she opens her eyes to look up at him. “If I had known—“

Solana sits up and brings her hand to his face. “But—but you didn’t—” She wets her lips, hating that he seems to feel somehow responsible for years worth of trauma that brought her to that place mentally. Not him. “I—I struggled for years with those thoughts, and it was just…..it was a combination of things. I was scared and confused, but mostly because of the plan and what they wanted me to do. I hadn’t eaten in days. I just…..it wasn’t your fault.” She kisses him, lips hovering over his as she whispers, “at the time….it felt like the saddest day of my life, but—it was the best, Roman. I got you….and that’s all I need.” She moves to lay on top of him, burying her head in the crook of his neck. “Te amo, mi amor.”

He still sounds guilty. "But, it's not the wedding you deserved."

"I don't care about that, baby." She moves her hand to his arm, gently massaging up and down his bicep. “Roman, I don’t—I don’t want you worrying about me. I’m better, not all the way, but I’m safe, and I want you to focus on you.” And she means that with everything in her. He puts so much into everything else. It’s beyond time he shifts some of that focus onto himself.

“Solana—”

“I mean it,” she cuts him off, a hint of determination and borderline assertiveness present, something that takes them both by surprise. Truly. “Healing is…hard work, but it’s….it’s worth it. And you deserve it just as much as I do.” A thought crosses her mind, prompting her to share it with him. “Photography.”

He looks skeptical. “What about it?”

“I want you to start doing it more. You’re good at it, and it…..you looked happy doing it.” Because he is. Because there’s so many things that Roman is good at that he has to do. She wants him to have something that he gets to do.

“I was happy because I was with you,” he corrects. It’s kind but also not entirely true.

“It was more than that, Ro,” she counters softly. “If you want….you….you can take pictures of me.” In taking and sharing occasional selfies of herself while away from Roman, that discomfort has waned ever so slightly with having her picture taken. Enough to have her willing to be his muse, if that's what it takes.

Roman chuckles underneath her, his hand on the small of her back. “You know I can’t say no to you, right?” Solana giggles, pleased mostly at his less solemn tone, at his agreement, at what type of relief it could provide to him. Even if they both know it’s something that obviously can’t happen until she’s done with treatment. Regardless, it’s something, and that’s all that matters.

But, it’s when Solana settles back on top of him, head on his chest that she feels it. Feels his semi-hardened length against her, prompting her to gasp.

They just….

Confused, she looks at him, brows furrowed. “How are you……do—do you have an addiction?”

Roman’s laugh is deep and makes her smile. A rarity but one she hopes to one day to increase the frequency of. “To sex? Shit, maybe.” She’d say definitely given the fact that they’ve already gone three rounds, and yet he’s still looking at her like that. “To you?” Solana’s breath is sharp as he carefully switches their position so that he’s hovering over her. “Absolutely.”

“Roman….” His mouth is already on the move, trailing down and in between the valley of her breast. “I’m—I’m sore.” And this time, it’s to the point where she can’t afford to bypass it, to push past it, even if there’s a small part of her that isn’t entirely opposed. That feels an almost…..excitement at being with him again in that way.

Even if it will be the fourth time in less than 24hrs. Not even 12.

“I know.” And yet as he continues downward, Solana realizes he already knows this and is well aware of this fact. Hence him desiring an equally desirable alternative. “But, it’s like you said, baby….” She moans when he braces his big hands on her hips, his mouth kissing her inner thighs, thick fingers separating her swollen, tender lower lips. “I’m addicted.”

________

By the time Solana convinces Roman that they can’t spend the rest of the day locked in his bedroom, thrusted in the throes of sweet intimacy, it’s nearing 11am, and Fetu and Ava have already consumed their breakfast, discussing what they’ll have for lunch.

Solana walks in first, wearing a warm smile aimed toward the two women, one of which she’s now seeing for the first time.

Ava stands up from the kitchen table and walks over with a small smirk. “My cousin finally got off you, huh?”

Roman rolls his eyes, muttering, “fuck off, Ava.”

Solana blushes. Ava is tall, only a few inches shorter than Roman with a thin build but soft curves. Her onyx black hair is shoulder length, and her smile and brown eyes give away her kinship to Roman. Even Fetu. They all look related.

“It’s—umm, nice to meet you.” Solana is taken back a bit when Ava hugs her. It’s so interesting to her how the women in Roman’s family are so physically affectionate. It seems almost ironic given just who their family is. The way the word Bloodline strikes fear in the hearts of even the strongest. “I’m Sol—”

“Solana,” Ava laughs, stepping back. “I know. Heard a lot about you, and like I said last night, I’m sorry you got stuck marrying big ears over here.”

Roman is quick with it, retorting back before he downs the coffee he just brewed, “not as big as that big ass forehead.”

“Children. Literal children.” Fetu shakes her head, looking over at Solana. “Do you see what I have to deal with? Why I need you Solana?” She gestures with her thumb, “if this damn disease doesn’t kill me first, Dopey and Tyra Banks over here damn sure will.”

At that, both Roman and Ava look slightly irritated. “Don’t talk like that, Uso o le tinā.” She glares at Roman, lifting up her middle finger to flip him off. “Who else is going to keep me from killing our Tribal Chief?”

Roman scoffs, big shoulders lifting as he shakes his head. He sounds and looks so amused at just the thought of it. “You can certainly try.”

Ava sucks her teeth, angling her body towards him. “Don’t tempt me, asshole.”

Roman smirks, looking at her over his mug. “You know I love a good fight.”

“I’m about to kill both of you if you don’t shut the hell up!” Fetu snaps, Solana looking over to see she’s holding her slipper in her hand. “Embarrassing me in front of my friend, sweet Solana.”

“It’s—it’s okay,” Solana cuts in, unable to contain her smile. She’s not used to seeing Roman like this, so…..relaxed, almost…..almost like he’s at peace. She likes it.

She likes it a lot.

“It is not.” Fetu drops her slipper back on the ground, shaking her head. “Since both of you have so much to say and clearly energy to expel, you can handle the wood in the back that needs to be chopped up?” Solana’s confusion must be evident as Fetu gestures to the living room. “Wood burning fireplace. I don’t like that new shit.”

“You mean the safest shit?” Roman mutters.

Ava shakes her head, whispering to Solana. “Our aunt can be a little……old fashioned.” Solana says nothing, seeing no issue. With everything she’s been through, she truly deserves whatever she wants, in Solana’s opinion. “Roman’s been trying to convince her to let him replace it with an electric one for years.”

“And my answer will keep being no!” Fetu calls out, clearly eavesdropping. “Now, I mean it, I want that wood chopped. Both of you.”

Roman scowls. “I don’t need her help.”

Ava glares in his direction. “And I don’t need help from Samoan He-Man over here.”

“I–I thought you guys actually liked each other?” Solana intended to keep that in her head, but it somehow bypassed her speech defenses. Immediately, she feels bad, going the recompense route. “I didn’t mean—”

“They do,” Fetu answers, sharing. “It depends on the day. Today is just clearly not one of those days.” She plasters on a sickeningly sweet smile. “Now get to it, before I embarrass both of you.”

It’s slightly comical to Solana how both people, formidable in their own right, fold so easily at the direction of this older woman. Solana goes to fix her late breakfast along with Roman, the two sharing it at the table along with Ava and Fetu until it's time for them to depart and get started on their joint task.

That leaves Solana with Fetu, a wonderful arrangement because it allows her time to get to know the woman who means so much to Roman better.

And that is done in a way Solana didn't expect, because she ends up in Fetu’s room, a large bin that Solana pulled from her closet exposing a world of welcomed surprises.

Solana is overcome with an abundance of photos, a mixture of dated polaroids' and the type of photos one got developed at a kiosk or drugstore back in the day. She’d like to say that they’re photos of smiling, happy faces, but that would be a lie. Many of them are clearly of people taken off guard by a camera in their face.

One in particular captures her attention, Solana reaching for the polaroid that shows a tall, handsome man. Sharp facial features with an almost stoic expression. Familiar. Very familiar.

“Is this…..”

Fetu chuckles, nodding, “it is.” There’s a sadness both in her gaze as well as her voice. “He looks so much like him….”

Solana swallows. She agrees. Roman shares a striking resemblance with his father. It makes her wonder if they have similar personalities as well, but another photo steals her focus. A tiny gasp leaves her mouth as a small smile grows. “That’s—”

Fetu also laughs, nodding and reaching for the photo, handing it to Solana. “You can tell by the big ears.” Solana giggles, holding the photo and staring with borderline amazement at Roman when he was a boy. He couldn’t have been more than 6 or 7 years old, so young, so innocent looking, but she knows better. Knows that his smile in the photo was probably short lived.

“I had taken him and the twins to the water park. They had so much fun that day.” One glance at Fetu, and Solana can see she’s reflecting back and mentally reliving that day. “I did my best to give him as much of a normal childhood as possible.”

Solana is quiet, her own sadness seeping in at the depressing reality that as much as she didn’t have much of a childhood, neither did he.

He never stood a chance.

“Look at this one.” Fetu reaches her another photo. It’s Roman, but it doesn’t look like him. It’s of him as a child, looking far too serious for a boy no more than 8 or 9 years–old.

Studying the photo a bit more, Solana shares with all honesty, “he looks…..little?”

Fetu laughs. “Because he was.” Solana gasps quietly, as the woman explains. “Believe it or not, that big, strong husband of yours was the runt of his siblings. He was small for his age, and it always bothered him.” Solana has a hard time conceptualizing any part of roman being small. Fetu's lips slip into a small, forlorn smile. “I always knew he would be something special. I just—I wish it could have happened differently.”

Solana says nothing, already knowing what she’s referring to. What she doesn’t need to say. “He’s…..he’s a good man.”

“He’s a better man with you.” Fetu places a comforting hand on Solana’s knee. “You are good for him, child, and I think he’s good for you too.”

“He’s the best,” Solana murmurs, emotion building at just the thought of the man who’s completely changed her life around. For the better. “He’s—he’s everything to me.”

And even that is putting it lightly, fails to fully encapsulate just what Roman means to her. What he is to her.

Fetu’s grin shifts into something appreciative. “You know….I always prayed he would find someone before I closed my eyes. Someone he could love and who would love him back the way he deserves. The way anyone deserves.” Solana’s stomach coils a bit, a strange foreboding sense coming over her. “You’ve given this old woman a tremendous amount of peace, and for that, Solana, I cannot thank you enough.”

It’s been relatively easy to pick up on how close Roman is to his aunt, largely due to his own vulnerable worlds. She’s the closest thing he has left of a mother, and the thought of her no longer being here….

No.

Roman can’t lose anyone else.

Especially Fetu.

“Solana.” Pulled from her thoughts, Solana looks down to see that Fetu has moved their hands so that Solana’s palm is outstretched. “I need you to do something for me, but I need it to stay between us for now.”

And just like that, goosebumps sprout all across her arms. “You—you don’t want me to tell Roman?”

Fetu shakes her head, Solana looking down when she places a white, sealed envelope in her hand. “I need you to give this to him when the time is right.”

Questions. Solana is full of them. What is contained within this envelope, and why is Fetu giving it to her and not Roman? And why can’t he know? Just so many questions, but for some reason, Solana can only settle on one to ask.

“How—how will I know when the time is right?”

There’s despondency in the older woman’s eyes that contrasts her smile. “You will.”

Something about this rubs Solana the wrong way, and not in a bad manner, per se. Just something very heavy. Very sad. “Fetu, what—”

“Enough of all this sentimental shit.” Fetu clears her throat and wipes at her eyes, changing subjects as she goes on about something Solana can only partially pay attention to. There’s a bit of envy there. Envy at how she can carry on like nothing just happened.

If only Solana could do the same.

________

The conversation with Fetu is something that weighs heavy on her chest, something she wants to inquire more about from her husband’s aunt but knows won’t give her the answers she’s looking for. It’s why the younger woman is grateful for a brief respite, one that she hopes will serve as a much needed distraction.

Solana settles herself onto the chair outside, looking over her shoulder to make sure the door is closed.

She props the phone up against the back of the chair and adjusts her top just as the screen fills with smiling faces.

“Solana!” She smiles at Mickie’s excited greeting. “Oh my god, I told them he didn’t kidnap you!”

Solana giggles and shakes her head, frowning a bit as she explains, “no, I’m—I’m sorry. We….we had to leave suddenly.” That’s a nice way to put it. To refer to the way that Roman escorted and signed her out of the facility without her having a chance to explain to her newfound friends what was going on.

And unlike herself, Mickie, Cam, and Melina don’t have mafia head husbands who are allowed to break and stretch the rules for her the way Roman does. So they don’t have their phones at all times with unlimited and unmonitored usage.

It’s why Solana has made the active effort to break away and call them during the slot of time she knows they’re allowed phone time.

Melina moves into the frame of the phone camera asking, “are you okay?”

An easy answer. “I am now.” Because had they asked just slightly over twenty-four hours ago, her answer would have been very different. “Just needed to handle something, but I’ll be back sometime tomorrow afternoon.” Roman shared they would have to get on the road tomorrow morning, something she could tell he wasn’t happy about. He clearly enjoys being here. Enjoys the freedom here. It’s a palpable thing, and she loves it. She loves seeing how at peace he seems in this safe space.

“Good,” Melina nods, clearly pleased by this. She smirks, “we miss you.”

Cam scoots closer so she can share, “it’s boring without our residential artsy bae.”

Mickie gasps, snatching the phone, sharing with an excited tone, “And Paxley had a total breakdown, ripped the head off her dolls and everything. Apparently her girlfriend broke up with her.” It’s clear she’s trying to hold back an amused smile. “It was actually kind of funny.”

Cam sucks her teeth and shoves the woman next to her. “Mickie, please.” She directs her focus back to Solana, adding, “Dr. S had to have her sedated and everything.”

Solan frowns. She knows what that’s like and wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Melina snatches the phone away, expression shifting into something almost concerned. “You’re gonna finish out the program, right?”

“I am.” It’s something Solana has actually thought about since Roman’s confession. She hates that he’s been struggling, but what she hates even more is that she hasn’t and won’t be home to help him in the way that he deserves. Maybe even needs. But, she also knows that she’s not exactly where she would like to be yet. Getting there. But not yet.

And she wants to be at her best when she comes home. Roman deserves that much. But, so does she.

So, as much as a part of her would like to come home now, she knows that what is best is ultimately her finishing out her treatment.

Melina looks relieved, offering a small smile. “Good.”

Solana picks up on it, the unspoken thing hidden behind her question. “What is it?”

And the frown is back, Melina sharing in a solemn tone, “there…..there are whispers that the facility is shutting down at the end of the year. Something about lack of funding.”

‘What?” Solana didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t that. “But—but it….what about….what about people who need help?”

Cam scoffs, almost bitterly. “Three steps forward. Eight steps back.” Solana feels for her the most. She knows this is the second time Cameron has entered residential treatment at the very facility where the four women seem to be finding so much healing.

Mickie shrugs. “There are other treatment places…..none that are reasonably close and for women only.” Solana winces at that, at the almost bitterness that laces her tone at the end of the sentence. Being in a place to heal surrounded by women only truly makes the biggest difference when tackling sexual trauma.

Trauma caused by men.

“I heard Dr. Stratus is seeing if she can get another grant or investor, but….” Cam shakes her head. “I don’t think we should hold our breath.”

Melina rolls her eyes. “Especially with how much money she probably needs to keep this place running. Has to be in the millions.” She smirks, sarcastically remarking, “and you know investors are just dying to put all their sweet money into a bunch of unstable bitches.”

Solana’s frown deepens. She wasn’t expecting to hear this news. Definitely didn’t expect it to have her heart feel so heavy at this update. It almost seems silly, like she shouldn’t be so sad about a place closing that she only ever heard about a month ago, that she plans to never once again visit and be entered into.

It was a one time program that’s clearly serving its purpose.

