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cressidagrey · 1 day ago

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White Horse - Chapter 22: June 2024 - Part 3

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.

She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.

But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn’t an afterthought—she’s a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn’t have to be invisible.

Warnings and Notes:

we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussions of toxic past relationships, talk about loosing a childhood pet, toxic families, mention of the loss of a parent. Apparently I am once again messing up my chapter numbering on Tumblr. 21 is correct according to AO3 and Wattpad though. No, you didn't miss anything, I promise.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Text Messages: Gianpiero Lambiase & Max Verstappen

GP: Heard about the post-race press. Are you and Belle okay?

Max: I’m fine. Belle’s shaken. Tired. But she’s okay. (ish.)

GP: “Okay-ish” isn’t exactly reassuring, mate.

Max: She’s stronger than she thinks. But it hit her hard. Even after everything… she still hoped they’d see her.

GP: That’s the cruel part. Hope.

Max: Yeah.

GP: Is she at home? You with her?

Max: I am.

Max: Doesn’t feel like enough.

GP: It’s enough. You’re there. You see her. That’s already more than most have ever done.

Max: She deserves better than this.

GP: She’s got it now. She’s got you.

GP: (and the cats.)

Max: True. Jimmy thinks he’s her bodyguard.

GP: Smart cat.

GP: Tell her we’re all thinking about her, yeah?

Max: I will. Thanks, GP. For checking in.

GP: Always. She’s part of the team now. Whether she likes it or not.

***

The breakfast table was too quiet.

A spread of croissants, jam, fresh fruit, and espresso cups sat untouched in the center of the table—untouched because no one could eat. Lorenzo’s revelation from the day before hung in the air like a thundercloud.

Isabelle had quit her job.

Months ago.

Without telling a single one of them.

Charles still hadn’t wrapped his head around it. Isabelle had always loved her work. She breathed design. She stayed up late sketching, doodling floor plans on napkins, whispering ideas into voice memos when she thought no one was listening.

And then one day… she just walked away from it. From them.

Arthur sat with his head in his hands, looking half-murdered by guilt. Pascale was pale and tight-lipped, stirring her tea without drinking it.

“I don’t understand,” Pascale whispered. “How could she just… leave her job? She worked so hard for it.”

“She didn’t just leave,” Lorenzo said, pacing. “She ghosted the entire office. Packed her things in one night. Sent a polite goodbye email. Nothing else.”

“And no one noticed?” Arthur asked, stunned.

“No one bothered to notice,” Charles muttered.

Pascale looked toward Alexandra. “Did you know anything?”

Alexandra hesitated, then straightened a little. “She’s safe.”

That got everyone’s attention.

Charles’s head snapped toward her. “What?”

“I texted Emilie,” Alexandra said, calm but firm. “Isabelle’s best friend. She replied this morning. Said Isabelle is okay.”

A collective breath was held—and slowly released.

“Why didn’t you say that sooner?” Pascale asked, eyes wide.

“Because you were all too busy spiraling,” Alexandra said. “And because Emilie was clear: Isabelle doesn’t want to talk to any of you right now.”

Charles swallowed hard.

“She’s mad,” he said. “Of course she’s mad.”

“She’s not mad,” Alexandra said. “She’s hurt. She’s done. There’s a difference.”

Lorenzo closed his eyes. Arthur muttered something under his breath.

Then Alexandra added, almost absently, “She’s not alone. Emilie said her boyfriend likes taking care of her.”

A beat of stunned silence.

“Oh my god,” Arthur muttered. “She has a sugar daddy.”

Charlotte choked on her orange juice.

Pascale actually dropped her spoon.

“Arthur!” Alexandra hissed, scandalized.

Arthur looked wildly between them. “Think about it! Moved out. Quit her job. No one knows where she is. Isabelle’s always been quiet, not mysterious. What if she—”

“No. No,” Charles said quickly, shaking his head like that would erase the words from the room. “She wouldn’t. Isabelle is not like that.”

“People change when they feel abandoned,” Arthur muttered, clearly spiraling now. “This is how Netflix documentaries start.”

“I will kill whoever that man is,” Charles muttered, eyes narrowing like he was already imagining chasing someone through the Monaco harbor with a champagne bottle.

“I’m just saying,” Arthur hissed, “stranger things have happened! And let’s not pretend we’re not a family of unresolved emotional issues. We all have daddy issues!”

A beat of stunned silence.

Then Pascale, horror dawning on her face, said, “Excuse me?!”

Arthur looked up, mid-sip of juice. “What?”

Pascale blinked, stunned. “Since when?!”

Arthur just stared at her. “I mean, come on. Dad died when we were kids, Charles is out here trying to win his approval from the afterlife, I started karting again like I have something to prove, and Isabelle— Isabelle moved in with a mysterious man and quit her job because he "likes taking care of her!"

“Oh my God,” Pascale said faintly, sinking into her chair.

“Okay, this is going off the rails,” Alexandra groaned.

Lorenzo pinched the bridge of his nose. “Arthur, this is not about your unresolved need for paternal validation.”

Arthur shrugged helplessly. “I was just trying to explain that maybe Isabelle was looking for emotional stability and someone gave it to her. And maybe he also had a good skincare routine and a yacht. I don’t know.”

“She moved in with her boyfriend,” Lorenzo said sharply. “Not a sugar daddy. Her boyfriend. That’s what her old neighbor said. She left the firm. Left her apartment. But she didn’t run away. She just stopped waiting to be seen.”

Arthur groaned, slumping in his seat. “We didn’t even know she had a boyfriend.”

“Because she didn’t tell us,” Charles said bitterly. “Because she stopped expecting us to care.”

“Or because she knew you were going to freak out.” Charlotte murmured.

Charles raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

Charlotte looked up, startled. “What?”

“You said that like you know something.”

Charlotte hesitated. “I don’t know anything.”

“Charlotte,” Lorenzo warned.

She shifted. “It’s just—she’s always been around racing. She used to hang around the paddock all the time. If she was seeing someone, I wouldn’t be shocked if it was someone from the grid.”

Silence.

Then Arthur: “Wait. You’re saying she could be dating someone we know?”

Charlotte winced. “I said maybe. Don’t start spiraling.”

“I’M ALREADY SPIRALING,” Charles announced.

Alexandra sighed, sipping her coffee. “And now we’ve entered the panic phase.”

Arthur leaned back, muttering, “If it’s Fernando I swear to God—”

Pascale clapped her hands together. “Enough.”

But Charles barely heard her.

Because if Belle was dating someone from the paddock…

Then there were nineteen men it could be, currently on the grid.

And not one of them had said a word.

***

Group Chat: GRID 2024

Members: Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz Jr., Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Logan Sergeant, Daniel Ricciardo, Nico Hülkenberg, Lance Stroll, Fernando Alonso, Sergio Pérez, Esteban Ocon, Zhou Guanyu, Logan Sargeant, Pierre Gasly, Yuki Tsunoda, and Valtteri Bottas

Charles: SOMEONE TELL ME

Who is dating my sister??

Charles: IS IT FERNANDO?? Are you her sugar daddy?? Just tell me. I need answers.

Fernando: Pardon?

Lewis: Oh we’re doing this.

George: Charles, breathe.

Oscar: You’re spiraling. Please stop.

Pierre: Wait WHAT??

Yuki: I feel like I’ve walked into the last five minutes of a telenovela

Fernando: Charles. I’m flattered. But no.

Charles: OK FINE. MAX. Charles: IS SHE DATING JOS?!

Logan: …bro

George: I need to leave this chat forever

Lando: oh my god

Max: What. Did. You. Just. Say.

Charles: I don’t know, okay?? Everyone’s being weird. She’s gone, she moved, she quit her job, no one’s telling me anything and YOU’RE ALL BEING WEIRD.

Max: Don’t you ever say something like that again.

Max: Not as a joke. Not out of panic. Not ever.

Max: Belle is your sister, Charles. She deserved your attention, your support, your respect—and she didn’t get any of it. Max: And now you want to cover up your guilt by making a disgusting joke like that?

George: Whoa.

Charles: It’s not a joke! She smiled at him during Monaco!

Max: You forgot her birthday. You forgot her entire life outside of your world. And now you’re so desperate to catch up you’re throwing shit against the wall like it doesn’t have consequences?

Oscar: He’s right. That was low, man.

Lando: Way out of line.

Max: You’re panicking and flinging names around like this is a soap opera, and you’re forgetting that this isn’t about you.

Carlos: He’s right.

Max: Belle isn’t your property. She doesn’t owe you updates of her life. And the fact that your first instinct is to accuse my father of something that insane? That tells me everything I need to know about where your priorities are.

Max: You’re not trying to protect her. You’re trying to control the fallout of your own guilt.

Alex: Oof.

Oscar: He’s not wrong.

Lando: I mean, he’s definitely not wrong.

Daniel: That was… surgical.

Max: You forgot her birthday. You didn’t realise she moved or that she quit her job. And now that it’s all blowing up in your face, you’re treating your sister like a scandal to manage instead of a woman who deserves better than you’ve given her for years.

Charles: Max…

Max Verstappen: Don’t. You had every chance to show up. And you didn’t.

Oscar: …Well. That was the cleanest emotional takedown I’ve ever witnessed.

Pierre: I’m afraid to even type right now.

Alex: Respectfully, that needed to be said.

Lewis: Sometimes silence is the most respectful response. And sometimes it’s watching Max drop a nuke and sipping your tea.

Charles: … I’m sorry.

Max: Don’t say sorry to me. Say it to her.

Daniel: And maybe do it without accusing her of having a sugar daddy next time.

Fernando: Sincerely never thought I’d be defending Jos Verstappen’s honor in a group chat. And yet. Here we are.

Pierre: Did we all just witness character development in real time?

Oscar: No, we witnessed Max finally snap.

Carlos: Honestly? Fair.

Max: Now if you’ll excuse me, my wife wants to go see her horse.

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

(Members: Daniel Ricciardo, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Lewis Hamilton, Carlos Sainz Jr., George Russell, Alex Albon, Nico Hulkenberg, Nico Rosberg, Sebastian Vettel, Mark Webber, David Coulthard, Sergio Pérez, Fernando Alonso, Kimi Räikkönen, Zhou Guanyu, Logan Sergeant, Esteban Ocon, Lance Stroll and Valtteri Bottas)

Oscar: (sends screenshots) Are we gonna talk about that??

Lando: I don’t think I’ll ever emotionally recover.

George: That wasn’t an argument. That was Max opening a precision-cut emotional autopsy on Charles.

Daniel: Surgical strike. Zero survivors.

Carlos: I think I stopped breathing somewhere between “not your property” and “scandal to manage.”

Alex: And he still managed to slip in “my wife” at the end like it was casual.

Lewis: Subtle as a sledgehammer. Iconic.

Sebastian: Imagine standing that close to the truth and just completely going off the deep end. JOS VERSTAPPEN?!?!

David: Charles is lucky we’re not recording this for Drive to Survive. This would be season finale material.

Fernando: Still recovering from the fact that I had to defend Jos Verstappen’s honor today. Truly humbling times.

Mark: Also Max casually confirming "wife" like we didn’t hear that bomb drop.

Lando: The whole chat: staring at “my wife” like: [INSERT SHOCKED PIKACHU MEME]

Logan: Also Max: anyway gtg horseback riding with Belle bye

George: Meanwhile we’re left here emotionally blinking like stunned goldfish.

Zhou: Respectfully? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in a group chat.

Logan: He read Charles’ whole life like it was a menu.

Esteban: No crumbs left. Truly an artist.

Lewis: I hope Belle gives Max a damn medal.

Carlos: It’s what he deserves.

Lando Norris: At this point Max could straight up declare war on Monaco and all of us would follow him.

Nico H.: Only if Belle asks nicely though.

Fernando: Honestly, after that? She deserves her own Grand Prix.

Sebastian: Belle Verstappen GP. Street circuit. Emotional trauma bonus points.

David: Winner gets emotional literacy and a free hug.

Lando: Charles gets last place. Obv.

Oscar: Someone check on Charles, though. Like... at a distance. With caution.

George: Give him a juice box and a reflective corner.

Lewis: He needs to sit with this one. You’re up, Seb.

Sebastian: I hate you.

Carlos: And next time? Maybe start by actually listening to Belle. and not accuse her of having a sugar daddy.

Oscar: Can we also talk about how Charles accused Fernando of being Belle’s sugar daddy?!?

Lando: No because I actually SCREAMED when I read it Out loud. In a public place.

George: Charles really said “if the unhinged shoe fits…”

Lewis: Fernando being asked if he’s the sugar daddy of a 25-year-old woman live in a chat is peak 2024.

Daniel: The best part is Fernando didn’t even deny it immediately. He said “pardon” like a man trying to calculate if this was a compliment or an insult.

Fernando: I was genuinely weighing my options.

Logan: He 100% thought about it for a second Did the math in his head Age difference analysis

Carlos: He pulled out a mental calculator before answering.

Alex: Plot twist: he was flattered.

Fernando: I am flattered.

Logan: ARE YOU NOT TOO OLD FOR THIS SIR

Fernando: Age is just a number. Experience is a blessing.

David: Shut up you're scaring the children

Daniel: I'm crying. This man is two bad decisions away from opening a luxury wine bar in Marbella.

Zhou: Would 100% attend Fernando’s shady rich sugar daddy wine parties tbh.

George: You know somewhere there's an alternate universe where Fernando is soft-launching Belle on Instagram with a blurry wine glass and a cryptic caption.

Sebastian: Don’t manifest that energy.

Lewis: The timeline barely survived Charles forgetting her birthday We are NOT surviving "Fernando Alonso soft launches Belle Verstappen."

Oscar: Good morning to everyone except Charles for inventing this nightmare.

Carlos: He should be banned from texting before noon.

Daniel: Imagine Belle reading that conversation The secondhand embarrassment would kill her instantly

Lando: Max would bury Charles under the Red Bull Energy Station if Belle found out

Fernando: That’s why I stayed calm. For everyone’s safety.

David: You’re a better man than I am.

George: Let’s be honest Max’s entire speech wasn’t just a takedown It was a warning.

Lewis: And Charles still doesn’t realize how close he was to emotional decapitation.

Daniel: Fernando being accidentally involved will forever be my Roman Empire

Lando: Same. Sugar Daddy Alonso 2024 Never Forget.

Kimi: I don’t care.

Fernando: Good. One sane man among us.

Mark: Honestly Kimi deserves a medal for surviving this chat with brain cells intact.

Lando: Meanwhile I’m Googling “how to recover from emotional whiplash" and "can you sue your friend for public embarrassment.”

Oscar: Suing Charles for pain and suffering. Class action.

Lewis: Count me in.

Daniel: Put me down for emotional damages and lost productivity.

Carlos: And mental anguish from hearing "Jos" and "sugar daddy" in the same sentence.

George Russell: I’m still trying to bleach my brain from that.

Sebastian Vettel: The worst part is… We know it’s only going to get worse.

Valtteri: Spain is going to be the emotional equivalent of a demolition derby and I'm here for it…

Oscar: Prayers up for Charles. He’s about to get hit with the reality sledgehammer.

***

The air smelled like sun-warmed hay and old wood and something softer — something Max couldn’t name but recognized instantly as peace.

The stables weren’t far from the city — a quiet, tucked-away stretch of land up in the hills — but it might as well have been another world compared to the chaos vibrating through the paddock, the media, the group chats.

Belle was already a few steps ahead of him, moving with easy, instinctive confidence down the center aisle. Her hair was pulled back in a loose braid, and she wore one of his oversized hoodies over her jeans, the sleeves pushed up to her elbows. Even in battered sneakers, even in dusty sunlight, she looked luminous.

This, Max thought, is who she really is.

Not the invisible sister standing silently in the Ferrari garage.

Not the afterthought.

Not the forgotten one.

Here, among the horses and the golden dust motes, Belle was someone else entirely. Someone free.

He watched as she reached Fleur’s stall — the mare with the soft eyes and white coat — and the change in her was immediate. Belle’s whole body softened. Her voice dropped into something low and sweet, barely a whisper, as she murmured to the horse in French, offering a gentle hand.

Fleur pressed her nose into Belle’s palm like she had been waiting for her all day.

Max stayed back, leaning against a beam, just… watching.

Belle ran her fingers through the mare’s mane, smiling quietly when Fleur nosed into her ribs for a treat. She laughed, soft and breathless, pulling a carrot from her pocket like she’d always known it would be needed.

Max felt something hot coil under his ribs.

Not anger. Not yet.

Something heavier.

Because standing there, watching her, Max didn’t understand — and probably never would — how the people who were supposed to love her first and fiercest could have ever made her feel like this side of her wasn’t worth seeing.

How did you miss this?

How did you miss her?

How could you look at Belle — at her patience, her stubbornness, her gentleness — and think she was someone it was okay to forget?

Max didn't know how Charles or Pascale or Arthur or even Lorenzo could live with themselves.

She had been right there, waving from the garage, smiling through being overlooked, standing quietly beside them her whole life — and they’d blinked, and she was gone.

He didn’t know if they'd ever get her back, not in the way they thought they were entitled to.

And maybe they didn’t deserve to.

Max shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling the steady beat of his own pulse against his knuckles. He wasn’t angry on his own behalf — he was angry for her. For every memory she had where she learned she needed to be small to survive. For every year she thought invisibility was safer than asking for more.

But here — here, she didn’t shrink herself.

Here, she was all soft light and warm hands and quiet magic.

He watched as Belle rested her forehead against Fleur’s, closing her eyes. Whispering something Max couldn’t hear.

He didn’t move.

He would wait forever if it meant she never had to be small again.

When she finally turned toward him, cheeks flushed, hair tangled in the breeze, Max just smiled — slow and sure — and opened his arms without a word.

Belle crossed the space between them like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And when she folded herself against his chest, Max pressed his mouth to the top of her head and thought, fiercely, I will never let you feel invisible again.

Not here. Not with him.

Never.

***

Belle sat curled into the armchair, hands knotted in the hem of her sweater. Her phone buzzed on the low table beside her — again — and she flinched without meaning to.

She didn’t pick it up. She hadn’t read any of them. Not a single message.

Across from her, Simone sat, notebook closed, pen resting untouched on the armrest. She didn’t need notes yet. She was just watching — waiting for Belle to breathe first.

"You don’t have to," Simone said finally, nodding toward the phone. "We can leave it buzzing all session if you want. This is your hour."

Belle looked down at her hands.

"I don’t know what they want," she said, voice thin. "I don’t know if I want to know."

"That's a choice," Simone said simply. "It’s your choice."

Belle twisted the hem tighter. "They keep calling. Texting. DMing. It’s like... once Charles realized, they all remembered I exist."

"That realization isn’t yours to carry," Simone said. "You didn’t make yourself invisible. They chose not to see you."

“You haven’t answered,” Simone asked, her voice even…non-judgemental.

Belle shook her head, pressing the rim of the mug tighter against her palms.

“I don’t know if I want to,” Belle whispered.

Simone leaned forward slightly. “You’re allowed to make that choice, Belle. Access to your life — your heart — isn’t something anyone is automatically entitled to. Not even family.”

Belle blinked hard.

“It feels… wrong,” she admitted. “Like I’m being cruel. But also like… maybe it’s finally protecting myself.”

Simone nodded. “Both can be true.”

They sat with that for a moment, letting the air between them settle.

"I feel like if I open one message, I’ll lose the ground I gained," she whispered. "Like they'll pull me back in before I even realize it."

Simone nodded slowly. "That fear is real. It’s valid. But remember — reading a message doesn’t obligate you to answer. They don’t get to set the terms anymore. You do."

Belle sat with that for a long moment, staring at the phone like it was a bomb she didn't know how to disarm.

"You can read what they have to say," Simone continued gently, "and then decide how much access you want to give them. How much of yourself you want to offer back. Or none at all. But the decision has to come from a place of power — not guilt."

Belle swallowed hard, something inside her cracking open.

"I don’t want to live my life shrinking," she said, so quietly it barely made it into the room.

"You don’t have to," Simone said simply. "You’re allowed to grow bigger than the spaces they built for you."

Belle wiped under her eyes, feeling the tears spill anyway.

"I’m pregnant," she said, almost impulsively, almost defensively — like the words had been trying to claw their way out of her for days.

Simone didn’t react, didn’t widen her eyes or gasp or rush forward.

She just smiled, slow and warm.

"Congratulations," Simone said.

Belle let out a shaky laugh, covering her face for a moment.

"I haven’t told most people yet," she admitted. "It’s... still just mine and Max’s, mostly. But I—"

She broke off, chest tight.

"I don’t want my baby to feel the way I felt," Belle whispered. "Invisible. Like they have to earn love. Like being quiet or not causing trouble makes them easier to keep around."

Simone nodded slowly. "You don’t want them to feel like they have to disappear to be safe."

Belle’s throat closed. That was it. That was everything.

"I want them to know," Belle said, tears slipping freely now. "Every second. That they matter. That they are wanted."

"You can give them that," Simone said gently. "Because you know what it feels like to need it."

Belle hugged her knees tighter to her chest, breathing in slow, ragged pulls.

"I don't know if I can be enough," she whispered.

"You already are," Simone said simply. "You're enough because you see them. The way you should have been seen."

Belle wiped her face roughly with her sleeve, heart pounding painfully against her ribs.

Simone leaned in just a little, voice steady.

"You get to break the cycle," she said. "Not by being perfect. Not by fixing everything. But by loving without conditions."

Belle stared down at her belly, still barely showing under the oversized sweater. A secret, soft and growing.

Not alone anymore.

Not invisible.

Not shrinking to fit someone else's version of worth.

She exhaled shakily.

"I think," Belle said slowly, "I’ll read the messages. Because it’s my choice now."

Simone smiled. "Exactly."

Belle sat back in the chair, letting the silence settle.

For the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel heavy.

It felt like freedom.

***

The cats were asleep — a warm, purring pile on the foot of the bed — and the only sound in the room was the hum of the city beyond the windows and the soft rustle of Max shifting beside her.

Belle sat curled up in the corner of the bed, Max’s hoodie swallowing her whole, the phone clutched in both hands.

She hadn’t wanted to look. Not at the missed calls. Not at the voicemails. Not at the dozens of unread messages blinking like warning lights across every app she had.

But now… Now she read them.

One by one.

Apologies. Explanations. Pleading.

Arthur. Lorenzo. Charles.

And Maman. Always Maman.

Maman:Ma chérie… I didn’t realise. I thought I messaged you, but I sent it to Charles by mistake. That’s not an excuse. You deserved more. Always. Please let me come see you. I miss you.

Belle stared at the words, blinking back the slow, stunned weight building behind her eyes.

Because if her mother had texted Charles that morning — if she had thought about Belle enough to even try — then Charles would have known.

He would have remembered.

There wouldn’t have been blank stares in the Ferrari garage.

There wouldn’t have been celebrations swirling around her while she stood still, invisible.

There would have been a smile.

A hug.

A word.

Anything.

But there hadn’t been.

Because her mother hadn’t texted.

Not her.

And not Charles.

She hadn’t thought about her at all.

Belle felt the first tear slip free before she could stop it. Then another. And another.

Her hands shook as she lowered the phone to her lap.

She pressed her knuckles against her mouth, willing herself to breathe, to hold it together — but the ache was too deep. Too old. It cracked open the quiet places she thought she had stitched shut months ago.

The mattress dipped beside her, and Max’s arms were around her before she could say a word.

No questions. No demands. Just solid, unwavering Max, pulling her into his chest, pressing his chin to the crown of her head, wrapping her up like he could protect her from everything the world had failed to.

Belle buried her face in his hoodie and cried — deep, broken, shuddering sobs that shook her ribs and soaked the cotton between them.

Max held her through all of it. Rocked her gently like she was something precious. Whispered soft, fierce things into her hair — I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere. I love you.

When the tears finally slowed — when Belle could breathe without gasping — she shifted just enough to look up at him.

“She lied to me,” Belle whispered, voice barely above a breath.

Max tensed, not pulling away, but going still — like a storm gathering quietly over open water.

Belle twisted the fabric of his hoodie between her fingers, needing something to hold onto. “My mother. In her messages. She said… she said she thought she had texted me on my birthday. That she checked and realized she sent it to Charles instead.”

Max didn’t say anything.

Not yet.

He just waited.

“But if she had really texted Charles,” Belle said, blinking hard, “then he would have remembered. Wouldn’t he?”

Max’s jaw tightened against her forehead.

“He would have realized when he saw me. He would have known it was my day.”

Belle swallowed thickly. “He would have said something. Anything.”

She felt Max’s hand, slow and careful, run up her spine — like he was grounding himself as much as her.

“They didn’t forget by accident, Max,” she whispered, the crack in her voice slicing the room in half. “They just… didn’t think about me at all. And now she’s lying to make herself feel better. Or maybe to make me not be angry anymore.”

There was a long, vibrating pause.

When Max finally spoke, his voice was low. Dangerous.

“She lied to you." Not angry for himself. Angry for her.

“She lied to your face to protect her own feelings,” he said, tightening his grip around her protectively. “And she didn’t even think about what it would do to you.”

Belle didn’t trust herself to speak.

“She didn’t check,” Max said, every word precise and sharp. “She didn’t text you. She forgot you. And now she wants you to comfort her guilt so she doesn’t have to sit with the truth.”

Belle closed her eyes, tucking herself deeper into his chest.

Max’s voice dropped even lower. Colder. Deadlier.

“They don’t deserve to be the ones to tell you how much you matter, Belle,” he said. “Not when they couldn’t even see you standing right in front of them.”

Belle felt herself break apart a little more — not because of the anger in his voice, but because of the fierce, unyielding love underneath it.

Max pulled back just enough to tip her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“They can lie to themselves all they want,” he said, voice rough. “But you’re not invisible anymore. You never were. You are the most extraordinary thing I’ve ever seen.”

Belle tried to smile but it broke halfway through, another tear slipping free.

Max kissed her — not rushed, not desperate — but slow and sure and reverent.

“I see you,” he murmured against her mouth. “I will always see you.”

Belle clutched his hoodie tighter, feeling the words stitch into the broken places inside her chest.

And when she whispered, “Thank you,” it was the kind of thank you that carried a lifetime of hope she hadn’t known how to say before now.

Max brushed her forehead with his lips, arms still wrapped firmly around her.

***

The apartment was dark except for the soft glow of the city outside the windows, and the faint golden light spilling from the kitchen where Max was making tea.

The cats were already asleep, draped dramatically across the couch like tiny emperors, and Belle sat curled up at the dining table, phone in hand.

Her thumb hovered over the Instagram app for a long time.

She hadn’t posted anything in weeks. Maybe longer. Not since before everything cracked open — before her birthday…

It felt strange, almost dangerous, to think about letting the world see even a piece of her life again. To stop living like she needed to apologize for taking up space.

But she was tired.

She was tired of pretending her life was something to be ashamed of.

She was tired of being invisible.

Of hiding her joy like it was a crime.

She tapped into her camera roll.

The photo was simple. Max had taken it — taken earlier that afternoon, in the warm haze of the stables. Fleur was grazing and Belle’s arm was tucked around her neck, leaning against the warm white fur.

It wasn’t a professional shot.

It wasn’t curated.

It was real.

And for once, Belle didn’t care about anything else.

She clicked ‘post’ before she could talk herself out of it.

Caption:Some things were always meant to find their way back to you.

She stared at it for a moment, heart hammering — not with fear, but with something quieter. Something steadier.

Not everyone would understand.

Most wouldn’t even know what it meant.

But the people who mattered — the ones who knew her, who loved her — they would understand exactly what she was saying.