And maybe that’s the thing that makes her sad. To know how helpful its been for her, a type of healing occurring she never thought possible. Healing that she knows so many more people need and will need. So many women.

Melina manages a grin that doesn’t meet her eyes. “Well, we started this together, at least we’ll get to finish it together.” And Solana gets it, understands why Melina wanted to see if she’s coming back. Because if this is the last time they’re all in the same setting, as strange a setting as it is, she wants it to be something they can do together.

“And we can still connect once we’re out of the hammer,” Mickie suggests with the biggest, brightest smile, “assuming we don’t get locked up again.”

Solana can’t help but to laugh. Mickie is a hoot, but she never fails to put a smile on her face.

They all do.

And in some strange connection that she doesn’t quite understand, the smile and sisterhood of it all, it brings about a thought, spurs an idea that she otherwise would never consider. It’s a massive ask, much beyond a favor, the biggest and grandest thing she could ever ask for.

And yet she’s going to do it.

Going to ask it.

Going to ask him.

________

“Get the hell away from me!”

It’s the first thing Solana hears when her eyes snap open. The second thing she notices is the absence of a set of strong arms around her or the equally strong chest she was laying her head on when she fell asleep. Confused, Solana rubs at her eyes and tenses at the next sound to make its way to her hearing.

“Go away!”

It’s this second time around that Solana realizes she recognizes the voice, and it has her hopping out of bed and heading for the door.

“Uso o le tinā, please, it’s me, Ava and Roman—” Solan’s concern grows to match her confusion as she follows the source of the voices, having a good idea of what's happening without even needing to see it. “Just let us—”

“I don’t know who you are! Help!”

Solana finds the three of them in the living room, the sight similar to what she had already guesstimated. Ava and Roman are on opposite sides, both wearing pained, concerned expressions, focused on Fetu who’s in the middle of the room, in her robe, crying, a knife in her hand, arm stretched out toward them. However, Solana focuses on the red liquid pooling on the handle of the knife. Fetu is cut, most likely a self-caused injury when she went for the knife.

Solana’s stomach drops. She’s clearly in the midst of an episode, unaware of who she is, who they are. And it breaks her heart. The amount of pure fear and terror in her face toward the two people who would no doubt lay down their lives for her.

Solana takes a step forward, and Fetu’s frantic eyes land on her, shifting into something almost relieved. “Please—you can help me!”

Roman is the first to pull his attention away from Fetu, focusing on Solana who can so clearly see the distress in his eyes. How difficult this situation has to be, to see her like this and not be able to do anything.

He reaches his arm, clearly trying to keep her back. “Sol, go back—”

“No!” Fetu cries out, bringing both husband and wife’s gaze onto her. Solana swallows as Fetu begins to cry again, shaking finger pointing back and forth between Roman and Ava. “They—they want to take me!” Her crying intensifies, Solana slowly starting to make her way toward the older woman, ignoring Roman’s subtle attempt to keep her away. “Please—please don’t let them hurt me.”

Fetu’s pleading breaks Solana’s heart and would bring tears to her own eyes if not for the fact that she’s focused solely on the scene before her. “I—I’ll help you, okay?” Solana doesn’t take her eyes off Fetu, mindful of any sudden action she could take, movement that could potentially and unintentionally injure her. “I’m—I’m Solana.” She introduces, offering a warm smile when she’s closer, very much aware of Roman and Ava whose eyes are burning into her back. “Can you—can you tell me your name?”

Fetu seems to try to think for a moment, her face painted in terror, only to shake her head. “I—I can’t.”

“It’s okay,” Solana immediately reassures, tensing a bit when she feels movement behind her, Ava and Roman trying again to approach, which only prompts her to hurriedly wave her arm to shoo them back. To tell them to leave without actually telling them to leave. “Well, I’m gonna help you, okay?”

She understands they just want to help, but their attempts to help will only exacerbate the situation. Fetu doesn’t recognize them, sees them as threats. But for herself, that is not the case. Thus, Solana needs them away to deescalate the situation.

Solana is relieved when she’s finally able to stand directly in front of Fetu, gently reaching to move some hair out of her face. “It’s okay. You can trust me. I won’t hurt you.” The words seem to be registering, Solana gesturing to Fetu’s cut hand. “Looks like you hurt yourself.” She smiles warmly, gently, and patiently. “How about I clean that up for you and then maybe we can have some tea? Hmm?”

Standing in front of Fetu, obscuring her vision of the niece and nephew her disease has her convinced are strangers, Solana briefly turns around, catching both of their gazes. “Go.” She mouths it, eyes pleading in a way her voice cannot. “I’ve got her.”

Both look torn, Roman especially, but when Fetu drops the knife and reaches for Solana’s arm, clutching tightly, both indifferent to the blood that’s now stained on Solana’s skin, it seems to send a message that she is very much in good hands.

Solana gives the cousins a nod and refocuses her attention on the elder woman. “It’s okay,” she comforts, offering a warm smile as she moves her arm around her, pleased to see that the other two have left.

It’s for the best.

Solana is able to escort her into the kitchen and pacify her enough to get her seated at the kitchen table while she pulls out the medical kit under the kitchen sink.

“Jealous.” Solana turns around, necessarily supplies in hand as she faces Fetu. “I—I told Nakoa we couldn’t trust him.” The next fit of crying returns as she shakes her head, injured hand formed into a fist that she hits on her thigh repeatedly. “I told him!”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Solana drops to her knees in front of Fetu, placing the supplies on the floor as she reaches for her hand, trying to stop her from further injuring herself. “It’s okay. I know—I know you did.”

Solana, in fact does not know, has no idea who this Nakoa person is nor the other unnamed man. Nor does she necessarily care very much right now to know. She just knows that her number one priority is keeping Roman’s aunt as calm and stable in this position as possible.

“He was…..he was jealous. Always jealous.”

“I know.” Solana nods, determined to not invalidate her, even if she’s making no sense. “Is it okay if I wrap up your hand?”

Fetu seems to take a second to think about it, eventually nodding. “Y–yes.”

Pleased at this acquiescence, Solana finds herself humming and singing softly as she works to clean, disinfect, and tend to Fetu’s wound. Fetu, who, in a much calmer voice comments, “you—you have a pretty voice.”

Solana’s smile is warm. “Thank you.” She’s happy it worked, worked to settle some of Fetu’s fear and anxiety. “My mother used to sing me to sleep.”

“Your…..mother……” Her voice is distant, as if she’s trying to put the pieces together. “I—I was never a…..mother.” She swallows, opening and closing her mouth a couple times before she speaks again. “Are you—are you a mother?”

A question she’s been asked twice now. Each time bringing up a sense of sadness. “N—n–not yet.”

Fetu makes a sound, head tilting a bit as Solana clears her throat of the emotion that’s suddenly built up. “You will be.” The younger woman stills, lifting her eyes to meet those of Fetu’s that suddenly seem so knowing and insightful. “Nakoa….he…..he will be a good dad.”

Again, Solana is confused and suddenly a bit more curious about who this person is. And what connection he has, or Fetu thinks, he has to her. Regardless, she just continues to work seamlessly transitioning into her next task, fixing the older woman a warm cup of tea.

Solana sits silently in the chair next to Fetu, stifling a yawn as she catches a glance at the time on the microwave. 4:45am.

Her mind gravitates to Roman and Ava. Ava more than Roman. How often does she have to deal with these sorts of episodes? Roman as well, but with Ava living here with Fetu, surely, she has to face them more.

It makes her heart heavy.

And it stays that way even as Fetu finishes her tea and asks to go “lay down.” Solana holds her arm, carefully helping her up the stairs and into her bedroom. She’s pleased when Fetu asks her to braid her hair for her, Solana feeling a sense of nostalgia, reminiscing on times when she was younger and her mother would braid her hair before bed.

Some of her fondest memories with her mom.

Solana is helping Fetu get settled in bed when the older woman asks in an almost childlike voice. “Will you—will you stay with me until…..until I fall asleep?”

“Of course.” Gently caressing her forehead, she gives a comforting smile and moves to grab the chair against the closest wall. Dragging it to the side of the bed, Solana has barely sat down when Fetu reaches for Solana’s arm, her mouth shifting back and forth from a smile and frown as she clearly struggles to verbalize whatever she wants to say. “Promise me…..promise me you’ll look out for him.” Solana herself is frowning, confused by just what she’s asking. “Promise me you’ll stay with Nakoa.”

That name again. It confuses her just as much as it did the last time it was used.

Fetu continues, shaking her head. “I can’t—I can’t walk out the door without—without knowing he’ll be okay.” There’s something about her statement and the one that follows that makes it click for Solana. That helps her to realize who Nakoa really is. “I—I left him all alone o–once. I—I can’t do it again.”

Roman

Fetu is talking about Roman and something else that Solana can’t even bring herself to verbalize, the thought itself devastating enough.

“I’m not going to leave him,” Solana vows, taking Fetu’s hand in hers, conjoining them. “And neither are you.” Tears fill her eyes as she reiterates, “he needs both of us.” Because he does. Solana knows and believes that with everything in her. The humanity and kindness Roman still holds is solely because of the woman before her. Solana has just so happened to build upon it. “And besides….you’ve gotta be here when we finally have a child. You’re…..you’re the closest thing he or she will have to a grandmother.”

Because it’s true. Because Solana wants her and Roman’s child to have the loving, supportive family that both of them were deprived of, and for more than just a short period of their life. It’s another vow on her part.

To do better.

To be better.

“A child…..” Fetu trails off, loosening her grip on Solana’s arm, settling hers at the side of her body. “Yes….soon….soon.”

Solana can’t take her gaze away from Fetu, studying her face from the moment her eyes flutter shut to when the steady rise and fall of her chest indicates a much deserved peaceful sleep. Solana is absolutely prepared to stay in that chair the entire night, by Fetu’s side, no protest whatsoever.

But, it’s not even forty five minutes into Fetu’s slumber that the bedroom door is slowly opened, Ava clearly checking that her aunt is sleep before she walks in and kneels at Solana’s side. “You can go. I’ll—I’ll stay with her.”

Solana looks at the woman, the red, puffy eyes that she knows all too well. She shakes her head, placing a hand on her shoulder. “No. You….you get some sleep. I don’t mind.”

Ava makes a sound, her nose turning up ever so slightly. She’s staring at Fetu. “It’s so—it’s hard seeing her like this, ya know? I—I just want to help, but I can’t—” Solana shakes her head, as Ava closes her eyes, clearly trying to hold back tears. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Again, Solana knows grief and heartache better than anyone. “She loves you. And in her heart, she knows who you are….she always will.”

Ava is visibly moved by the kind words, nodding and wiping at her eyes. “Thank you, Solana.” She sniffles, laughing with a small scoff. “You’re way too good for him.” Solana smiles. Not a chance. “Please….I’d prefer to sit with her, if….if that’s okay?”

Solana has no room or place to deny Ava anything, especially this. She just didn’t want her to feel like she had to. But hearing her reason, she’s more than happy to get up. “Of course.”

Solana is by the door when she stops and calls out Ava’s name, waiting for the woman to look at her as she asks, “who—who was Nakoa?”

Ava’s shoulders drop, the change in her disposition evident as she answers in a sad tone. “That was my uncle......Roman’s dad.”

Solana’s eyes shut, her mind gravitating back to the picture she saw just earlier today. Of course. Nodding, she reminds, “if you need anything—”

“I know.”

A final shared smile among the women, and Solana quietly closes the door. Making her way back to Roman’s bedroom, she half expects to find him up, pacing, wearing a hole into the floor. She instead is met with the complete opposite: room dark and Roman’s big body sprawled across the bed. He’s on his back, laying on top of the blankets. It’s obvious he fell asleep while doing that waiting she correctly called before even entering the room.

Shutting the door, Solana moves over to the bed, careful movements helping her position her body so she’s tucked next to him. Her arm over his stomach, and her head on his chest.

Despite her carefulness, it’s not even a full two minutes before he’s stirred awake.

“Shhh. It’s just me.” She whispers, kissing his bearded jaw. Even in the darkness of the room, she can still slightly make out his features as he looks down at her.

“Fuck.” His voice is deep with the slumber he so desperately needs so much more of. “I must have fallen asleep.”

“Good. You need that.” He’s been nonstop the past couple days, not to mention the fact that they have to be up in a couple hours to get back on the road. Solana makes a quick mental note to see if he’ll let her drive back. Even if just for a portion. “Go back to sle—”

“Fetu—”

Solana feels his body tense underneath her, prompting her to soothingly move her hand across his abdomen. “She’s okay now. Sleep. Ava is sitting with her.”

He says nothing, but she watches the way he lets his head fall back against the mattress. “I’m—I’m sorry you had to see that. I didn’t—”

“I’m not.” Because she’s not. And truth be told, what occurred tonight rests devastatingly low on the list of worst things she’s ever experienced. “I’m glad I could help her. Help you guys.”

Roman hesitates before asking in a thick voice. “How did you….”

“My mom worked at a nursing home when she was in medical school. She used to tell me about her patients with Alzheimer's. How she had to help them. She used to write about it in her journals too.” Not to mention random information Solana has read and learned over the years in her vast pursuit of acquiring medical knowledge after being denied the chance to go to college and pursue her nursing dreams. “She just….she needed to feel safe. I know what that’s like.”

Again, Roman is silent for a couple minutes, Solana eventually feeling him tug her closer, her eyes shutting when he kisses her forehead.

“Thank you.” There’s so much held behind those two words, an immense amount of appreciation and love that’s felt on such a palpable level. “I love you.”

She could never tire of hearing him say that. Ever. “I love you, too.”

Today was a lot, in so many different ways, Solana feeling perplexed by the many happenings. The letter from Fetu. Fetu’s maybe incoherent, or not so incoherent, warning about someone being jealous. Her almost ominous way of speaking about herself, about her future.

It was just…..a lot.

And Solana knows there’s so much to digest and try to make sense of. Just not tonight.

Tonight she just wants to fall asleep in the arms of her husband.

Tomorrow, and whatever it entails, can come later.

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns oneshot #roman reigns fanfic #arisnotebook

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lovelytsunoda · 10 months ago

Text

common people // mercedes amg (v)

summary: baby merc has a magical brush with love at a college event....too bad she doesn't get his name, contact information or any way to ever see him again

pairing: platonic!mercedes amg x intern!female!reader

author's note: i'm back, bitches! y'all should know i use this series as a coping mechanism for some of the things going on in my life....just putting that out there. that's why it sometimes seems like baby merc is just floundering, but today, it's her world and we're just living in it.

"nobody is going to be at this thing anyways since its so close to exams, so don't even worry that you can't make it." baby merc laughs, turning down her radio as she tries to reverse into a parking spot at her college. "the parking lot is packed though, must be lots of late classes today."

on the other end of the phone line, doriane pin laughs. "i'm sorry still! we've only got a few more days to hang out before i have to go to zandvoort for more academy testing."

"listen, if a mercedes sponsored driver can win anything at this point, i will be happy about it because or car is shit with a capital 's'." she paused for a moment. "please don't let toto know i said that."

doriane laughed gleefully. since the addition of the f1 academy driver to mercedes’ army of teenagers and young adults, each one mentored by toto and Susie themselves, y/n and doriane had become close friends. closer than friends, almost. it was nice to go to work and be around another girl her own age for once.

she stepped out of the aging, secondhand mercedes she drove, locking the car door and tucking her keys into her pocket as she crossed the lot to the student centre. there were dozens of college students milling about, despite all the on-site food options having closed half an hour ago.

the student center smelled like fresh paint when she opened the door, a serene expression in her face as she wandered into the common room, delighted to see the electric fireplace going, the room filed with round tables full of canvases and acrylic.

the college paint nights had always been her happy place. no expectations, a relaxed environment. an instructor who didn’t care if you followed her instructions to the ‘t’ (or at all). it was a welcome break from all of the other crap going on in her life.

she took her usual spot near the front, donning the dollar store apron hung over the back of the chair and settling in front of the canvas, a chill britpop playlist humming from the in-ceiling speaker set.

the group had been painting happily for ages when he wandered in. with the blended background almost done, she looked up from her conversation with the blonde girl next to her to catch him tentatively standing in the doorway.

his hair was messy, flopping around his face. he had airpods in, and she could faintly hear the riff of a rolling stones song. his sweater read ‘elevating devices.’ he was a trades boy.

“do you have room for one more?” he asked, looking over at olive, the program leader.

“of course!” olive grinned, caught in the middle of doing a blending demonstration on her forearm. “come on in, I can get you caught up.”

she felt her heart skip a beat when she realized that the only empty spot in the room was behind her. the boy smiled at her as he sat down, clumsily slipping into the gingham apron. it looked out of place with his hoodie and sweatpants, and the visual made her smile.

could this be it? the day something in her love life finally went right?

all throughout the paint night, since she was two steps ahead of everyone else (you go to every one of these things, you begin to pick up the tips and tricks of the trade), she found that she kept looking back at the newcomer, and admiring the look of concentration etched onto his face.

whatever happens, happens.

you did not come here to meet boys, you came here for you.

but goddamn it, he was so cute! and he painted! he was perfect! hell, he listened to the goddamn rolling stones!

it was the end of the night, 'pulp' playing on the speakers as the last few painters began to pack up.

"excuse me?" she felt a hand tap her shoulder, and she turned around from where she was repacking her primark purse to face the boy in the lifting devices sweater.

she hoped he couldn't hear her heart beating out of her chest.

"what are we supposed to do with these?" he asked, holding up one of olive's easels.

"they fold up." she said quietly, almost shyly as she took the metal stand from his hands. "like this. i come here all the time, helping olive pack up is the least i can do."

"nice." he said sheepishly, reaching for his own painting. "this was my first time."

"that's pretty good for your first try." she complimented, picking up her own canvas, as well as her car keys.

"can i walk you out?' the boy asked, gesturing towards the door.

"sure." she smiled, blush rising on her cheeks. she turned, flagging olive down and hoping the boy wouldn't notice. due to her frequent attendance at the paint parties, olive an dher had become fast friends, and she didn't miss the way the painter flashed her a thumbs up and suggestive wink as the pair left the student center.

"so, you a fan of the stones? i could hear them playing from your headphones when you walked in." she asked, trying to start a conversation, and hoping that he somehow found her interesting.

"a fairly recent one." he laughed, free hand in the pocket of his sweatpants.

sweatpants. we can work on that. three months dating me, she thought, and i can get you into a snazzy pair of jeans.

"i took a history course on the british invasion as an elective. it's all about the stones, the beatles, the who. any british band with 'the' in the name, really. the kinks are my favourite."

"awesome. my dad is a big jagger fan. i grew up singing 'you can't always get what you want' when other kids my age were singing 'apple bottom jeans'."

god, she loved the guy already.

"what are you studying?"

"law. i have my last final exam tomorrow, and i'm actually doing some part-time, minimum wage office work for a formula one team. legally, i can't tell you what exactly i'm doing." she grinned. "well. i could. but then i'd have to kill you."

she'd been waiting her whole life to say that.

"that's awesome." worlds were burned for a smile like the one this guy had. it was dangerous just how strongly she felt after barely talking to him. "i doubt my chosen career path will land me anywhere near as exciting as an f1 team. but who knows, i might be paid the big bucks to fix a service elevator in their building."

"well, this is me." she frowned, pointing in the direction of her parking lot. why did she feel so strongly about leaving a guy she didn't even know? "it was nice painting with you. you should come to another one in september."

"yeah, maybe i will. are you going to the one at the other campus tomorrow? i might try and make it, since my classes are over at that campus anyways."

"i can't, it's right in the middle of my exam." but god did she wish she could. if she wasn't so scared of failing, she'd skip the exam just for him.

"right, right." he nodded, gesturing towards the residency building behind him. "this is me. it was nice talking to you."

"you too." she smiled sheepishly, turning around and beginning the walk to her car.

she resisted the urge to look back, worried that it would be followed by something potentially foolish, like an 'aren't you going to kiss me', or an invitation to get coffee (that he could then very well turn down).

it wasn't until she was back in her car, heat turned on and classic rock playing, that she realized that he might have very well been into her, and she didn't even get his name.

"shit!"

__________________

"i'm telling you, doriane, this was my rom-com moment waiting to happen and i blew it!" she groaned, face in hands as she sat around the round table in the break room, recounting her woes to not just her closest colleagues, but those she considered to be her friends as well.

she had always loved the break room. it was light and airy, painted in white with bamboo furniture and a wall of windows. sometimes, she brought her work laptop in there and worked at one of the green couches in the corner.

"you were so close!" doriane commiserated with her, placing one hand over hers. "babes, you got this. you'll be ready for the next stud who comes along."

across the table, frederik vesti hid his grin behind his cup of coffee. "hey, maybe you dodged a bullet. he could have been a serial killer. or worse, a premier league fan."

doriane snorted, and ungraceful sound, yet one that was full of love. "yeah right."

she had been over the situation millions of times since the she'd gotten back in her car, and she just could not figure out why it had never occurred to her to get the boy's name, or to offer up her own.

"eh, you'll get the next one." george shrugged, placing a hand on her shoulder as he moved to stand behind the young intern. "just look at me and carmen. it took me a very long time to find someone like her. she'd one of a kind, that woman. i'm gonna marry her someday."

"better get cracking on that one, george old boy." frederik laughed. "i want your seat, if the kid doesn't beat me there."

"they're not putting kimi in an f1 seat." doriane argued. "its way too soon."

"i dunno, bearman did a really good job with that ferrari. if he's the blueprint, toto will just follow what his mates are doing so it looks like he's keeping with the times."

the seat conversation was beginning to make her nervous, and she could feel the hives rising on her arms as she tried to remind herself that lewis leaving mercedes had nothing to do with her.

it was the timing of his decision, announcing he was leaving so soon after she felt like she had truly made a home at brackley. but it made sense. a man like lewis needed to go somewhere that could give him the car he needed to take home that eighth championship, and currently, it wasn't looking like that was going to happen here.

that didn't change the fact that it stung. that in a way, it felt like lewis was leaving her.

"y/n, do you know who toto's been talking to about the second seat?" geroge asked, raising an eyebrow as he blew on his tea, steam rising onto his pale face. pair that with the cardigan he was wearing, and he was starting to look like someone's geriatric grandfather (and she said that with all the love in her heart that she had to give)

y/n did know. legal had been very busy organizing and prepping meetings, as well as drawing up draft contracts and disclosure agreements.

but a non-disclosure agreement worked both ways. and, since she liked fucking with george, he wasn't getting a proper answer.

she grinned, sipping the last of her hot chocolate "no can do. signed an nda. expressly forbids me from selling the gossip to the press, or from telling nosy british boys."

"that's not fair! you're british as well!" george whined. "come on, it affects me as well."

y/n laughed, appreciating the light air that george brought to the conversation, instead of making it a somber affair about lewis' departure. "oh, would you look at the time. my break is over, and i now need to go track down some engineers and get them to swear affidavits."

fred looked at her with a confused glace, his head cocked to the side like a golden retriever puppy. "why? who's taking us to court?"

"nobody is suing us. it's time to make our cost cap submissions to the fia, and the engineers need to swear that they're telling the truth."

"so you can tell us about that, but not about contract talks?" george tried one last time to get an answer from her as she packed up her tote, bag, pulling the sleeves of her sweater over her knuckles.

"nice try. good luck on the sim this afternoon, vesti over here says its not pretty."

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @httpiastri @clemswrld @thatsdemko @userlando @diorleclerc @sidcrosbyspuck @arshiyuh

#family are the friends we meet along the way series #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #mercedes amg f1 x reader #toto wolff x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #george russell x reader #frederik vesti x reader #mick schumacher x reader #f1 imagine #doriane pin x reader #Spotify

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amaiwrites · 6 months ago

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MHA GIRLS AS YOUR CLASSMATE

What it would be like to be classmates with the 1-A girls!

mha girls x gn!reader hcs! (can be read as platonic or romantic) ochako, momo, jiro, mina, tsuyu and hagakure

OCHAKO URARAKA, who passes you little notes everyday. It could be a question like “wanna hang out after school?” or just a cute drawing, but you often see a little folded paper on your desk.

It’s the middle of class and you just noticed something on your desk. a folded paper with a tiny pink heart drawn on top. You look over to Ochako, who’s too busy writing down notes about the lesson to notice you smiling at her.

You open the paper, reading the content inside. “hey, wanna hang out after school? :D” is written in black ink. you take your pencil and write on her note “ofc <3” and slide it back to her.

Ochako reads the note, smiling over at you before going back to her notes.

MOMO YAOYOROZU, who helps you study. If you space off in class, she’ll let you copy off her notes. She even invites you to her dorm for study dates, because she “has fun helping you with your academics.”

“Y/n?”

You snap out of your thoughts, looking over at Momo. “Yeah?”

“You haven’t written down any notes.” You look at Momo’s paper with half of the page already filled— then at yours, which is empty.

“Here, you can copy off mine, but pay more attention next time!” Momo tilts her notebook towards you slightly, and you thank her for helping and start writing.

Momo tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “We can also study at my dorm later, if you want.”

You nod your head in agreement, making Momo smile.

KYOKA JIRO, who gives you her airpod in a boring class so you can both listen to music. She’ll usually play loud rock music but sometimes you’ll convince her to turn it down so she can at least try to focus.

You let out a sigh, only loud enough for you, and Jiro, to hear. She looks over at you, then digs through her bag and pulls out her airpods case. You take an airpod from her and she puts on her “punk rock” playlist.

You take a few minutes to not pay attention to Mr. Aizawa, lightly tapping your feet to the rhythm of the music. After one or two songs, you turn to face Jiro.

“Hey, maybe we should try to pay attention a little bit, that looks like some stuff we should know…”

Jiro shrugs. “Yeah, you’re right.” she turns her music down some, giving you a thumbs up before she starts writing.

MINA ASHIDO, who is always talking to you during class. It doesn’t bother you at all, but Aizawa often has to interrupt his teaching to tell her to pay attention. Due to all of her talking she doesn’t get the best grades, but you try your best to help her!

“Hey Y/n? Me and the squad are gonna be hanging out in my room if you wanna come! It’ll be fun!” Mina whisper shouts, a grin on her face.

“I’ll be there!” You whisper back, already excited to be there to see the bakusquad shenanigans.

“Oh, did you hear that-“

“Mina, stop talking in my class, or i will send you to detention.” Aizawa clears his throat and goes back to his lesson. Mina grabs your arm and has a displeased look on her face.

“i’ll tell you later..” She says, and then she tries to focus on the lesson. You can clearly see that she’s confused.

“I could help you later if you want.” You offer, and Mina wraps you up in a hug.

“I love you Y/n thank you!!” she exclaims not in a whisper voice and you quickly shush her. Luckily Aizawa didn’t hear anything.

TSUYU ASUI, who is always giving you little snacks and packing your lunch for you. Sometimes she’ll even bring delicious homemade food!

Your stomach grumbles and you look around to see if anyone noticed— but they didn’t. You forgot to eat breakfast and it’s the class before lunch, so you’re starving. You stare at the clock, willing it to go faster.

“Y/n? Are you hungry, kero? I made chocolate cookies if you want some.” Your eyes light up at Tsu’s words and you eagerly nod your head.

Tsu hands you a cookie and you take a bite of it immediately. “Mmm!” you whisper because you‘re not really supposed to be eating in class, “These are so good, thank you!”

“im glad you like them, kero.” Tsu says, taking a bite of her cookie as well.

TORU HAGAKURE, who always lets you borrow her school supplies. Pencils, highlighters, erasers, anything you need!

“Okay class, take out your pencil and notebook. You’re gonna need them for this assignment.” Mr. Aizawa says. You pull out your notebook but after searching for two minutes, you realize that you have no pencil.

Hagakure taps you on the shoulder. “Y/n? Here, take this.” She holds out a sky blue pencil with little clouds on the sides.

“Thanks!” You say, “You’re really awesome for letting me use your school supplies, Hagakure. I owe you one!”

You can’t see Hagakure’s expression, but she sounds like she’s flustered. “O-oh, it’s no problem! I’m happy to help.”

i reposted this from my old account but i improved the writing a lot lol

taglist ✧ @sara4uuu (open, ask to be added!)

#꒰ amai writes ☁️ ໒꒱#mha #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #ochako uraraka #ochako x reader #momo yaoyorozu #momo x reader #kyoka jiro #jiro x reader #mina ashido #mina ashiro x reader #tsuyu asui #tsuyu asui x reader #toru hagakure #toru hagakure x reader #fanfiction

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bvidzsoo · 6 months ago

Text

Love Me Like A Rockstar (13)

ー☆ Chapter 13: You Know Me Too Well

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: cursing, usage of the word 'bitch' ー☆ Word count: 6.5k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Well, well, lovelies...new chapter is up and maybe I'm kind of kicking my feet??? Who knows, we'll see what y'all think of this chapter hehe. Also, happy birthday to Song Mingi?! I actually didn't mean to post the new chapter today, but today was the only day I had enough time to write it sooo, yeah. Tmi, but MC's mother is exactly like my mom, so maybe I drew inspiration from real life lol, I love her to death but sometimes I really wish SHE DIDNT SPEAK lol. Also, I'm so obsessed with today's song for the chapter; I'm screaming, crying, throwing up over it LOL. Just a heads up, next chapter is the last like actual chapter of the series and then I decided to add an epilogue lol cue the sobbing. As per usual, listen to You Know Me Too Well before or while reading the chapter! I hope you enjoy and let me know through feedback hehe <3 Enjoy your weekends! divider

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red

@sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng

@deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @tmtxtf

@hwashiningstar @thatfavouritesong @ateez-atiny380 @xciiiomwliah @vixensss

@catchingskzzzs @tesssaurrr @ginger-mingi @mingisbbg

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

Saturday (2:55 pm)

Me: mingi can we talk?

Saturday (8:30 pm)

Me: i am free whenever you say so just let me know and i’ll be there

Sunday (9:15 am)

Me: we need to talk, mingi.

Sunday (12:08 am)

Me: please hear me out im sorry

Monday (current time)

“Do you think he’ll slam the door in my face?” The hallways were buzzing with life as I tried to veer my way around the crowd of students without running into anyone. Today, out of all days, I just so happened to have my last class of the day in a completely different building and at least a good five-minute walk away from the arts building.

“It’s what you’d deserve, to be fair, but—” The was a gasp on the other side of the phone and my eyebrows furrowed as Seulgi muttered something to someone, muffled, “sorry, Wooyoung almost dropped my mother’s favorite vase, I told him to take off that blindfold.”

Eyebrows furrowing even deeper, I abruptly stopped walking, making a girl give me a heated glare that I didn’t care for, “Why is he blindfolded? Wait! I actually don’t want to know.”

“We were playing hide and seek with his niece, you idiot, but I got bored and sneaked away when I saw you calling.” Seulgi’s voice was exasperated and I chuckled as I took off again, leaving the science major’s building as I nuzzled further into my thick scarf. Some days it was warmer, but most days it got really cold and I hated it. I couldn’t deal with the freezing weather, perhaps it was my biggest enemy after Jeong Yunho, “Anyways, as I was saying, you deserve to be ignored by Mingi, but knowing how big of a sucker he is for you, he’ll probably give in before you can utter a single word.”

My heart jumped at the thought as I gnawed on my bottom lip, cutting off the path as I hurried through the grass, uncaring that I was probably destroying the work of the gardener. Besides, the grass had barely just started growing out again, it would be fine, “You think so?”