Max’s voice floated from the kitchen, casual and warm. “You want mint or chamomile?”

Belle smiled softly to herself.

“Mint,” she called back, slipping her phone onto the table, feeling lighter than she had in months.

No more hiding.

No more shrinking.

Her life was hers now.

And she was finally — finally — ready to live it.

***

Instagram Post: @/isabelleleclerc

Comments:

@/charles_leclerc: …From where did you get a horse??

@/arthur_leclerc: ??? SINCE WHEN DO YOU HAVE A HORSE AGAIN???

@/lorenzo_leclerc: Since when are you even riding again??

@/charles_leclerc: Isabelle. Please answer your phone.

@/arthur_leclerc: PLEASE RESPOND.

@/randomfan72: THE WAY SHE JUST DROPPED THIS WITHOUT CONTEXT???

@/f1updates: Isabelle disappearing for a week and then coming back with a horse is the most iconic thing I’ve seen in a while.

@/f1fanpage: Okay, but WHO GAVE HER A HORSE???

@/monacoroyalty: Isabelle casually revealing that she has a whole horse like it’s a new handbag is sending me.

@/gridgossip: He/she’s gorgeous! What’s their name? ↪ @/isabelleleclerc: Fleur ❤️ She’s a 7 year old Selle Francais mare.

@/emilie_abadie: God, Belle, she looks just like Blanche…

↪ @/isabelleleclerc: Like Mother, like Daughter ❤️

@/coralie.g: She looks like your childhood horse…

↪ @/isabelleleclerc: Because she’s her last foal 😭

@/horselover99: Omg did you always plan to start riding again? 🥹 ↪ @/isabelleleclerc: I never stopped wanting to. Just couldn’t afford to for a long time.

@/victorialaps: This is so random but… how did you even find her? ↪ @/isabelleleclerc: I didn’t. She was a gift. Best surprise ever.

@/f1updates: WAIT WAIT WAIT.

@/f1theories: GIFT?? FROM WHO??

***

The tea had just finished steeping when Max’s phone buzzed once. Then again. And again.

He frowned, setting down the mugs. It wasn’t like his phone to light up at midnight unless something dramatic had happened — and judging by the flood of notifications, the world had just decided to catch fire.

But when he flipped it over, his chest tightened in a very different way.

It wasn’t chaos. It wasn’t panic.

It was Belle.

Her name. Her Instagram. A new post.

Max opened it instantly, barely breathing.

The photo was simple, quiet — Fleur leaning into Belle’s hand, golden light painting everything soft around them.

But it wasn’t the picture that hit him hardest.

It was the caption.

some things are always meant to come back to you.

Max stared at the screen, heart thudding slow and heavy in his chest.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t a declaration.

It was a quiet, stubborn reclaiming of everything Belle had once been taught to hide — her dreams, her peace, her self.

And she hadn’t asked permission.

She hadn't needed anyone’s blessing.

She had simply... posted it.

Without apology.

Without explanation.

Max set the phone down, grabbed both mugs carefully, and crossed the living room to where Belle sat curled up at the table, her knees tucked under her, the soft edges of exhaustion lingering around her eyes.

She looked up when she heard him, tentative, like part of her was still braced for criticism she didn’t deserve.

Max didn’t say a word.

He placed the tea down. Then he crouched in front of her, sliding his hands over her knees, resting his forehead gently against hers.

No words. Just this.

Just I'm proud of you.

Belle let out a soft, shaky breath, her hand sliding into his hair, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping her tethered — because sometimes, he was.

“You saw it?” she whispered.

Max smiled against her skin.

“I saw everything,” he murmured. “And I see you, liefde. Always.”

Belle’s breath hitched.

She closed her eyes and let herself believe it — let herself soak in the truth of it without second-guessing.

She wasn’t invisible here.

She was home.

And Max — Max was exactly where he had always promised he would be:

Right here. Always. With her.

***

Leclerc Family Group Chat

(Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles, Lorenzo and Pascale)

Arthur: Shared Isabelle’s Instagram post

Arthur: …So. Uh.

Arthur: When were you guys planning on telling me that Isabelle suddenly has a HORSE?

Charles: SHE HAS A WHAT.

Lorenzo: Excuse me??

Arthur: A horse, Lorenzo. A living, breathing, four-legged animal. You know. Like the one that was sold when she was a teenager.

Charles: No. No way. That’s not possible.

Arthur: Look at the photo. LOOK AT IT.

Charles: It looks exactly like Blanche.

Lorenzo: That’s not possible.

Arthur: AND YET.

Lorenzo: Okay. Okay. Let’s just—think about this logically.

Arthur: Sure. Logically. Isabelle now has a horse that looks IDENTICAL to the one that was sold to pay for Charles' karting?!?!

Arthur: LOGICALLY, how does that make any sense?!

Charles: Who gave her a horse?

Arthur: WHO KNEW SHE STILL WANTED ONE???

Lorenzo: …Clearly, not us.

Pascale: …We should have known.

Arthur: …Maman?

Pascale: We took away something she loved.

Pascale: And then we never gave it back.

Charles: We didn’t have the money.

Pascale: No. But when we did have the money, we put it into restarting Arthur’s karting career.

Arthur: …

Charles: …

Lorenzo: Merde.

Pascale: And we never even considered doing the same for Isabelle.

Pascale: Not once.

Arthur: I—Maman, I didn’t even think—

Pascale: No. None of us did.

Pascale: She cried for weeks when we sold Blanche. And then, one day, she just stopped talking about it.

Pascale: I thought she had let it go.

Charles: She didn’t let it go. She just realized no one was listening.

Pascale: And I, her own mother, let her believe that if it wasn’t about racing, it wasn’t important.

Lorenzo: We all did.

Arthur: We failed her.

Pascale: And yet she still loved us enough to stay.

Pascale: Even when we didn’t see her.

Charles: We need to fix this.

Arthur: Step one: find out who gave her the horse.

Pascale: Step one: apologize.

Arthur: Step two: figure out how we didn’t even KNOW she was riding again.

Lorenzo: When would she have had the time?

Pascale: She found a way. Because we didn’t give her one.

Pascale: Do you know what hurts the most?

Charles: What?

Pascale: That I don’t even know what kind of life she’s been living.

Pascale: What she loves. Where she goes. Who she spends time with.

Pascale: She grew up right in front of me, and I don’t know her at all.

Arthur: …How do we fix this?

Pascale: I don’t know if we can. ****

Meanwhile on Twitter:

@/F1TeaSpillerIsabelle Leclerc just casually dropped a photo of a whole horse on Instagram, and her brothers had NO IDEA she was even riding again. The family drama is writing itself.

↳ @/LandoSimp44: How do you not notice your sister getting into an expensive, time-consuming hobby???

↳ @/FerrariF1Stan: Maybe because they’ve never paid attention to her interests in the first place…??

↳ @/LeclercFanGirl16: Charles and Arthur are spiraling in the comments, Lorenzo is confused, and Isabelle is just out here ignoring them all. QUEEN.

@/F1GossipGirlHold on. Isabelle didn’t just get any horse. If I’m reading this correctly, this foal is from her childhood horse. The one her family SOLD.

↳ @/MaxForPresident33: Oh, so she’s still THAT angry. And honestly? Good for her.

↳ @/RedBullRacingUpdates: The way she’s been quiet for two whole weeks and then dropped a horse like a bombshell?? I need to know who gave it to her.

↳ @/FerrariDramaAccount: Isabelle’s silence has been screaming for a week straight, and now this. The Leclerc brothers are doomed.

@/F1MemeLordLeclerc brothers: "We totally care about our sister." Also the Leclerc brothers: Completely unaware she’s been riding again and now owns a horse.

↳ @/CharlesFanClub: Yeah, Isabelle is 100% still mad. She really said, "You forgot my birthday? Watch this."

↳ @/MonacoMess: Isabelle is SO passive-aggressive and I respect it.

↳ @/HorseGirlFC: I just KNOW she’s been waiting for the perfect moment to drop this. Iconic behavior.

@/F1InsiderTalk: No, but real talk—if her brothers had no idea she was even riding again, that means they haven’t been paying attention to her at all. That’s rough.

↳ @/TifosiQueen: She had a birthday and they forgot. Now she has a whole damn horse and they didn’t even know she still liked horses.

↳ @/MonacoGossip: Isabelle could disappear to another continent, and I swear they wouldn’t notice until someone tagged them in an Instagram post.

↳ @/ArthurFan27: I love Arthur, but the way none of them know anything about her is actually kind of sad.

@/ChaosModeF1I just KNOW Isabelle had this horse for a bit before dropping it like a bomb on Instagram. The drama, the suspense, the Leclerc brothers losing their minds in real time.

↳ @/MaxVerstappenDefenseSquad: The fact that she didn’t post anything about her birthday but came back with a horse tells me everything I need to know.

↳@/FerrariWoes: I feel like this was the final straw moment.

@/RedBullTroll33Okay, but WHO gave her the horse? Because that’s a serious gift.

↳@/ F1ConspiracyClub: If it was Charles or Arthur, they wouldn’t be so confused in the comments. If it was Lorenzo, he wouldn’t be freaking out too.

↳ @/FerrariPain42: Soooo… secret boyfriend? 👀

↳@/F1ShippersAnonymous: If this turns out to be a soft launch, I WILL lose my mind.

@/MonacoRoyaltyI don’t know who gave Isabelle Leclerc a horse, but I do know that person knows her better than her own family does.

↳ @/FerrariNation: …Damn. That’s actually heartbreaking when you put it like that.

↳ @/IsabelleLeclercDefenseSquad: She really just had to go out and find people who see her, huh?

↳ @/WhoGaveHerAHorse33: Someone get me the details. NOW.

@/F1ChaosModeThe funniest part of this is that Isabelle still hasn’t responded to any of her brothers. Just posted her horse and dipped.

↳ @/LeclercFamilyUpdates: The sheer level of pettiness. I love her.

↳ @/TifosiHeartbreak: Isabelle really said you forgot me, so now I’m forgetting you.

↳ @/FerrariShambles: I want a documentary about the exact moment Charles realized they were bad brothers.

@/F1SpicyTeaI know we’re all laughing, but this actually makes me so sad for Isabelle. Imagine your whole family forgetting your birthday, ignoring you for years, and then being SHOCKED when you move on with your life.

↳ @/MonacoMess: They didn’t even know she still loved horses.

↳ @/FerrariF1Pain: The worst part? She didn’t even make a dramatic callout post about her birthday. She just let their silence speak for itself.

↳ @/TifosiAngstClub: She is the human embodiment of "I no longer expect anything from you."

@/F1ConspiracyClubIsabelle didn’t just buy this horse. Somebody gave it to her, according to her. Whoever they are, they know her better than her entire family.

↳ @/SoftLaunchDetective: If this is a secret boyfriend reveal, it’s the most dramatic and poetic one I’ve ever seen.

@/MonacoRoyalty: Isabelle Leclerc is the queen of quiet revenge. No loud callouts. No arguments. Just a perfectly timed Instagram post that says everything.

↳ @/FerrariTears: And the best part? Her brothers are LOSING IT in the comments.

↳ @/ArthurLeclercDefenseSquad: Arthur is panicking like she’s about to disappear forever.

↳ @/CharlesHasNoClue: Charles sounds like he’s five seconds away from personally investigating who gave her the horse.

↳ @/TifosiDetectives: The thing is, they should know. But they don’t.

@/TifosiMess: So let me get this straight:

Isabelle’s family forgot her birthday.

She disappeared for two weeks.

Charles finally remembers that he has a sister.

Isabelle comes back with a horse.

Drops it on Instagram like it’s a casual Tuesday.

Her brothers have no idea where it came from.

I am obsessed with this timeline.

↳ @/FerrariAngst: I’m still stuck on "they didn’t even know she was riding again."

↳ @/CharlesNeedsHelp: The way they suddenly care now that it’s public.

@/F1SoftLaunchDetective: I’ll say it. Whoever gave her the horse loves her more than her own family does.

↳ @/FerrariHeartbreak: And that’s why the Leclerc brothers are panicking.

↳ @/RedBullInsider: Just waiting for the next phase of this drama. I know something bigger is coming.

↳ @/TifosiConspiracies: I have a gut feeling that when we find out who got her the horse, the internet will EXPLODE.

***

Text Messages: Arthur Leclerc & Belle Verstappen

Arthur: I don’t really know how to start this.

Arthur: But I guess the first thing I need to say is—I’m sorry.

Arthur: I keep thinking about when I had to stop karting. How devastated I was. How unfair it felt.

Arthur: You know, when I was younger, I used to think we were the same.

Arthur: We both lost something for Charles. We both had to step aside.

Arthur: But the difference is, I got my second chance.

Arthur: And you never did.

Arthur: They gave me my dream back. But nobody ever thought to give you yours.

Arthur: And the worst part is, I never even thought about it.

Arthur: I was so focused on getting my own dream back that I never stopped to ask if you wanted yours.

Arthur: Or if you were even okay.

Arthur: I remember when they sold Blanche. You locked yourself in your room for days. Maman kept saying you’d get over it.

Arthur: But you never did, did you?

Arthur: I should have noticed. I should have asked.

Arthur: I should have known that you never stopped loving it. That you never moved on just because we assumed you did.

Arthur: But we never gave you a choice, did we?

Arthur: You were always the one who had to sacrifice something. You were always the one who had to step aside.

Arthur: And I never even thought about how much that must have hurt.

Arthur: I let myself believe you were fine because it was easier than realizing we left you behind.

Arthur: When I saw that horse, I thought my heart stopped. She looks just like Blanche.

Arthur: I had to read your post three times before it sank in. That you never let go of that part of yourself. That you found your way back.

Arthur: And none of us even knew.

Arthur: I don’t know where to start making this right. I don’t know if I even can.

Arthur: I don’t expect you to answer me. I don’t even know if I deserve an answer.

Arthur: But Isabelle, if there is even the smallest chance that I can fix this, that I can fix us—

Arthur: Tell me how. And I’ll do it.

Arthur: No hesitation. No questions asked.

Arthur: Je suis désolé, petite sœur.

Arthur: And I miss you.

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

Lando: (sends screenshots) Belle is choosing violence.

Carlos: She posted Fleur 😭

Alex: Softest betrayal ever. I’m crying.

Sebastian: That's not just any horse. That’s the horse.

Zhou: WAIT??? THAT'S THE FOAL FROM HER CHILDHOOD HORSE??

Fernando: The symbolism is destroying me. Quiet vengeance at its finest.

David: Imagine getting obliterated by your sister posting a horse.

Lance: Charles is about to have another breakdown isn’t he

Oscar: He’s already melting down in her comments.

Logan: WHO GAVE HER THE HORSE THOUGH

George: who do you THINK

Nico Hülkenberg: lol max the softest secret husband in existence

Daniel: max is so whipped it's beautiful

Lewis: He literally said “my wife wants to visit her horse” the other day with the softest voice known to man

Kimi: Good. Someone should love her properly.

Lando: the LECLERC BROTHERS are LOSING IT

Oscar: literally fighting for their lives in the comments while Belle is posting like nothing happened 😂

Fernando: This is what true passive-aggressive excellence looks like. I’m so proud.

Valtteri: horse girl revenge >>> everything

Zhou: also can we talk about how she hasn’t answered a SINGLE one of them

George: Do you think Charles is gonna figure it out soon??

Carlos: absolutely not.

Oscar: he's gonna lose his mind when he finds out Max bought her the horse

Daniel: WAIT TILL HE FINDS OUT THEY'RE MARRIED LMAOOOO

Lando: oh my god he still doesn't know

Lewis: beautiful chaos.

Alex: 10/10 no notes

Oscar: Honestly Belle just won the soft war without even lifting a finger.

Daniel: She dropped a horse and bounced. ICON.

George: Meanwhile Charles is running around Monaco like a headless chicken.

Carlos: good. he deserves to sit with this.

Fernando: actions have consequences. and sometimes those consequences come with four legs and a braided mane.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter:

@/coraliegaudin: I don’t think people really get how much Isabelle Leclerc sacrificed. I knew her at university, and she was one of the smartest, hardest-working people I’ve ever met. But she never seemed happy. A thread.

↳ @/coraliegaudin: She wasn’t the type to talk about herself. She showed up, did the work, and left. No parties, no celebrations, nothing. Just school and her jobs.

↳@/coraliegaudin: And she always had jobs. She tutored, did internships, and worked at a stable. Yes, a stable.

↳@/coraliegaudin: I remember seeing her come to class still smelling like hay, her hands rough from work. And the thing is? That was the only time she ever looked truly alive.

↳@/coraliegaudin: She never told people why, but I found out later—her family sold her childhood horse when she was a teenager.

↳@/coraliegaudin: She didn’t ask them to fix it. She didn’t ask for help. She just worked. Worked herself into the ground to afford even a few hours of riding time.

↳@/coraliegaudin: I remember once, someone asked her why she never celebrated her grades. She just said, “It’s not that important.”

↳@/coraliegaudin: Not that important. Graduating with top honors. Getting a degree. None of it mattered to her. Because all she ever wanted was something she lost years ago.

↳@/coraliegaudin: And now, she has a horse again. Not just any horse—the foal of the one she lost.

↳@/coraliegaudin: I don’t think people understand how huge that is. This isn’t just a gift. It’s her entire dream given back to her.

↳@/coraliegaudin: She spent years giving up things for other people. But someone finally gave something back to her.

↳@/coraliegaudin: If anyone deserves that kind of love and thoughtfulness, it’s Isabelle Leclerc. I hope she’s finally as happy as she always deserved to be.

***

Text Messages: Lorenzo Leclerc & Belle Verstappen

Lorenzo: Isabelle.

Lorenzo: I know you probably don’t want to hear from me.

Lorenzo: But I need to say this.

Lorenzo: I’m sorry.

Lorenzo: I don’t know how we forgot your birthday. I don’t know how we’ve made you feel so invisible.

Lorenzo: But we did. And I hate that it took this for me to realize how badly we’ve failed you.

Lorenzo: You’ve been riding again. I didn’t know. And that’s the problem, isn’t it?

Lorenzo: I should have. I should have asked. I should have paid more attention.

Lorenzo: But I didn’t.

Lorenzo: I should have asked what you were up to. I should have…I should have known that you were riding again. And that you moved. And that you quit your job. But I didn’t.

Lorenzo: I just assumed you were fine, even when you had every reason not to be.

Lorenzo: I don’t expect you to answer.

Lorenzo: I just need you to know—I see it now. I see you now.

Lorenzo: And I will spend however long it takes making sure you never feel forgotten again.

Lorenzo: I love you, Isabelle.

Lorenzo: Whenever you’re ready.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter:

@/Clara_Marelli: So I wasn’t going to say anything, but seeing all the speculation about Isabelle Leclerc and her new horse? I need people to understand why this is such a big deal. Because I knew her back when she lost her first horse, and let me tell you—it broke her.

↳@/Clara_Marelli: Isabelle wasn’t just a horse girl, she was the horse girl. You know how some kids live and breathe a sport? That was her with riding. It wasn’t just a hobby, it was everything.

↳@/Clara_Marelli: She used to come to school with hay in her hair because she’d wake up early to ride before class. She had riding gloves permanently stuffed in her pockets. She sketched horses in the margins of her notebooks. It was who she was.

↳@/Clara_Marelli: And then one day, she stopped.

↳@/Clara_Marelli: We were all confused. She never shut up about riding, and suddenly, she wouldn’t even mention it. If you asked about her horse, she’d just give this tight little smile and say, “She’s gone.” No explanation. No emotion. Just… gone.

↳@/Clara_Marelli: We only found out later that her family sold her horse to help fund Charles’ racing career. And look—I get it, racing is insanely expensive, and the Leclercs aren’t the first family to make sacrifices for motorsport. But this wasn’t just some hobby she could pick up again later.

↳@/Clara_Marelli: This was the thing that made her happiest, and it was ripped away from her.

↳@/Clara_Marelli: And what made it worse? She never complained. Not once. She just swallowed it, like she had already learned that what she wanted didn’t matter.

↳@/Clara_Marelli: After that, she changed. She got quieter. She stopped sketching horses. She stopped talking about anything she loved, really. It was like she decided—consciously or not—that if she didn’t care about things, they couldn’t be taken from her.

↳@/Clara_Marelli: And now, years later, she suddenly posts that she has a horse again. And her own brothers didn’t even know she was riding.

↳@/Clara_Marelli: That tells me everything. It tells me that she never stopped missing it. That, at some point, she must have started riding again, but she kept it completely to herself. She didn’t tell her family. She didn’t trust them with it.

↳@/Clara_Marelli: And honestly? That makes me so, so sad. Because they should’ve been the first to know. They should’ve noticed that she was still hurting.

↳@/Clara_Marelli: Instead, she had to find her way back to something she loved on her own.

↳@/Clara_Marelli: Whoever got her that horse—because let’s be real, this wasn’t a random purchase—they didn’t just give her a gift. They gave her back a part of herself. And that means more than her family probably even realizes.

@/F1Girl99: This is actually so heartbreaking. The way she just shut down after losing her horse?? And her family didn’t even realize??

@/LeclercNation: Nah, this makes the whole thing so much worse. Like, it’s one thing to forget her birthday, but not even knowing she still rides??

@/redbullgirly: “She didn’t trust them with it” is actually such a devastating sentence. Imagine having to hide the thing that makes you happiest because you know your family won’t care.

↳@/arthurfairy: The fact that she got a horse again but didn’t tell a single soul in her family tells me everything I need to know about how much that hurt her.

@/gridgossip: Everyone’s talking about how sad this is, but can we also talk about who got her that horse? Because that’s not a small gift. That’s a “someone knows exactly what you lost and wanted to give it back” kind of gift.

@/tifositilidie: Imagine being Charles or Arthur and realizing you never even thought about getting her back into riding.

↳@/ohmyf1: The fact that they restarted Arthur’s karting career but didn’t do the same for Isabelle and just assumed she got over it… yeah, that’s rough.

@/chaoticquadrant: Isabelle’s silence about all of this is louder than anything she could’ve said.

@/pitlaneprincess: The fact that a random classmate knows more about Isabelle’s pain than her own family is WILD.

@/verstapwinning: I actually can’t get over the part where she just stopped talking about things she loved after they sold her horse. That’s not just sadness, that’s trauma.

@/softforcharles: I love Charles, but the way they all just assumed she was fine… like, did no one ever ask her if she wanted to ride again??

↳@/F1andChill: I’m just saying—if my sibling was secretly riding again and I found out from Instagram, I would simply pass away from shame.

@/IsabelleLeclercFan: The worst part? She didn’t even announce it like “Look what I got!” She just posted it, like it was a casual thing. That’s how you know it meant everything to her.

@/formula1tea: Okay, but do we think her family even realizes what this means yet?? Or are they still stuck on the “Wait, she rides?” stage?

@/offtrackchaos: Imagine Charles thinking she just outgrew the horse phase, only to find out she’s been hiding it from them for years.

@/arthurisstressed: Arthur’s probably having a full-blown crisis over this. You just know he’s the type to blame himself.

@/MaranelloMess: Isabelle’s whole family right now: “Wait… are we the villains?”

↳@/tifosiprincess: Yes. Yes, you are.

@/undercutf1: Like imagine realizing your sister got back into her childhood passion, something that was taken from her, and you had no idea. No one knew. That’s insane.

@/arthurwasfoundshaking: Arthur realizing he got his dream back but she never did… oh, he’s spiraling.

@/paddocksecrets: Her whole family just realized in real time that they don’t actually know her anymore.

@/charlesnation16: Charles must be freaking out because, in his head, Isabelle never even mentioned wanting to ride again. But the reality is she probably knew they wouldn’t care, so she never said anything.

@/leclercsdaughter: Imagine looking at your sister’s post and realizing someone else—not you, not your family—gave her back the thing you all took away.

@/mclarendreaming: The fact that there was ZERO lead-up. No hints. No casual mentions. Just BAM, full horse.

@/paddockwhispers: At this point, someone needs to check on the Leclerc group chat. I know they are LOSING IT.

@/padlockpundit: Someone said this isn’t just a gift, it’s an apology on behalf of the universe, and honestly?? Yeah.

@/blisteringbarnacles: I can’t tell what’s funnier—Twitter solving this mystery in real-time or the fact that Isabelle is probably watching all of this unfold while sipping tea.

@/hamiltonshalo: Someone find out how much horses cost because I need to understand just how deep this gift goes.

@/GridTea: Sorry, but how do you have a sibling making millions in F1, and you’re out here working three jobs and shoveling horse stalls just to afford riding lessons?? I need someone to make it make sense.

@/F1DramaFiles: So Charles was making Ferrari money and Isabelle was out here grinding like a broke college student?? He couldn’t spare a little “my sister should live like a human being” fund???

@/OverworkedLeclerc: She was out here studying, working multiple jobs, AND still showing up to races when she could. Meanwhile, her whole family forgot her birthday. I would simply cut everyone off.

@/HorseGirlAnon: Do you know how EXPENSIVE equestrian sports are? And she worked her own way back into it with no support? That’s insane. She deserved so much better.

@/TifosiMess: Charles in every interview: “Family is everything.”Meanwhile Isabelle: was forgotten at every major milestone in her life.

@/F1Receipts: It’s also the fact that Isabelle has never once publicly complained about it. No bitter comments, no shade—she just put her head down and worked. Meanwhile, Charles was out here with a whole family support system hyping him up.

@/F1Overthinker: Not to be dramatic, but if I were Charles, Arthur, or Lorenzo, I would simply never recover from the public dragging happening right now.

@/F1TeaSpiller:

Charles: “I’m so grateful to my family for supporting me.”

Isabelle: literally working at a horse stable just to be around them again.

@/JusticeForIsabelle: Nah, the fact that she was grinding through multiple jobs while Charles was out here buying sports cars, yachts, and luxury vacations is actually making me sick.

@/MonacoMess: Me reading Isabelle’s old interviews where she barely mentions herself and only hypes up her brothers, knowing now they weren’t doing the same for her: [GIF: "This is so much worse than I thought."]

***

Text Messages: Pascale Leclerc & Belle Verstappen

Pascale: Ma chérie, please talk to me.

Pascale: I saw your post. The horse… she looks just like Blanche.

Pascale: I didn’t know you were still riding.

Pascale: I should have known.

Pascale: I should have asked.

Pascale: I don’t have the words to tell you how sorry I am.

Pascale: When we sold Blanche, I told myself you would be okay. That you were strong. That you would move on.

Pascale: But that was just me making excuses. I should have fought harder for you.

Pascale: And then when we had the chance to give you back what you lost… we didn’t even think to.

Pascale: Isabelle, please. Say something.

Pascale: Ma fille, I know I don’t deserve an answer right now.

Pascale: I love you. So, so much. ***

Text Messages: Sebastian Vettel & Charles Leclerc

Sebastian: Charles. Saw Belle’s post. Wanted to check in.

Charles: I’m fine.

Sebastian: You’re not. And that’s okay. But pretending doesn’t help.

Charles: It’s just— She has a horse, Seb. A whole horse. And she never told any of us.

Sebastian: Maybe you weren’t listening.

Charles: I WOULD HAVE REMEMBERED A HORSE.

Sebastian: Would you? You didn’t remember her birthday. You didn’t notice she moved out. You didn’t notice she left her job. What makes you think you would have noticed a horse?

Charles: It’s a HORSE, Seb! Not a haircut!

Sebastian: It’s not about the horse. It’s about what the horse represents. Freedom. Love. A piece of herself you never asked about. Or thought to give back.

Charles: It feels like she lied to us.