“I know so.” I heard Wooyoung’s high-pitched voice shouting from the distance and my eyebrows furrowed as I realized Seulgi had probably put me on speaker. Now that was a bit awkward, “He’s an idiot, but he’s in love. Now that I come to think of it, you two are a lot alike, two idiots in love—”

“I believe your niece is looking for you, babe.” Seulgi cut her boyfriend off and I was thankful because I don’t think I could’ve handled hearing him say the words ‘in love’ again. That was scary, even just the thought of it. I was barely coming to terms with liking Mingi, but hearing the word love sort of made me want to turn back around and abandon my whole plan of trying to make peace between the two of us. And Seulgi knew this, thankfully, because she didn’t say anything about it again, “Are you on your way to his studio right now?”

I hummed and curled my fingers tighter around the thermos bottle, my nose cold from the weather as the arts building finally came into sight, “Yeah, three minutes and I’m there.”

“Good.” Seulgi sounded content and I sighed as I tried to ignore the dawning anxiety that tried to crawl through my body and make me abandon my well-thought-out plan. I had to do this. Seulgi and my mom were right, I couldn’t mess this up again. I liked Mingi, a lot. He is a good guy and I shouldn’t let my past and my fears dictate my life. Yes, Mingi is Yunho’s best friend, but Mingi isn’t like Yunho. Hopefully, “Update me later then, I love you Y/N, I hope you know that.”

I chuckled and nodded at the security guard as he was out of his cubicle, standing at the bottom of the steps, smoking his cigar, “I know, thank you for knocking some sense into me.”

“We’ll see about that later.” Her snort was amused and I shook my head as we said our goodbyes, the warmth of the building making me sigh out in relief as I entered through the front doors. I pocketed my phone and unwrapped my scarf from around my neck, greeting the familiar people I crossed paths with. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling nervous at all, after all, I didn’t know how Mingi would react. If he was anything like me, he wouldn’t forgive me so easily. Not when I’ve hurt him again and in the worst way possible.

As I ascended the marble stairs, I found stability in the thermos bottle clutched firmly in both of my hands now, its weight helping me to keep my determination and focus on going through with my own plan. When I woke this morning and went to take a quick shower, I was surprised to hear my mother’s singing and smell the delicious waft of pancakes, making my stomach growl loudly as I didn’t have dinner the night before. It seemed like my mother had taken a day off, grumbling something about her deserving a day to rest after she was almost choked out by one of her mentally ill patients. I couldn’t help but agree with her as we sat at the table in silence, enjoying our breakfast, that is until she cleared her throat loudly and stood up, fetching a mug and a cup from the counter next to the sink. I froze when I realized she was handing me the cup Mingi had designed with funny looking chicks on it, and I was even more confused when I realized it wasn’t coffee I was drinking, but hot chocolate.

“So, what are you going to do about that handsome fella?” I tried not to groan or regret the fact that I told her everything about Mingi. I took a tentative sip of the hot chocolate and realized it wasn’t hot before taking a bigger gulp as I enjoyed its sweet taste.

“I’ll talk to him today—”

“Great!” My mother didn’t even let me finish as she sprung up from her seat again to fetch something from a cupboard, “It’s amazing how strong our maternal intuition is, I swear my starlight, you should make some babies soon.”

“Mom.” I groaned as I watched her curiously as she took a blue thermos bottle from the cupboard and filled it with hot chocolate from the kettle, “We’ve had this discussion many times before, I’m not having children so young.”

“You’re not that young though.” She sent me a sheepish smile as my eyes widened, feigning hurt.

“I’m turning twenty-three?! How is that not young?” She cleared her throat as she sealed the thermos and walked back to the table to sit down.

“I’m just trying to inspire you, anyways,” She huffed and then placed the thermos on the table and pushed it towards me, “Bring this to him as peace offering, he’ll love it. Trust me.”

“I don’t think what Mingi needs right now is hot chocolate—”

“Finish your breakfast and shut up.” My mother didn’t let me finish as she cut off a thick part of the pancake with her fork and forced it inside my mouth, making me groan, “Mothers know best when it comes to stuff like this, be thankful I’m saving your relationship and be back before lunch. I’m ordering take out, and I certainly am not waiting for late your ass if I’m hungry.”

I knew fighting my mom was fruitless, so I just grumbled an okay as I tried to chew the pancake she had forced in my mouth, my cheeks all puffed out. My mother seemed content that I finally wasn’t talking back to her and I shook my head as I pulled the thermos bottle towards me, reminded of the time when Mingi had brought me tea knowing that I would be feeling probably a little sick after getting all soaked in the cold rain and harsh wind.

So, now, with Mingi’s clothes in my tote bag and the thermos filled with hot chocolate in my hands, I couldn’t help but feel optimistic despite the anxiety gripping at my thoughts. If my mother, Seulgi, and even Wooyoung—who knew Mingi like the back of his hand—were convinced that everything would work out just fine, then why would I not believe that? Sure, Mingi was probably still annoyed at me, but I didn’t think a few apologies and even more explanations couldn’t fix the issue at hand. All I had to do was be honest and come clean with my feelings and he’d probably do the same and then—that’s where anxiety stepped in. Then what? Was I ready to pursue a relationship? Did Mingi want to date me? Did I want to date him? Why did it have to be Jeong Yunho’s best friend I was into? Why could I not move past my fears and stop associating Mingi with everything I was wounded by, when he never once made me feel like Yunho did? I could dwell on these thoughts for an eternity, I fear, but I didn’t have that time right now. And to be fair, I didn’t want to think of such things right now because I could feel my determination wither the closer I got to the music majors’ floor, heartbeat loud in my ears.

I stopped at the end of the hallway and took a deep breath, eyes settling on the studio I knew now was used by Mingi only. Wooyoung was nice enough to tell me the number of his studio—not that I had forgotten since the last time I was here—and he also let me know that it was used by Mingi only, the teachers having granted him full access, even at hours when students were supposed to be at home. It seems so Mingi was a favorite amongst the teachers, and I could see why. He was diligent and hard-working; his lyrics were beautiful and nothing would stop him from fulfilling his dream of becoming a well-known rockstar. I couldn’t help but feel excited at the prospect of that, and hoped that I would be part of his journey, that he’d let me back into his life.

Steeling my nerves and trying to see the light at the end of the tunnel, I knew there was no turning back. I wanted to do this, I had to do this. I had to stop sabotaging myself, and so, I marched down the hallway towards Mingi’s studio with a newfound hope and determination. Which lasted about five seconds as I came face to face with Mingi’s studio door. There was a small window on it, which would let you know whether the room was occupied or not, and it was straight across the desk where he was sat at—with the blonde girl standing right next to him. And that should have been okay, because really, Mingi could talk to whoever and spend his time also with whoever he pleased. And it’s not like I didn’t have male friends—I didn’t, Seulgi was my only friend—it’s not like he couldn’t speak to one of his fans. After all, he’s made it clear she was nothing more than a fan he appreciated for helping spread the word about his band.

But then, why was her hand on his shoulder one second and the next second slowly trailing down the sleeve of his beige cardigan—which looked like it was messily stained with paint—and certainly the way my good disposal dissipated and was overtaken by blind jealousy and rage had nothing to do with the sudden possessiveness that shook me to my core. And perhaps the thing that bothered me the most wasn’t even her feeling up Mingi’s arm as she looked down at him with sultry eyes, perhaps it was the way Mingi leaned back in his chairs, legs spread wide, and smirk on his lips as he looked up at her with his sharp gaze, allowing her to touch him. Perhaps that’s what sent me over the edge as I barged inside the studio in the most unceremonious way, making the girl yelp in fright and Mingi flinch as his eyes widened.

『Baby, you're all that I want

I want you all to myself

Oh, but you know me too well』

And when I was angry—or panicking, or hurt—all rational thoughts flew out the window as I was led by nothing else but pure instinct and a shit ton of unclear and not so necessarily nice thoughts. Simpler put, I wasn’t thinking nor making sense, but I couldn’t care less as I glared at the both of them while I struggled to mask the fury licking at my veins. They were both looking at me wide eyed, as if I had caught them doing something I wasn’t supposed to, and that made me snap before I could think through how to proceed with this whole shitshow, “Get out.”

For a second, even I didn’t recognize my voice as it dropped a few octaves, fierce gaze set on the blonde girl as she paled, eyes scrambling between Mingi and me as, suddenly, Mingi seemed to snap out of whatever scare I had given him by slamming his door open and into the wall. God, I hope I haven’t actually damaged it, because I certainly didn’t have the money to pay for it right now. I couldn’t look at the blonde girl anymore, heart beating fast in my chest as Mingi and I made eye contact, his eyebrows set in a deep frown as he had a sneer on his face.

“Excuse me?” God, even her voice was annoying. I looked back at the blonde girl and raised my eyebrows at her mockingly.

“Are you deaf?” I chuckled, but it was humorless, “Do I need to repeat myself?”

She huffed, looking offended—rightfully so—and I gritted my teeth as I stepped inside the studio, making it pretty obvious that I wasn’t going anywhere before this bitch left. I tried not to see red as Mingi’s hands balled up into fists or the way the girl snickered, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“You’re the one that’s barged inside uninvited, sweetheart,” And if I could have, I would have ripped her blonde strands out, “this isn’t your fucking studio, so, shut up. Mingi wants me here, maybe you should leave.”

I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from laughing, somewhere deep in my mind realizing I looked absolutely psychotic and if Mingi didn’t hate me before, he certainly would hate me now. I wasn’t helping myself; I was making everything worse—just the usual, then. But this bitch wasn’t stopping me from getting what I came here for, and I hummed as my eyes fell on Mingi again, who’s jaw was clenching and unclenching. His sharp eyes were narrowed, but it seemed like he wasn’t saying anything anytime soon and that only pissed me off more.

“Sure,” I nodded and walked further inside, forcefully throwing my tote bag on the small couch against the wall on my left, making the contents of it spill out. I watched as both Mingi and the girl looked at the clothes, and Mingi’s expression flashed with something unreadable for a second, “Mingi wants you here.”

I suppose neither expected me not to stop until I reached the desk, coming up on Mingi’s left side as I slammed the thermos bottle—albeit too harshly—against the desk, a loud bang echoing in the room. Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed as I opened my mouth to tell the girl to leave again, but suddenly, he was up on his feet, staring me down. The height difference wasn’t that great between the two of us, but suddenly I felt small under his heated glare and sneer that seemed to settle on his lips, broad shoulders intimidating as he lowered his head just a little bit. He looked nothing like the Mingi I had gotten to know over the past few months, and it made my heart race as I realized I might not be able to reason with him today, “What the fuck is your problem, Y/N?! You tell her to get out when you barge in unwelcomed, and then start demanding for her to leave—”

I couldn’t even let him finish his sentence before I was firing back my argument, “Oh, what’s my fucking problem?! Maybe the fact that you lied to me?”

“About what?!” Mingi snapped, eyebrows furrowed as he took a step towards me, his body big enough to make the blonde girl not be seen behind him.

“Oh, be for real.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes, “You never show anyone your songs to? But you so conveniently let me listen to that unfinished song of yours and now look who else gets to listen to it? Her. If you’re so desperate to get laid, you should have—”

“I didn’t show her shit.” Mingi cut me off, voice shaking as his cheeks grew red from anger, probably. Mingi wasn’t a scary person, but he looked scary right now. There was no ounce of kindness in his expression nor tone, he looked cold and angry and like he hated me. I gulped and realized, once again, that I was digging myself deeper into the shithole I had created for myself, that I was hurting him again and again. This is not how things were supposed to go, “I only showed you. That unfinished song you’re talking about, only you know about it. Thanks for reminding me again why I shouldn’t deal with you anymore—”

“Stop it.” I snapped, eyebrows furrowing as I felt fear grip at my throat, making my voice sound shaky as Mingi’s expression went blank. I hated when he did that. I wanted to know what he was thinking about, I needed to see what he felt. I couldn’t do this if he withdrew himself, I couldn’t do this if I was the only one that would bare her heart to him. I was scared. He was pushing me away like Yunho had done, Mingi was abandoning me.

“Stop it?” If I wanted to cry when he laughed in my face mockingly, impassive smirk settling on his lips, I didn’t let it happen. I kept my composure, anger, hurt, desperation, yearning all mixing together as I found it harder and harder to breathe, “You want me to be nice to you after all the shit you said to me on Saturday? You want me to treat you like before after everything that’s happened? I can’t. You hurt me, made me feel like a fucking idiot, Y/N, you broke—I thought we were friends. I feel disrespected and played, and yet here you are again, acting like you have even an ounce of right to act the way you are right now, when it’s you who made it so fucking clear you want nothing to do with me anymore. Do you enjoy making others suffer? Do you want to see me on my fucking knees begging for your attention? I have enough self-respect to step back and move on with my life when someone so blatantly tells it to my face that I am nothing—”

“But you aren’t!” My tone raised without me meaning to as my heart continued to beat out of my chest so fast my ears started ringing. I felt tears prick at my eyes, but I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to victimize myself, I just wanted Mingi to understand I made a mistake, that I knew I did, and that I was trying to fix things. I didn’t want us to part ways, especially not like this, he made me realize this second that I didn’t want to lose him, “You aren’t nothing to me. I said those things because I’m scared. I don’t know how to navigate these feelings—”

“Save it, okay?” I was left gaping as Mingi shook his head, pushing his hands in the pockets of his light denim jeans, “I don’t want to hear whatever sob shit you have to say right now, I’m asking you kindly to leave before I call security and delete my number, like I have deleted yours.”

The silence that settled upon us was deafening and my eyebrows furrowed as a tear rolled down my cheek without warning, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I tried to find my breath. That hurt, it hurt more than anything before, it hurt more than when Yunho left me, broke my heart. Mingi meant so much more to me than Yunho ever did, and I bit my lower lip as Mingi seemed unaffected, expression blank and rather bored. Nothing was making sense anymore. I was scared, but I also felt ready to break free of the chains of the past, I wanted Mingi. And knowing all this, I didn’t want to hold back anymore, I didn’t want to consider my next words anymore. I just wanted to speak my mind freely.

“My ex-boyfriend is Jeong Yunho, your best friend.” Mingi had almost turned away from me, but he froze, head slowly turning back to face me once again, “We dated back in high school, many years ago, when we were still some headless and stupid teenagers. But he was the first boy I’ve ever loved and he fucking broke my heart, shattered into pieces with a bright smile on his lips. He promised me many things, and I was naïve, so I believed it all. And because I did, I ended up hurt beyond fixing and I’ve never trusted a man again. He was my first boyfriend and the center of my universe, yet he never cared enough about me to properly break up with me.

“Yunho talked about you all the time. Everything you liked, everything you hated, you were part of our daily conversations and I always wished to meet you, to see what was so great in you that had Yunho gushing all the time. I was jealous, so jealous that I became bitter. I started hating even the mention of your name, I selfishly wanted Yunho to myself, and you gone from his life. I couldn’t understand what was so great about you and why I wasn’t enough. I knew Yunho didn’t love me, but I wanted him to, so I made myself believe it, believe that I was worth more to him than you’ll ever be. And in the process, I stupidly made myself believe that he’d never leave me, that he was the one for me like he has said so many times before.

“He broke my heart so fucking bad that it took years until I could say his name or even see his face again. I am over him now, have been for a long time, but I can’t help still feel bitter about him. I can’t help but associate you with him at times. He made me defensive and untrusting of men, I couldn’t help but assume you’d be just like Yunho when I first met you, at least when I finally realized who you were. I felt so guilty, I tried to push you away but you wouldn’t fucking give up. You are everything yet nothing like Yunho and that scares me, because I want you, Mingi. But I’m scared you’ll abandon me like Yunho did, that you’ll fill my head with empty and pretty fantasies and then leave me alone with them, tearing my heart apart in the process. I want to open up, but I’m scared. I think, however, with you by my side, I’d be able to do that, to let my walls down.”