Sebastian: She didn’t lie. She protected herself. There’s a difference.

Charles: She didn’t even give us a chance to fix it.

Sebastian: Charles. You don't get to demand trust from someone you ignored. Trust is built. It’s not owed.

Charles: I just— I thought she was okay.

Sebastian: Because it was easier to think that than to ask.

Charles: She posted a horse, Seb. A HORSE. HOW LONG HAS SHE BEEN HIDING A HORSE??

Sebastian: (typing) (long pause) Charles. Focus. It’s not about the horse.

Charles: IT’S A LITTLE ABOUT THE HORSE.

Sebastian: Focus.

Charles: I’m trying.

Sebastian: Try harder. She deserves better.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter:

@/F1TeaSpiller: Okay, so if you’re confused about why Isabelle Leclerc’s new horse is causing a meltdown, buckle up, because this is some Shakespearean family drama.

↳@/F1TeaSpiller: Basically, years ago, when Charles was climbing the motorsport ranks, the Leclerc family didn’t have the money to support all three kids in racing. Arthur had to stop karting, and Isabelle—who was really into horseback riding—had her horse sold to fund Charles’ career.

↳@/F1TeaSpiller: Yes. You read that correctly. They sold her childhood horse to support Charles.

↳@/F1TeaSpiller: Now, obviously, funding a motorsport career is insanely expensive, and a lot of families make sacrifices. But imagine being a teenager, loving your horse, and then one day—boom. Gone.

↳@/F1TeaSpiller: What makes it worse? Unlike Arthur, who eventually got the chance to restart his racing career, Isabelle never got that opportunity with riding. The family focused on Charles and never revisited her dreams.

↳@/F1TeaSpiller: Fast forward to now, and Isabelle just casually drops on Instagram that she owns a horse again—and it looks eerily similar to the one they sold.

↳@/F1TeaSpiller: Her brothers (Charles, Arthur, Lorenzo) all freaked out in the comments because they clearly had no idea she was even riding again, let alone that she had bought a horse.

↳@/F1TeaSpiller: And this is where it gets messy. Because it means:

They never asked about her interests.

They had no clue she had started riding again.

They didn’t even know where she was living.

She never told them about any of this—which, like… speaks volumes.

↳@/F1TeaSpiller: Anyway, people are connecting the dots and realizing Isabelle has probably been pulling away from her family for a while, and they just… didn’t notice.

↳@/F1TeaSpiller: Because let’s be real—how do you forget your sister’s birthday, AND not know she got back into the thing she loved most as a kid??

↳@/F1TeaSpiller: TL;DR: The Leclerc brothers are in big trouble right now.

↳@/F1TeaSpiller: Oh, and the final kicker? Isabelle agreed in the comments that the horse was a gift. The way Isabelle phrased her post—“some things will always come back to you”—makes it sound like this horse is directly connected to the one she lost. Apparently it was her childhood’s horse last foal.

↳@/F1TeaSpiller: If that’s true? Then someone—who is not her family—went out of their way to find a descendant of her old horse and give her back a piece of what she lost.

↳@/F1TeaSpiller: And I have questions.

↳@/F1TeaSpiller: Because if her own family didn’t do this… who did?

***

The restaurant buzzed with quiet conversation and clinking silverware, candlelight glinting off polished glasses. It should have been relaxing — a rare, normal night in Monaco, tucked into a corner booth with Alexandra, sipping wine and trying to pretend that everything wasn’t on fire.

It wasn’t working.

Charles could barely focus on anything she was saying. His mind kept looping back to Belle’s Instagram post.

A horse. A goddamn horse.

Captioned cryptically, like some kind of soft dagger straight into his already-shredded guilt.

He hadn’t even known she still rode. He hadn’t known she had a horse.

What else didn’t he know? What else had he missed while he was busy pretending everything was fine?

He stabbed his fork into his salad with unnecessary violence.

Alexandra reached across the table, covering his hand. “Eat. You’re spiraling.”

Charles muttered something about not being hungry, but then — movement over Alexandra’s shoulder caught his eye.

He straightened immediately.

Across the room, near the outdoor terrace, sat two very familiar figures.

Emilie Abadie. And Lando Norris?!

Together. Laughing.

Leaning in too close over a shared plate of something fried.

It didn’t look like a casual meeting.

It looked like a date.

Charles’s blood pressure spiked instantly.

Because if Emilie was here — and laughing — that meant Belle wasn’t spiraling alone somewhere. Or worse — she wasn’t telling Emilie to tell him anything.

He shot up from his seat before Alexandra could stop him.

"Charles," she hissed, trying to grab his sleeve. "Sit down!"

But he was already marching across the restaurant, half-blinded by panic, guilt, and the deep, bone-deep need to do something.

Emilie spotted him halfway across the room. Her smile dropped like a rock into the ocean.

"Emilie," he said, voice tight. "We need to talk. About Belle."

Emilie set her wineglass down with infuriating calm.

"I’m having dinner," she said coolly. "Sit down or leave."

Charles didn’t sit. He couldn’t. The panic was a living thing inside him.

“She posted a horse,” he said, almost accusingly. “A horse! She never said anything! She’s still not answering me. You’ve seen her. You know. Why won’t you just—just tell me what’s going on?!”

For a second, Emilie just stared at him.

Then — like a blade sliding out of a sheath — her smile disappeared.

"You think you're owed answers now?" she asked, voice so sharp Charles actually leaned back a fraction. "After months of ignoring every warning sign? After standing in the same garage with her and looking through her like she wasn’t even real?"

Charles’s throat worked, but no sound came out.

"You want to know why she’s not answering you?" Emilie went on, soft and lethal. "Because you only want her when it's convenient. When it fits your schedule. When it doesn't mess up the perfect story you tell yourself about your family."

“Emilie—”

"No," she cut across him, fierce and furious. "You don’t get to interrupt. You didn’t text her. You didn’t notice she moved. You didn’t notice she quit her job. You didn’t notice when she smiled through being forgotten on the day that should have been about her."

Charles flinched like she’d slapped him.

"You forgot her birthday," Emilie said, each word a scalpel slicing down to bone. "And you think a few panicked phone calls are enough to fix that?"

He opened his mouth. Closed it.

"You don't love Belle the way you should," Emilie said, voice low, devastating. "You love the idea of her. The safe, quiet little sister who never asks for anything. Who never demands too much. Who lets you shine without ever threatening your light."

Charles stared at her, feeling hollowed out, feeling cracked open.

"You didn't see her when she needed you," Emilie said. "And now you don't deserve to see her at all — not until she says you can."

Beside her, Lando sat perfectly still, wide-eyed — half in awe, half in something dangerously close to admiration.

Charles shook his head, trying to hold onto something, anything.

“I just want to make it right—”

"Then start by not making it about you," Emilie snapped. "Start by realizing that sometimes you don’t get to be the hero of the story you broke."

Charles felt like the floor had dropped out from under him.

For a long moment, the restaurant spun around him — laughter, silverware, clinking glasses — but all he could hear was Emilie’s voice, merciless and true.

And he knew, in some terrible, undeniable way, that she was right.

He wasn’t the center of Belle’s story anymore.

He wasn’t even a footnote.

He had made himself a ghost in her life, and now he was furious that he couldn’t haunt it.

Emilie leaned back in her chair, perfectly calm now, like she hadn’t just torn him apart at the seams.

"Now," she said, reaching for her wine again, "go back to your table. Apologize to Alexandra. And maybe — if you’re lucky — figure out how to be someone your sister actually wants to let back in."

Charles didn’t say anything. He couldn’t.

He turned away on shaking legs, retreating across the restaurant under the weight of his own failure.

***

Text Messages: Charles Leclerc & Belle Verstappen

Charles: Isabelle.

Charles: I know you probably don’t want to hear from me. I get it. I’m still going to say this anyway.

Charles: I was fifteen when they sold Blanche. I knew how much she meant to you. I knew how much it would break your heart.

Charles: And I still let it happen. I told myself it wasn’t my decision. That it was out of my hands. That it was for the greater good.

Charles: But that’s not the truth. The truth is, I was selfish. I was scared. I was so focused on keeping my own dream alive that I let them take yours away.

Charles: I didn’t fight for you. I didn’t even try.

Charles: I keep thinking about that day. The way you looked at them. At me. Like you finally understood that nothing you said was ever going to change it. And still, I stayed quiet. I just let it happen.

Charles: You didn’t scream. You didn’t cry. You just… disappeared inside yourself. And we all pretended it would get better on its own.

Charles: It didn’t.

Charles: When Arthur got his second chance years later, we celebrated. But we never once thought about giving you yours. We just assumed you had "moved on."

Charles: I see now how wrong that was. You didn’t move on. You just learned how to survive being left behind.

Charles: And then we forgot your birthday. You were standing right there. Wearing Ferrari red. Smiling at me. And I still didn’t see you.

Charles: I keep asking myself how many times we made you feel invisible without even realizing it.

Charles: I don’t blame you for shutting us out. I don’t blame you for walking away. You deserved better than what we gave you.

Charles: And I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.

Charles: I don’t know how to fix this. Maybe I can’t.

Charles: But I want to try. If you’ll let me.

Charles: If you need space, I’ll give you space. If you need time, I’ll wait. If you never want to speak to me again, I’ll understand.

Charles: But if there’s any chance at all—any way to rebuild even a fraction of what we broke— I’ll do whatever it takes.

Charles: No excuses. No conditions. No timeline.

Charles: I’ll wait as long as you need. I’ll listen as long as it takes.

Charles: You mattered then. You matter now. You always have. Even when we were too blind to see it.

Charles: I love you. I’m so sorry I ever made you doubt that.

1K notes · View notes

artficlly · 3 days ago

Text

read between the lines [one-shot]

college marvel au frat!jock!bucky x cheerleader!reader tutoring bucky barnes was already distracting enough, but leaving your diary in his room? that is a whole new problem.

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, tutoring, first kiss, college au, vague panic from reader, idk it's just kinda fun and cute :), no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: hi this was for a request! so so cute, i wrote this so fast i didn't even think i would have it ready to post so quickly. idk anything about cheerleading or how college works in america, so forgive me. inspired by that willow song! sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

I’ve been tutoring Bucky.

Well, James, technically. But he goes by Bucky. Says it’s a childhood nickname and it just stuck, and honestly? That’s kind of adorable. Like, who clings to a nickname that hard? Even the professors call him that, which should be cringe, but somehow it’s not? It just suits him. I literally don’t think I could call him James even if I tried. ‘Bucky’ feels right. It sounds warm. Familiar. Stupidly charming.

Ugh. Anyway.

He’s in one of those frats I usually stay far away from. The kind that smells like cheap beer and Axe body spray. Always yelling, always playing music way too loud, always shirtless for no reason. I swore I’d never waste my time on a guy like that. I really thought he was gonna be a cocky, arrogant douche when I first got assigned to tutor him.

But he’s not. Like… at all?

He’s actually really nice. Like, unfairly nice. That casual kind of nice that makes you forget you’re supposed to be annoyed. He remembers stuff I say. Not the big stuff, the tiny stuff. Like how I chew my pen when I’m stressed, or how I like lemon Gatorade for cheerleading practice. And yesterday he brought me those sour gummy worms I mentioned ONE time. Just handed them over all casual like, ‘Thought you might want a little sugar after practice.’ Who does that?? Like… stop. That’s not fair.

But of course, he’s like that with everyone. That’s the worst part. He’s charming in this totally effortless way. Looks at you like you’re the most interesting person alive and then turns around and does the exact same thing to someone else. How am I supposed to know what’s real?

And GOD. He’s hot. Like, it’s actually rude. He laughs and it does something to me. Like full-on makes my brain stop working. And his ARMS?? Every time he pushes his sleeves up to his elbows I lose one year off my life. For real. It’s like he’s doing it on purpose. (I mean, he’s not, but like… what if he is???) Sometimes I forget what I’m even explaining because he’s just sitting there smiling at me with those eyes and that stupid little smirk and suddenly I’m thinking about kissing him instead of confidence intervals. It’s not okay.

He’s on the football team. Scholarship guy. Big deal. Girls are obsessed with him. I’ve literally heard people talk about him in the locker room like he’s a celebrity. And me? I’m just… I don’t know. I’m me. I cheer and I study and I try not to let my GPA fall apart and I pretend I’m not crushing on someone completely out of my league.

So no. I’m not gonna say anything.

Because maybe I did catch him looking at me the other day when I tied my hair up. Maybe he does stay a little longer when we’re done. Maybe he leans in a little closer than necessary. But maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe I want it too bad and I’m just reading into everything. I don’t want to be that girl. I don’t want to get hurt.

So I’m gonna do what I’m supposed to do. Help him pass stats. Smile when he brings me candy. Laugh at his dumb jokes. Pretend like my heart doesn’t skip a beat every time he says my name.

I’m just going to help him pass stats. That’s all this is. Right? God, I’m so dumb.

—

You were fucked. Well and truly screwed.

You couldn’t even focus during practice. Missed counts, off-beat claps, a completely botched dismount that nearly took you and the poor girl spotting you both out in one go. Natasha pulled you aside with that look—the one that said she was two seconds away from losing it—and muttered something about getting your shit together because the big game was in a week and this wasn’t the time to be spacing out.

But how were you supposed to focus? Your diary was missing.

Your actual, physical, spiral-bound diary filled with every unfiltered thought you’d been too scared to say out loud. The same one where you’d spent the last four pages gushing about Bucky freaking Barnes like some sad, delusional teenage cliché. You didn’t even want to think about what you wrote last night, something about his arms and the way he smiles and how you swore he looked at you differently when you tied your hair up. It was humiliating.

You never should’ve taken it out of your room. You knew it was a bad idea. But Yelena had been on one of her ‘I’m bored and nosy’ benders, and the last time you left anything out, she’d read your old poetry journal and quoted it back to you at breakfast. You weren’t about to risk that again. So, like a total idiot, you shoved your diary in your bag before heading to class, thinking you’d keep it safe with you.

The entire day had been chaos. You barely managed to scarf down lunch between lectures, and by the time your 3 p.m. class let out, you were already sprinting across campus to make it to Bucky’s place for tutoring. Not that you actually got much tutoring done. You never did, not when he looked at you with that stupid, easy grin, or leaned back in his chair like he owned the air around him. One second you were going over statistical formulas, and the next you were talking about childhood pets and favourite movies, laughing like you hadn’t just been drowning in assignments ten minutes earlier. Time always slipped away around him. You ended up bolting to cheer practice.

It wasn’t until hours later, back in your dorm with your bag dumped upside down on the floor, that you realised your diary was missing. Your diary.

You’d spent a solid hour panicking, then a full thirty minutes rummaging through the lost and found at the campus security office, practically elbow-deep in a box of mismatched gloves and cracked phone cases. The guy behind the desk eventually looked up from his screen, where he was rather obviously playing solitaire, and told you with the energy of someone who very much did not care that maybe it hadn’t been handed in.

You wanted to scream.

Now your most personal, most mortifying thoughts were just out there. Floating around. God only knew where or with who. And sure, maybe whoever found it wouldn’t read it. Maybe they’d be a decent human being and just turn it in without flipping through. But let’s be honest, if you found a diary with someone’s deepest secrets in it, you’d probably peek too.

You were going to be sick. Actually sick. And not because Natasha had you running suicides again like she was training you for the NFL, but because your life might genuinely be over. Because if he found it? What if you left it in his room? What if Bucky read even one word of what you wrote?

You didn’t even want to finish that thought.

No, you literally couldn’t even finish that thought because, as Natasha finally called for the end of the session and the team began their warm-down stretches, swapping tired smiles and gulping down water, you saw him.

Bucky.

Standing at the edge of the field in that stupid grey hoodie, sleeves pushed up, all smug and handsome like he hadn’t just shown up to ruin your entire existence. He had that lazy, charming smile on his face, the one that made people trust him too fast, the one that made you trust him too fast, and in his hand?

Glittery blue cover. Spiral binding. Your diary.

You were going to throw up. No, genuinely, you could feel your stomach lurch. This was it. This was how you died. Not in a blaze of glory or during a botched basket toss, but here, sweaty, humiliated, and on the verge of a nervous breakdown in the middle of the goddamn football field.

You didn’t even think. You just stormed over before anyone else could notice, grabbing his arm and dragging him behind the bleachers like it was a crime scene. Which it kind of was. A crime against your dignity.

Bucky didn’t protest. He followed easily, letting you pull him along like it was some sort of game. Of course he did. And of course, he was smiling the whole time, like you hadn’t just gone into cardiac arrest ten feet away.

Your heart was pounding so hard you could barely speak. It rattled in your chest like a warning, like it knew this moment was about to go down in your personal hall of shame.

“Where…how…why do you have that?” you hissed, snatching at the diary, but he held it just out of reach, still annoyingly calm.

He raised a brow, like you’d just asked him what two plus two was. “You left it at my place. After tutoring. You were in a rush, remember?”

No. No, no, no, no, no. Of course, it had been his place. Of course.

“I—I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t thinking, I just—” You were spiralling, words tumbling out too fast, too breathless, and your fingers were twitching like you might just snatch the book and sprint across campus. “Did you…Did you read it?”

A beat. He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you.

And then, God, he smiled. Not the cocky one, not the football-star grin. This one was softer. Slower. Dangerous.

Your stomach dropped.

“I read enough,” he said.

You froze.

Your ears rang. Your mouth went dry. Your body just stopped.

“Enough?” you echoed, voice cracking halfway through. “Enough of what? Enough to—oh my God.”

You turned away instinctively, hand over your mouth like that could somehow keep your soul from escaping your body. Because what did that mean? What was ‘enough?’ Enough to ruin your life? Enough to laugh about it with his frat brothers? Enough to tell every girl on campus that the cheerleader who couldn’t even stick a full-out had a crush on him?

You didn’t even realise you were pacing until Bucky gently caught your wrist.

“Hey. Relax,” he said, and his voice was way too steady for someone holding the social equivalent of a loaded weapon.

You yanked your arm back like his touch burned. “Relax? Bucky, that was private. It’s literally a diary! It’s not for reading, it's for… spiralling in silence!”

He tilted his head a little, watching you carefully, and if he was offended by your panic, he didn’t show it. “You left it on my bed. Open.”

You groaned and covered your face with both hands. “Please. Just kill me. Right here. Hide the body under the bleachers. I’m serious.”

Bucky chuckled—chuckled, like this was some kind of joke—and stepped closer. You could feel his presence even before you lowered your hands again.

“Why didn’t you just say something?” he asked, quiet now. “If you felt that way.”

Your eyes snapped to his. “Because I didn’t know if it meant anything! You’re nice to everyone. You flirt like it’s a reflex. You remember everyone’s drink orders, compliment their outfits, hold doors and say all the right things. I thought I was just another person you were… nice to.”

He didn’t answer your panicked rambling right away. Just looked at you for a long moment.

“Yeah, I’m nice to people. Doesn’t mean I feel the same way I feel about you.”

Your heart dropped straight into your stomach.

“What?” you whispered, hating how small your voice sounded.

He held your gaze, completely serious now.

“Like I wanna kiss you every time you chew that damn pen cap. Like, I think about you even when I’m supposed to be studying. Like I can’t focus when you’re talking ‘cause all I do is stare at your damn lips.” He paused, and something almost like a laugh broke out of him, soft and self-conscious. “Like I’ve been trying to find a not-creepy way to tell you I like you since the second tutoring started, but you were always so focused and cool and out of my league.”

That last part made your head spin.

“Out of your league?” you repeated, eyes wide.

He smirked, stepping just a bit closer, lowering his voice. “Have you seen yourself? You’re smart, you’re so pretty it’s ridiculous, and you’ve got this whole thing where you act like you don’t know you’re the coolest girl on campus. Of course, I was nervous.”

You blinked at him. “Bucky… are you flirting with me behind the bleachers while holding my diary hostage?”

He grinned. “Maybe. Depends. Is it working?”

You tried to snatch the diary out of his hand, but he was faster, effortlessly holding it just out of reach like it weighed nothing.

“God, I hate you,” you muttered through gritted teeth, bouncing up on your toes in a desperate attempt to grab it. All it earned you was the embarrassing realisation that you were now fully pressed against his chest, warm, broad, and stupidly solid.

“You really don’t, at least not according to this—” he said, low and smug.

“Bucky!” you warned, trying to reach again, but he shifted it higher.

“Give. It. Back,” you hissed, practically climbing him at this point.

“I will,” he said, eyes flicking down to your mouth in a way that made your stomach twist and your breath catch. “But only if you let me kiss you first.”

Your brain short-circuited. Completely and entirely. The words took a second to process. His voice had dropped, softer now, more serious, like he wasn’t just messing with you anymore.

You looked up at him, heart thudding so loudly against your ribs you swore he could hear it. His eyes searched yours, and for once, he didn’t look like the effortlessly confident guy everyone knew. He looked… nervous like he was the one waiting to be rejected.

“…Fine,” you whispered, the word barely making it past your lips, but your smile gave you away. It was impossible to hide, giddy and crooked and ridiculous.

And then he kissed you.

He bent his head and closed the gap like he’d been waiting weeks for it—maybe he had. His mouth was warm and sure against yours, one arm still holding the diary hostage, the other dropping to your waist, pulling you in like he couldn’t help himself. You kissed him back without thinking, without doubting, like maybe this was the answer you’d been afraid to ask for all along.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and blinking at each other like idiots, he handed over the diary with a grin.

“Okay,” you whispered, still a little breathless. “That was… good.”

“Just good?” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes, cheeks burning. “Don’t push it.”

He laughed softly, thumb still brushing your cheek. “So… does this mean I get to keep seeing you after stats is over? Or do I have to fail on purpose to keep you around?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“You’re right. You’d probably kill me.”

“More like definitely.”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that didn’t feel awkward. He looked at you like he already knew what you were thinking. And for once, you didn’t feel like running from it.

You were so, so screwed.

But maybe… in the best way possible.

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #winter soldier #marvel fic #marvel au #marvel

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tsunodaradio · 2 days ago

Text

the perfect match¹ ⛐ 𝐋𝐍𝟒

lando norris is convinced he’s unlovable. it’s your literal job to prove otherwise.

ꔮ starring: lando norris x professional matchmaker!reader. ꔮ social media au. ꔮ includes: romance, friendship. mentions of alcohol & food; cussing/profanity; suggestive jokes. lando nicknames reader ‘cupid’, intentional typos. sparked by a24's materialists. ꔮ commentary box: my love for @norrisradio knows no bounds :3 this will have a part two! 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Liked by user1, user2, and others yourusername wedding number nine. nothing brings me more joy than seeing people get the happy ending they deserve. 💐 congratulations, anyataylorjoy & malcolmmcrae.

user1 always at the crime scene omfg user2 That camera!! Can we know what model it is anyataylorjoy gracias 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 ♥️ Liked by creator ⤷ user3 wait so is it true yourusername matchmake’d them? ⤷ user4 anya PLSSS notice me user5 I could really use yourusername’s skills but her consultation fee… Let’s run it back a bit, baby

Liked by carlossainz55, alex_albon, and others yourusername thank you for the warm welcome, williamsracing. an enjoyable first grand prix in blue. 💙 content soon.

user1 OKAY I SEE YOU user2 aren’t carlos and alex both in relationships 😭 what they need a matchmaker for user3 Can we get a spoiler what the content was for pleek ⤷ williamsracing Team Torque E04 🤫 But you didn’t hear it from us ⤷ user4 ADMIN!?!?! ⤷ user5 the crossover i didn’t know i needed. user6 oomf plz tell us about the other drivers u’ve met

“How Do I Matchmake For My Friends?” | Team Torque Ep. 4 | Australian GP

Liked by lando, oscarpiastri, and others mclaren Some scenes from Shanghai 🇨🇳 #McLaren #F1

user1 carlando i’ve missed U user2 This after the Team Torque episode is comedic. 😂 user3 i want alex in a way that is detrimental to feminism. williamsracing Found a match? 😜 ⤷ mclaren 🤷 ⤷ user4 ??? does this mean something ⤷ user5 Williams x McLaren collab LFG user6 i heard lando gave alex and carlos SO much shit for the torque ep screamsss user7 Lando if you need a girlfriend I’m right here,,

yourusername posted a story.

lando replied: pleased to make your acquaintance 🤝

Liked by maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri, and others lando lookin for love

user1 that caption is diabolical ⤷ user2 Why look for love!! I’m right here!! user3 The first pic. I’m dizzyy 😵‍💫 user4 okay but props to your photographer. hotness. user5 does this have something to do with yourusername ? ⤷ user6 RIGHTTT because of her recent IG story ⤷ user7 is Lando one of her new clients? ⤷ user8 or maybe it’s a new mclaren content thing ⤷ user9 They’re both being very quiet about this. Lmao. user10 lando’s loverboy era [[INCOMING]]?!

Liked by yourusername, user1, and others f1gossipgirl lando enjoyed his winter break with british snowboard champ charlotte moioli! moioli is the reining record-holder of the women's snowboard cross. was our mclaren driver getting lessons or finding love on the slopes? 🏂

Liked by yourusername, user1, and others prixtea Monaco's sweetheart finds her prince? 🎨 NOR spent his weekend with renown artiste, Sylvie Auguste, at Festival des Arts de Monaco. Sources say the two spent much of the evening giggling over champagne. Should we be expecting a new WAG on the paddock come Suzuka?

Liked by quadrant, lando.jpeg, and others yourusername what’s up, bullet?

user1 have the loveliest vacation, darling 🥢 user2 that first pic? gorjjj user3 Last slide 👀 user4 bring back sushi pls ! user5 am i too f1-pilled or is that last slide literally lando ⤷ user6 Now that you mention it…

Liked by georgerussell63, yukitsunoda0511, and others lando whassup su…zuka! mega day at liberty walk hq with quadrant to launch our helmet/car combo. seeing all this up close and working with the legend that is libertywalkkato to build the lb-kaido works r32 skyline has been an honour. always love coming out to japan, but this definitely made it even more special.

user1 ok so they’re dating yourusername ⤷ user2 “what’s up, bullet?” x “whassup suki” not slick AT ALL… monsterenergy Sheeeesh 🔥 user3 The vibe is immaculate >>> maxfewtrell 🔥🇯🇵 ⤷ user4 max, was yourusername in attendance?? Blink twice if yes ♥️ Liked by maxfewtrell ⤷ user5 DID MAX JUST CONFIRM WHAT

yourusername posted a story.

#lando norris x reader #lando norris smau #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 smau #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one imagine #formula one smau #⛐ kae prix #⛐ ln4 #i'm always like 'i'm going to go on a mclaren ban!' and then bam

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trampleddoves · 2 days ago

Note

hi! i liked your free use blurb and I was wondering if you'd do it in the reverse where the reader could use spence?

s. r. blurb 3

contents: fem!reader, free use Spencer, slight dom/sub dynamics, MDNI

Dating a nerd who all but worships the ground you walk on has certain perks.

There are the more obvious ones: he does your taxes for fun (and by hand, like the most lovable troglodyte), he takes you to lovely dates that are somehow both exciting and—if you’re being completely honest—ever so slightly boring, he is an absolute gentleman. The type who walks by the street, and would bend down to tie your laces for you.

Lesser known perks are as follows: he can recite books for you from memory—which comes in handy when you need something soft and soothing to lull you to sleep, he indulges in your little hyperfixations, and, lastly, he’s so completely desperate for you. Enough that a simple brush of your hand on his thigh has him stuttering and turning pink, the slightest pressure on his crotch sends him reeling. Certain clothes are his enemy—you wear red and there’s a tent in his pants.