The silence that settled upon us, once again, was deafening and I gulped, heart racing and making me feel lightheaded as Mingi’s face had fallen, expression finally not as void as before. He looked shocked, but surprisingly, he didn’t look hurt nor like he would hate me for ever. It made me hopeful for a second, it made me sniff loudly and blink away the insisting tears from my eyes. He gulped and took a deep breath, making me stare in his eyes, hopeful and less scared, as he sighed and rubbed at his chin; a stubble was showing. Now that I come to think of it, he looks rather tired with bags under his eyes, and his platinum hair has a blue hue to it.

“I’m sorry he made you go through so much; I know it wasn’t easy.” Mingi’s tone finally lost the edge it had before, finally it wasn’t laced with so much anger, and it almost made me cry, “I kind of—I knew. Not exactly the whole thing, but I suppose I can say I had a feeling that there was history between you and Yunho. It was too obvious whenever I brought him up that you didn’t like him, at first I was confused, but then I suppose everything just clicked into place. The drawing of his eyes, the sweater you lent me and the fact that you gave it to me in the end—I’ve known since then that it was probably Yunho. I never said anything to him, not like that at least, I wanted you to come to me on your own, when you fully trusted me with the information. And I’m sorry, but he—he was an asshole back in high school, he was insecure and he played with everyone’s feelings, he was quite good at manipulating people around him. He’s mentioned dating you, but very few times, and by the time you had broken up I had all but forgotten about you, I suppose I wasn’t much better compared to him.

“But all of this isn’t my fault in the end, and while I completely understand your reasoning now and why you often acted the way you did, I’m sorry, but I can’t just let go of things and start anew. There’s just—too many things that have happened, emotions that you stirred up in me, and I just can’t do it, I—it’s not even about you and Yunho, I don’t give a fuck about it, it was ages ago and Yunho is a changed man and I know he’s long moved on. And you too, I believe you have, you seemed less bitter lately, but I just can’t. I can’t help but ask again, what do you want, YN?”

At least he wasn’t mad at me, but I did feel ashamed that I made him piece everything together on his own, that I wasn’t capable of telling him the truth myself. I have made mistakes, sure, but Mingi apparently didn’t hate me for them, “I just want to apologize, for everything.”

Mingi nodded and I watched in despair as that cold mask slipped back onto his face, expression void of any emotion once again. It made me want to grab his shoulders and shake them, force him to look deep into my eyes and just see everything I felt for him, “That’s fine, I accept your apology. If that’s all, you can leave—”

“But that’s not all!” I snapped, having had enough of being dismissed by him. I saw the way his jaw twitched, the way his eyebrows furrowed at my defiance, at my reluctance to leave just yet. I was being pathetic and a pain in the ass, but I had to make him understand that I was ready to leave all my fears behind for him, to learn how to be a better person next to him. I wanted to change, and I wanted it to happen with him by my side, with him guiding me and teaching me how to be more like him, and less like the shitty person I was for so long. I longed to be the way I was before meeting Yunho, a lot happier and a lot less broody and hateful of the beautiful things that surrounded me, “Mingi, I cannot stop thinking about you. I spend every waking moment when we’re apart wondering what you’re up to, what’s going through your mind, whether you’re okay or not. And I’ve been drawing you, since the first time I saw you, you’ve captured my attention, you’ve made me curious of who you were the longer we spent time together. I don’t want to be like this anymore, I don’t want to hurt you anymore and shut you out, I want to fix everything. I want to—I just want you, Mingi.”

There was a quiet scoff behind Mingi, but neither one of us reacted to it as our gazes bore into each other, my eyes glinting with yearning and his façade slowly breaking down as he released a shaky breath, “Mingi, I adore you.”

“Get out.” For a second, my body froze as I thought he was addressing me, but then, he whirled around and pointed towards the studio’s still open door, “Get out, now.”

And I just realized that the blonde girl had been witness to everything, and I couldn’t help but blanch in embarrassment as she made to interject, but I guess Mingi’s sharp eyes made her reconsider her choice as she huffed and then stormed out of the studio. My cheeks felt hot and I realized the clothes were making me sweaty, so as Mingi hurried towards the door to close it, I shrugged my jacket off and placed it neatly on the back of the sofa together with my thick scarf. And as I looked up, mouth dry as the door clicked shut and Mingi turned around, it felt like time stopped, like the world stopped moving. But Mingi was moving towards me, in nothing more than three steps he stood in front of me, and before I could even as much as try to reason with him or plead more to be forgiven, warm fingers dug into my cheeks and the wind was knocked from my lungs as his plush warm lips slammed against mine, making me gasp as my eyes remained wide open.

『Filthy impetuous soul

I wanna give it to you』

I thought he wouldn’t want anything to do with me, I thought he’d tell me that he needed time to forgive me completely and for us to work things out. But I couldn’t help shudder and feel ecstatic as I grabbed the collar of his shirt and cardigan, my eyes falling shut, as I pulled him closer to my body, savoring the kiss as if it was our first. But it wasn’t anything like that one, it wasn’t soft nor careful nor slow, it was hurried and desperate as Mingi pushed me backward, pressing me against the wall, right between the small space between the sofa and the desk. My arms circled his neck as he grabbed my nape with one big hand and pressed his other into the small of my back, making it arch as my fingers tangled into his soft hair, not pulling, just feeling the need to hold onto something, to keep myself grounded.

And much like the first time, our lips seemed to fit perfectly, and I tried not to keen when he sucked my bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling on the soft flesh, and I tried not to turn into a puddle when he hummed lowly against my lips as my fingers flexed in his hair. Perhaps I kissed him a bit harder and more aggressively as our pace quickened, my hand holding the side of his neck as Mingi pressed his body into mine until it felt like he was trying to forbid me even of the idea of escaping from his clutches, and I had no fucking intention of going anywhere, because in his arms I felt content and safe, and perhaps a bit too hot as goosebumps covered my arms the longer our lips moved hungrily against each other. And when I cupped his cheeks and perhaps held onto them a bit too firmly, his lips parted, and I ignored my lungs screaming for air as my tongue slipped past his parted mouth. I didn’t expect him to moan as our tongues tangled together, all wet and perhaps a little disgusting, but neither one of us cared about that.

I tried to stand on my tip toes for better access as Mingi’s ring clad fingers were suddenly running through my hair and tilting my head back, making my skin tingle where he held my hip firmly. I had been kissed by other people before, but neither felt like with Mingi, neither made me crave more and more and more. But our lungs could only go on so long without air, and I would’ve been embarrassed for the loud gasp I let out when we finally parted, if it wasn’t for Mingi diving straight for my neck and finding the sweet spot that made me putty in his arms. And I tried to ignore his deep grunts as my fingers got tangled in his platinum blonde strands as he pressed open mouthed and wet kisses against my neck, his arms around my hips pulling me into an embrace that had my pulse showing through the skin of my neck. My lips were tingling and my lungs actually hurt, but I couldn’t care less when Mingi finally pulled back and blinked his dark eyes open, pupils dilated and lips so swollen he almost made me chase after them once again.

『Oh, just to see what you'd do

'Cause I'm so drunk on you』

“What’s in the thermos?” His voice was raspier than usual, and it made me bite my bottom lip as my eyes searched his face, his falling on my lips instead.

“Hot chocolate, for peace making.” I answered, sounding a lot more breathless than I actually felt, and Mingi chuckled, the sound deep in his throat. I let my arms fall from his shoulders and instead circled them around his torso, trying to fight off the smile from my lips. Mingi didn’t look angry nor dismissive anymore, but I knew I wasn’t actually forgiven just yet. And that was only fair.

“This is peacemaking, not the hot chocolate.” And there it was, the mischievous glint in his eyes and the smug smirk on his lips as he squeezed my hips once and lowered his face until our lips brushed together, “Although I do appreciate the hot chocolate too.”

“Good, my mom was rather excited when she told me to give it to you.” I pressed a chaste kiss against Mingi’s lips before he could try and say anything, and he chuckled when I pulled away, eyes creasing and crooked front teeth showing.

“What are we now?” His voice was a mere whisper, not insecure nor scared, just wondering, “What do you want?”

I gulped, but decided to be honest. No more hiding my feelings and thoughts from him, “I don’t know just yet, and that’s why I need you to take the lead, but this—I want more of this, of you.”

“Good,” Mingi hummed, lips pursed as he kissed my cheek once before slowly releasing me from his warm embrace, “because I’ve been wanting more of you for fucking ages, doll.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle as suddenly I felt embarrassed and perhaps a little shy, but Mingi seemed to be unphased as he grabbed my tote bag and looked through it because his clothes were in it, “You can keep these, they looked better on you anyway. But you better not give them to Yunho if he ever happens to go over to your house—”

“Mingi.” I snapped mortified and pushed his arm as he dropped the tote bag and burst out laughing, giving me a cheeky smile.

“Want to hear the rest of the song I made for you?”

“For me?”

“Yeah, doll, for you.”

By the time I managed to get home I might as well been on cloud nine and in so much ecstasy that one would think I was on drugs. Which, kind of felt like it after the day I have had—not that I’ve ever done any drugs. I failed to notice my mother’s silhouette in the window of our kitchen when I got out of Mingi’s car and, of course, that meant she saw him get out of his old Honda Prelude and jog after me to kiss me hard and leave me dizzy before he left. And all of that, of course, meant that by the time I unlocked the front door and stepped inside, my mother was leaning against the archway of the kitchen with the widest smirk I’ve ever seen on her face.

“So, did you have sex?”

My eyes widened in mortification and I struggled to step out of my boots and shrug off my jacket, “Mom!”

“So, you did, huh.” It wasn’t even a question, and suddenly running after Mingi’s car sounded a lot better than standing in front of my mother as she bit her bottom lip, giving me a wink.

“We didn’t!” I exclaimed, cheeks flushed a deep red as I cradled the tote bag to my chest, “He needs to take me out on a date first—many dates, actually.”

“Well, he better hurry up then cuz you’re glowing and you’re happy.” I froze at my mother’s words as she looked at me with a serene expression on her face, lips pulled into a small smile, forgetting all about her previous teasing, “He’s good for you, too good. I haven’t seen you so relaxed and happy since—since highschool.”

Since Yunho broke up with me.

“I know, and I will make sure I never hurt him again.” I told my mom and she hummed, looking down at her wristwatch.

“You missed lunch, by the way, so you’ll eat chicken tenders—”

“Again?!”

“Again, exactly. Go wash up before dinner.”

And I was out of her sight in no time, with a newfound rush in my system, skin tingling as I realized I craved to hold my pencil and my sketchbook in my hands. I couldn’t remember the last time I drew something for me and not because it was an assignment. And if hours later the sketch looked a lot like a familiar platinum blonde haired man with sharp eyes and a tall nose wearing blue jeans, a white t-shirt and a beige cardigan over it, accessories many and nails painted black, then I wouldn’t even deny it anymore. Perhaps he would love seeing my drawings. Perhaps I should finally show him.

Mings 🖤: date on wednesday? Me: but im paying this time Mings 🖤: so when we went to the pottery coffee shop it was a date wasnt it, doll Me: maybe it was maybe it wasnt Mings 🖤: no maybes this time

『Oh, but you know me too well

Oh, but you know me too well, well』

❱❱ Next chapter

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lambilegs · 4 days ago

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happy valentines!! hope you have a good one 🖤 wanted to request if it's not much of an issue what spending your first valentines day with lee would be like? thank u!!

LOVERS' DAY WITH LEE HARKER

˖◛⁺⑅♡ note to anon: hiiiii love!! happy valentine's to you too, I hope you have a lovely day <33 omg so I was hoping to write something themed for today so this request is perfect hehe ˖◛⁺⑅♡ music: my girl - the temptations, it had to be you - frank sinatra, always be my baby - mariah carey, double take - dhruv, like I do - j.tajor (I so wish I could link my spotify's valentine's playlist for this, but alas, I can't so I'll just share which songs I enjoyed listening to when writing this hehe) ˖◛⁺⑅♡ contains: sfw, lee and reader being gay af and in love pretty much, not proofread. would absolutely love to hear what you guys think, it always makes me very happy and motivated to know mwah mwah ˖◛⁺⑅♡ divider by: @/fairytopea

okay so first off, I feel like lee would never be someone who cared much at all about valentine's day or saw it as a big deal, you know? she definitely is the kind of partner who feels she should consistently give you that support and care and doesn't really feel the need to designate a day to spoiling you

which is why if you're someone who likes valentine's day, you've gotta tell her so she knows exactly what your expectations are. otherwise, she's gonna feel at a loss to know what level of grandeur you're expecting on her end and she'll have nothing to go off of but her own research LMAO

if you tell her you just want her to do what she thinks is a nice gesture, and leave the planning to her for it, she'll just be a confused wreck for the first few days

eventually, though, through extensive research, she decides what'll be best is probably a gift and some kind of date, since that seems to be what most couples do and expect

her gift will either be something practical (like, if you've been having bad back pain, she'll get a back massager), or something she's observed you looking at in stores (she privately keeps a messy list of things she's seen you admiring in public so she can refer to it on your birthday or your guys' anniversary)

since she's a simp tho, she'll probably end up going with both kinds of gifts LOL

as for a date, she decides it'd just be most practical to decide on that together, so that both of you are comfortable with the idea

a lot of couples tend to do big outings, but you're well aware that lee isn't really comfortable with outings that put her in crowded spaces or take her out of her comfort zone. so, you guys settle on something simple, like going on a walk, then making dinner together and sharing it at home

which honestly still feels as intimate and special as going out. because, ofc, lee gets super busy with work, and this sometimes leads to an entire month of no pre-planned dates. time spent together, yes, but actual dates planned out are a different thing. so, reserving a slot of time just for you and her to talk, catch up and spend quality time means, like, a lot to her. honestly, I feel like quality time is probably one of her top love languages, since I think she'd need to spend a lot of time with someone to be comfortable enough to be romantically involved with them

like ACCKKKKK I'm getting butterflies thinking of it, but I can just imagine you two walking through a snowy trail, catching up, and when you're in the middle of rambling about something you're really passionate about, she's just gently smiling and feeling rejuvenated by the knowledge that, yes, this is exactly why she's so enamoured with you

if you catch her watching you and ask what's up, she'll just clear her throat and look away, mumbling, "nothing"

if you proceed to tease her, sidling to her side and nuzzling against her, she'll just roll her eyes and ignore you, but continue to keep her arm wrapped around you the entire time

when you guys cook together, you'll either play a tape or have some cheesy romance movie playing in the background, much to lee's cringing. but, it's just white noise, really, for the entire time, you two are bickering over how exact to be with the pasta recipe, with lee calling for exact precision and you insisting on a little flare to suit both your guys' tastes

as per usual, she gives into you

when you're stirring the sauce together, she leans on the counter, watching you with intense eyes, feeling her stomach clench at just how grateful she feels. to be this comfortable with someone, this at ease, is a rarity for her. she never really thought of herself as having a long-lasting relationship or partner, content with her solitude and reconciled with the idea that her discomfort with social situations would probably prevent her from finding someone who she truly feels loosened and relaxed with. so, the fact that you found her, and somehow, bore your way through her walls until you got to make a home in her chest, still makes her feel slightly astonished. and wholly grateful.

she hesitates, but pushes herself onward, knowing you'd like her to be open with her desire for affection, and walks over, giving you a back hug, chin perched on your shoulder. you laugh softly at the touch, your stomach rumbling under her arm.

"all okay?" you ask gently.

lee just breathes in your scent, quietly saying, "yeah, I'm okay"

you guys eat together on her couch, your legs tossed over hers as they stretch along the couch. she has one hand resting on your thigh, thumb smoothing over the fabric of your pants, while the other is feeding herself.

"you know, this is pretty good," you mutter wondrously when chewing. "maybe we should just run away and spend the rest of our days making pasta."