It seems only fitting for you to claim his cock whenever you want. He gets hard so quickly, you might as well take advantage of it, right?

Right.

And of course, Spencer Reid—perfect, loving, incredibly intelligent—says yes to being your free use boyfriend.

Another perk of dating a nerd?

He has nothing else going for him outside of work. Granted, the BAU takes him away from you more often than not, but you simply see that as another opportunity. Just means when he’s back, you’re bouncing on his cock at every opportunity you can.

This weekend is no different. He’s been gone for four days, barely calls—he’s always been so bad at that—but being apart only heightens your need for him. Absence sharpens love after all, or whatever it is Shakespeare said. You’re sure Spencer knows it by heart, something beautiful and poetic, not the clumsy version you can recall.

So he’s home after four long days, trying to play chess, and you’re splayed on his lap, your back to his chest, grinding your hips in slow, circular motions to relish the feeling of his cock stretching you out and filling you up after being unsatisfied for the past few days.

He’s moaning. Everytime he reaches over to move a piece, you bounce on his lap to distract him, giggling at the quiver in his fingers when you clench your walls tightly around his pulsing length. You follow his hands, long fingers wrapping around a knight and moving it to take an opponent’s bishop. You start bouncing faster.

“God, honey,” he groans, accidentally knocking over a pawn in the process.

“Need your safe word?”

“No no, just—I missed you so much.” he whimpers, burying his face into your neck. He begins to buck his hips up, meeting your thrusts.

You pause immediately, hands resting on his thighs. Not that it doesn’t feel good—it does, but the whole point of this is that he continues his activities while you use him. “Did I give you permission to fuck me, Spence?”

“No,” he whines. You smile when he stops moving obediently, face lifting from your neck, “I’m sorry.” He resumes the chess game, moving a rook to take the offensive knight from before.

“Good boy.” you reward him by grinding again, more up and down this time. Leaning back into him, you drag your wet cunt all over his cock, squeezing as you do. Like a good boy, he simply continues his chess game, but you grin triumphantly as his hands tremor even more. With a hum, you bring your fingers to your clit, rubbing quick circles on the swollen nub. “White’s check in three.”

“No way.” he gasps as your pace grows rougher, riding him in quick strokes, “I could have sworn—ah!”

You come undone around him, walls tightening to a nearly painful degree. Soft, breathy gasps leave your lips as you ride him through your climax, going lax and soft in his arms. He sighs, staring dumbly at the chess board in front of him. Understandably needy, but he can’t do much about it right now, that’s not his role. Not unless you give him permission.

“You’ve been so good, baby,” the words come out a sweet little sigh, full of affection. You crawl off his lap, grinning as he turns his head and follows you with a gaze so full of longing it’s almost pitiful. You hum, settling on the couch beside him. Legs spread, an invitation. “Come and fuck me now, Spence, you deserve it.”

The last, perhaps least known perk of dating a nerd?

They’re amazing at fucking. Or, at least, Spencer Reid is.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you smut #📨dove answers #anon #✒️ penned by dove

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girlatmirror · 2 days ago

Text

baby, baby | jjk

why would jungkook need to entertain other women when you have enough personalities to keep him completely occupied?

husband! jungkook x (kinda crazy!) pregnant!reader

warnings: reader is sooo bratty but very pregnant so it’s justified, jungkook is the president of i 🫶🏼 my wife club, in my mind this is bend my rules jungkook and reader in the future, smut (minors leave immediately), degradation!!!, slapping (only once), spanking, use of the word slut, penetrative sex, bj, i didn’t proofread 💔, i had entirely too much fun writing this (i’m just a silly girl in a non silly world), idk what else, but i love this jungkook and reader

Your mood swings had never been worse. you, 4 months pregnant with an even worse attitude than before, were a lot to handle, but your husband was beyond resilient.

Jungkook worked extremely hard as well, owning a big law firm and juggling a needy, pregnant wife who needed his constant attention and love was almost impossible. Well, it was actually just impossible.

He gave you everything you needed; a cleaning lady, a private chef, a masseuse, a personal midwife that would visit you whenever he wouldn’t be able to go to the appointments with you.

But you didn’t want any of that, you simply needed him.

He didn’t work more than he used to, he actually reduced his work hours as much as possible when you two found out about the pregnancy, but that didn’t seem to satisfy you.

Picking fights and using his ‘absence’ against him was now your go to, but jungkook was always calm with you, simply saying ‘baby, it’s just 9 hours and you sleep through half of them anyway.’

sometimes, the problem was his calmness.

You thought back to those days where you were dating, or engaged and you would have the arguments that would lead to the filthiest, roughest sex. You missed seeing his face scrunch up, his nostrils flare up and his eyes darken.

He was always your sweet, understanding jungkook, but back then, it was easier to make him lose his cool.

Ever since you got married, he became a big softie, never raising his voice, even when you did and never showing you the fiery side that you could not admit you yearned for. You could do or say anything and he would simply listen and abide. Especially while pregnant.

You obviously loved him for it and thanked God for giving you a husband as wonderful as Jungkook, but since you got pregnant, you started craving the jungkook that would voice his anger and later, turn it into passion.

You didn’t know if it was something about your hormones changing and what-not, but you just simply knew you needed him to react to your brattiness the way he used to.

Longing for the Jungkook that would put you in your place, you (semi-unintentionally) went on a mission to bring him back.

You woke up and waddled your way to the spacious kitchen, where you found jungkook making a big breakfast for you two - it was his day off after all.

Once he saw you, his face broke out in a huge smile and he kissed your lips softly. “good morning, my baby, how are you?”

You simply huffed, taking a bite of the crispy bacon. your lips were pouted and your eyes slightly squinted.

Jungkook was not even confused by your behavior, he was already used to not being able to foresee your mood.

“What’s wrong, yn?”, he carefully asked, planting a kiss on your forehead, resting a hand on your growing belly. “did you sleep well?”

You just shook your head in response and turned your back on him.

“How could i sleep well??”, your dramatic response caused him to slightly chuckle under his breath. “you cheated on me!!”

That accusation made jungkook drop everything he was doing and look at you with the most questioning face he could muster; what could possibly make you believe he cheated on you?

“huh?”, was all he was able to say.

You rolled your eyes and lightly, but not playfully punched his arm. “I saw you with that girl last night! you were kissing her and whispering things into her ear..”

Jungkook’s confusion seemed to grow even stronger, trying to understand how you could be so serious and sure of something that never happened.

“Baby, i don’t know what you’re talking about”, he expressed his confusion very calmly, a soothing hand running over your arm. “you do know i was with you the whole night last night?”

“That was before!”, you let out, which confused him even more. “I went to sleep.. and i saw you there in bed with .. her and you were so in love.. how could you do that to me, jungkook??”

Actual tears formed in your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Babyy”, he cooed and wiped away some tears from your face. “that happened in your dream, it wasn’t real at all. i promise i’d never do that to you, princess.”

“But”, you sobbed silently. “it felt so so real.”

Jungkook took you into his arms and gently held and swayed you, of course not without adding a kiss on your head.

“I’m sorry, baby”, he muttered genuinely against your head. “if i ever do that again in your dreams, i’ll make sure to make it up to you, okay? i’m sorry, please forgive me.”

You nodded, against his chest, which had been dampened by your tears. “okay.. i guess i’ll forgive you.”

Not all days started off this way, of course, some days you would wake up and attack him with kisses, some others you wouldn’t wake up until after he’s gone to work (which meant waking up to a handwritten note from him) and then there were days where you would either find a reason to be mad at him or hold onto him so tightly and tell him not to go and then get whiny when he did go.

It wasn’t just your desperation to get fucked hard, it was also just the fact that you, for some reason (pregnancy), felt lonelier and more bored than ever before.

You can only go on shopping sprees and sit in cafés and gossip with your friends a certain amount of times before you get super bored.

At least before the pregnancy you were a working woman, which was not that fun either to be fair but at least you were productive.

Jungkook suppressed a chuckle and just held you for a while.

Despite you being so difficult sometimes, he enjoyed every single moment.

The worst thing about being pregnant was, without a doubt, the sleep. you were actually a side sleeper and for obvious reasons that wasn’t possible at the moment.

You had about an hour of actual sleep (and it wasn’t even satisfying) before you gave up trying and just decided to sit on the bed with your hands dramatically resting on your belly.

One thing ran through your mind like usain bolt; food. You tried to think of any snacks you had in the house but quickly remembered you ate them all the other day and didn’t restock.

Watching and low key envying the way your husband was peacefully sleeping with his pretty snores and his even prettier face, shirtless as he always slept. You suddenly had an idea.

“Jungkook”, you softly nudged his naked arm.

He didn’t budge.

“Jungkooook”, you repeated, dragging out his name and softly poking his nose.

A low grunt escaped his lips as he slowly started to stir.

You leaned closer, brushing your lips against his ear. “jungkook, wake up.”

Once his body recognized you were talking to him, he jolted up with wide eyes. “what?! what’s wrong?? are you okay? is it the baby?”

He was now sitting up straight, rubbing the sleep from his eyes to be able to properly see you.

You pouted, dramatically nodding. “the baby’s hungry.”

“Huh?”

“The baby wants snacks. and we don’t have snacks at home.”

Jungkook glanced at the clock and said, “baby.. it’s almost three in the morning.”

You tilted your head and adorably shrugged your shoulders, lips still pouty. “well, your child doesn’t know the concept of time yet.”

With a groan, jungkook got up and stretched.

“What kind of snacks do you want, baby?”, he asked mid stretch, before putting on a shirt.

“All of them”, was your ambiguous answer. “I want sweet, sour and salty stuff. If that cookie store on Bel Air drive is open, get me three of the marshmallow-filled ones.”

“Alright, baby”, he leaned down to kiss you. “You just text me whatever you need. I’ll be right back. I love you.”

you grinned up at him, so satisfied with his lenience and kissed him again, “i love you more.”

Simultaneously hearing the car start and your stomach rumbling, you found yourself trying to occupy your mind with something other than food, but you were so impatient.

Moments later, your phone rang.

Incoming FaceTime Call from Hubby🧎🏽‍♀️

You immediately picked up. “Hey.”

Jungkook’s still sleepy face took over your phone screen, seemingly looking down at something. “Hey, baby, just wanted to make sure these are the sour patches you like.”

He went on to show a bag of sour patches, holding it up for the camera.

You squinted, dramatic as always. “hmm… those are the right ones. but get two. the baby’s feeling greedy.”

He chuckled softly, rubbing a hand over his face. “you sure it’s the baby?”

“Are you calling me greedy?” you gasped, clutching your chest as if he’d just committed a felony.

“I would never, baby”, he chuckled again, his raspy voice doing things to you.

While he was still out, being your knight in shining armor, you decided to pull out your wedding photo album (something that never failed to make you break out in tears) and look through every single picture taken that day.

It was by far the most precious day of your life. a destination wedding in a venetian palace, just as you had requested (of course jungkook had to fulfill your wish).

Before you could even flip to the second page, your eyes started to water.

He was so handsome that day, even more than normal, which was a very hard thing to achieve and the way he looked at you.. ugh.

Pictures of him kissing your hands, your photoshoot on the palace stairs and the gondola brought back instant memories.

The calming melodies of ‘over and over’ by Bobby Vinton replayed in your mind.

you swore you could hear the ‘wows’ of the guests as you walked down the aisle in your wedding dress, a breathtaking dress designed by Elie Saab himself, and see a teary eyed Jungkook waiting for you at the altar.

you couldn’t even hear the front door open, that was how invested you were.

“Baby?”, Jungkook’s concerned voice interrupted your crying. “what happened?”

you got up from your spot and walked up to him, directly throwing yourself into his arms, which resulted in him dropping the bag of snacks on the ground.

“i missed you.”, you sniffled against his neck and kissed it.

jungkook coo’ed at you and swayed you gently.

“I was gone for 20 minutes.”, he murmured against your hair.

“but..”, your voice started to quiver a little. “that’s way too long.”

he held onto you for a while, “i know, baby, i know” and then ultimately let go to grab the snacks. “alright, what do you want to eat first?”

you both sat on the bed and he dumps all the snacks onto the bed. your mouth started watering; a whole lot of chips, cookies, sour patch kids, drinks and chocolate bars.

that man knew the way to your heart and walked it.

you instantly grabbed a cookie and bit into it, groaning, “oh my god.. this is so good right now. just what we needed.”

holding it up for jungkook to take a bite, he chuckled and took a big bite.

suddenly, you felt a kick in your stomach and excitedly waved your hands, pointing at your stomach. “oh my god, the baby is kicking. i think it’s trying to say thank you to daddy.”

ever since you got pregnant, you and jungkook became the cheesiest couple you swore you would never become but here you were.

jungkook instinctively laid his head on your stomach gently to hear the kick, before he kissed it lovingly.

“hey, baby”, he whispered against it. “mommy and daddy love you so much and we can’t wait to meet you.”

your heart warmed at the sight of jungkook being such an amazing dad; it made you want to give him everything. your eyes traveled back to the photo album that was now back in its original place.

brushing through his dark hair soothingly, you watched him with an amount of adoration that was so palpable.

the baby kicked again.

“i think the baby likes your voice.”, you noted softly. “it kicks whenever you’re around.”

jungkook couldn’t help but smile, now his head was sleepily pressed against your chest, which was obviously his favorite place in the world. “i’m its daddy, of course it love me.”

you scoffed jokingly. “well, it better love me more, i’m the one carrying it.”

that made jungkook let out a laugh. “of course, baby. you shall be the most beloved.”

you stayed in your positions for a moment in silence and then, you felt and heard Jungkook’s cute snores against your chest.

poor him, he had to wake up for work just 4 hours later.

not much later, you also felt yourself getting closer to sleeping.

You felt a little bad about waking Jungkook up at night when he had work in the morning.

So, you decided to make him lunch and visit him at the office, like the good wife you were.

You packed plain white rice, sautéed veggies, and some grilled chicken along with a spicy sauce (what can you say, your husband loved spicy food). It wasn’t much, but the expectations for you weren’t high right now.

Besides, the lunch was just a front to have an excuse to see your husband. You needed to look good, so while it took you less than half an hour to prepare the food, it took you an hour to pick out an outfit and do your makeup.

You opted for a flowy pink sundress that showcased your little baby bump you had grown to adore. You were pregnant, not exempt from looking gorgeous.

You checked the stove, called the driver, made sure your keys were in your bag, and finally, he arrived.

“Where to, Mrs. Jeon?” your driver, Mr. Petrov, greeted you with his usual kindness.

He had been driving you everywhere since your 21st birthday. You admitted to Jungkook a couple months before that you hated driving, so he got you a personal driver for your birthday. In a way, you considered him family — an uncle or something like that.

After all, he had witnessed your relationship through almost all its stages: from being a couple, to becoming engaged, then married, and finally, soon-to-be parents.

“To my husband,” you replied eagerly. “I want to bring him lunch.”

The drive went by as it always did: Mr. Petrov telling you stories about his teenage daughters that you always loved hearing, asking about Jungkook’s wellbeing (which you found adorable), and, of course, giving you parenting advice.

Once you arrived at your destination, Mr. Petrov made sure to help you out of the car (the privilege and disadvantage of being pregnant; people always thought you were incapable of doing anything by yourself) and watched you enter the building to make sure you got in safely before driving away.

The building was as tall as ever. The guard immediately recognized you and personally escorted you to the elevator.

Your walk was confident (at least you thought so). Despite your pregnant self, you looked like you owned the place — which, you kind of did since it was your husband’s company.

The receptionists and all his employees already knew you; you liked to think you had built a good relationship with them. As the boss’s wife, you took that responsibility seriously.

The elevator doors opened to the executive floor and you waddled out toward Jungkook’s assistant.

“Mrs. Jeon, how good to see you!” she greeted you eagerly, with her usual nervousness. “Mr. Jeon is in a meeting right now. He should be done very soon.”

You thanked her and made your way to the meeting room. Through the glass windows, you could see your husband in action, ever the perfect businessman.

He looked so effortlessly commanding and authoritative, but there was a hint of tiredness in his eyes you couldn’t overlook.

Your eyes met his and suddenly, his entire posture changed; the tension in his shoulders softened and a small smile formed on his handsome face.

You waved, and for about four minutes, you waited — which in pregnancy minutes felt like an hour.

He rushed to you once he dismissed all the meeting participants, giving you a tight hug, careful not to press on your belly.

“Hey, beautiful,” he uttered, placing a kiss on your forehead. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see my handsome husband and I brought him lunch,” you smiled. “You look so tired. I feel bad for waking you up so late.”

Jungkook shook his head gently, adoring you with his gaze. “Don’t feel bad,” he murmured. “Let’s go to my office. I’m starving; I want to eat that food you made.”

He sat down at his desk and you positioned yourself on his lap immediately, not needing an invitation, pulling the lunch out of your Goyard bag.

“Eat,” you practically demanded, handing him the spoon.

Jungkook, who had been hungry for a while, immediately dug in, taking big spoonfuls of the food. He offered you some, but you informed him you already ate at home.

“This is so good,” he mumbled through a mouthful, scrunching up his nose like he always did when something tasted especially delicious.

Of course, you loved seeing him like that — and even more when you were the reason.

He quickly finished his food and went back to giving you all of his attention, his hands drawing soothing circles on your back.

“Do you love me?” you asked out of nowhere.

“Yes,” Jungkook didn’t even hesitate to answer.

Nor was he weirded out or surprised by your randomness.

“Would you still love me if I shaved my head?”

Jungkook chuckled, his hands now gripping your waist. “Yes, you’d still be the prettiest woman in the world.”

Your heart smiled. You lazily traced his sharp jawline.

“What if I were a worm?” you asked; it was a question you had asked a million times before.

“Ugh, that question,” he feigned annoyance. “How would I even know it’s you? Hypothetically, if I saw a worm, how would I know?”

Hand on your chest, you pretended to be offended, much to Jungkook’s amusement. “If your wife, I, were to suddenly vanish from your life, you’re telling me you wouldn’t look for me everywhere and in everything?”

He shook his head again.

“Of course I would!” he explained, the smile never leaving his lips. “I just wouldn’t think you’d turn into a worm… more like a fox or a lynx.”

You giggled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I need everything to be perfect!”

The workers didn’t know whether to admire your dedication or be scared of you; either way, they appreciated the hefty sum and the hospitality they were given.

The decorations for today were carefully chosen by you (Jungkook was allowed input too, but not too much). You opted for a classy lavender theme and wore a white maternity dress that perfectly sat on your body.

Today was an especially special day: the gender reveal party for the demon living inside you.

Your sister was picking up the cake that you insisted had to be a white chocolate cake with cream pistachio frosting.

Jungkook was in charge of the guests; he made sure they all arrived safely and were taken care of.

There were, to the surprise of absolutely no one, a lot of guests: besides your and Jungkook’s close and extended family, there were your numerous friends, a few of his workers, neighbors, a couple of women from your prenatal Pilates class, and of course, Mr. Petrov and his family.

You already knew his two daughters; they were self-proclaimed fans of yours. “I want to be just like you when I’m older, Mrs. Jeon.”

“Hi, sweeties.” As soon as you saw them, you hugged them. “How are you guys? I missed you.”

They were practically squealing at the sight of your pregnant stomach, exclaiming how “Wow, your stomach grew so much!” which was received with laughter.

“Girls, has no one taught you basic manners?” Mr. Petrov scolded his daughters semi-jokingly in his thick accent. “Seriously, who raised you?”

The girls didn’t even bother to look at their dad, simply too in awe of how beautiful and pregnant you were.

“That kid is gonna be so gorgeous!” Natasha spoke with excitement. “I mean, with your genes and then Mr. Jeon’s… oh my god.”

“Oh, thank you, my love,” you patted her cheek lovingly.

More guests kept arriving, which left Jungkook, who was very used to being in charge, looking like the perfect host he was.

“Seriously, I hope it’s a boy,” Daria admitted, an eager look on her face. “So we can raise him to be a gentleman.”

That statement quickly turned into an argument between the two sisters; Natasha wanted a girl, and Daria wanted a boy.

You, wanting to give them a bit of space in their sisterly fighting, made sure to greet all the other guests after offering Mr. Petrov a drink.

Jungkook had a moment to spare, using it to make sure you were doing okay. He came over to you, placing a hand on your back. “How’s my princess doing?”

You instinctively put a hand on your stomach (something you did quite often these days) and gently smiled at him. “I’m doing well, just waiting for my sister to come through with the cake…”

“Is the photographer already here?” you suddenly started panicking, realizing you momentarily forgot about somebody.

Jungkook tapped you on the shoulder reassuringly. “Relax, he’s right there by the bar.”

That didn’t reassure you though; on the contrary. “Why is he drinking?! That could mess up all the pictures. Oh my god… Jungkook, go and tell him to stop drinking!”

You pushed him toward the bar and immediately left, leaving him with no other choice but to actually go up to the photographer and prevent him from drinking.

Right then, your sister finally arrived with a huge cake box in her hand, puffing from the sheer weight of it. “…I’m here, oof… damn!”

Just as you wanted to go over and help her, your dad took it from her hand and placed it onto the table.

The cake arrived, the buffet looked good, the music was great, the kids were having fun on the bouncy castle, the adults were happy about the free drinks and food, and there was nothing to complain about…

Jungkook was hoping you would not find anything to complain about.

“I’m so excited,” your fingers almost trembling as you wrapped them around Jungkook’s big arms. “Do I even want to know? Like… what if we waited until I give birth to know… so many moms do that, maybe I should too.”

Jungkook couldn’t believe his ears; first, you turned the entire world upside down to make this party as epic as you could, and now, you were practically objecting to it.

“Baby,” he spoke ever so gently. “You’ve been wanting this for a long time now. You’re just nervous, don’t worry. We’ll know the gender and nothing bad will happen regardless.”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Okay.”

A few hours of dancing, gift opening, and games passed, and now you were all ready to witness the sole reason for this party.

When you were planning the gender reveal party, you wanted something classic and simple for the reveal.

The good old cutting into the cake to find out the gender. Nothing more, nothing less.

So, there you both were, standing in front of the podium where the cake sat in all its glory. Your shorter body was in front of Jungkook, and he was positioned right behind you, his hand on yours, both holding the knife.

Your heart pounded; you didn’t even know why. This wasn’t even an anxiety-inducing situation. Your hormones were messing you up.

All the guests were watching curiously and with full attention as you and Jungkook cut a piece of cake.

The frosting was pink. Cheers broke out.

“It’s a girl!” Jungkook announced with joy in his voice, hugging you so tightly.

You, of course, cried tears of happiness. “I can’t believe we’re having a little baby girl…”

He kissed you on the lips passionately, both of you completely forgetting the camera and the guests.

“She’s gonna be a handful,” he joked, holding your chin and caressing your tear-stained cheeks. Finally, you laughed.

He was probably right.

“Oh, absolutely,” you agreed with him. “But you’re gonna spoil her, so it’s gonna be all on you.”

Jungkook couldn’t deny it, so he just tilted his head. “What can I say? It’s my thing.”

it was dinner time, your favorite time of the day. on most days, dinner is the only meal you really got to sit with Jungkook and enjoy the food, unlike the hurried breakfasts and the lunch that you either eat together during his ‘break’ or just completely separately.

that’s why you got so annoyed whenever something distracted him from dinner; this was supposed to be your time together.

you crossed your arms, nostrils flaring while he was on the phone with Selene, a new employee of his that seemed to come to him whenever she was overwhelmed or unfamiliar with something at work.

you completely understood that this was a new job for her but you didn’t particularly like that she felt the need to call your husband outside of work; if she needed help, she could just ask any other employee.

it was excessive.

“Yes, i’ll tell Jason to bring a copy too”, jungkook spoke into the phone, his tone professional. “don’t worry about the presentation, the material you showed me today was good.”

fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you very passive aggressively poured juice into your glass and drank it.

“finally.”, you said once they hung up.

jungkook’s eyes narrowed a little but he didn’t say anything, he just scooped some more rice onto his plate.

“she just needed some help, baby.”, he explained after he noticed your sour expression wasn’t going anywhere.

“pf. why are you even talking to her outside of work? what’s so important that can’t wait until literally tomorrow morning?!”, you spewed, louder than intended. “and you just pick up, ugh. you should’ve ignored her but nooo, of course you had to pick up.. almost like that phone call is more important than having dinner with your wife.”

“yn.. that was a 2 minute conversation.”, he started getting more irritated by the second. “what are you even implying here? do you think i’m cheating on you cause i answered my employee’s phone call?”

“i don’t know, maybe you are.”

you were so obviously trying to push his buttons and see how far you can go; you wondered if he noticed or if he didn’t.

he knew you knew he would never ever cheat, perhaps that’s why the accusation irritated him even more.

“yn, don’t piss me off. you know damn well i would never cheat.”, he spoke with fire in his voice. “and why would i? you have enough personalities to keep me completely fucking occupied.”

it was true that you were a woman of multitudes and normally, you would have laughed at that statement but you could not give him the satisfaction.

you knew you were getting closer to your goal; he already looked like his veins were about to pop.

it wasn’t like he didn’t know how you were; he had to endure you every single day of his life, but he was bound to break eventually.

suppressing a smile, you simply huffed and stated, “that’s honestly hard to believe.”

jungkook’s nostrils flared and he looked down at you with an expression you hadn’t seen in months.

you were looking up at him with big eyes, your hand on your hips as you seized his reaction.

“yn..”, he fought the urge to raise his voice but ultimately lost. “i’m so serious right now, do not piss me off. i’ve been so damn patient with you.. i forgot that’s not the fucking way to deal with you..”

his hands were now gripping your waist tightly; if it hadn’t felt so damn good, it would probably hurt.

“what is the way to deal with me then?”, your voice was soft, almost angelic as you held eye contact with his fiery eyes.

“you know.”, he lowly spoke against your lips.

“no”, pushing him further and further, you held onto his muscular arm. “show me.”

that was when he crashed his lips into yours with a sense of desperation mirroring your own, his hands roaming your body like he memorized it. he gripped your ass hard, getting you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist.

your baby bump wasn’t making any type of difficulty for either of you, thank God.

he carried you all the way to the couch and practically (yet very carefully) threw you onto it. he quickly took off your night gown and threw it aside, before taking off his own shirt.

“is that what you want?”, jungkook’s voice was now merely a growl as he started undoing his pants. “to get fucked hard? huh?”

his pants were off, leaving him in only his boxer shorts; the sight delicious.

the wetness in your pussy was almost unbearable at that point, even pressing your legs together didn’t help.

you nodded, reaching for his boxers and kneading his dick almost desperately, before completely taking them off, revealing his hard dick.

as horny and perverted as that sounded, there was almost nothing in the entire world you loved as much as seeing Jungkook like that. So in control, yet so needy for you.

there was already precum on the tip of it, you licked it off.

jungkook reacted with a groaned ‘fuck’.

you wrapped your hands around his thick shaft and massaged it up and down, then gently wrapped your full lips around it, sucking it while holding eye contact. his moans continued.

despite you barely being able to take all of him at the same time, he thrust his dick further and further into your mouth, making it difficult to breathe.

“you can take it, baby.”, he breathed, hands gripping your hair. “you run your mouth all day long, this shouldn’t be so hard for you.”

you let out a groan, pressing your legs tighter together.

Tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes, but you enjoyed the feeling of his dick in your mouth. you moaned around it, big, innocent eyes meeting his.

he rammed his dick into your mouth in steady, aggressive motions, making you choke on it, causing your saliva to coat his dick.

the moans that he released were enough to make your head dizzy; you were nothing but mush.

your face was now a teary mess.

before he could cum, jungkook pulled back suddenly, his dick sliding out of your mouth and slapping gently against his lower abdomen. he grabbed your jaw and said, “i’m not gonna cum in your mouth.”

you knew what he was doing, he was being an asshole. he was aware of how much you loved swallowing his cum or even having his cum all over your face and he denied you of it. your brows furrowed just slightly.

You whimpered, the ache between your thighs unbearable. “Then where?”

he didn’t verbally respond, simply putting his big hands on your thighs and separating your legs roughly, making you gasp. he pushed two fingers inside your wet mess of a pussy without warning and started curling them teasingly.

“fuck”, he let out. “that pussy’s so fucking wet.. shit, you fucking love making me mad.”

you started desperately grinding against his fingers but he removed them before you could truly enjoy it, grabbing your jaw again and approaches your face so you’re facing each other directly, breathing against your lips. “open your mouth.”

you obeyed. then, he spit in your mouth.

“swallow it.”, he demanded.

you swallowed.

“good girl.”

“jungkook..”, you whimpered, overwhelmed by your own arousal, needy for any kind of friction.

jungkook just pressed his index finger to his lips, signaling you to be quiet. “you don’t get to talk right now.”

that was what you were waiting for for a while; the sheer dominance and degradation that jungkook seemed to have shyed away from lately. you were craving the side of him that completely shut you down and put you in your place.

he pumped his dick before slightly bending his legs to teasingly slowly slap his dick on your wet pussy. your breath hitched and jungkook smirked at your state.

“i don’t think you deserve to get fucked.”, he declared after almost slipping his dick in, enjoying the power he had over you entirely too much. “good wives get dicked down.. the ones that obey their husbands.. and don’t drive them insane.. not spoiled brats like you who don’t know when to shut up.”

with every breath, he slipped his tip in and out, causing you to arch your hips up in desperation.

“please”, you begged with almost tears in your eyes. “i’m gonna be good, i’m gonna be so good, jungkook.”

jungkook laughed, almost evilly, and breathed through his teeth. “i don’t believe that.”

you reached for him and clung both your arms around the broad shoulders you were unhealthily obsessed with and hid your face in his chest.

you sniffled with teary eyes. “but i promise.. please.. please just put it in.”

with that he entered you, completely too slow for your liking. your head curled back at the pleasure.

he started thrusting very slowly, teasingly so, his breath getting heavier against your ear, before he began fastening the pressure.

the thrusts were so deep, he made sure to hit the spot right. his grip was almost unbearably strong, making your fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck.

his lips moved to your full breasts, taking your hard nipples in his mouth and sucking on them.

“still so fucking tight.”, he groaned, before crashing his lips against yours.

your whiny moans met his as he suddenly picked you up, his dick never slipping out.

before you could realize, your naked back hit a cold wall, making you gasp.

the angle made it easier for jungkook to completely plow into you mercilessly.

you were so lost in the moment, almost felt like you were in heat. you didn’t think, you couldn’t.

the sounds of slapping skin and wet arousal spread across the room.

jungkook slammed his hips against yours, his jaw clenched and his eyes dark with hunger. “don’t forget your place, yn. you exist to get fucked by your husband and do as he says, not disobey him.”

you knew this was all just sex talk, this wasn’t truly what he believed but God.. you wouldn’t be mad if it were. you instinctively clenched around him, replying with soft cries.

“shit.. look at you”, the strokes became harder with every second. “even pregnancy can’t stop you from being a dick crazy slut, huh?”

his pace was relentless, yet steady. he held onto your hips, controlling your movements, ensuring you take every single inch of him.

When all you could manage were broken, whiny moans, he seized your jaw in a tight grip and delivered a sharp slap across your cheek.

You gasped, the sting spreading warmly across your skin and you both knew you loved it.

“Answer me when I speak to you, fucking slut,” he growled, his fingers digging harder into your jaw.

“yes, jungkook.. please don’t stop.”, you whimpered with teary eyes. “i love that dick so much, ah.. i’m just.. a fucking whore for you.”

a wicked grin tugged at his lips as his thrusts became gradually slower, yet deeper.

“that’s right,” he growled, “that’s what you were made for, to get fucked and bred. the only thing you’re good for.”

you clutched his neck even tighter, hiding your fucked out face in his shoulders, moans spilling out shamelessly.

you could practically feel your pussy juice dripping on his dick, your body tightening against his as you felt your climax nearing.

“kookie..,” you whimpered, voice trembling, “please… don’t stop. I need you. I’m so close.”

he only nodded as he continued with the same force, driving you closer to the edge with every brutal thrust. a mixture of moans and sobs flooding the room.

your entire body tensed with the last couple of thrusts and waves of uncontrollable pleasure rushed through you, your pussy squeezing with urgency and then, your vision blurred, leaving you dizzy and breathless.

chest heaving heavily, “ah, ah, ah” and the intensity built up until you came undone blissfully, collapsing into a trembling mess.

a couple of seconds later, jungkook’s hips stuttered, signaling his own orgasm. his big hands left bruises on your hips, a rough growl leaving his lips, “fuck, fuck, fuck”. he fucked the last thrusts into you with force, his breath heavy. with a guttural groan, he spilled his hot, thick cum deep inside of you. he stayed buried inside longer, making sure every drop of cum entered your pussy.

your heartbeat was faster than ever, you felt (good) pain all over your body. before you could climb jungkook like a koala bear and demand him to carry you to your bedroom, he turned your still aching body around, your body facing the wall.

then, he slammed his heavy hand down on your ass.

“ouch!!”

“stop whining, you asked for this.”, he hissed, delivering another spank to your ass. “i told you to fucking behave.”

your whimpers were almost pathetic. you could never admit to him that you enjoyed the pain, but something told you he already knew. your pussy was still soaked, his fingers lightly brushing against it from the back while his palm met your generous backside.

“you’re so fucked out, you can’t even speak”, he whispered, now kneading your ass. “that’s how i fucking like you.. if i could fuck another baby in you right now, i would.”

you tried to suppress your moans, but failed.

His fingers grazed your slick folds, sending another shiver to your core, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your release.

He removed his hands completely and you turned around, too scared and turned on to look him directly in the face.

He caught your gaze and softened instantly, the fire in his eyes melting into something quieter, more tender.

“Come here,” Jungkook murmured, pulling you into his chest with surprising gentleness for a man who’d just wrecked you.

You melted against him, your breathing still uneven as his arms wrapped securely around your swollen belly and your trembling body.

the earlier degradation was replaced by his usual warmth.

You stayed like that for a long moment, your fingers tracing lazy circles over his back, both of you finally still.

Slowly, he carried you to the bed, careful and deliberate as if you were the most fragile thing in existence.

after cleaning up, the both of you settled under the soft blankets, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, your eyelids growing heavy.

“Goodnight, beautiful,” he whispered, lips brushing against your forehead.

“Goodnight, Kookie,” you breathed, already slipping toward sleep.

the next morning, jungkook woke up way too late. you were already awake; he couldn’t feel you when he sleepily slid his hand across your shared bed.

scenes of the night before played in his mind, causing a smile to spread on his handsome face.

looking at the clock, he couldn’t believe you wore him out so well that he woke up about three hours later than he usually did. he didn’t even care that he missed work; he was the ceo after all.

damn, that pussy truly got power.

after freshening up in the adjacent bathroom, he started hearing voices from downstairs; certainly more than just yours.

making his way downstairs, he found you in the dining room, surrounded by both of your mothers, animatedly talking about some new recipe you wanted to try.

his heart warmed at the sight. they must have dropped by unannounced or you might have forgotten to tell him they were visiting.

he immediately walked up to the three of you, greeting his mother and mother-in-law.

“good morning, ladies!”, he greeted, giving each one a kiss on the cheek.

and there you were, now quiet and admiring the interaction, looking beautiful in your yoga pants and that fitted shirt that did nothing to conceal your baby bump.

“and good morning to my beautiful wife”, he was practically beaming at you, approaching you with open arms. “and my future princess.”

he first kissed your lips and then, he squatted and lovingly put his hands on your bump.

“good morning, my handsome husband.”, you smiled up at him, your cheeks heating up from the flashbacks of last night. “you’re finally awake!”

both of your mothers knew what type of couple you were, even before pregnancy. they admired you two deeply.

“aren’t you supposed to be at work, jungkook?”, his mother’s playful voice broke the moment.

“I slept in”, his head was now resting on your shoulders from behind, his hands holding onto your waist. “this one kept me up all night.”

his suggestive tone made your moms laugh; they understood exactly what he meant. for you, It was embarrassing because, surprisingly, you're not as shameless as he was.

it wasn’t that big of a deal though, they could tell a couple of hours ago when you couldn’t stand properly from all the pain your body was still in.

jungkook immediately started eating breakfast like the food was going to run away, as per usual.

after a heated 15 minute discussion over the baby’s name, you decided to change the topic without hurting your moms’ feelings and just directly tell them you didn’t like any of the names they suggested.

“you two go sit on the couch, i’ll be right back with the tea and cakes”, you told them, not wanting them to lift a finger, despite their constant need to stand on their feet.

“i’ll help you”, jungkook insisted and followed you to the spacious kitchen. “when the hell did you have time to make cake?”

he asked you in such a confused tone, it almost made you laugh. did he forget you were at home basically the entire day?

“tsk.. acting like i don’t have all the time in the world”, you replied, cutting into the chocolate cake you knew jungkook’s mom would love. “taste this.”

without hesitation, he took a big bite.

“hmmm”, he took another bite and then another. “so good.”

you snatched the fork away from him with feigned offense. “leave some for the others.. greedy.”

he bursted into laughter at your offended face and pinched your cheeks. “i’m sorry.”

you looked at him and just breathed in the happiness; he was your husband, yours.

as long as he was yours, you didn’t care about anything else because there was nothing you wanted except for him to be with you.

you were so grateful for his existence, for his love, that life brought you together.. and it was always the most simple moments that made you appreciate him even more.

you put your head on his shoulders.

“Marry me.”, you whispered.

He blinked. “We’re already married.”

“Well, I wanna marry you again, Jungkook.”, desperation was evident in your voice. “Please.”

and then, he got on his knees, taking your hand in his, a goofy smile on his face. “yn jeon, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife again?”

you teared up, getting on your knees with much effort and engulfed him in a hug, gripping his arms like you’re never letting go of him.

“yes, yes, yes. a million times, yes.”

i love writing unserious stuff honestly 😭 hope you enjoy this!!! 😘💗💗

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missadangel · 2 days ago

Text

MAKE HIM DISLIKE LOVE YOU

Harry Castillo x Reader (The Materialists)

Chapter 7: Apologize

series masterlist

Chapter Summary: When you call it quits on secrets, it’s funny how more of them spill out. Then Harry comes sprinting after you, begging for forgiveness. I mean, how can you say no to that face? Warnings: 18+ (smut, MDNI) kinda romantic comedy stuff, fluffy, angst, lying, soft and caring Harry Castillo, Lucy as his ex, John as Lucy's ex, wealth, expensive gifts, drinks, money, cars, language, sexual tension, oral sex, p in v sex, kissing, slow burn, power imbalance, I might have missed some warnings; I will update them in due time. Chapter Word Count: 10,5k, ROMANCE, feelings!!! fluffy, rom-com, lust, passion, jealousy, dirty talk, love triangle authors note: Thank you all for your support, asks, comments, reblogs and likes. I appreciate each and every one of you! Love you all!

As the elevator headed up to the penthouse, disbelief hit you hard. How could Harry have lied to you like that? You’d been cleaning his place without even knowing it. It felt like a total betrayal, but honestly, you were more pissed off than anything. Then another thought struck you—those cameras. Had he been watching you this entire time?

“Jerk. Fuckin' asshole.”

“Huh?”

Right, you were in the elevator with Mia, this little girl you just met, both of you heading to the same flat. But it was clear you had a shared goal. The elevator chimed as you reached the penthouse, and Mia stopped you. “I need to do something first.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, confused.

Mia peeked out of the elevator, checking the area. “The cameras,” she said.

You were caught off guard.

“I can’t let my mom find out I’m here, so I need to shut them down before we go in.”

“Your mom is Maria, right?”

“You know her too? Who even are you?”

With a smirk, you said, “Just think of me as your partner in crime.”

Mia raised an eyebrow. “Partner in crime?”

Leaning in a bit, you said, “I want to take down those damn cameras too.”

She thought about it for a second, narrowed her eyes, and then glanced at your uniform. “So that’s you, huh? My mom mentioned you.”

“What did she say?”

She smirked. “You are the girl who made Uncle Harry look like he’d been hit by a truck.”

You giggled. “I really want to hit him with a truck right now. Because you see, I didn't know it was his apartment when I was cleaning here, he played a trick on me. And as if that wasn't enough, he watched me on the cameras. So what do you say, partner? You want to smash those cameras?”

She frowned. “Smash them? What are you, a vandal?” She took his tablet out of her school bag. “Here, I'll activate the app here, but since we're partners, I need you to turn on the signal first, can you do that?”

You felt like an idiot next to this smart 10-year-old girl. “Okay, tell me what to do, partner.”

“Since you're the cleaning lady who always comes here...”

“Maid.”

“Yeah, maid, whatever. I need you to go to the control panel on the wall and choose the option to connect to nearby devices.”

You frowned. “Why can’t I just walk over and hit the button to turn off the camera? There has to be an option for that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thanks Einstein, if you do that, the camera's feed will be disabled and Uncle Harry will receive a notification, which could make him suspicious. I’ll just link to the camera from the tablet and adjust its angle. Then there won't be anything to worry about. It's not like Uncle Harry is going to be monitoring the camera constantly during his meetings at work.”

Now you felt even more silly; it was a super clever plan. “Wow, you’re really smart,” you said. She styled her hair like her mom. “I know. Just go do what I say.”

You chuckled softly, “Understood, ma’am.”

She flashed a grin.

As you entered the apartment, you acted casually, avoiding the cameras while strolling down the corridor. “It feels like I’m in a movie,” you whispered to yourself. You quickly connected to the cameras through the control panel’s touch screen and hit "add device." Moments later, Mia's tablets name appeared, confirming the connection.

“Connection complete,” Mia announced as she walked in.

“High five, girl!” you said, extending your hand.

She laughed and high-fived you back. “We make an awesome team. I like you.”

“I like you too, Mia,” you replied with a wink.

Looking at the cameras, you realized Mia was indeed controlling them from her tablet. They were all aimed toward the corners, so as long as you didn’t walk by, the cameras wouldn’t catch you. Mia sprawled out on the couch as if it were her own home and started watching a video on her tablet. Glancing at her knee, you noticed it was slightly bleeding.

“Hey, let me take care of that knee,” you said, heading to grab a first aid kit. When you returned, you sat beside her and cleaned her wound with some alcohol. “Is this because you skipped school today? Is it about your mom?”

She sighed. “Yeah, it’s about her and my dad. They keep saying they’ll get divorced, but nothing changes.”

You paused. That must be tough for her. “I didn’t know; that sounds rough. How do you feel about it?”

She shrugged. “I just want them to figure it out already. I’m so tired of their drama and constant arguing.”

“I get it. If it ever gets to be too much, just call me. My place isn’t nearly as big as this one—barely bigger than the living room—but I’ll make room for you. What do you think?”

Mia smiled with a maturity beyond her years. “Thanks, you’re a really good friend.”

You smiled back and wrapped her knee with some bandages. “Alright, don’t take this off until tomorrow, got it?”

“Got it, thanks,” he said as he flopped back onto the couch. “You’re mad at him, huh?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m really angry. I just want to break everything in here,” you muttered while glancing around.

“How mature,” he remarked quietly.

Feeling a bit embarrassed, you looked at her. “I mean, of course I won’t actually do that.”

“My mom did,” she replied, surprisingly calm. “She broke everything in Dad’s office. You adults can be super childish sometimes, and then want us to act like we’re grown-ups.”

You let out a nervous laugh. “You’re not wrong; we can be pretty childish about things.”

“Just talk it out and figure it out,” she said.

You grabbed the first aid kit and stood up. “What if I’m so mad at him that I don’t even want to talk?”

She smiled. “I don’t think you are.” You raised an eyebrow. “Well, I hope you are not, because I don’t want him to be upset.” She was messing with something on her tablet.

You loved how she was just like her mom, always keeping an eye on Harry. “I don’t want to upset him, honey, but I have to make him eat a little humble pie, okay?”

“But you’ll forgive him later, right?” she asked with hope in her voice.

“Of course, I love him,” you said softly.

“Awesome,” she said, clearly happy, and went back to playing with the tablet.

“Well, I guess I should get back to my chores,” you said, heading into the kitchen to start cleaning up.

“What's up?”

Oliver stepped into his office to find Harry staring at his tablet with a frown.

“There’s something wrong with the cameras. They won’t rotate and there’s no sound coming through. Do you think there's a bug in the app?”

“Maybe your girlfriend got fed up with the cameras and sabotaged them,” he quipped, taking a closer look. “Let me see.”

“I can't blame her,” Harry replied, guilt creeping in.

Oliver noticed Harry’s troubled look as he fiddled with the app. “Seriously, when are you going to tell her?”

“I’m planning to do it tonight,” Harry said with determination. “I just couldn’t find the right moment this morning.”

At that moment, Maria walked into the office. “Harry, I'm seriously considering taking that tablet away from you. You’ve been messing with it more than Mia. I worked really hard to convince them—it’s not worth ruining the meeting over.”

“He was just worried he couldn’t see his girlfriend on the camera,” Oliver muttered.

Harry shot him a glare.

“Okay, that’s enough. I’m calling her right now and telling her everything,” Maria said, pulling out her phone.

Harry jumped up and grabbed the phone from her hand. “Stay out of it. I’ll handle this.”

Just then, her phone began to ring. “School,” Harry said, handing her phone back to Maria.

Maria picked up immediately. “Hello? Yes, this is her mom.”

Harry glanced at Oliver. “Have you fixed it yet?”

“Nope, it’s weird. It’s like someone else has logged into the cameras on their phone and taken over.”

“What did you just say?”

They both turned to Maria, who looked concerned. “Okay,” she said, hanging up.

Harry frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“Mia,” Maria said as she dialed another number. “Her teacher said she didn’t show up to school today. Come on, pick up the damn phone.” But Maria’s face dropped when Mia's dad said he hadn’t seen her either.

“Or perhaps she went back home,” Oliver added.

“We’ll find out now,” Maria said, pulling up an app on her phone.

Harry moved closer to her. “What are you doing?”

“Tracking Mia with a smartwatch app,” she said, waiting for the app to locate her. “If that doesn’t work, I’ll try the app that tracks her phone.”

“Geez, Maria. Have you planted a bug on her, too?” Oliver said with a smirk.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she did,” Harry scoffed.

“You’ll understand when you become parents,” Maria replied, giving them a pointed look.

“Hopefully not for a long time,” Oliver said.

Harry chuckled at the idea.

“There! I’ve got it,” Maria said, her eyes widening. “Oh no. Harry, you need to see this,” she said, showing him her phone screen.

Harry froze, staring at the location the app found. “No…Fuck...”

Oliver leaned over to take a look. “Damn, this is your apartment.”

Cleaning duty today felt tougher than usual. Ever since you discovered it was Harry’s house, things had started to feel different, especially now that you were technically his girlfriend. It made you feel a bit like a housewife, which was both thrilling and painful at the same time. You still needed answers, as you felt genuinely hurt. But your love for him was so strong—what could you really do? Deep down, you weren’t sure how long you could cling to your anger. With your pride and stubbornness tossed aside, you weren’t thinking straight anymore, so you chose to let it go for now.

As you walked through the hallway with the cleaning bucket, your eyes landed on that door—the locked door.

The secret room.

What was Harry hiding behind it? There were no keys in sight, so how would you ever get it open?

Did Mia know about this room?

When you walked in to check on her, her eyes were closed; was she asleep? Just as you turned to slip out quietly, you caught a hint of a muffled sound—no, she was crying.

“Mia? Are you okay?”

She sniffled and nodded, but kept her eyes shut. You moved to sit beside her on the couch. “Hey, what’s wrong, honey?”

“Nothing... just nothing.”

You gently patted her head. “You sure? You can tell me. I'll keep it between us, I promise.”

“My mom and dad... I hate them, especially my mom. They decided to get divorced without even consulting me. I don’t want them to split up, but they didn’t even ask how I feel. They won’t love me anymore, and they’re going to be busier with their work.”

“Shh, don’t think like that. Of course, they’ll still love you. They’re your parents, and their love for you will never fade, I assure you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because a mother’s love for her child is unconditional; it can’t just vanish. You're not the reason they're breaking up, I swear. Sometimes, even if adults love each other, things get messy, and splitting up is the only way to handle it. It might seem like the end, but it can also lead to something better.”

“Really?” she murmured, her eyelids growing heavy.

“Absolutely, trust me. You’re lucky to have both your mom and dad around; I’m sure they’ll take care of you, even if things change. I kind of envy you because I lost my mom, and I'll never get the chance to tell her how much I miss her. I wish she were still alive. As for my dad... it feels like he doesn’t care about me—he doesn’t even bother to call, you know?” Your voice cracked slightly. “But your mom and dad are with you and must have been searching for you all morning, haven’t they, Mia? I’m sure they are worried—”

Looking down, you saw that she had fallen asleep, holding your hand tightly. A smile crossed your face as you wrapped your other arm around her. Suddenly, you felt tired too, and before you knew it, you drifted off beside her.

“Mia? Sweetie?” Maria called out for her daughter.

You blinked awake, realizing Harry’s face was mere inches from yours, and his hand was gently resting on your cheek. You stared at him for a moment before pushing his hand away and getting off the couch.

How did you even fall asleep?

Mia stirred and rubbed her eyes. “Mom?”

“What happened to your knee?” Maria's voice rang out.

“It’s nothing, just a little scrape. I fell in the street, and she helped me clean and bandage it.” She pointed to you.

All eyes turned to you, but you avoided their gazes. You forced a smile at Mia and quickly looked away. “I think it’s time for me to go. I hope you enjoyed my service, Mr. Castillo,” you said, trying to sound casual as you made your way to the door.

Oliver stood by the entryway, looking guilty.

“Wait,” Harry called after you. Just then, Maria touched your shoulder.

“Thank you. I’m so relieved that Mia has been with you all day,” she said, pulling you into a hug that took you by surprise.

“You’re welcome, she’s a very smart girl,” you replied, feeling a bit evasive.

She beamed at you, and you offered a smile back, though it felt awkward given the situation.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Harry approached you from behind, his voice soft but insistent.

You turned to face him. “With whom? With your girlfriend? Or with your maid-in?”

Harry let out a troubled sigh, his frustration evident as he glared at you. You turned away again. “There’s nothing to talk about,” you said, stepping closer to the door.

Maria nudged Harry from behind, encouraging him to move. He stepped in front of you, causing you to halt abruptly.

“How can you say there’s nothing to talk about? There’s plenty,” he insisted, moving closer and locking eyes with you.

You turned your head away again. “Were you trying to get revenge? If you wanted to talk, you should have spoken up sooner.”

“Revenge?” he replied, confused.

“So because I lied to you from the start and deceived you, this was your way of getting back at me?”

“I would never, never do that,” he shook his head, his expression earnest.

“Is it out of pity then?”

His brown eyes darkened with frustration. “You know it’s not like that.”

“Then why, Harry? Why did you hire me for this job without giving me a heads-up? You totally deceived me. Did you actually enjoy watching me on camera the whole time?”

“I’m sorry. I felt responsible because you were unemployed because of me, and I wanted to help—”

“It wasn’t because of you! Besides, I could have found a job myself. You didn’t need to use your money or power. Did you really think I would feel better about this? Right now, I just feel like a complete idiot. How could you do this to me?”

Maria took Mia’s hand and started to leave. “You two talk it out; we’ll give you some space, come on, Ollie.”

“No, there’s nothing left to say,” you snapped angrily.

"But you'll forgive him later, won't you?"

"Of course, I love him."

Oh no, that sounds just like what you told Mia earlier.

Did she record you?

"Mia!" you complained, glancing at her.

She just shrugged, holding her tablet. "Sorry, my finger slipped."

"That's my girl," Mia said with a giggle, as she high-fived her.

Oliver chuckled, and Harry smiled.

But you narrowed your eyes at them, feeling furious.

"Oops, we should get going," she said to her mother. They quickly headed for the elevator, leaving you alone with Harry.

But before you could go after them, Harry came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off your feet.

“What are you doing? Harry! Put me down!”

“Nope. You're going to listen, sweetheart. No more running away.”

“Let go!” you protested, but he refused to budge.

He carried you to the couch and set you down next to him, holding your hands tightly, but you turned your head away.

“Baby, please forgive me. I tried to explain before, but I just couldn’t find the right words. I thought helping you find a job would make you happy. I never meant to offend or hurt you; please believe that.”

“Did it have to be your house?” you grumbled.

“Isn’t this better than being at someone else's place?”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

His hand trembled as he sighed. “I mean, I hate this too. It hurts to see you so exhausted, to watch you work so hard, and I can’t stand the thought of your beautiful hands being worn down in those cleaning gloves. I want to kiss those lovely fingers, to cherish them.”

As he began to kiss your fingers one by one, your heart raced. You almost let your guard down, almost kissed him.

Almost.

“Harry,” you whispered. “This is my job, and—”

“Don’t,” he interjected, frustration evident in his voice. “Can’t you just skip the cleaning? You can keep working with Chef Bruno, but please, no more cleaning.”

“Is it because you don’t want to introduce your girlfriend in that way?”

“No, what I mean is—”

You stood up, your frustration boiling over. “I’m sorry, but this is my life. I have no problem introducing you to my friends, but it seems you hesitate to do the same. I can’t change who I am.”

He rose to his feet as well. “I don’t know how we ended up here. I never intended for this to happen. Listen-”

“Harry, you listen. I understand your intentions, and I appreciate them, but I wish you had considered how I might feel in all of this. And I can't do this if...”

“Wait a minute, why do I feel like you’re giving a breakup speech?”

“Because I am,” you said, tears brimming in your eyes.

“No, no, no, don’t do that.” He moved closer, but you took a step back and raised your hand.

“We agreed there would be no secrets between us, but we couldn’t even manage that. How can our relationship develop from here?”

“There are no secrets left now that everything is out in the open,” he said, trying to smile. You crossed your arms and bit your lip, acknowledging his point. Then he drew nearer and wrapped his arms around you.

“I promise, baby, there will never be any secrets between us again, I swear,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his breath soft and tender. “Please don’t leave me.” The plea struck deep within you, twisting like a knife. How could you even entertain such a thought? The very idea of parting from him was unbearable, a wound that throbbed in your chest and brought stinging tears to your eyes. It was the last thing you wanted—a painful notion that sent ripples of hurt through your heart.

In that moment, you set aside all other emotions and surrendered to the warmth of his embrace, allowing yourself to rest your head on his chest for a while.

“What about that locked room?” you asked then, glancing toward it, wiping your tears meanwhile. “I wonder what you’re hiding behind that door.”

A sly grin crept across his face. “Do you want to see it? But promise me that once you see what’s inside, you’ll tell me you love me again, and you won’t leave me. Deal?”

“It all depends on what’s in there.”

He chuckled, then walked into the bedroom, still holding your hand. Nervousness washed over you as you tried to pull your hand back.

“Relax, I’m not trying to lure you into bed,” he laughed. “At least, not right now.”

��You wish,” you grunted.

He chuckled as he opened the nightstand drawer. “Funny. You were practically begging me last night. I can still hear you meowing.”