"that definitely sounds reasonable," she mutters with a faint smile, squeezing your knee. she hasn't admitted it to you, at least not yet, but she does think about that sometimes. well, a lot. how one day in the future, she'd like to retire and move with you to somewhere secluded, somewhere away from oregon. somewhere that's not tainted with her childhood, or that'll remind her of her work, no matter how proud she is of it. somewhere reserved only for the two of you. it's a big commitment, a huge one, really, but she wouldn't have ever gotten with you if she wasn't sure of her decision.

when you two swap gifts, she's biting her lip nervously, hands fidgeting on her lap as you eagerly pull a gift from the first paper brown bag she handed to you. when you find the body massager, you immediately laugh, your heart swelling with how considerate, and unorthodox, the present is.

lee, on the other hand, is watching you carefully, trying to understand why you're so amused, and if it's an indicator she did something wrong. when you notice this, your laugh falters and you lean in to kiss her cheek, mumbling, "I love it, baby. thank you."

she clears her throat, heat rising to her cheeks from the affectionate touch. inside, though, is a stirring of satisfaction and pride, the feeling only increasing by a tenfold when you pull out the plushie she got you and scream in delight.

"I, um..." she trails off, suddenly feeling a tad pathetic. "I sprayed my cologne on it. I heard some people like that."

and you definitely seem to, she observes, based on how you shove your nose into the plushie then immediately throw yourself into her lap, dotting kisses all over her face, which sends her beaming shyly.

she absolutely does not let you read the card in front of her. she just tells you to do it when she's not in the house and you're alone LMFAO

you get her some slacks, since she hates going to malls and stores and getting them herself, as well as some books and tapes she's been interested in. of course, it wouldn't be a proper gift from you without some romance involved to make her blush, hehe, so all of these are paired with something like a bouquet or flowers, or a letter with a lock of hair attached.

all of the gifts have her, like, insanely touched. again, she never thought she'd be be in this position before of having a partner who she's in a committed, devoted bond with, who she actually gets to spend this holiday with. feeling the familiarity and knowledge of her seeping in every gift you hand her, the consideration you put into all of them, has her nearly welling up. along with her mom, you're the sensitive point in her life, the one who has her shaken with fear over losing.

she does make a light joke over your romantic gift, brushing her thumb over it as her lips softly turn up. probably something along the lines of, "you're kind of a sap, aren't you?"

but, months later, when you borrow her jacket to take out the trash, stuffing your hands in her pocket, you freeze at the touch of something unfamiliar buried deep beneath her receipts. when you take it out, you nearly cry at the sight of a dried, crinkled flower from that february day.

you love her, and she loves you. what could be better than that?

+ bonus: her love letter one hundred percent has you bawling. she pours everything into it that she usually struggles to say. the part that has you downright sobbing is when she writes, "I always thought I'd be satisfied to live on my own, with nothing to account for but myself. But, I'd happily cling onto you like a shadow from now on, as long as you're okay with it. I'm yours, completely. And I promise to always keep you safe."

#ik this got very long and sappy but I can't help it okay I love valentine's day and I love tender ass lee hcs 😭💓#lee harker #lee harker x reader #lee harker fanfiction #longlegs 2024 #longlegs fanfiction #s.writing

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c-e-d-dreamer · 7 months ago

Text

Wreck My Plans, That's My Man: Prequel

A/N: Sometimes, family is... (checks notes)... being in a band with your brothers? That counts, right? @cassianappreciationweek Listen, I just wanted an excuse to bring back Drummer Cassian! Time to find out how Cassian and Nesta met and how Cassian got that first date 😉 If you've read the first part, there are some fun easter eggs in here like Cassian writing the song and a callback to “I can’t wait for you to be mean to me for the rest of our lives.”

Part One // Read on AO3

“I think the end of the queue is this way.”

“I can’t believe there’s already so many people here.”

Nesta allows herself to be led down the sidewalk by her linked arm with Elain, the middle Archeron following the path carved by Feyre forging ahead. As they walk, Nesta can’t help but eye the crowds around them. Elain is right, there are more people than Nesta expected, almost all of them dressed up in some way. Some have face paint scrawled across their cheeks, some have handmade signs clasped in their hands. And Nesta even spies a trio of girls dressed as cows, some sort of band inside joke that she’s clearly not privy to.

Although, she’s not really privy to anything when it comes to the band.

She still can’t believe she allowed Feyre to talk her into attending this concert in the first place. Sure, she’s always had a deep love of music, ever since she was a little girl. Something about the way a lilting melody can carve and embed itself within her very bones, about the way a harmony can flood and warm her veins, about the way a simple string of notes can somehow sing to her very soul, plucking at strings within her until only peace remains.

But she has no knowledge of what type of music she can expect to hear tonight.

And when the choices are curling up beneath a pile of blankets with a glass of wine and her latest Sellyn Drake novel or standing all night while dealing with screaming girls and songs she doesn’t even know? Well, Feyre and Elain are lucky that Nesta loves them.

“What time do the doors open?” Elain asks, drawing Nesta out of her thoughts.

“They should have already opened,” Feyre explains, trying to peer around the bodies in front of them. “Either way, we don’t have to worry. Our tickets are for one of those fancy boxes.”

“Really?”

“We could get one of those fancy boxes but not a special entrance that doesn’t require standing in line?” Nesta asks dryly.

“Alright, grumpy,” Feyre teases with a roll of her eyes. “I’m sure it’ll move quickly.”

At least, Feyre’s assumption is correct. They continue to shuffle forward and forward until the line of doors is in full view, workers making quick work of checking bags and scanning tickets. Wristbands are secured around all three sisters’ wrists, and then they’re stepping inside the venue. Upbeat music from a playlist blares through the sound system, fans excitedly rushing forward toward the general admission crowd gathering along the floor in front of the stage.

“Come on. I want to get a t-shirt,” Feyre declares, wrapping a hand around each of her sisters’ wrists and dragging them toward the large table to the right.

While she and Elain wait for Feyre to make her purchase, Nesta eyes a pair of girls also waiting to buy merch. One of the girls has a sign, looping red letters declaring, Won’t you be my Van-Daddy? The request has Nesta snorting softly to herself. She still remembers when Lucien Vanserra first hit his growth spurt, when he was all middle school gangly limbs in their kitchen while he and Feyre worked on a school project. And that nerdy boy with unruly red hair is meant to be “daddy?”

“Got it,” Feyre announces, stepping back over to them and holding her shirt up for them to see.

“Isn’t it a bit weird to have a shirt with your childhood friend’s face on it?” Nesta asks, tilting her head as she takes in the design of the front of the shirt.

“More like hilarious,” Feyre argues, folding the shirt and tossing it over her arm. “When we get up to our seats, you have to take a picture of me in it, so I can send it to Lucien.”

They make another pit stop at one of the venue bars, each ordering a drink, and then finally, they make it to their seats. Nesta has to admit, the view is pretty amazing. She steps right up to the low wall meant to act as a railing for their box, peering down at the throngs of bodies excitedly awaiting the start of the show along the floor. Her eyes trail up and to the stage, skating over the setup for the opening act. It’s simple, just a drum set and two microphone stands set in front of it, but despite the good view of the stage, Nesta can’t quite make out the white script on the front of the drums.

“Who’s the opener?” Nesta asks, turning toward where Feyre is posing with her new shirt thrown over her dress while Elain takes her photo.

“Um…” Feyre hums, taking her phone back from Elain and typing away at the screen. “Some band called the Bat Boys.”

Nesta snorts softly. “What a stupid name for a band.”

As though the Mother herself is laughing at Nesta, the lights dim as soon as she’s made the comment, an echo of cheers ringing out all around them. Three men step out and onto the stage, each of them with dark hair and dressed in all black. They take up their spots, the guitarist speaking into the microphone and to the crowd, but Nesta finds her gaze instantly drawn to the drummer.

He’s certainly larger than his bandmates, all wide shoulders and chest. The black tank he’s wearing stretches against his size and his skin, the swell of muscle of his arms and the ink swirling along the golden brown skin on full display, and those very arms and muscles flex with every swing of his arms against the drum kit as he plays the opening song of the band’s set. His hair hangs loose around his face and down to his shoulders, dark curly strands practically swaying along with the beat of the music he’s creating. And even from her vantage point, Nesta can tell he’s got a wide, cocksure smirk plastered across his face, even as he leans forward to sing into his own microphone.

“For a band with a stupid name,” Feyre leans over to shout in Nesta’s ear over the music. “They’re pretty good.”

Nesta rolls her eyes at the almost smug tone of her youngest sister, but she can’t quite disagree. She finds herself tapping her foot and nodding along with each song that the Bat Boys play, humming appreciatively when they slow it down to a more stripped back song.

But when the song ends, the drummer jumps to his feet, peeling off his tank and tossing it into the crowd, showing off every hard line of muscle and every line of tattoo ink. A clamor of screams rings out from the crowd in response, making the drummer’s grin widen as he makes a big show of flexing.

“One two three four!” he shouts, banging his drum sticks together and jumping into the next song of their set, another upbeat one.

Nesta shakes her head. “What a fucking show off…”

~ * * * ~

Nesta’s ears are still ringing, an ache pressing against the balls of her feet, as she follows her sisters down the steps and out of the venue. The cool, night air is a welcome reprieve after the heat inside, and Nesta takes a deep breath, allowing it to prickle across the skin of her cheeks. She can still feel the music humming through her veins, still hear the last song the Band of Exiles played winding around her mind, her soul.

“Should we split an Uber?” Nesta turns to ask her sisters.

“Actually, Lucien sent me the bar they’ve gone to for post gig drinks,” Feyre offers with a sly smile. “He said we’re welcome to join.”

“Really?” Elain asks, the clear excitement coloring her tone leaving both sisters blinking in surprise for a moment, but Elain doesn’t say anything more. She merely turns away as though the night will hide the blush flooding her cheeks.

“Then you two go,” Nesta says. “I’d rather just go home.”

“Oh, come on, Nesta,” Feyre pouts, looping her arm through Nesta’s as if that will physically keep her from leaving. “It’s just one drink. It’s not going to kill you.”

Feyre continues to pout at Nesta, making a big show of blinking her eyes as if she’s seven years old again and that look will make Nesta give her an extra cookie for dessert. Still, it has Nesta sighing with a fond roll of her eyes.

“Fine. One drink and then I’m going home.”

“That’s the spirit! And just think of the money you’ll save on an Uber by waiting out these crowds.”

Nesta rolls her eyes again, but it doesn’t deter either of her sisters. Feyre doesn’t even bother dropping Nesta’s arm, using their linked arms to tug Nesta along the sidewalk in what she assumes is the direction of the bar. At least, it’s not a far walk. A small consolation, Nesta supposes.

The bar itself isn’t one that Nesta has ever been to before, but she can admit it’s quite nice. Pendant lights hang above the dark wood of the bartop, painting the whole space in golden light that bounces off the colorful bottles lining the shelves behind the bar. With the moody green wallpaper and the dark tiled floors, it’s as though the space has stepped directly out of an elegant speakeasy.

Unsurprisingly, there’s already a large crowd enjoying the drinks and ambience and their respective Friday nights, but Feyre leads the way up a set of stairs and to what appears to be some sort of private event space. Nesta glances around at the smaller secondary bar along the left side of the wall, the people gathered around it and the various high top tables lining the railing to the right.

“Feyre Archeron.”

Nesta turns just in time to find Lucien Vanserra now standing in front of her sisters. He’s certainly had another growth spurt since Nesta last saw him all those years ago, Lucien now standing a head above them all. He seems to have grown into his red hair too, the strands hanging around his face and framing the high cheekbones and strong jawline of his features.

“Lucien Vanserra.”

Feyre and Lucien continue to stare at one another for a moment, but then, Feyre is letting out an excited squeal, all but leaping into Lucien’s arms. He hugs her back tightly, lifting her off her feet in the process and laughing into the golden brown strands of her hair.

“Did you get shorter?” Lucien asks, setting Feyre back down on her feet.

“Fuck you,” Feyre gasps out on a laugh, punching him in the arm. “It’s not my fault you went and became a giant after going away to fancy private school. You know, I still remember when I had to defend you on the playground as kids.”

Lucien laughs easily, shaking his head. “We remember those days very differently clearly.”

Nesta clears her throat loudly, finally drawing back Feyre’s attention. “Sorry. You remember my two older sisters, Nesta and Elain.”

“Of course, I…” Lucien begins, his voice trailing off when he meets Elain’s brown eyes. “Elain.”

Elain smiles sweetly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I really liked you and your band’s songs.”

“You did?” Lucien asks, his voice practically breathless.

“Especially that one song about losing a love, but still dancing with the ghost of them in the kitchen.”

Lucien’s smile is slow, russet eyes bright and only on Elain. “I wrote that one myself actually.”

“It just really spoke to me,” Elain tells him, stepping forward as though tugged by some invisible golden thread. “Right to my heart.”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Please.”

They don’t even say anything else, don’t even bother looking back before Elain and Lucien vanish toward the bar. It takes everything within Nesta not to snort in amusement at the whole thing, at the way they’re both so clearly staring at one another with stars in their eyes. At least, one Archeron is ending their night happy.

“Is she serious?” Feyre asks, affronted. “Lucien is my friend.”

“Can I go home now?” Nesta asks in response instead.

“Only if you’re going home with me.”

The deep timbre prickles along the back of Nesta’s neck, and when she whirls around, she comes face to face with the drummer of the Bat Boys. He has that same cocksure smile that he wore up on stage, and he seemingly found a fresh black shirt to pull on, the fabric clinging just as tightly as the tank did.

Nesta had known he was large when she saw him on stage, but face to face, she realizes she still may have underestimated. This close, she realizes that his eyes are hazel, a burning maze of greens and flickering gold, that there’s a scar through his eyebrow of the right one. This close, she realizes he smells of pine and leather and that sweet scent that twists on the breeze right before it snows.

This close, she realizes he is unfairly attractive, and she just might hate him for it.

“Did you really think that line was going to work?” Nesta asks dryly.

“Can you blame me for trying? A woman as beautiful as you, I had to shoot my shot.”

Nesta raises an eyebrow, settling the drummer with a look cold enough to send any man scampering back to his table. “Compliments will get you nowhere.”

In a surprising twist, rather than cut his losses, the drummer throws his head back and laughs, the sound deep and warm. It seems to come straight from within his chest, seems to curl around Nesta’s limbs. When he meets Nesta’s gaze again, there’s a fire blazing in his eyes, a challenge, and his smirk has morphed into one of pure amusement. The reaction sparks the embers in Nesta’s own chest, but she’s quick to douse them, quick to keep her face perfectly cool and neutral.

“So it’s a no for pickup lines. A no for compliments,” the drummer notes, daring to lean in closer into Nesta’s space until she gets a lungful of pine and a crackling fire. “How about bribery then, sweetheart? Can I buy you a drink? Your choice.”

“And what if I order the most expensive drink I can get? Top shelf.”

The drummer hums as though he’s actually considering it. “Alright. But you have to chat with me until you finish the drink.”

“Deal.”

The drummer holds his hand out expectantly, and Nesta has to blink a few times at just how large his hand is. But she refuses to be fazed. Raising her chin, she slides her hand into his. His calluses slide against her palm, fingers curling around almost her entire hand and threatening to send a shiver skittering up her spine. His touch is surprisingly warm, his entire body and presence seeming to resonate heat.

Before the handshake can last too long, Nesta yanks her hand away again. She turns on her heel and strides toward the bar, heavy footfalls behind her and the gaze burning into her back informing her that the drummer is following. She leans against the dark wood of the bar top, quickly grabbing the bartender’s attention with a simple raise of her hand.

“Can I get a shot of your best, most expensive vodka? On his tab,” Nesta requests, gesturing with her head to where the drummer now leans against the bar beside her.

The drummer laughs again, an easy chuckle. “Now that’s just cheating.”

Nesta turns toward him properly, finally giving in to the smirk she’d been biting back. “Guess you better talk fast.”

“How about we start with names? I’m Cassian, and you are…?”

The bartender returns at that exact moment, setting the small shot glass full of clear liquid down in front of Nesta. She swipes it up and tosses it back. The vodka is smooth, but it still burns on the way down, mixing and coaxing the burn of satisfaction low in her gut. Slamming the now empty shot glass back on the bar top, Nesta spins around toward the door.

“Time’s up. Better luck next time.”

She keeps her chin raised high, keeps that smirk firmly in place. She revels in the prickle across her skin at that gaze she can still feel pinned to her, and if she sways her hips a bit more than she normally would, well, no one but her has to know.

~ * * * ~

When Nesta checks her phone while enjoying her morning coffee, she’s surprised to find a new follower and a new DM request on her Instagram. She clicks on the account and almost rolls her eyes at the hazel eyed, curly haired man smirking back at her in the profile photo. He’s certainly dedicated, she’ll have to give him that. She knows that she should ignore him, maybe even block him, but curiosity has her clicking back over to the DM.

@BatBoyCass Hello, Nes 😏

@LadyNesta Stalking me on Instagram? Really?

Nesta’s surprise only grows when almost instantly the three small dots appear at the bottom of the screen, indicating that Cassian is typing. Was he waiting by his phone for her response? Didn’t he have band practice or something? According to Elain, the tour was moving on to a new city today, much to her younger sister’s apparent disappointment.

@BatBoyCass Actually, your sister gave me your handle. She refused to give me your number and decided this was safer. Quite protective. Rhys was into it But that’s not important. How’s your morning going, Nes?

@LadyNesta It’s Nesta. Not Nes

@BatBoyCass Guess you should’ve stuck around last night. Could have told me that yourself. It’s too late now. Nes 😜

@LadyNesta Is this your next tactic? Bribery didn’t work so now you just plan to annoy me?

@BatBoyCass Actually, my next tactic is this

Nesta frowns down at her phone screen, at the message, but then a moment later, a photo comes through in the chat. It’s a mirror selfie, but Nesta can’t tell where it was taken from the background. Although, it’s hard to focus on anything other than the large body taking up the frame. Cassian is shirtless, black fabric draped over his shoulder presumably the remnants of his shirt.

Nesta can do nothing but stare at the hard cut of his jaw where his head is tilted to look at the phone in his hand. At each swirl and loop of black ink across the golden brown skin of his chest and arms. At every hard line of muscle that makes up his stomach. At the waistband of what looks like gray sweatpants hanging low enough that his v lines are on full display.

The whole sight is enough for Nesta’s mouth to go dry, for heat to creep up her neck and spill across her cheeks. Before she even realizes, her bottom lip has found home between her teeth, eyes tracing over the photo again and again. What would it feel like, getting her hands on that body, feeling each hard line and curve beneath her fingers? What would it feel like to have his hands on her? She still remembers just how large they were compared to her own.

“Fuck,” Nesta whispers to herself, mentally chastising herself and shaking her head of any of those sorts of thoughts. Instead, her fingers tap across the screen of her phone.

@LadyNesta What’s next? A dick pic?

@BatBoyCass That goes against Instagram’s guidelines. You’ll have to give me your actual number for that Or I’d be more than happy to give you a show in person😏

@LadyNesta You’re not even in Velaris anymore

@BatBoyCass Did you look up our tour, Nes? I’m touched 🥹

Nesta scoffs and rolls her eyes, setting her phone face down on the table. She goes back to finishing her coffee, but she barely lasts a minute before she’s swiping her phone back up. She refuses to let him have the last word, refuses to let him continue to believe she would ever look up his tour dates.

@LadyNesta You wish. My sister mentioned it

@BatBoyCass Don’t worry. There’s only a few weeks left of the tour. Then, I’ll be back in Velaris. Maybe we can get dinner then?

@LadyNesta Pass

@BatBoyCass How about another bargain? You have to send me a message every day, just one. Unless my irresistible charm has you wanting to send more 😉 But one message, that’s the deal. Maybe a fun fact about yourself? One every day until I’m back in Velaris. And then if you still don’t want to get dinner with me, then I’ll leave you alone

@LadyNesta Fine. Here’s my first “fun fact” about me. I’m incredibly stubborn and I hate not winning. So hope you’re prepared for the crushing disappointment of rejection

With a satisfied hum, Nesta sets her phone down for good. The man clearly needs to learn how to phrase his bargains better. One message a day. Easy. It will be the easiest thing Nesta has ever done. And in a few weeks time, this stupid drummer with his stupid chiseled body and his stupid easy smile and warm laugh and pretty hazel eyes will be out of her life for good.

But when Nesta finally dares to check her phone later that night, she finds a new message from Cassian waiting for her. He’s shared an Instagram Reel with her, and when Nesta clicks it, Jake Johnson’s voice blares from her speakers, ‘Stop being so mean to me or I swear to God I’m going to fall in love with you,’ and there, in the quiet and dark in her bedroom, where no one else can see her, Nesta laughs.

~ * * * ~

Nesta wakes to another photo in her Instagram DMs, but this time, Cassian is nowhere to be seen in it. Instead, the photo is of a beach. The waves crashing against the sandy shore look almost silver, the silhouettes of birds flying just above. The horizon is a line of purple that gives way to pinks and yellows before fading into the deep blue of night still clinging to the top of the frame.

Sunrise. It’s the beach right before the sun rises, Nesta realizes. She finds herself wondering what he was doing awake so early, almost going so far as to type out that very question and ask before she catches herself. She holds down the backspace, focusing on Cassian’s message below the photo instead.

@BatBoyCass Good morning, Nes! We’re in sunny Adriata today. I bet you’d look gorgeous in a bikini 😍 Definitely wish you were here. I could rub sunscreen on your shoulders. You could rub sunscreen onto mine. Sounds like a dream…

@LadyNesta Sounds more like a nightmare

Nesta continues with the rest of her morning, getting ready and heading to one of her favorite brunch spots in town to meet with Emerie and Gwyn. It isn’t until she’s settled at the table, thanking the waitress who sets down three waters while she waits, that Nesta finally looks at her phone again.

@BatBoyCass Not a fan of the beach, sweetheart?

@LadyNesta Oh, I love the beach, but I much prefer a cold drink and a good book on the beach rather than obnoxious drummers

@BatBoyCass You like to read? What kind of books do you like?

Instinctively, Nesta starts to type out a response, always more than happy to talk about her love of books, about her current read, but then she remembers their bargain. And she’s already shared her ‘fun fact’ about herself for the day, already met her quota, and she still refuses to lose. She quickly deletes the message she had typed out, but Cassian must be watching for her reply, must have seen the three dots to show that she was typing appear and then disappear.

@BatBoyCass That’s alright. We can save that question for tomorrow. I’ve always preferred historical fiction. I actually just finished reading Hatfield 1677 while on tour and really enjoyed it I think if the band didn’t work out, I’d end up a history teacher. I’d be good at being a history teacher. Maybe in another life

@LadyNesta Another life? I didn’t take you as the type of person to believe in that sort of thing.

@BatBoyCass I hope I meet you in every life

“Who has you smiling and blushing at your phone?”

Nesta snaps her head up to find Emerie now standing at their table, her brown eyes alight with amusement and a small smirk tugging up her lips. She scowls fondly at her friend, setting her phone face down on the table and willing the heat prickling her cheeks to dissipate.

“No one.”

~ * * * ~

@LadyNesta Do you ever get nervous up on stage?

Loathe as she is to admit it, over the last couple of weeks, Nesta has come to enjoy her messages with Cassian. There’s something easy about it, about their back and forth. Something about the way her teasing and jabs only leave him laughing, the way he gives back as good as he gets. Something about the way he genuinely cares about what she has to say, about her ‘fun facts.’ Something about how he doesn’t balk when she dares to share a deeper piece of herself.

It’s surprisingly comfortable, as though she’s known Cassian much longer than she actually has. As though she’s known him her whole life, as though her very soul somehow recognizes him. As though there’s music entwining them like golden threads.

@BatBoyCass Actually, I love it. It’s exhilarating being up there. I can feel the music all the way down to my bones. And to hear a crowd sing back a song you wrote? There’s nothing like it

@LadyNesta You write songs?

@BatBoyCass That’s right, Nes. I’m more than just a pretty face 😎 I even started writing a new song just yesterday

@LadyNesta Let me guess. You’re going to play it for me?

@BatBoyCass Not until it’s finished. I still need that last bit of inspiration Hoping to find it tomorrow 👀

@LadyNesta What’s tomorrow?

Nesta stares at the screen of her phone, waiting. She watches the three dots appear and then disappear. They appear and then they disappear again. It has Nesta tilting her head curiously, eyebrows dipping in confusion. She knows that she hasn’t known Cassian particularly long, but this certainly doesn’t seem like him. He’s usually so quick to respond to her messages, so quick to turn on the teasing and the charm without a second thought. What could it mean that he’s typing and retyping his answer? Is he… nervous?

@BatBoyCass Tonight’s the last show of our tour. In Scythia. I’ll be back in Velaris by tomorrow afternoon

Nesta’s heart skips a beat in her chest. This is it, the moment of truth, the end of their bargain. She could tell him that she’s still not interested, and that will be the end of their interactions. She’ll never receive another message from Cassian. She could tell him that his charm and his kind heart and good looks has had no effect on her.

But she’d be lying to him just as much as herself.

Only a few weeks, and already Nesta can’t imagine a day without talking to Cassian. Just the very idea has ice bleeding between her ribs and threatening to crystalize in her chest. She wants to see that fire blaze in his hazel eyes and push back to meet it until he’s smirking in amusement. She wants to hear his crazy stories from tour and his teasing innuendos. She wants him to make her laugh. And if she’s really being honest with herself, she wants to see and feel that body and those hands outside of a mere photo.

@LadyNesta 7pm. Don’t be late

~ * * * ~

The knock on her front door sounds through the apartment just as Nesta is finishing up the last touch ups to her makeup. She glances toward the clock, the red digital numbers declaring the time to be 6:58. Punctual. One last look over herself in the mirror, and Nesta steps out of her bedroom.

When she pulls open the front door, Cassian is standing on the other side. His hair is scraped back away from his face, piled into a bun at the back of his head, and a comfortably worn leather jacket hangs on his frame. His hazel eyes in person spark that same way Nesta remembers, a slow smirk tugging up his lips as he leans casually against the door frame.

“Hello, Nes.” His eyes sweep over her, his jaw slackening. “Mother save me. You look amazing.”

“I thought we already established that compliments will get you nowhere.”

“Can you blame me when you look this beautiful?”

Nesta has to swallow down a blush at his words, at the sincerity burning in his gaze. She rolls her eyes and shoves lightly at Cassian’s chest, enough to get him to move back so she can step out of her apartment.

“Are we going to dinner or not?”

“Of course,” Cassian confirms, holding his hand out until Nesta threads her fingers through his own larger ones. “I got us a reservation at Carmichael’s.”

Nesta’s steps stutter for a moment and she peers up at Cassian in surprise. “Carmichael’s? Don’t you need to make reservations weeks in advance there?”

“Oh, you do. I made the reservation as soon as we agreed on our bargain.”

Nesta comes fully to a stop at that. She blinks a few times, trying to wrap her mind around this new information, and she can’t help it. She laughs. Cassian’s eyes light up at the sound, the gold flecks within the hazel practically glinting beneath the lights of the hallway. His smirk morphs into a wide, genuine smile, and the sight is enough to leave Nesta feeling breathless.

“Feeling confident, were you?” Nesta teases, trying and failing to fight back her own grin.

“I’m confident about plenty of things, sweetheart,” Cassian tells her, stepping closer into her space. He uses his free hand to twist one of the strands of Nesta’s hair framing her face, the tips of his fingers skimming along her temple.

“Is that so? And what else are you confident about?”

“That I’m going to marry you one day.”

—

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @lady-nestas @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy @superflurry @bri-loves-sunflowers @lady-winter-sunrise @witch-and-her-witcher @fieldofdaisiies @freakingata

#CassianWeek2024 #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #cassian acotar #acotar #acosf #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nesta x cassian #my fic

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pandorasprongs · 2 years ago

Text

CHAPTER TWO | you'll always know me.

'it's nice to have a friend' masterlist + playlist | previous chapter

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 4.3k

SUMMARY: a few weeks after their run-in, jamie suddenly craves some pizza and someone to share it with.

WARNINGS: language

A/N: here is chapter two! there's a little more jamie pov in this one just to see his side of things and we watch them catch up more in this one and see what liv (reader's friend) thinks about this whole thing ;)

After Jamie dropped you off, you didn't hear from him for weeks. Things just went back to normal for you after that night, and maybe you should've been glad. That was the closest to closure with Jamie that you could stomach, but there was still a part of you that hoped that every time your phone rang, it was him.

On the brighter side, Liv had started to make plans for the wedding and her first order of business was to ask you to be the Maid of Honor, a role you happily accepted. In between grading papers and office hours, you'd look through catalogs and websites that your best friend had sent you. Both activities were exactly what you needed to take your mind off Jamie.

But for the footballer, he couldn't stop thinking about you. He wanted to believe that you really had forgiven him, in some capacity. But each time he had the urge to reach out, the fear of you backtracking on your word overcame him.

This wasn't normal. He was Jamie fucking Tartt, for Christ's sake! He's been with tons of girls. More often than not, one text was enough for the guy and all was forgiven. But he hadn't been with anyone in months, and it was different now. It was different with you. It always had been.

Even back when you were kids, it was your opinion of him that he valued over most people, with the exception of his mum. You were the one he went to if he needed advice about girls or comments on his football form. You were the one he went to when he wanted to screw around, setting up traps for your parents as kids or sneaking beers to your rooms as teenagers.

Hell, you were the one he went to when he fucked up and needed help to fix his mess. Maybe that's why he doesn't know what to do now, cause he can't very well ask you for advice on yourself.

So instead of powering through his fears and calling you, he settled for searching you up. Just to see what you've been doing these past few years. His mum would sometimes mention a thing or two about you that she heard from your parents when he visited her, but he rarely actually listened, something that filled him with guilt in the present.

The first thing he found was research papers and articles with you listed as an author. They were all about varying topics, but it was always in the realm of genetics. You'd always loved biology and writing from what Jamie remembered, and he was just glad to see you doing what you always wanted. He tried to scan through one of the research papers for fun, but when he didn't understand a lick of it, he decided to cut his losses and check what else he could find.

He ended up on the page of an organization from your uni and found a video with you on stage as the thumbnail. It was almost 5 years old, around the time when...

Jamie hesitantly presses play and the clip starts with you walking up the stage. You seemed so confident and unafraid of the crowd in front of you. Maybe it was the liquid courage in your hand, but the footballer had never seen you so at ease before performing.

"Hello everyone! It's me again," You started, your energy easily transferring to the crowd who erupted in applause. "This will actually be my last song for a while because fuck finals!" There's laughter off-camera as you stabilize yourself.

"Before I start the song, I just want to give some background on why I picked it, if you’ll let me. This is dedicated to an old friend of mine. He was one of my favorite people in the world, but unfortunately, he's become an absolute fucking prick! Woo! So, what better way than to end the night with this song?" When he hears that, Jamie's heart drops and he closes the video as you sing the opening note.

He doesn't know why; this was years ago and you were obviously not as angry as back then. But the mere thought that there was a point in time where you felt enough hatred for him to go in front of a crowd and yell "Fuck you, fuck you very, very much!" only worsened his fears.

If Jamie from a year ago had seen the video, he wouldn’t have done anything. He'd scoff, call you bitter, and that would be the end of it because pretending it didn't hurt was, for him, a better option than apologizing for what he's done. But this was a new and improved Jamie, one that was trying to atone for his mistakes that Ted, Dr. Sharon, and the entire team so kindly pointed out when he came back to Richmond. Empathy, he had to have that. This was probably the best version of himself, but that didn't mean that just because all was forgiven by Richmond, everything else in his life was okay.