Your cheeks flushed. “I don’t remember any of that,” you lied.

He pulled out a box from the drawer and took out a key. “I have the scars on my back to prove it, kitten,” he teased.

Your face was burning now, as red as a tomato. “Stop it and do what you need to do.”

Chuckling, he held up the key, “Here it is; come on,” taking your hand again.

Together, you stood in front of the locked door. Harry inserted the key into the lock and paused to look at you. “Are you ready, baby? The big secret is about to be revealed.”

You rolled your eyes. “Stop showing off and open the damn door,” you muttered.

Grinning, he unlocked the door and stepped back, inviting you in with his hand.

You hesitated before stepping into the room, shocked at what you saw.

To your left stood a massive floor-to-ceiling wardrobe filled with clothes, and to your right was a complete wardrobe of bags and shoes. In the center was an elegant dressing table. Harry slid open the wardrobe, revealing all the clothes and shoes he had ever bought you, carefully arranged. He embraced you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder and kissing your cheek. “It’s all yours. This room is for you. I was waiting for you to say yes to me before I revealed it to you. I kept it locked and tried to stay away, but I found it hard to resist many times,” he whispered, nuzzling along the curve of your neck.

You were rendered speechless, taken aback. Then you noticed a jewelry box on the dresser. “Isn’t that the earring?” You walked over, picked it up, and examined it closely. “Have you had this all along?”

“Oops, looks like another secret is out,” he said with a chuckle.

You shot him a pointed look. “You really. Why didn’t you say anything when I told you I would pay you back?”

“Because you broke my heart,” he replied softly. “You told me you never wanted to see me again, so I thought the earring would be a good excuse to get you to meet me.”

“You're unbelievable,” you shot back, your irritation surfacing.

“What about you?” he countered, but then his expression softened as he noticed the look on your face. “I love you,” he confessed, his lips forming the word like an apology.

Damn he was so cute.

His adorableness made you giggle despite yourself.

“You didn’t say it again.”

“Say what?”

“Do you want me to make you say it? Just like last night,” he whispered, leaning in close. “You remember how well that turned out.” His lips brushed against your earlobe as his hand slowly slipped down, hovering dangerously close to your thigh. Your reaction was instinctive; you caught his hand. However, his lips found their way to your neck, and you couldn't help but bite your lower lip and roll your eyes. “Harry, stop.”

“I know you want me, baby; don’t try to deny it,” he purred, his voice low and teasing.

“No, you’re wrong,” you replied, almost breathless.

“Then why are you holding my hand so tightly?” he whispered, a smirk playing on his lips.

You withdrew your hand quickly, shocked at your own reaction.

What the fuck?

When did this escalate?

You frowned at his chuckle. “I really hate you,” you whined, though your irritation was half-hearted.

“No, you don't,” he laughed, clearly enjoying the banter.

“Well, I really like this room, but that doesn’t mean I forgive you. And it definitely doesn’t mean I’m ready to jump into bed with you,” you declared stubbornly.

“Then what do I need to do to win your forgiveness? I’ll do anything,” he said, voice dripping with seduction.

The look he gave you was enough to make you avert your gaze.

“I don’t know; I need to think,” you said, fighting back a giggle. “But I have to go now—I told Bruno I would head to the hotel early.” You turned to leave the room.

He followed right behind you. “I’ll give you a ride.”

You responded without looking back. “Well, if you’re that eager.”

With a smile, he followed you behind as you walked toward the elevator.

“Have you forgiven me yet?” Harry asked again as he parked the car in front of the hotel.

“You just asked me that five minutes ago."

“I’ll keep asking until you say you forgive me,” he replied, shutting off the engine.

You opened the door and turned to him. “At least let me think it over.”

He took your hand, pulled you closer, and placed a quick kiss on your cheek. “Whatever you say, kitty. Good luck at work.”

“Thanks for the ride,” you said with a faint smile, stepping out and closing the door behind you.

As you made your way to the hotel entrance, Harry watched you from the driver’s seat. Just then, you spotted Alan getting out of his own car, heading your way.

“Good evening,” he greeted you.

You turned and smiled, “Good evening, Mr. Finnegan.”

“Come on, call me Alan already, will you?”

Harry, watching from a distance, muttered, “Asshole.” Trying to keep his cool, he stepped out of the car and approached you two. “Baby,” he called out, and before you could react, he spun you around and kissed you so passionately that it left you breathless. Pulling back, he glanced at Alan and added, “I almost took off without kissing my girlfriend goodbye.” The way he said “girlfriend” caught his attention and everyone around the street.

Alan’s expression darkened.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, caught off-guard by how intimate the kiss had been.

“Anyway, I should be on my way,” he said.

"Yeah, you do that," you said, squinting at him and gesturing for him to leave.

“Good night, Finnegan,” Harry said, getting into his car, clearly amused by Alan's reaction.

Shaking your head at Harry, you noticed Alan squinting at him, clearly unamused. “I didn’t realize you were with him,” Alan said as he walked inside.

“Well, things are a bit complicated,” you murmured.

“Not surprising, things always get messy with Castillo,” Alan muttered quietly.

“Excuse me?”

“I just... You really should think twice about being with him,” he warned lightly.

“Alan, it’s—”

“Anyway, I suppose my employees’ personal lives are none of my business,” he said with a smirk, heading toward the elevator.

What just happened?

Why had he said that?

And why was he suddenly in a good mood?

You really should have asked Harry about the weird thing between them, but now you had to focus—you had a kitchen to get to.

Things were really hectic in the kitchen, and as if that weren’t enough, Alan was having a business lunch in the dining room and asked you to make some desserts just for him. As you handed off the treats to the waitstaff, he called you over and praised your work. If he wasn’t your boss, you might have said something about his overwhelming attention, but you figured it was best to keep quiet until your internship was over. Then, just when you thought the day couldn’t get any worse, Melanie called.

“What do you want?” you asked, annoyed.

“What do I want? I need you to talk to my dad, and I want you to do it right now, like you promised!”

“I will, but I've been super busy and haven’t had time yet.”

“Well, it’s on you. If my dad doesn’t let me come back home, I’ll just crash at your place.”

“Wait, what? You called my house a disgusting little flat. Aren’t you with Nate? Can’t he help you out?”

“Don’t even mention that jerk!”

“Did you two break up already? Wow, that was quick, even for you.”

“Just drop it, okay? It’s none of your business. Talk to my dad tomorrow night or I’ll make your life miserable!”

“As if you weren’t already a pain in my ass!” you shot back and hung up in frustration. As you walked toward the exit, muttering under your breath, someone called out from behind.

Ugh, it was Alan again.

“Are you okay? You sounded like you were venting at someone on the phone,” he said, wearing that annoying smile.

“Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to raise my voice.”

“Well, if you did it, they probably deserved it,” he said, grinning.

Just when you thought it was over, you turned to leave but almost bumped into the revolving door. Alan grabbed your arm, pulling you back.

“Watch out!” he said.

What the hell?

You could’ve easily dodged the door; you weren't that clumsy. His other arm wrapped around you, too.

“Thanks, but I’m fine,” you said, carefully pushing his hand away. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” he replied, watching you walk away as you stormed out. Your phone buzzed again, but you ignored it; you weren’t in the mood for more of Melanie’s drama.

Suddenly, you heard footsteps behind you and turned to see Harry.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone? Are you okay?” he asked, and just seeing him made you feel so much better.

“Yeah, sorry, thought it was Melanie,” you said, spotting the bouquet of pink roses he was holding.

“Is she still being a pain?”

“Forget about her; I’ll handle it. Are those for me?” you asked, trying to hide your smile.

“Of course they are, beautiful,” he said, handing you the flowers.

“Thanks,” you said, taking a whiff of the roses.

“Come on, let’s get to the car.”

As you walked together, he leaned closer. “Am I forgiven?”

You rolled your eyes. “Not in a day, ol'man.”

Harry sighed and opened the back door for you. “So, if I asked you to spend the night at my apartment instead of going home, you wouldn’t consider it?”

Ah, damn...

Those puppy-dog eyes and dangerously tempting lips made it hard to say no, but you somehow managed to act like you weren't interested, thanks to your stubbornness.

And the oscar goes to...

“N-no, sorry, I need to check on Zoe. She’s still home alone,” you stammered.

He sighed again and closed the door after you settled in the car.

“Hey, Ollie,” you said while he was chilling in the driver’s seat.

“Hey, girl! How’s it going? You two good now?”

“We’re good, right, baby?” Harry said, sitting next to you.

“Kind of,” you muttered, still eyeing the roses in your lap.

“Kind of?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

You shrugged, teasing him.

“Come on, really? Okay, I’m taking you on a date tomorrow night, and we’re going to sort everything out,” Harry grumbled.

“Uh-oh,” Oliver chimed in as he drove.

You squinted at Harry. “If you ask me with that tone, you might be going on that date alone.”

“Okay, sorry,” he said with a sigh. "Would you like to accompany me for dinner tomorrow night, lovely lady?"

You giggled but kept your expression cool. “Um, let me check my calendar first.”

Oliver chuckled.

Harry squinted again.

“Alright, fine. But I need to have a quick chat with Jack tomorrow. If he agrees, you can pick me up at the hotel again.”

He smiled widely taking your hand and bringing it to his lips. “As you wish, darling.”

As you stepped into the apartment, the sweet scent of the bouquet Harry had given you lingered in the air, enveloping you until you finally reached your place with the flowers cradled in your arms. When you opened the door and walked inside, you were taken aback by the scene in front of you.

“Oh sweet Jesus!”

John and Zoe were on the couch, wrapped up in a passionate kiss—thankfully, they were fully dressed. The moment they noticed you, they pulled apart, and John shot up from the couch, his face a canvas of embarrassment.

But you felt even more embarrassed. “Oh, I’m sorry, guys, I, uh…”

“No, no, no, I’m so sorry!” John stuttered, quickly averting his gaze, adjusting his hair.

“Awkward,” Zoe murmured, covering her mouth in surprise. “I thought you were with your boyfriend,” she added, glancing at you and the bouquet still in your hands.

“Well, yeah… I mean, no, I wasn’t. It’s a long story.”

“I’d better be going. Bye, girls. Good night,” John said, grabbing his jacket and making a hasty exit.

Once the door closed behind him, you turned back to Zoe. "Jesus, girl, what just happened?"

Zoe huffed in disbelief. "I have no idea! He helped me change my bandage, touched my leg and then… suddenly we kissed. It was so strange, but it felt amazing."

“Strange”? You seemed pretty into it."

“It might have turned into something really hot if you hadn’t barged in,” she replied with a hint of annoyance.

“Sue me,” you muttered, placing the flowers in a vase on the table.

“I didn’t think you’d be back so soon. You were with him last night, right?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, it’s a long story.”

“Still not officially together? Seriously, get your shit together already. What’s going on with you two?”

You let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know. Just when I think things are finally going well, something messes it all up, and I'm left feeling hurt again…”

“Uh-oh, spill everything.”

"Okay, do you want something cold to drink?"

"Yes, please! I’m dying of heat over here."

You giggled as you made your way to the fridge. “So if I had come in five minutes later, would you have been completely undressed? Good thing I didn’t.”

“You're so bad,” she laughed.

You began the day with that text that pinged on your phone the moment you woke up, that familiar message from the person you had been longing to hear from, the one you had been waiting for eagerly.

Morning, kitten. The sun is shining, the birds are singing— Isn't it the perfect day to make you feel like forgiving?

Was he rhyming?

He was really good at it or bad not sure, but he would have to try a little harder.

Hmm. I'm not sure if today is the day. You'll know for sure tonight, doll. I'll make you. Hmm, how ambitious. Always I am.

After you changed, you stepped into the living room and saw Zoe was getting ready.

“Where are you off to?”

“To the hospital to get my ankle checked.”

“Do you want some company?”

“John will,” she replied with a cheeky smile. “Besides, you’ll be off on your date with Harry tonight, right?”

Your cheeks warmed at the thought. “Well, yes, maybe.”

“I’m planning to invite John over for dinner, and he’d better come clean about something tonight.”

“Oh, I see, you’re trying to get rid of me, huh?”

"Come on, he shares an apartment with three guys; it’s more convenient for us to be here."

“Okay, don’t worry, I won’t crash tonight,” you replied with a grin, thoughts drifting to Harry’s bedroom.

“Awesome!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands.

“Wow, you could be a bit less eager about this.”

“Sorry, but I can’t help it, I’m in love,” she said, giggling.

“Apology accepted,” you responded, grabbed your bag, and headed out the door. Just then, you bumped into John in the hallway. “Hey."

“Hey there. How’s work treating you?”

"Good. Listen, John, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what’s up?"

"Do you have feelings for Zoe?"

"Yes, she’s a wonderful person, and cute too," he said, smiling.

He was definitely into her.

“I mean, I thought there was something going on between you and that woman Lucy at the wedding. I need to know if you really like Zoe.”

"Lucy is just my childhood friend and ex. But, don't you know her already?"

"I only know she's Alan's girlfriend and a matchmaker."

John crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Surprised that Castillo hasn’t told you about her."

“What’s there to tell?”

John let out a troubled sigh. “You know, I’m not sure if it’s a good time for me to drop this on you, but those two were actually together a few years ago.”

Damn, you were worried about this. "So that’s why," you murmured after a brief pause.

“Listen, he will share the details with you, but Lucy isn't like you or Zoe. She deceived both me and Castillo, leaving us heartbroken in the end. I can't hold a grudge against her because we share this strange bond, but I promise you, I’ll never hurt Zoe because of this."

You nodded. "It better stay that way, John. You should tell her as soon as possible, or I will," you said. After receiving a nod from him, you turned and headed down the stairs to leave the building.

All day long, as you worked, your thoughts kept drifting back to Lucy. You regretted asking John about her. It wasn’t just that Harry hadn’t mentioned her—after all, that was fine considering the incident had happened years ago. What truly unnerved you was the possibility of her showing up at any moment, especially as Alan's girlfriend. It felt like trouble was just around the corner, and you couldn’t shake that feeling. Alan himself was another source of tension; his frequent encounters with you and his growing interest were weighing heavily on your mind. You knew deep down that sooner or later, things were bound to get complicated.

You really hoped this internship would wrap up soon, and that Chef Bruno would write you a glowing letter of recommendation. Yet, with the fair approaching and the day ticking down, you had to press on through the culinary internship.

Earlier, you'd called Jack, and he had already said he wanted to meet. As you waited at the table, you spotted him approaching and stood up to greet him. "Thanks for taking the time to meet me here," you said, shaking Jack's hand as he took a seat across from you.

"Of course, no problem," he replied, settling into his seat.

"Jack, about Melanie—"

"Save your breath, honey. I’m not here for her."

You were taken aback. "What do you mean? I thought that’s why you came—"

He pulled out a bunch of newspapers and magazines from his bag and dropped them on the table with a bang, making the glasses and plates rattle.

Your eyes went wide. “What’s all this?”

“Why don’t you check for yourself?”

Following his lead, you picked up the top magazine, and your heart sank at the sight of your own image on the cover. Someone had captured a photo of you and Harry dancing at the wedding from a distance.

Who is the mystery girl dancing with famous businessman Harry Castillo? the headline read.

You quickly grabbed another magazine, revealing a picture of you and Melanie.

Get ready for a surprising twist! How did the maid in Melanie Johnson's mansion pretend to be her and trap a famous billionaire?

“Ugh, what a bunch of vultures,” you muttered, shaking your head.

As you continued flipping through the articles, the headlines turned more shocking. Words like "gold digger," "sneaky housekeeper," and "fortune hunter" jumped out at you.

"That's what I was warning you about," Jack said. "I don't want you to worry, though—none of these magazines have been printed yet. These are all test editions. We managed to confiscate them before they went into mass production, and Harry’s assistant has ensured the online stories have been taken down."

You looked up at him, relief washing over you. "Thank you, Jack."

"You don’t need to thank me for dealing with the news, which includes Melanie; I did that for my own reasons. But regarding the rest..." He pointed to the magazine cover with your dancing picture. "This is the thing I wanted to discuss. I see you as a daughter, so take this advice from a father to his daughter: end whatever is happening between you and Harry before it spirals out of control. If this keeps up, there’ll be more stories about you, people will dig into your past, and in the end, it’s you who’ll get hurt. Do you understand?"

You sighed. "Jack, I honestly get what you’re saying, and I do appreciate it. But there's nothing in my past or family that I’m worried about. Gossip like this finds someone new to focus on every day; it could just as easily be me one day and someone else the next."

He paused for a moment, then nodded slowly. "So, it appears there's something more between you two than I realized. You've made up your mind. Well, it's your life, after all. I just hope you don’t wind up hurt and come to regret this decision.”

"Jack."

You both turned your heads, and damn it was—Alan. He usually didn’t come to the hotel on Saturday nights, but today was clearly an exception.

Of course.

Jack stood up to shake his hand. "Alan."

"How are you? Didn’t see you at the wedding."

"I was in D.C.," Jack replied. Just then, his phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and answered. Alan looked at you with a smile, and you returned it.

Damn, he might have noticed the magazines on the table, you thought.

"Sorry, I’ve got to leave," Jack said suddenly.

You stood up, worry creeping in. "Is everything okay?"

"Melanie," he hissed, frustration clear in his voice. "She ran away from home."

"What do you mean she ran away? Or have you been keeping her locked up?" Your voice rose higher than you meant it to.

You couldn't shake off the memory of that one time Jack had locked her in her room, and it had ended poorly. A shudder ran through you at the thought.

"I had no choice. I thought she’d see reason and come to her senses, but apparently, I was wrong."

"Jack, are you out of your mind? Do you really not know your daughter? Locking her up isn’t the solution!"

Heads in the dining room turned toward you.

"You’re right. I messed up this time, but I couldn’t let her keep hanging out with that playboy Nate."

"I can’t say I blame you for that," you replied quietly.

"Anyway, I really have to go. Catch you later, Alan."

"See you, Jack."

As Jack strolled away, casting a backward glance, a heavy sadness settled in your chest. Melanie hadn't matured much and was acting like a nightmare. Despite his faults, Jack was a good father—if only he showed a little more genuine care to his daughter more than his work.

"Sounds like Melanie’s giving Jack a rough time," Alan said, still holding onto that smile.

"Yeah, she’s a bit immature," you admitted quietly.

To your surprise, Alan looked around the table and sat down in Jack’s vacated chair.

"Have a seat; your dessert's still waiting."

You did your best to keep it together and not roll your eyes. "Thanks, but I really need to go—"

"Just give me five minutes, alright?" he said, leaning in a bit closer.

You glanced at your watch, thinking about how Harry would be picking you up in about an hour. With a sigh, you plopped back down. "Fine."

"Thanks," he said, adjusting his suit jacket and settling in. "I know what happened here last time." You looked at him in surprise; this wasn't what you expected. "About what Lucy did..." He paused and took a breath. "I want to say sorry on her behalf."

Your eyes widened. “Alan, it’s okay. But if you start treating me differently because of her, it will only make her dislike me more. Plus, this kind of stuff probably isn't over yet."

“It won’t happen again,” he stated firmly. “I won’t allow it in my hotel. I broke up with her, and I doubt she will be coming back here.”

“That can’t be the only reason you decided to break up with her, right?”

He smiled and shook his head. “No, but it played a part. It’s disgraceful to have such disrespect shown here, especially towards our customers. I was wrong about her; she’s not the kind and innocent person I thought she was.”

"I’m sorry," you said, your tone a touch insincere.

"Not me," he replied with a grin. "I’m kind of relieved."

What was that supposed to mean?

A nagging feeling grew as you sensed he was gearing up to say something you wouldn’t like.

"One of the reasons I broke up was because of a question she asked me."

Oh, please, let this be over.

"She wanted to know if I had feelings for you."

You fought to maintain a neutral expression.

Don't say that, please don't.

"I couldn't answer her because, honestly, I actually have feelings for you that I didn't realize until now."

That was more than you could handle.

"Alan, do you even realize what you’re saying?"

"Yes, I’m fully aware."

You sighed deeply. "Maybe you’re mistaken," you suggested, looking away and starting to shake your foot nervously.

"No, I absolutely know how I feel now. I like you." He reached across the table and took your hand, catching you off guard.

You quickly pulled away. "Alan, I’m with Harry."

"You mentioned before that things were complicated between you two," he said, casually picking up one of the magazines.

"That doesn’t mean I don’t love him," you shot back, your voice sharp.

His serious expression told you he wasn’t taking it lightly.

You stood up, feeling a surge of urgency. "Look, Alan, whatever you’re feeling, you need to let it go, or I won’t be able to stay here."

"Are you really going to quit your internship?"

"If I have to, yes," you affirmed.

"Alright, I won’t pressure you unless you come to me yourself."

Surprise and annoyance washed over you. "That’s not going to happen."

He leaned back in his chair, a knowing smile on his face. "Don’t be so sure; life has a funny way of surprising us.”

What the fuck?

Your phone started ringing, and you just held it in your hand without answering as you rushed out of the dining room, still shaken by what had just happened. It was Nate calling, so you definitely weren't picking up; you quickly silenced your phone. Taking a deep breath, you let it all go and shifted your focus to getting ready for your date. Harry had offered to buy you a dress again earlier, but you turned him down. This date was meant to feel like a fresh start, a first date of sorts, and you wanted to treat yourself to the entire process.

During lunch break, you popped into one of those upscale department stores and slipped into the black, shimmering backless dress you had chosen—probably the priciest dress you had ever bought, costing almost four months' salary. You tried to keep a positive mindset; nothing would ruin tonight. The expensive Birman black shoes that Melanie had given you the night before matches perfectly with the dress. Just as you were putting the finishing touches on your makeup, your phone rang again, but your smile quickly faded when you glanced at the screen.

It wasn’t Harry.

Seeing "Trouble" light up the screen only added to your anxiety.

No way were you picking up.

The phone could ring its heart out. When it rang again as you reached for your red lipstick—perfectly matching your nails—you pushed on, determined to finish your look.

However, the incessant ringing soon got on your nerves, and you finally answered, ready to give Melanie a piece of your mind. “Look, I can’t deal with your drama right now—”

“It’s me, Garry.”

You could barely hear him over the loud music in the background. “Garry? What are you doing on Melanie’s phone? And where in the world are you?”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on her for a while; she’s completely wasted, and I don’t know how to handle this. Please, I need your help.”

“Look, I have a very important date tonight—”

“And it seems we have our new volunteer dancer!” a woman’s voice chimed in, followed by masculine cheers and applause.

Oh man.

“Don’t tell me you’re at a strip club!”

“You just heard it. I’ll try to drag her out of here, but you need to hurry. I’ll send you the location.” Garry hung up before you could say anything. “Garry! Hold on—what the hell! What kind of night is this?” you exclaimed, quickly changing up your outfit and bolting out of the room.

When the taxi driver brought you in front of the strip club, you were cursing inside, nervous and angry. It was too much, the strip club was too much, even for her. How could she be so thoughtless and reckless?

At the entrance to the door, unfortunately, everyone was staring at you, including the women.

Oh that's right, you were all dressed up, probably looked breathtaking, but it wasn't to come here, damn it, it was to meet your boyfriend.

Things got even worse when you entered the club. You've never been in a club like this before, it wasn't like other nightclubs.

You're thinking, No shit, I wish it was.

The music was blaring, and two girls were dancing on stage. Some men were cheering and staring at you.

Great.

Ignoring the gazes, you spotted Garry and made your way to him. However, just like the other guys, he seemed fixated on the girls performing. “Hey!” you nudged him.

“Oh you're here? Wow girl, you look great, but I wish you hadn't come here wearing a dress like this.” he said, looking around at the men.

“I couldn't change because you called me while I was getting ready for my date.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, but Melanie's gone crazy.”

“Where is she?”

“She was going on stage and tripped and fell, I was tried to check her but the women wouldn't let me in. That's why I called you.”

“Goddamn it,” you grumbled, shoving your purse at him. “Hold this, I’ll go get her, and then we’ll all head to the car together, okay?”

“Got it. I’ll wait here.”

Just as you left, Garry couldn’t help himself when your phone started ringing non-stop. He didn’t think to check your purse without asking, but when it rang like crazy, he finally picked it up. “Yeah?”

Harry nearly wrecked his car when he heard a guy’s voice on the other end. “Who the hell are you? Why are you answering my girlfriend’s phone?”

“Mr. Castillo, you probably don’t remember me, but I’m Mr. Johnson's driver.”

“Wait, is that club music I hear? Where is she?”

“We're at the strip club. It’s kind of complicated.”

Harry was stunned and slammed on the brakes, making the tires screech on the road. The car behind him honked and yelled, but he didn’t care. “Just tell me where the club is!”

"Melanie, I swear to God, if you don't come with me right now, I'll drag you out of here by yanking your hair if I have to! I'll do it, believe me, I will!"

“Not until Nate gets here!” she snapped.

The girl was not only drunk but also trying to climb onto the stage. You were tugging at her from behind the curtain, hoping Garry could lend a hand, but she was putting up a fight.

“Hey, you two, get lost! Stay clear of the stage!” one of the dancers hissed at you.

“I'm not interested; as you see, I'm trying to get her out of here!” you retorted, still struggling to pull Melanie back.

“No! I’m going up there! I paid for it!” Melanie shouted defiantly.

“What did you just say?” you exclaimed, bewildered. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Leave them alone, girls,” an older woman chimed in, casting a knowing glance at you. “The guys who wanted you on stage shelled out a lot of cash,” she said with a sly smile.

Melanie laughed. “See? They’re dying to see me! Nate needs to get over here right now, call him!”

“It wasn’t for you,” the woman replied, eyes darting between Melanie and you. She surveyed you up and down, a smirk playing on her lips. “They paid for you, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “I’m not a dancer or stripper.”

“That doesn’t matter, darling. You look fantastic. I could even give you half the take.”

“What the fuck? You promised me that I’d go on stage! Not her!”

You narrowed your eyes and glared at Melanie. “No one’s going up there!” you shouted firmly.

“Enough with this! Girls,” the woman called out, and the two dancers approached you, trying to take off your jacket.

“Hey! Get your hands off me! What do you think you’re doing?” you exclaimed, wrestling against them.

“Come on, sweetheart, don’t overreact. Just trust yourself,” she replied, grabbing your wrist. But before she could pull you away, someone else seized her arm and pushed it back.

“Leave her alone!”

When you spotted Harry, a mix of surprise and embarrassment washed over you, yet relief followed quickly. He grabbed your arm, pulling you behind him, and draped his jacket around you, wrapping you with it.

“Hey, mister, what do you think you’re doing?” the woman asked, taken aback.

"If you touch my girl again, I'll bring this club down!" Harry growled.

Just then, a man approached you two, dressed in a suit. "Mr. Castillo, there's been a terrible misunderstanding. Please forgive us, sir." He then turned to the girls. "Get back to work and return the money to those customers."

"And give me back my jacket!" you shouted.

Harry reached over, snatched it from one of the girls, and pulled you closer. "Are you okay?"

You nodded. "Yeah, thanks. Melanie! Harry, stop her!" you exclaimed, pointing at her. Harry grasped her arm and pulled her away from the stage.

That's when Nate strolled in, his phone in hand, ready to take pictures. "Oh no, did I miss the show?"

The son of a bitch was grinning.

"It's all your fault!" you shot back at him.

Garry came over to Melanie. "Miss Johnson, let’s head to the car, please."

Melanie clung to Harry's arm touching his face. "Hey, old man, want a lap dance?" She was clearly trying to make Nate jealous, but it was Harry she had her hands on.

Your man.