There was still you. Looking at how much you've done with your life, how confident you've become, and how happy you seemed to be with your new friends, he really must've been a dead weight on you. You almost even gave up the chance to study in Cardiff because of him, but thank God you snapped out of it and saw how ridiculous that was. Maybe you were better off without him, even at his best.

But Jamie was still having a hard time giving up his selfish habits.

Now, he was on a date with a French model. He had no real interest to get back into the dating scene, but he just had to get Richard off his back about setting him up. He had to keep holding himself back from pointing out that just because he was French, Richard was not fucking Cupid. It was even clearer to him when he was bored out of his mind barely 15 minutes into the date.

She was beautiful, of course, but neither of them could say an actual word to each other the whole time. Well, aside from her snide remark after he paired red wine with a type of fish, which honestly sealed the deal for Jamie.

He stayed the whole duration of the thing just to be polite; he even paid for the whole meal himself. But seeing how both of them spent almost the whole thing on their phones, there wasn't going to be a second date.

The food wasn't even filling, so now not only did Jamie just waste one of his best suits, he was still starving. While waiting for the valet to bring his car to the front, he spotted a group of fans hovering outside of the shop and decided to go greet him. It was a regular occurrence as a footballer, so he did the usual: signed some footballs and pictures, took selfies with some fans, and doing small talk with some of the younger fans. Maybe it was because they sometimes reminded him of a younger version of himself, but he always put extra effort to make those little kid's interaction with him enjoyable, even if their parents could be pushy as hell.

Jamie never hated interacting with fans, except occasionally when it was 1 am in a crowded pub and some of them acted like they were best friends. It was an absolute ego boost because he could act as cocky as he wanted and they’d love it anyway. Especially back in Man City when they would cheer his name as he left the clubhouse. God, no wonder he became a prick so quickly. He still had fans now, but he’d learned how to act more humble with them. Just a little bit more humble.

Once his car pulled up, he felt a notification from his phone and opened it to find a message from Simon. Hi Jamie! Your mum and I hope you're doing well. Congrats on the promotion!

It wasn't odd for Jamie to get texts from his step-dad which always opened with a check-in, then usually followed by a recipe of biscuits he could try and make at home or asking on his mum's behalf if he'd be visiting soon.

Before he could open the chat to reply, another text popped up.

Was looking through some old boxes (trying to find one of the homemade cookie cutters you made before), and found this picture!

Attached was a photo of their kitchen from years ago, which is obvious by the multiple school football team photos hanging on the fridge. It was you and Jamie, around 16 years old, eating some homemade pizza that Simon had made. The photo captured you staring at the slice as if it was Jesus reincarnated and caught Jamie staring at you. Jamie admits, he almost thought he liked you then, but that was probably because he saw you so often and puberty's a weird fucking time.

All Jamie could reply was, That's a nice picture, just so it wouldn't seem like he wasn’t replying on purpose.

His stepdad sent another one: Real fun that I managed to capture this! Wonder how (Y/N)'s doing now. Heard she went to the final Richmond game. Did you see her?

Yeah, after the game. Jamie answered honestly, as the valet handed him his keys and he got into the car.

That's nice you got to catch up with her. You guys were inseparable, back then. Well, stay safe, Jamie!

That was the end of the conversation, but a part of Jamie wanted to believe it was a sign. He didn't really believe in all that universal power and destiny type of thing, but if it gave him an excuse to reach out, he was going to take it.

That same night, you were at your flat, supposedly resting. Sundays were the only days you never had a class scheduled, but you were behind on grading your students' drafts because you had to allot a new chunk of your time to helping Liv with your maid-of-honor duties. Now, you were sitting on the floor of your living room in the same tank top and pajama pants you woke up in, racing through your students' papers that you promised to return the next day. Say what you will about procrastination, but it has never failed you once.

As you finish writing the grade on one of the papers, you get a call from an unknown number. You're too focused on the task at hand to fully comprehend it, and so you just press accept and put it on speaker.

"Hello, who's this?" You say mindlessly, your eyes scanning through the next essay.

"Uh, it's Jamie," Your underline extends just a little bit past the line due to your surprise. When you don’t say anything in reply to that, he takes the chance to explain, "I'm in the area and I was starving. I got a pizza, but I don't think I can finish it by myself, so if you're hungry, maybe I can pass by?"

Once you got past the initial shock, you were now contemplating whether or not to take him up on his offer. You honestly thought the car ride was going to be the end of it. But you were starving too and it was getting too late to order any food without seriously inconveniencing some workers at the end of their shift, so against your better judgment, you say yes.

You move to start fixing up your place to look more put together, but the doorbell rings before you get the chance to. Oh, fuck it, he's seen worse. You walk over to the door and find Jamie already here carrying a box of pizza. His hair was neatly slicked back and while it's weird to see him properly groomed late at night, you know that he's always been particular about his hair.

"How'd you get here so fast?" You questioned.

"I may have already been waiting outside when I called." Jamie shrugs and you give him a playful look. He seems to instantly relax at your reaction and you let him inside. He goes to place the box on your kitchen counter but takes a look around what you considered to be a messy apartment.

The university set you up with a good flat with two bedrooms, much to your parents' delight. It was mostly furnished when you moved in, so it was just up to you to decorate it. You liked the look of plants in a house but were always shit at taking care of them, so succulents and LEGO flowers were the compromises. You sprinkled photos around the place from different points in your life. In one of your more forgiving moments, you even hung some childhood pictures with Jamie, but moved them to the top of your bookshelf so you wouldn't have to see them everyday.

"Stevie Nicks, nice." He pointed to one of the albums you had hanging above your TV. It was next to your copy of Folklore and Punisher. Maybe a slight outlier, but you grew up with her music thanks to Jamie.

"Yeah," You turned back to the footballer to see him fully decked out in a dark grey suit with a blue collared shirt under that was a little oversized for him, but somehow, he made it work. You join him at the counter and lean on it, before pointing out, "A little dressed up for a late-night pizza run, don't you think?"

"Oh, yeah," He looked down at his outfit before opening the box and turning to you. "Was on a date before this. A teammate of mine set it up."

You stop yourself from showing your surprise at this revelation. You don't even know why you're surprised; he was obviously going on dates all the time like most footballers did. Maybe you were just surprised that he wasn’t currently in a relationship.

"How'd it go?" You ask nonchalantly, reaching over to grab two plates from the drying rack and a slice of pizza for yourself.

Jamie doesn't even try and hide his reaction to you asking, but he answers anyway. "As well as a date where neither of you spoke a word to each other could go. So, pretty shit." When his team would ask him about it on Monday, he was going to lie and say that things were fine, but they probably weren't going on another date. But he needed to be honest with one person.

You cover your mouth as you chew to stop the laughter. "Damn, that sucks."

The two of you go to the living room area and you move around the papers to make space for your plates.

"What's all this?" After unbuttoning his coat, Jamie took it off and hung it neatly on the arm of your coach before helping you stack up the papers in a neat pile. "You're a teacher?"

"Yup, I'm a professor." You clarified and settled down on the couch to put on a sitcom on your TV. "They offered me the job when I was completing my Master’s degree, but I decided to stay on cause I liked teaching."

Jamie raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. You furrow yours and ask, "Why? You surprised?"

"Well yeah, you hated tutoring back then." He points out and all you can do is scoff.

"Correction, I hated tutoring you." Jamie almost looks offended, but you continue. "Almost every one of our tutoring sessions ended early cause you kept finding ways to distract me or convince me to take a 'break.' All my other tutees were manageable."

"And yet, you kept up with it." He gives you a triumphant look and you playfully roll your eyes.

"Yeah, because I loved Aunt Georgie and knew how bad she felt every time you failed an exam." You remind him. "It was worth putting up with your nonsense because your marks got better every time I helped you out."

Jamie laughs and you feel a pang in your chest. The last time the two of you had been in a situation like this, — hanging out and just talking on a couch, — was seven years ago. You weren't sure which of your emotions were stronger: the warmth from being able to do this with him again or the pain from knowing why you stopped. But right now, you just wanted to enjoy it.

And turns out, Jamie was thinking about something similar, too. Only he verbalized it after a quiet moment. "I missed this. I missed you."

You couldn't stop the smile from creeping up on your face, but couldn't bring yourself to say it back, so instead you simply say, "Same."

Before it gets too awkward, Jamie decides to ask, "So aside from deciding to be a nerd for life," you punch him lightly in the arm, "what else have you been doing these past few years?"

You're not really sure where to start. You couldn't ask him to start because the media made sure to tell you every detail of his life, so you just start from where you left off.

"I guess, I started joining clubs in uni. Not ones for applications anymore, but things I liked. So I did some performing in an on-campus club which was nice." Jamie was always the first to compliment you on your voice because he was the only person you were willing to sing in front of. It did suck looking back that he couldn’t be there the first time you performed in front of the crowd, but that was his fault, wasn’t it?

"After graduation, I moved here to be a lab technician but didn't really like that, hence why I became a professor. What else? Dated a bit, here and there, but nothing ever serious." You don't know why you admitted that to him, but you continue on. "I'd go traveling with Mom and Dad during summer and with Liv, my best friend, too. Do some performing on faculty nights and... I think that's it."

Jamie nods his head, absorbing the information, and you add, "Not that remarkable, I know. At least, compared to your footballer lifestyle."

"Nah. I mean, it's been fun, but less exciting than you think." Jamie was definitely downplaying it, both of you knew that.

"Oh please, didn't you date Keeley Jones, and become teammates with Roy fucking Kent? Sixteen-year-old you would be reeling!"

You still remember the time that he put up their posters, both of them. And truthfully, you were more unsettled by Roy's poster than Keeley's. It felt like he was staring into your soul every time you slept over. "Kinda surprised though that you guys became rivals. I thought you'd be worshipping the ground he walked on if you got to work with him."

He hesitates and for a second, you think you've said something wrong. But he explains, "Yeah, I was a prick when I got loaned to Richmond and he didn't really like that as captain, y'know? But I think we're good now. Well, better. Pretty sure he still doesn't like me, but at least we're not fighting during matches anymore."

His tone was playful, but Jamie definitely felt bad about how his relationship with his idol turned out. He really did admire Roy Kent and that was very clear to everyone around you back then. There was a time that Chelsea had a match in Manchester, but it was during class hours, so you begged your dad on his vacation day to go to the hotel where they were staying and get his Roy Kent poster signed. You've never seen him happier. So knowing that for a point in time, they hated each other's guts, the Jamie you knew would be absolutely crushed.

"Well, he's your coach now, so maybe you'll get a chance to bond with him like the younger you always dreamed about." You offer, and Jamie just chuckles.

The rest of the night was spent catching up on each other's lives until it was almost 11 and Jamie had to head off. For a moment there, you forgot you were ever mad at him. That it was time and busy schedules that kept you apart all these years. But after passing by your bookshelf and spotting an old picture of the two of you at seventeen, it gives you a reality check.

No, stop dwelling on the past. You didn't need to, anymore. Things were fine now. You didn't have to harbor any anger for Jamie anymore. You shook any thoughts about it away and got ready for bed.

—

"Fuck, why did you ever quit doing research?" Liv points out and you just chuckle at her reaction. The two of you met up after your last class of the day for early dinner and while waiting for your dishes, she asked you for some help with the dosages of the most recent drug she was working on.

"Teaching was my calling." You also had more flexible hours, a summer break, and free housing, but you didn't feel the need to point that out. Once she finalizes the notes on the formulas, she stuffs them back into her bag and starts telling you about all the new office drama.

You and Liv had gotten the same degree from Cardiff and were coincidentally in the same hall as well, so many nights of yours were spent studying on the same exams and quizzing one another into the early hours of the morning. You had become practically inseparable, and even after graduation, you applied to the same companies and were roommates for a bit.

Then she and Frankie started to get serious and since it was around the time you changed jobs, she moved in with him and you started living on your own. Even after the changes and not sharing a single bathroom anymore, the two of you still spent as much time together as possible. You probably wouldn't have made it through uni and early adult life without her.

"Also, do you remember Marta? From sales?" You groan at the reminder of your former co-worker. "She got fired! She was forging budget reports!”

"Oh fuck," you exclaim and Liv just laughs at your reaction. "It's about time, though! She made the interns' lives a living hell, especially the women. Then when you get promoted above her, she'd act like you were best friends."

Soon, your food arrives and you take a break from chatting until you're on your way back to your flat. It was the nearer one of the two and Frankie had night shift at the hospital, so you just planned on watching a movie there.

While walking, Liv brings up the wedding and you enthusiastically join in. "I found some flower arrangements and centerpieces that might work for each of your possible themes. I'll show you the magazines when we get back to my place."

"God, I love you," Liv brings you in for a side hug as you go up the stairs of your building and you happily reciprocate it, despite the awkward position. When you finally get back, you dart to your dining room table to collect the magazines.

Your phone pings and you open it to find a picture from Jamie. His background looked like a salon, also seeing as his hair was dyed and blow-dried.

Blond? Bold choice. You send in reply, before adding, Looks good though.

Walnut mist, actually. He adds and you roll your eyes at the message before pocketing your phone again.

As you go back to opening the magazine to the pages you want to show to Liv, she suddenly asks, "You thinking about bringing a date to the wedding?"

You scoff in reply. "No, why?"

"I don't know, maybe you'd want to bring whoever the owner of this jacket is." You tilt your head in confusion before turning around to see her holding up Jamie's jacket. How had he forgotten that here? And there was no way to convince her it was yours because she knew your wardrobe better than you probably did. "Better start talking now."

You stuff the magazines under your arm before going back over to here and grabbing it. "Okay look, I did have a guy over, but it's not what you think." Liv's eyes instantly light up, but you try and calm her as you blurt out, "It's Jamie's! He came over last night to share a pizza and we just talked."

"Jamie? As in Jamie Tartt? Formerly Man City, now AFC Richmond Jamie Tartt?" Liv repeats and you nod, causing her expression to contort. "I thought you hated the guy!"

"I do!" You defend yourself. "I used to, but he gave me a ride home after the Richmond final and we patched things up."

"So he apologized?"

"Not necessarily," Liv looks like she's about to yell at you by how wide her eyes got, but you hold out your hands again. "I told him not to! I just... I don't want to deal with all of that right now."

Liv gives you sympathetic eyes before she brings you down to sit on the couch. There are a few quiet moments before she finally says something. "Look, I know that he meant a lot to you and that you guys used to be close, so yeah, maybe you don't need an apology to fix things. I don’t know how your friendship was, but honestly (Y/N), from experience, denying it won't fix it. You've harbored such strong feelings for him for so long and I saw how it broke you that night. Talking through it with him might be a good thing, even if it's hard. Cause at some point, you might just explode because of it."

"I know," you admit. "You're obviously right! But, I don't want to talk about it just yet. It's nice being able to spend time with him again." She gives you a disappointed look, so you simply add. "I promise. Triple swear, I will talk about it with him and you'll be the first to know what happens."

"Okay, good." She seems satisfied with the promise, especially since you used your ultimatum with her that you made back in college. Back then, you used it to promise that you'd load each other's clothes into the machine. But now, it was used for bigger things. "Now, let's look through these stylings you picked, yeah?"

A/N: yay! another chapter done and i hope you like this one! reader should definitely start listening to liv (tee hee). i apologize if it’s a little fast paced but there’s only a few chapters in this fic so bear with me and i hope you all still enjoy it. i'm definitely thinking of doing insert chapters and outtakes like illiterateaffairs’ distraction series once it’s over if you guys would be interested in that! that’s all, see you next time!

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#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt reader #ted lasso #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fic #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt fluff #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt x female reader #it's nice to have a friend series

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