Harry chuckled as he gently pushed her hand away. "Sorry, sweetheart, but I'm not interested."

Wait a minute.

Not only was Melanie, but almost all the women dancers were looking Harry up and down. A wave of jealousy washed over you.

And then you lost it.

You were so angry that you pulled her off of him by the hair. "You little slut, who do you think you're touching?" You pushed her towards Nate. "Take your girlfriend and get the hell out of my life! Garry, you call Jack right now!" you said to him. Grabbing Harry's hand tightly, "Let's get the hell out of here." you urged.

He was still laughing as you pulled him out with you.

“Stop laughing, Harry,” you scolded as you made your way to the car.

“But you were so cute when you protected me from real Melanie back there,” he replied, still chuckling.

You paused and turned to face him. “Are you really enjoying this?”

“Actually I don’t know what to think. Do you know how angry I was when I saw you here with those women? And those men… the way they look at you? I think I hate the real Melanie.”

“Welcome to the club,” you replied sarcastically. “But I’m sorry; you are right. I shouldn't have come here. Tonight was supposed to be special, and now it’s all ruined—just like my hair,” you said, running your fingers through your locks.

Harry glanced at the clock. “Um, the restaurant is about to close.”

“I really messed up,” you said, biting your lip. “I’ve ruined everything.”

He gently took your face in his hands. “Nothing’s ruined, baby. We’re going to plan B.”

“You had a plan B?” you asked, intrigued.

“I just came up with it,” he said with a grin. “Come on, we’re starting over.”

You smiled. “Okay, but where’s your car?”

“There it is,” he said, pointing to a red sport car.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “But it’s a Mustang GT!”

“That’s right. I rented it just for tonight,” he said, pulling the keys from his pocket and handing them to you. “So, am I forgiven now?”

You snatched the keys from his grasp. “Let me take it for a spin, and I’ll think about it.”

He laughed, and as you slid into the driver’s seat, he took the passenger seat beside you. You fastened your seatbelt and started the engine. “Hold on tight, ol'man.”

“Drive carefully, honey. The streets of New York are a whole different beast compared to the traffic you dealt with back in Paris.”

You shot him a playful glance before slamming your foot on the gas. “I accept the challenge.”

“Hey, that wasn’t a challenge,” he retorted, his eyes wide as he clutched the seat.

You laughed, the thrill coursing through you. “Relax! A little excitement never hurt anyone.”

“You excite me enough in that dress, babe,” he grinned, glancing at you with a mix of admiration and mischief.

After a few exhilarating laps, embarrassment washed over you when the flashing lights of a police radar caught you speeding through the night. Still, you found a way to enjoy the moment, laughing together as you swung by a 24-hour diner to grab some late-night munchies before heading toward Harry’s building. “Wow, that was an incredible ride."

“Yeah, it was a blast, even if it’s going to cost me a few hundred bucks in fines,” Harry said, opening the car door.

“Oops, sorry about that,” you said, stepping out of the car.

As he opened the trunk, he pulled out a huge bouquet of roses. “If it hadn’t been for that strip club incident, I would have met you at the hotel with this.”

“Harry,” you murmured, touched.

“Here you go, Cinderella—99 roses.”

You raised an eyebrow as you accepted the bouquet. “Why not a hundred?”

“That’s you,” he said, smiling sweetly. “The hundredth rose is you.”

You felt yourself melting at his words.

“That’s very romantic, ol'man. Thank you,” you said, reaching out to kiss his cheek.

“So, you forgive me now, right?” he asked, extending his arm so you could take it.

“Come here,” you said, encouraging him to lean closer. He complied, and you shared a tender kiss, sweet and gentle. “You’re forgiven, Mr. Castillo.”

He grinned, wrapping his arms around your waist, leaning in to kiss you again, this time with more passion, the world around you fading away. But since you were still out on the street, you gently pushed him back, laughter in your eyes. “Save the rest for later, mister.”

He chuckled, pulling you closer with one arm still wrapped around your waist, and together you strolled toward the entrance.

“Here we have some Bordeaux wine,” he said as you unpacked the food and set the plates on the table.

“Parfait,” you replied with a smile, embracing the French language.

With skilled hands, he uncorked the wine using a polished corkscrew, the soft pop echoing in the cozy room, and poured the ruby liquid into your glasses, its rich color glinting in the soft light.

“Hmm, delicious,” you remarked, savoring the first sip.

As you shared the meal, the conversation flowed effortlessly, weaving in and out of tales about Melanie and the others, laughter bubbling up like the wine in your glasses. “That’s actually much better,” you said softly, feeling the warmth of the evening. “I mean, it’s better that we’re here than in a bustling restaurant.”

“I couldn’t agree more; it’s just the two of us,” he replied, his fingers entwining with yours.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your gaze locking with his, a deep connection simmering in the air between you.

He sighed and stood up, a hint of excitement in his voice. “I have something for you.”

“Another surprise?” you asked, intrigued.

He returned with a small box, sitting back down and handing it to you across the table. Different from any jewelry box you’d seen, it piqued your curiosity.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day. There’s something I’ve come to realize. I’ve wanted you to be in my world, but I was wrong, I was missing something,” he explained as you opened the box.

Inside lay a card and a key

At once, you recognized them; it was the same card and key you had used so many times for the elevator and the door of the apartment. “Harry,” you breathed out, astonished.

“You said you don’t belong in my world, so let me into yours.”

Your eyes filled with tears as you rose and embraced him tightly. “Thank you. That’s exactly what I needed to hear.”

He pulled you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you before leaning in for a kiss. Then, he turned on some soft music from the stereo. “Will you dance with me?”

You nodded. “Absolutely.”

You found yourselves swaying together, lost in the slow, sweet melody, savoring the magic of the moment in comfortable silence.

But then the tension between you began to rise. Harry ran his hand through the fabric of your dress. “Great choice of dress by the way.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it,” he whispered.

“What about my bra?” you said huskily, guiding his hand to the lace strap of it.

“I admire it,” he purred.

You lifted the skirt of the dress, revealing your lace garter stockings. “My stockings?” your eyes twinkling.

He smiled at you and reached out, drawing a circle on your leg with his fingertip. Leaning forward, he placed a kiss on the side of your neck. “I worship it, baby,” he said, his voice breathy and deep.

Your arm found its way around his waist, and your fingertips caressed his back. “Mmm. Keep doing that, please.”

He chuckled and continued, his hands slowly creeping up under your dress. You gave a deep, breathy moan when he latched on to the spot behind your ear, licking, sucking. Getting eager, you found his lips and kissed him, your tongue sweeping into his mouth tentatively. He responded by grabbing your hips and pulling you, lifting you into his lap. Then you broke the kiss to unbutton his shirt.

Taking a brief moment to admire you he let you stripped him out of his shirt before kissing you deeply, exploring your mouth hungrily. Popping the clasp on your bra with ease he let it fell to the floor, whilst he kissed a path between your breasts leaving a trail of goose flesh in his wake. Noticing your nipples were already pert betraying your arousal, taking one between his thumb and forefinger he rolled it making you cried out, lowering his head he circled you other with his tongue before drawing it into his hot mouth and sucking. He could feel his cock straining against the his pants but he ignored it focusing all his attention on you. He repeated the action with your other nipple before moving on, his lips gliding down over your ribs, across your stomach towards the garter belt and waistband of your panties.

Hooking his thumbs into the lace, he pulled the small scrap of material down your shapely legs until you could kick them off, but letting the garter belt still be on you. Kneeling before you he cupped your hips bringing you closer to him inhaling your scent, then he ran his tongue along your wet folds the cry that escaped you when he circled your clit was guttural, he felt his cock throb begging for attention but he ignored it once again. Slowly he worked you over, teasing you with shallow thrusts of his tongue into your velvety softness over and over again until your skin was slick with sweat and your thighs began to tremble.

“Please,” you begged, your fingers tangled in his curls, clinging to him. In answer to your plea, he flicked his tongue over your swollen bundle of nerves until you cried out when your orgasm hit. Keeping a tight grip on your hips, he held you steady, letting you ride it out before kissing his way back up your body, finally claiming your lips once more. You tasted yourself on his tongue, but you didn’t care; you devoured each other desperately.

Once your equilibrium returned, your hands found his belt, quickly you unbuckled it and pulled it from the loops before popping the buttons on his fly and pushing the material down over his hips. He shucked his pants and his boxers off and before he knew it your hand was around the base of his throbbing member and you were pumping him into your fist. He gritted his teeth, "Fuck, baby, you are such a needy kitten aren't you? Good girl. But there’s no way I’ll last if you keep that up."

Taking your hands in his, he threaded your fingers together and crushed his lips to yours once more, pinning you against the wall with your interlocked hands above your head. You gasped in response. His aching cock lied heavily against your core, you shuddered. He realized he couldn’t stand it anymore; he needed to be inside you.

Hoisting you up, he hooked your legs around his waist, pushing into you in one smooth stroke.

"Harry," you moaned, feeling dizzy with incredible consuming lust.

Your hair was plastered to your sweaty face now and in the throes of passion when your pupils dilate, cheeks flushed.

"You're breathtakingly beautiful just like this, darling," he hummed.

You were soft and warm, and your walls gripped him tightly as he thrust into you, making love to you against the wall. God he’s missed you so damn much, burying his head into the crook of your shoulder he picked up his pace, he knew you were close because he can feel your inner walls begin to tremble around him. Your arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, your heels press into his firm ass as he pounds into you deeper and deeper.

As you ran your fingers through his hair down to his neck, spurring him on with sweet cries. "Harder, faster, please."

"Fuck," he growled, pressed his forehead against yours so that he held your gaze as your second orgasm striked. You screamed his name as your body locked up, your sex gripping his cock in an iron grasp.

He made an incoherent sound and cursed as your orgasm triggered his, and he released himself inside of you. You collapsed into each other a hot, sticky, sweaty mess, panting heavily. When finally he caught his breath, he ran his nose along your smiling devilishly down at you.

“So how was it, baby?” he asked waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Fast, delicious, hair-raisingly good,” you giggled.

"How about a second round? This time in the bedroom?" he panted, still catching his breath.

You tightened your arms around him playfully. “You betcha, mister."

Just as your words finished, he scooped you up and rushed toward the bedroom, causing your laughter to ring out cheekily through the hall.

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ponderingmoonlight · 2 days ago

Text

How you accidentally made Dante look like a hero again

Pairing: Dante x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,6k

Synopsis: All you wanted was to outsmart Dante and prove he was setting you up for demon attacks in order to get closer to you. Instead, you ended up buried under library rubble, fighting off scorpion demons, and getting saved by him — again. This is why you have trust issues.

Warnings: swearing, kinda enemies to lovers dynamic, I just love Dante y'all need to have mercy with me lol

You’re starting to think you’re cursed.

That’s the only explanation for it. How else do you keep ending up in demon-infested alleys, haunted casinos, and - once - dangling upside down from a stolen motorcycle, twice in the same week? No average person deserves so much distress.

But even worse: every time - every damn time - there’s Dante.

Bursting in like he’s auditioning for an action movie. Guns blazing, coat flaring behind him, a cocky smirk plastered across his stupidly handsome face.

God, how much you hate that guy.

…do you?

"Oh no," you mutter under your breath when you spot him swaggering through the chaos yet again.

"Not this asshole."

"Miss me, babe?" he calls, spinning his sword once before cleaving a demon in half like it's no big deal.

You barely dodge a flying claw, pretty used to almost dying by now.

"Dante, why are there hellhounds in the laundromat?! I just came here to do my laundry!"

He winks at you like this is all part of some grand romantic plan.

"You know. Crazy city. You never know what’s gonna happen. Nice panties by the way, wish I could see them up close."

You stare at him, sceptical to say the least, as he shoots a demon that was two inches away from biting your head off.

"This is the fourth time this month. And every time you're 'coincidentally' nearby!"

He strolls over, casually beheading something with his sword like he's just stretching his legs. How many times have you seen this already? Probably like a hundred times.

This month.

"Fate works in mysterious ways, sweetheart."

You gawk at him. No, the thing he calls fate can’t be an accident. There is literally no way in hell that you get attacked even more often than himself. There has to be another reason. Could it be that…?

"Are you setting this up?!"

He gives you a look, all fake innocence and devilish grin.

That bastard.

"Who, me? Nahhh. Demons just have a thing for damsels. Lucky for you... I'm a professional knight in shining armor."

A piece of ceiling collapses dangerously close to you. You flinch for once. Dante doesn’t even blink, just throws an arm around your waist and throws you out of the way with way too much enthusiasm.

You land on your back with a grunt, staring up at the cracked ceiling and wondering what life choices led you here. Where did you take a wrong turn to deserve this? Being liked by a hot guy is all fun and games until the name of that jerk is Dante Sparda, apparently.

Dante leans over you, upside-down, grinning like a maniac.

"You good? Need mouth-to-mouth?" he offers helpfully.

You shove him off you, the heat of his body almost devouring you whole.

"I’m getting a restraining order."

"You say that, but then who’s gonna save you next time you almost get eaten by a possessed vending machine?"

You open your mouth to argue - and realize you have no idea how to deal with possessed vending machines. You groan, burying your face in your hands.

“Maybe you’re the one who possesses everything around me…”

Dante pats your head fondly like you’re some kind of beloved but very dumb kitten.

"You mean like your thoughts? Most definitely, yeah. But don't worry, babe," he coos cheerfully, "I'll always be there to save your pretty little ass."

You’re pretty sure that’s supposed to be comforting. Instead, you start mentally drafting your will.

“Get off me now, I need to get going jerk. And stop staring at my panties”, you hiss through gritted teeth while getting up, packing your things and leaving.

No, this isn’t an accident, not your fault by any means. Dante is the one who sets all of this shit up.

“That fucker…”, you mutter to yourself, slamming the door shut in fury.

You can’t do this anymore, can’t take seeing a demon each time you leave your house. You’ll have to teach him a lesson.

Yes, there has to be a way to stop this madness once and for all.

“I’ll catch you mid-act, Dante…”

You hatch a plan.

A pretty simple one: bait Dante into showing up, catch him red-handed, and finally prove he's arranging all this chaos.

You pick the most boring, demon-unfriendly place you can think of: the public library. No shady alleys, no creepy neon signs, no way in hell anything supernatural is hanging out between the tax law section and the dusty romance novels.

You text him a fake tip, something about "possible demonic activity" near the library, totally urgent, definitely needs his professional attention.

Then you sit back, tuck yourself into a corner with a stack of books, and wait.

Ten minutes pass. Twenty. Thirty.

No Dante.

You start to relax. Maybe he finally got the hint. Maybe he's actually busy for once. Did your words from yesterday finally stir something inside of his brain?

And that's when the ceiling caves in.

You shriek as a massive scorpion demon crashes through the roof, scattering books and terrified civilians everywhere. Librarians are running for their lives. An entire row of encyclopedias explodes in a puff of dusty chaos, taking your sight while you desperately try to crawl out of the scene.

Fuck, this wasn’t supposed to happen. That definitely wasn’t written on your bingo card for today.

"What the hell?!" you shout, diving behind a bookshelf just in time before a whole fucking shelf bumps onto the ground next to you.

"HEY BABY!" a too-familiar voice yells from somewhere in the smoke.

You peek out and see Dante standing atop the checkout desk, dual pistols in hand, grinning like this is the best day of his life.

"Miss me?"

You stare at him, speechless. No, this has to be a dream. This was supposed to be a trap, you set him off in order to finally find him guilty. And now this?

"HOW?!"

He jumps off the desk, unloading a round of bullets into the demon's face like it’s a casual Tuesday.

"You sent me the text! Good instincts, by the way - I was gonna ignore it, but then I figured, ‘Hey, if my girl’s around, probably gonna be some action.’ And look! Action!"

You dodge a flying claw and seriously consider strangling him with a library card cord.

"I SENT YOU A FAKE TEXT!" you shout over the sound of gunfire.

"THERE WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE A REAL DEMON!"

"Aw," Dante replies, kicking a demon minion into a copy machine, "you’re so modest. You’re like a magnet for this stuff."

You have no time to argue. The giant scorpion is bearing down on you. You grab the nearest weapon, a hardcover dictionary about curse words in Spanish, and hurl it at its head. It bounces off harmlessly. Yeah, what a surprise, actually.

Dante whistles low, impressed.

"Good arm, babe. But here - lemme show you how it's done."

Before you can blink, he’s in front of you, sword flashing, doing some ridiculously show-offy spin move that absolutely wasn’t necessary but looks cool as hell anyway.

The demon collapses with a final screech.

Silence falls over the destroyed library.

Books smolder, paper flutters in the air like sad confetti. Somewhere, a printer makes a pathetic beep before dying.

You sit down heavily on the floor, dazed.

Dante strolls over, all proud, offering you a hand up.

"No need to thank me. It’s kinda my thing."

You stare at him, mind still processing what just happened. Your mission failed – miserably, so say the least.

"I literally TRIED to set you up."

"And look how well it worked!" he declares brightly.

"You lured out the bad guys! You're a natural at this demon-hunting stuff. I'm so proud."

You want to punch him. You want to kiss him. You want to punch him then kiss him.

Instead, you let him pull you to your feet, dusting off your scorched jacket.

"I'm never texting you again," you grumble.

"Sure you will," Dante coos, flashing that stupid, charming grin.

"You can't resist me."

You open your mouth to argue - and immediately get tackled to the ground as a second, smaller demon leaps from the wreckage.

You land with a painful thud, pinned beneath Dante’s weight as he shoots over your head, finishing off the last monster.

When the danger’s over, he stays there for an awkward beat too long, smirking down at you.

"See? Told ya. Always there to catch ya when you fall."

You groan, covering your face with your hands while absolutely hating how good his body weight feels on top of you, how surprisingly good that asshole of a man smells.

"I'm going to die of second-hand embarrassment."

"Nah," Dante retorts confidently, getting up and pulling you with him again.

"If anyone’s gonna kill you, it’s gonna be something way cooler. Like a demon. Or a possessed espresso machine."

You squint at him.

"You’re not gonna let this go, are you?"

He slings an arm around your shoulders like he owns the place, like the ablaze library isn’t his fault at all, and leads you toward the exit.

"Nope. You're stuck with me, sweetheart."

You sigh.

Maybe getting a new phone and a new name wouldn’t be the worst idea.

…Or just giving in.

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seasprincess · 2 days ago

Text

Ride?

Sub Spencer Reid

warnings: p in v, unprotected, pathetic spencer, whining and whimpering, mommy k!nk!, praise k!nk, his true form

wc:700

Being Spencer’s partner means you know more about him than he knows about himself. He likes to keep his leg hidden, behind walls. But you can break down those walls in a moment and see the truth.

So one thing that was easy for you to understand about him is all his kinks and stuff. Even he didn’t know he liked them. I mean of course he knows about kinks. His reading and research of…certain things lead him down loopholes of things he couldn’t even think of let alone act out.

Spencer feels safe with you. You had created a space with him to feel safe in. And that lead to you and him…experimenting.

Spencer had learnt many things about you and you learnt a lot about him.

He’s a sub. There isn’t a bone in his body that could take control and fuck you. He’d try to please you but he’d always get self conscious and think he was doing something wrong. Or he’ll just start whimpering and whining about how good it feels before being unable to move because of how good it is.

So because of this it usually means you’re in Spencer. Riding him as he holds your hips, whimpering as you go up and down his cock. Raw this time. He will always say how you two should be protected just in case. But after a bad day and frustration you just want to feel your boyfriend inside you.

“You’re such a good boy Spencer.” Your hands find their way to his cheek as you keep going up and down. Thumb gently stroking his cheeks, hips rolling back and forth.

Spencer just whimpers at your praise words as his head falls back against the pillows. Praise kink, he has a BIG praise kink that you use to your advantage a lot.

“Mommy please.” He’s actually pathetic for you, it's so cute. A man of his intelligence reduced down to a ball of mush in your hands just for something as simple as a kiss.

“Please what baby?” You pick up the pace a bit to make it agony for him. He’s not used to all these feelings. You being his only sexual partner means that he just wants to feel everything he missed out on with you. Well maybe not everything, that seems scary to him.

“Please can I cum?” And just like that a man who is classed as a literal genius is asking you for permission to cum. You can’t help but smile as he gives you those puppy eyes. They pull at you all the time. He flashes his big brown eyes at you and suddenly nothing else matters. And how could you ever say no?

“Yes Spencer.” You say before letting out a moan as he bucks his hips. He of course wants to make you feel good too. But sometimes his mind just gets so corked we die to him being so overwhelmed he just can’t think. Poor baby.

Your hand rubs his cheek as his mouth drops open. Eyes rolling back slightly as he just in a state of pure bliss. To be fair to him you had been riding him for quite a while and this boy is very needy.

He doesn’t take long to cum in you. Filling you up good just the way he dreams about. Like actually dreams about. Since meeting you the amount of wet dreams this man has skyrocketed. And they’re always about you. You topping him, you kissing him, you doing other things that he could never admit. He’s too embarrassed. But one day. One day you will get that info out of him.

You didn’t take long to cum either. Not wanting to overstimulate him today.

Well that was the plan until tears prick his eyes and his hand grips yours. Gazing in your eyes with a pleading look as you keep riding.

“Mommy please. Mommy I can’t. Too much.”

You smile at his words as you slow down before stopping. He looks so cute but you just can’t do it to him today. He’s just so sweet.

You slowly slide off him before laying down next to him and putting an arm round him. He leans into your touch immediately. Craving it.

“You did so good. I’m so proud of you.”

Oh you’ve actually just shot him through the heart with that sentence.

This was inspired by a post by @/spencerreids_cvmslut on tiktok and the comments.

not proofread x

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid au #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #agent spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic

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katsu28 · 1 day ago

Note

hiiiii... first off, i wanted to say that i love your work so so much. i'm usually a silent viewer but i wanted to come out and tell you that your work is absolutely stunning. secondly, i was wondering if you were still taking requests from that prompt list in the pinned post. i was thinking 3,26 and 24 for the absolute comeback lando made during jeddah. if not, all good. do not feel pressured at all to write this ❤️

i appreciate u so much thank u!!! <33

3. hiding face in neck, 24. whispering in their ear, lips touching the skin + 26. kissing the top of their head. lando norris x reader, 1.2k. request something from here :)

Tenth on the grid isn’t near where Lando wanted to be for tomorrow’s race. Crashing out of qualifying definitely isn’t what he wanted either, not for him, but especially not for the team.

Jeddah is a tricky track, so full of tight corners and narrow straights that it could’ve happened to anyone. It just so happened that he was the unlucky one this time around.

He’s already beating himself up even before he gets out of the car. Fucking idiot, were his exact words on the radio, echoing through your headphones in the guest area of the McLaren garage, marking the exact moment your heart sank for him. It had already nearly jumped out of your chest as soon as you saw his car wobble, nearly stopped when he slammed into the barrier coming out of a turn.

A little later, after the session ends and Verstappen has taken pole, you finally find Lando. His feet drag along the floor, helmet dangling from his fingertips as he trudges into the garage looking far from happy.

His eyes find you immediately after he sets his gear down and you smile at him with what you hope is reassurance masking your concern, waiting for him to make his way over to where you are. He buries himself into your arms as best he can with the box wall between you, hiding his face in your neck like it’ll let him hide from the world.

Things like this are inevitable in every driver’s career, but Lando has always taken the setbacks rather hard. Always blaming himself, getting in his head about all the what ifs and could’ve beens. You can’t solve his problems for him, but you can help in other ways.

You squeeze him tightly, as if all your worries and his disappointment could melt away the closer you hold him. He’s here, he’s okay.

“M’okay, baby,” Lando mumbles, words muffled against your skin. Your fingers comb through the damp curls at the nape of his neck, palm splaying across warm skin just so you can feel his pulse under your touch. Lando pulls away just a bit, enough to speak clearly. “I’m fine, I promise. No damage—to me, at least. Car’s fucked.”

“The team can fix it. They will fix it,” You insist, bringing one hand up to cup his face. Your thumb strokes over his rosy cheek, eyes boring into his with such firmness you want him to feel it too. “Everything will be fine tomorrow.”

“Promise?”

You can’t promise him anything—not really—but you nod anyway, sealing when you hope isn't an empty promise with a kiss. “I promise, Lan.”

-------

You swear you haven't blinked since lights out.

Your eyes have been glued to the screen above you the entire race, headphones clutched to your ears so you can hear exactly what's going on with Lando. You’ve even got the F1 app open on your phone to track live timings so you don't miss a thing from the depths of the garage.

With every overtake, every gained position, your heart pounds a little faster. You’re even sweating a little bit, which would be odd given that you’re not actually the one in the car. But when your boyfriend is racing for his life out on track with only a handful of laps to go, you’re a ball of nerves.

You mutter encouragement under your breath the whole time like Lando can hear you, fingers crossed so tightly it’s starting to hurt as the laps tick down to the final one. Anything is possible until he flies by that checkered flag.

Lando crosses the line fourth.

He’d put up a phenomenal drive, fighting his way past seven very impressive opponents, managing his tires, keeping up the pace. In your eyes, he’s a winner all the time, but especially now. With what happened yesterday, a P4 comeback is sure to put some confidence back in him.

You find him chatting with Oscar after his post-race media duties, completely unaware of your appearance as you start to creep towards him from behind.

Oscar does notice, but doesn’t say anything when he spots you over his teammate’s shoulder, just tries his best to hide his grin so as to not blow your mission.

Lando's still going on and on about tire degradation when you pounce on him from behind.

“Fucking hell!” He screeches, nearly keeling over backwards before he manages to get his hands under your thighs for support. At the excited kiss you smack to his cheek, he lets out a loud exhale. “Baby, don’t do that! I thought I was being mugged!”

“In the middle of the paddock? Seriously?” You giggle, both feet back on the ground. You smile at the younger boy across from you. “Hi, Oscar! Mega drive today, congrats on the win.”

Oscar’s cheeks tinge pink and he grins, rocks back on his heels a little. “Glad you thought so.”

“Alright, mate, don’t you have your own girlfriend to bother?” Lando huffs dramatically, hooking an arm around your shoulders. You roll your eyes playfully at his change in demeanor. “Go on, get out of here, kid.”

“See you on the plane, old man,” Oscar shoots back, sidestepping the halfhearted swipe Lando takes at him. He holds his fist out towards you for a bump. “Great to see you again.”

“Likewise. Say hi to Lily for me.” You wait for Oscar to disappear into the team hub before turning your attention on your boyfriend, hands on your hips, brows raised. “Why are you like this?”

“Me? Baby, he was seconds away from giggling like a fucking schoolgirl. I’m telling you, Oscar definitely has a crush on you.”

“He has a girlfriend, Lando. You’ve met Lily, you’ve seen them together. He’s head over heels for her, and you’re being ridiculous.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Let’s stop talking about him now.”

You drape your arms around his neck, tilting your chin up at him with a smile. “You’re lucky I find your weirdness attractive.”

“Luckiest guy in the world, I always say,” He hums, beaming back at you. “So, what’d you think of the race?”

“You did amazing today, Lan,” You say, nearly squeezing the life out of him with your hug. He pushes in closer to hear you over the bustle of the paddock and you do the same, putting your lips right against his ear for your next whispered praise. “I’m so proud of you, d’you know that? I'll always be proud of you, wherever you finish, whatever you do.”

“Yeah, I know,” He says bashfully, grinning ear to ear. His arms wrap tighter around you. “Thanks to you. My lucky charm.”

“Nuh uh, that’s all you, baby,” You reply with a shake of your head. Lando can only smile bigger, kissing the top of your head four times in succession, four lucky kisses for his lucky charm. “Ready to go home?”

“Ugh, beyond. I need a fucking shower,” He groans, tipping his head towards the night sky. His gaze snaps back to you just as fast, this time with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Wanna join?”

“Way to ruin the heartfelt moment, you horndog.”

“Don’t act like you weren’t thinking the same thing!”

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post a new fic :)

#requested!#lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 x reader #lando norris fic #lando norris fluff #lando norris x fem!reader #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine

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merelylillies · 15 hours ago

Text

˚｡ﾟ• ━━━━━━━┈꒰ა໒꒱┈━━━━━━━ • ˚｡ﾟ

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

Note: ‘‘Hey so I’m obsessed with Caleb like SOMEONE has to stop me. Despite the header he is NOT an angel. Also I need more Yandere x Yandere content. In general.,,

・・・・・⟢

Fandom: Love and Deepspace

Pairing: (Fem.)Reader x Caleb

Content Warnings: Suggestive, Teasing, Flirting, (!) Mentions of Stalking, Yandere x Yandere Concept

✦・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・✦

Caleb had always been like this since you were children. The question is: whether or not you noticed back then. You did, but he assumed otherwise.

He’d grown up quickly and taken the role of your “big brother”, guiding you with a warm smile and soft words. He thought you’d get whiplash at his sudden shift in behavior when you reunited; so color him more than surprised when you just blinked at his words.

“You don’t need me? Is that what you think?” He asks with an intense look in his eyes. Really, you hadn’t even said anything, he just assumed your stare back at him was rejection. His grip on your arm tightened as he looked down at you, eyes narrowing onto yours.

“I never said that.” You hold his stare. He pauses, gaze sharpening.

“You’re thinking it.”, He takes a step forward, “I know you pipsqueak.” He emphasizes, continuing to walk you backwards.

You let yourself take steps back, your amusement growing as your back approached the wall. Trying to reel in your smugness, you cut him off before he can speak again.

“You know me?”.

You could almost hear a pin drop. Caleb glares back at you almost offended.

“Are you seriously-”

“You are clearly missing something.” You can’t contain your grin.

“What are you saying?” He hisses out. You can hear the hand he propped up against the wall you’re leaning on slowly ball into a fist.

“You’re so convinced that I’m feeling a way I’m not.” You say with amusement barely controlled.

“What you fail to understand is I’ve always been this way pipsqueak.”

“See?” You grin, “This is exactly what I mean.”

You take a step forward, your chest pressed up against his. The action throwing him off guard at the sudden boldness and he straightens up from where he was looming over you.

“You think you’re scaring me, you think I’m terrified, mortified at how you’re acting.”. Your smile only widens when you see the confusion mix in with his firm expression.

“But really, I always knew you were this way.”

You bring a hand to his dress-shirt’s collar, gripping it tight before yanking him down closer to your height, the accessories on the colonel uniform shifting with quiet tinkles. His eyes widen, mouth slightly open as if to say something but nothing comes out. Your free hand goes to cup his face, your thumb running over his cheek gently, while your tone holds back on zero mockery.

“You, on the other hand, despite all your obsession, have failed to grasp that I’m just as bad as you.” You smile, watching his eyes catch that same glimpse they always did when you said something that scratched his possessiveness.

“You don’t mean that.” He states, swallowing harshly, “You have no idea-” he seems almost repentant, but you know better.

“No I do.”

“Pipsqueak, you’re out of your depth,” a chuckle escapes him, his eyes lowering amused, “-you think just because you’re attached to me that you can even understand a fraction of my love for you.”

“Yeah?” You smile back at him, your hand tilting his face up for him to look at you again, maintaining eye contact, “you think so?”

He huffs out a small laugh again.

“I track your necklace Caleb.”

He pauses, his eyes visibly shifting in their stare back at you before he smiles, deceivingly soft again.

“You’re so silly Pips-”

“I’m not fucking kidding.” You laugh back at him, the hand on his collar shifting down to the dog tag necklace you had given him so long ago, slightly pulling on it.

“I wanted to know where you were. In case you ever lied to me about your schedule or the risk of your work.”

“That so?”

“What?” Your finger twirls loops around the necklace chain, the charms jingling, “Does that scare you?”

“If you know me so well Pips, you know I’ve done much worse.”

“And I’ve never stopped you.”

Caleb looks down at your hand playing with the necklace before he meets your eyes again, the look in his half lidded purpose turning a deeper purple; that same shade you loved to drag out of him. He brings a hand to his face, the back of his palm hiding an obsessive, love-sick smile, the one he usually suppressed until he thought you weren’t looking, or when he believed you to be asleep during your sleep-overs.

“Fuck.” He curses under his breath.

“Gods, you really are far gone huh?” You tease, your own expression far from innocent in the way you match his almost deranged adoration.

“You don’t get to give me any lessons Pipsqueak, now that all your behaviors suddenly seem more tactful than coincidental.”

Suddenly despite all your confidence in your equally matched energy, you feel your nervousness rise up again; your stomach knotting and the back of your spine burning hot.

He lowers himself down to your level even more, until your lips are at the same height, his forehead an inch away from touching yours, as he now wears your smug expression.

“All those times..sitting in my lap, constantly calling for me in conversations, taking any chance at touching me..” His smirk only widens, “Kissing me for “practice” as you called it..” his breath ghosts over your lips.

“Nothing more than desperation after all huh?”

You immediately feel the need to defend yourself at his words. “You cannot be talking.”

“Why not? I’m not afraid to admit I yearn for you.” He drawls on as words get caught in your throat.

“Especially, now that I know,” he muses, “that this little lady right in front of me, is into this obsessive side of mine hm?”

“Almost like it..fuels something in her…Gets her going does it?”

You feel your cheeks start to flush at his bluntness, off-put by his calling out.

“You’d preach being the same as me yeah? But based on your reaction, I’d still think you’re out of your league Pipsqueak..”

An uneven breath escapes you and his eyes crinkle at that.

“Would you look at that?” His smirk aggravatingly turning more sharp.

“Pipsqueak isn’t able to respond, looks like she really is obsessed with me.”

That damn smirk.

234 notes · View notes

leonarecs · 2 days ago

Text

we’re back for part two 🤭 i’m scared but excited because i know they are finally gonna FUCK n i’m very happy about that LMFAOOO, now let’s begin 👀

His absence leaves a heavy weight of guilt that presses hard onto your shoulders, regardless that he had been the one to mostly start the fight. What had you really even done wrong?

absolutely NOTHING queen, do not feel guilt!!!!! he’s being an ass <3 (sigh i kinda feel bad too i have too much of a soft spot for this man)

Despite his elusion you still see him, amongst your shared classes, the late nights in the common room or when passing in the halls.

this when they’re usually attached at the hip omg it hurts to imagine it MY BABIES

He decides it’s not worth getting involved now that Mattheo’s made his intentions clear. He wants nothing to do with it.

oh, so i’m not worth fighting for 😔✋ i see how it is, what a pussy. of course you’re scared of mattheo 🙄 (it’s okay at least we’ll have scary bf privileges soon)

He had just suddenly been everywhere, like a convenient beacon.

the ‘do you really like him or is he just giving you the attention you’ve been so desperately craving from someone else’ trope is inescapable and i love it

For the way you felt under Mattheo’s spotlight was divergent. He made you feel special, your heart beating to a different rhythm for him. Being with Mattheo was like watching a sunrise for the first time, the shades of orange and pink peeking up after you both stayed up all night stargazing. It made you feel alive. He made you feel alive. Made you feel electric with life and like you could conquer anything with him by your side.

I’M FUCKING SCREAMING OVER THIS??? THE DESCRIPTION OF HER LOVE??? THE WAY HIS ATTENTION IS DIFFERENT FROM EVERYONE ELSE IN THE WORLD?? i’m sobbing. this captures that overwhelming feeling of being seen by someone you care about so perfectly. also the way you went from “it made you feel alive” to “he made you feel alive” to drive it home FUCK it hits so hard. it’s like you can feel her heart waking up for him. i’m actually going to cry over this.

It wasn't his fault he was deeply flawed, but it was your choice to be the one to see him past those sharp thorns. To help bloom the roses that laid trapped underneath the rumble, bring them to light in the same way as how you saw him.

again, no words to describe how i feel, so:

“I'm not oblivious like you two are, besides I don't really want a repeat of my last relationship.”

poor guy can’t catch a break from all the girls that have secretly been in love with another boy since they were kids

“Not entirely sure what you see in the nutter, but knowing what kind of girl you are, it must be something good.”

AWWW OKAY THAT WAS SWEET I’M GIGGLING

A week without you had been to put nicely, hell for him. He had wallowed entirely, sulking like a pathetic child, like his favourite candy had been ripped from his clutches. He realized quickly that this was worse, that having your attention shared, not having your presence at all, had turned him into a dreary grump.

the way he completely falls apart without her in his life, HE’S SO IN LOVEEEE Y/N OPEN YOUR EYES

He missed you in his arms. He missed the gentle way you would soothe him to sleep. With warm caresses that resembled a mother’s touch, but with you it felt more intimate.

i genuinely believe you’re trying to kill me right now. my heart is literally unraveling with every word i read, mother, why must you be so cruel 😖 him falling asleep in her arms only will never fail to fucking destroy me. and they still wanna talk about some “best friends” bullshit bro, stfu

Clearing your throat of nerves, you speak directly to the point. “I didn’t mean it.” Mattheo's stubbornness had always been a persistent habit, one of his shortcomings that meant you knew it was unlikely he'd apologize first. Especially considering he can’t even look at you.

the fact that she just knew where he’d be. without even having to ask anyone, they really know each other better than anyone else in the world UGHHH 😓😓😓 also idc if he’s stubborn, he should be apologizing FIRST tf ✋

“I’m sorry, I.. I- you.. are wanted. Always, Mattheo.” “But not in the right way.”

oh god i literally cannot breathe right now

“It's fine, Ace. You’re forgiven. We’re still friends, alright.”

bitch. don’t you have something else to say. and what the FAWK do you mean ‘friends.’

He fights the part of him wanting to swallow his pride and spit out an apology, but he’d never been good at those. That would mean he’d have to explain the reasoning and vulnerable depth, years' worth of trauma that built a viscous insecurity he’d never shared with anyone, not even you. He didn’t feel exactly spritely about indulging you just because you were upset that he hit Dean.

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it once again, the way you characterize him is fucking spot on. you can feel how stubborn and defensive he is without it ever outright saying “he’s stubborn” — it’s all in the why. the way you tied his pride to this deep, unspoken insecurity?? it makes him so much more human. he’s not just being difficult to be difficult, he’s protecting these old wounds he doesn’t even know how to show. i’m losing it over how layered this makes him.

“For what? You’re the one that called me unwanted.”

NO I DIDN’T, STOP PUTTING WORDS IN MY MOUTH.

“I said I was sorry.” The words whisper with the tone of desolation. Despite your anger, the guilt and worry break the barrier through the emotions you wear on your sleeves, knowing you never wished to hurt him.

THE POOR GIRL MY HEART HURTS SO BAD RIGHT NOW it wasn’t her fault 😭

He steps without hesitation; coming closer, wrapping you up into his arms, a much needed hug for the both of you. He aches, feeling you reciprocate, gently hugging him back, and he holds you a little tighter, having missed your touch.

the hug oh my god i have real tears streaming down my face right now, the history and emotion between these two is too much for me to handle

The small sounds of your sniffles smothering into his chest vibrate through to his heart painfully, like an earthquake causing destruction to his protective walls.

more metaphors that i adore and have to highlight thank you very much

He turns glaring at you. “Let’s just go inside, Ace! It’s fucking thundering!”

it’s so intense right now, i’m literally buzzing with anxiety goodnight. this whole scene is playing out like a movie in my head the dialogue is SO GOOD.

He's ignoring how his mind is screaming to just tell you the truth, to finally bare his heart and soul to you, but the fear of rejection has him by the throat.

yeah.

“Tell me- god please Mattheo, I swear if this friendship means anything to you! You’ll fucking tell me.” The doubt creeps back in; Dean was wrong. He doesn’t see you the same.

i’m fucking screaming JUST TELL HER THE TRUTH YOU’RE DOING NOTHING BUT FEEDING HER DOUBTS RIGHT NOW PLEASEEEE MY HEART CAN’T TAKE MORE OF THIS ARGUMENT, he’s just letting her believe that he doesn’t give a shit whether she’s in his life or not 😞

“because you’re the best thing in my life! And yet I'm just scum on the bottom of your shoe.. And that motherfucker was right and I hate him for it, because I-i-I don't deserve you!.. Not your kindness… or attention… or friendship, and yet I'm still greedy. I still want more!”

ASAHSEDHAEGDFFYGACHUNˆSHDGFHDGFUHERIFJIENDXKJEWBDXJERBGCHJHIÇ≈≈XEFUHGVUFHDGU OH MY GODIFHJDG

i’m sorry. i cannot fucking breathe right now, there’s so much i want to say. the angry confession. the stuttering. the “i’m still greedy.” FUCKING HELLLLLL, when they think they’re not worthy but still can still admit that they want more, i can’t DO THIS ANYMORE

“B-because- because I fucking love you, you idiot!”

can’t even turn on all-caps, i’m too busy trying to hit the right letters through my tears

You're shut up by the pleasant surprise of his lips smashing onto yours, with an effort of urgency urged behind the feel of his soft lips. His hands move to cup your face, your soaked face, the warmth of them rising a blush to your cheeks, as he holds them with tenderness. He kisses you with all the love he has, willing to give you every beat of his heart. He knows you already have it. It's always been yours.

the last line i—

“Actually?” He smiles in reassurance and hope glosses over his eyes. His chest vibrates as he chokes out a disbelieving laugh and his grin broadens. "You-u lo-” He can't even finish the sentence so choked up by all of this. A smile graces your face with wide, full cheeks that burn with happiness and you reciprocate his choked upness, feeling the tears start again. The way your head nods ridiculously fast, flicking your drenched hair in all directions, makes him chuckle and he cups your cheeks for fear of it flying off. “Not fucking with me are you now Ace, cuz I swear to god if you-” Leaning forwards you capture his lips effortlessly, now being the one to shut him up.

this whole sequence has me actually laughing and smiling through tears WHO AM I????? g, you’re so unbelievably talented, the feelings are feeling really hard right now and i need a nap despite the fact that i slept for 15 hours last night

His arm guides you wrapping around your waist, a stark contrast to the way his arm usually drapes over your shoulder casually.

THIS DIFFERENCE BEING POINTED OUT AAAAHHHHH i’m literally bursting with happiness rn. also him not being able to handle seeing her cry even when its happy tears, fuck just let me fall to the floor real quick

His gaze drops and his eyes darken shamelessly, admiring how your shirt clings to your body, accentuating your chest. He licks his lips, letting his thoughts run wild for once with no guilt, and stops what he was doing walking closer. His hands graze your waist, letting you know of his proximity as he speaks with a low husk in his tone. “Lemme help Ace.”

I’M LITERALLY TREMBLING OMGOMGOMG HE’S SUCH A PERV LMFAOOOO WE’RE GETTING SOMEWHERE I’M SO EXCITED

His head dips, brushing his lips back against yours, and he whispers with the weight of a man ready to feast on his deepest desires. “Ace..you know I want you… don't you?” He’s so close that when he licks his lips, his tongue grazes your lower lip with the subtlest of touches and he relishes in the sucking in of your breath.

the way i’m holding my breath right now fucking hell, my choochie quaking i can’t even lie to you

“Fuck, you look so sexy when you bite that.”

the way he thought this in part one as well and now he’s actually able to voice his thoughts ajdghfgff i’ll never get over mattheo calling us sexy

He grabs your wrists, gently kissing both of them before he pins them above your head, shocking a gasp out of you. He grins, satisfied by your reaction as he shifts, sliding his hands upwards, intertwining your fingers together in an intimate hand hold.

my first reaction while reading this: oh my god, kissing her wrists is the sweetest fucking thing i’ve ever read. second reaction: HE DID WHAT OMG I CAN’T STOP SCREAMING. third reaction: HAND HOLDING MY FUCKING FAVORITE MY HEART IS MALFUNCTIONING

He shifts, rolling onto his side, allowing your hand to slip inside his pants and wrap around his cock. He can’t help but buck his hips into your palm at the feel of your hand making contact. “Fuck-Ace.” His eyes droop, looking at you shifting onto your side too, your tits squishing together in the constraints of your bra, his mouth gaping letting out a hitched shaky breath.

Couldn’t even edge to this, I exploded immediately!!! Clean up on aisle MY PANTS 😂😂😂😂 (i’m sorry.)

“Soakin Ace. You've been this wet the whole time?”

YES OBVIOUSLY OH MY GOD

“Yeah, you want another? Want me to stretch you out…wanna be ready for me, don’t you, Ace?”

He gives his fingers a quick lick, not wanting to waste a single drop of you, watching focused how you shuffle out of your panties.

OH MY GODDDJSGEWFHG WHAT IS THIS FEROCITY THAT YOU’VE EVOKED IN ME RIGHT NOW I’M BARKING

Wandering his gaze at your movements, he watches frozen, disbelieving the vision before him. Sitting up onto your elbows, you unclip your bra, freeing your tits and exposing yourself fully. His pants sit halfway down his legs, his jaw tensing, eyes gazing with enamour at your bare body. He blinks again, swearing this has to be one very good sex dream.

MY FEELINGS CANNOT EVEN BE VOCALIZED RIGHT NOW I DIED DEAD RIP ME THE WAY HE FROZE GOODBYEEEEE

“God, I love your laugh.. gonna make me cum right now.” Your laugh grows in ecstatic shock at his vulgar words. “Mattheo!” “Oh yeah, look at you practicing screaming already.”

THE GIGGLE THAT THIS TORE OUT OF ME SHOULD BE STUDIED BECAUSE I SWEAR I’VE NEVER MADE THIS SOUND BEFORE

“Tell me really, am I bigger?”

I’M FUCKING CRYING LMFAOOOO HE’S SO ANNOYING

But then you smile and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and whisper an adorable, “Hi.”

AAAAAAAHHHH ITS GIVING “Hi, Johnny.” “Hi, Shannon.” SQUEALING ESPECIALLY WITH THE TITLE TOO AHHHH

“I want your eyes on me the whole time, ok Ace.”

whatever you say, daddy— i mean what hahahhahahah

He flickers his eyes back and forth from how his cock slides between your folds captivatingly and up to your pretty blessed out face. Your mouth gaping as streams of whiney moans flows out, your head thrown back in ecstasy. “Fuck, I don't know where to look baby…look so good taking me.”

“s'good..the best ace. I could live in your pussy, just fall asleep and never wake up.”

it’s all over the screen 💔💔💔🥀🥀🥀

The notion that you'll both be alright, swaddled in the new cocoon of your relationship, both finally receiving the love you deserve together.

this is such a beautiful way to end it i’m sobbing

speaking so truthfully when i say that this wasn’t just a fic; this was a fucking experience. i felt like i was watching a movie in theaters and i didn’t even realize how long this was (18k words together i think?!?!) because it flowed so well and the dialogue never left a single moment where i wasn’t hooked. this, in its entirety, was so unbelievably well written—the dialogue, the metaphors, the story, descriptions and imagery, the way you weaved in their backstory and their tie to each other. i hate that it’s taken me so long to read it fully without distractions, but you truly exceeded all expectations. like i know deep in my heart that, from now on, every time i think about a best friends-to-lovers trope with him, my mind is instantly going to go to mattheo and ace because they’ve just set the bar for this whole trope. the yearning, the slow burn, the hesitance for both sides to finally admit their feelings, the fear of rejection — it’s all put together so perfectly. the emotion is so real and raw and powerful, i felt everything like it was actually happening to me. this might (definitely) be my favorite writing i’ve ever read from you. you’re fucking phenomenal b, literally never stop writing!!! (and never leave this fandom, i won’t survive without you!!!)

i honestly don’t even know how i’m to move on from this. someone come pick me up off the floor because i need mattheo and ace forever and ever (i know you posted something else of them and i’m excited to read but like fuck i just need an 8 book series of them because i’m not ready to let go)

[S]he will be loved ~ part two

Sum Reader is hopefully and madly in love with her best friend, constantly having her heart broken living in the shadows of other girls. Unaware that he’s hiding a secret, unable to express the truth about how he feels for her too.

Warn: NSFW18+, angst, yelling, swearing, PIV, fingering, semi handjob, dirty talk, (the smut is a little vanilla for the sake of being romantic), use of Ace as a nickname, y/n occasionally, Dramatic asf fr, maybe too dragged-out argument lmfao. Wc: 9.4k An: thank you for being so patience! It is suggested you read part one if you haven't, once again I went a bit in circles with this and so now will run away nervous as hell! but hope you all enjoy! Dividers from here & here

He makes good on his promise, avoiding you for the rest of the weekend and into the next week. His absence leaves a heavy weight of guilt that presses hard onto your shoulders, regardless that he had been the one to mostly start the fight. What had you really even done wrong?

Despite his elusion you still see him, amongst your shared classes, the late nights in the common room or when passing in the halls. His head locked straight ahead, as if the wall is the most interesting thing, and if his gaze weakens and he nips a glance at you, it holds no kindness. The icy water drenches your bones again and makes you question your memory, and how badly you’ve hurt him.

Dean keeps his distance as well, despite being unaware of your fight with Mattheo, the damage by him is more than physical and Dean wishes to keep far from the drama tempting to unravel. He decides it’s not worth getting involved now that Mattheo’s made his intentions clear. He wants nothing to do with it. His distance doesn’t go unnoticed by you, and you can’t help wondering how you’ve managed to drag him into an unnecessary mess.

Had you, in spite, subconsciously used Dean to get a reaction from Mattheo? Were you challenging the bounds of your friendship? It wasn’t like you had planned to even consider Dean an option. He had just suddenly been everywhere, like a convenient beacon. It hadn’t been hard to get along, with his contagious energy and charming personality, he had easily cleared the thick aged brain fog once completely consumed by Mattheo.

Clouds slide inwards, covering the heat of the sun, and casting downward shade along the cobblestones, making you plan to head back inside soon. You sit under the shelter of a tree in the viaduct courtyard pondering the inner turmoil. Feeling conflicted, you sigh, weighing up the differences between them.

Dean, a kind and warm spirit who opened his arms to you instantly, making you feel needed and welcome. So ready to listen, and match your energy to his own passions. But there was always something missing. It all felt very surface level, and maybe that was because it was new. Or maybe he just gave you what you were yearning so desperately for. Attention.

But it wasn’t the right type you craved. For the way you felt under Mattheo’s spotlight was divergent. He made you feel special, your heart beating to a different rhythm for him. Being with Mattheo was like watching a sunrise for the first time, the shades of orange and pink peeking up after you both stayed up all night stargazing. It made you feel alive. He made you feel alive. Made you feel electric with life and like you could conquer anything with him by your side.

Maybe you ought to give Mattheo some credit, for he his life had always left him complicated.

You, of all people, know the traumatic strain his upbringing had scared him, continuing into his current life. There is no escaping the forceful path his life has been shunted down, his hands bound. It wasn't his fault he was deeply flawed, but it was your choice to be the one to see him past those sharp thorns. To help bloom the roses that laid trapped underneath the rumble, bring them to light in the same way as how you saw him.

You sit up suddenly, spotting Dean crossing the courtyard with his friends, and jump at the chance to make amends with him. “Dean!”

His head whips around and he stops walking, allowing you to approach. His smile is less, but not unwelcoming. “Hey Y/n.”

You eye his friends awkwardly till they call out for Dean to catch up and continue walking. You shuffle between your feet, feeling nervous about starting the conversation. “Hi- I.. I just wanted to apologise. I’m really sorry about what happened last weekend.”

Dean is quick to shake his head, respectfully dismissing your apology. “It’s fine, you don’t have to apologize, y/n. I hold no grudges towards you - besides, my nose has healed up all fine.”

You wince at his little joke, adding, “It's not just on behalf of Mattheo, I want to for myself too.”

“Oh?”

“I’m worried. I led you on.. Though I swear it was completely unintentional..”

Dean nods his head firmly and grabs your shoulders to calm your rambling. He already understands and offers you one of his kind smiles you had grown to miss. “It’s really alright. I kind of figured that out already.. And I definitely don’t wanna meddle in the middle of your situation with Riddle.”

“Figured out?”

His eyes crinkle and shoulders shake as he laughs at your oblivious confusion. “I'm not oblivious like you two are, besides I don't really want a repeat of my last relationship.”

You nod, not quite understanding what he means by oblivious, but feeling the recurring wave of guilt hit for misleading Dean and so you just give him an appreciative smile. Your heart remains heavy despite Dean’s forgiveness. “I’m sorry again, anyway.”

He shakes his head, dropping his hands from your shoulders, “It’s fine y/n. Maybe catch ya with Eli sometime. But good luck with everything, yeah. Not entirely sure what you see in the nutter, but knowing what kind of girl you are, it must be something good.”

While Dean retreats, catching back up with his mates, you stay eyes locked on where he last stood in a daze of thought. Must be something good. That’s always what you’ve seen in Mattheo, aware that it’s the defining string between your relationship. The knot that continued to tighten throughout your years at Hogwarts, strengthening with every moment of trust and kindness you shared with him.

For once you bite the trepidation and unknown awaiting, the thought illuminating and making the lightbulb brighter. Hoping maybe Mattheo’s reactions to Dean were rather explainable, and burying the one doubtful tic questioning if this was his usual protective self or merging into something new.

With newfound determination, you set off to find Mattheo, choosing to believe in the bright possibility that this territory was Mattheo awaiting under the rainbow of your deepest fantasies with a mutual feeling.

He was mad at you for how you defended that prat so easily, without stopping to question his intentions. But then again, he’d never openly admitted that Dean’s words had gutted him, mentioning his biggest insecurity. Not being worthy of you. Of your attention, your kindness, your laughter, your warmth, and last, your love. It had eaten away at him all week.

He’d hardly slept, which was saying something for he rarely could. He knew he was undeserving, and yet if there was anyone he wanted to prove his worth to, it was you.

He continued to watch the lull of the black lake from within the Boathouse, a quiet spot for his thoughts to wrestle in the ring with one another. He missed you in his arms. He missed the gentle way you would soothe him to sleep. With warm caresses that resembled a mother’s touch, but with you it felt more intimate. His cigarette burned, allowing small moments of relief to flow through his lungs, the inhale of nicotine calming his distressed heart.

He hears the footsteps of someone entering the wooden house and peers over his shoulder, assuming it was someone who knew he came here. Seeing its you, he turns back to look at the water, exhaling another deep breath, his heart exhilarating just by your presence. He suddenly feels clammy, wishing to douse himself in the cold water just to calm his nerves.

His shoulders square tensely as you near, and you continue with caution, uncertain how to proceed. Everyone knows the extent of Mattheo’s temper, and thankfully you’ve never found yourself on the other end.

Your earlier bottomless energy and hopeful determination seems to have found a sudden end, diminishing like his smoke does into the afternoon sky. Being around Mattheo again makes the doubt seep back inwards, wondering if Dean had been imagining something between the two of you.

He stays quiet, listening actively. He doesn’t like where this is going, despite aching to make up with you, having never fought with you like this before. He’s aware this is leading to an unstable vulnerability, and he’s not sure he can hold on to the part of him that despises being soft.

“I’m sorry, I.. I- you.. are wanted. Always, Mattheo.”

He flinches at the use of his full name. Coming from your lips, it sounds so sweet and remorseful. He knows you’re being sincere. He can hear it in your voice and somehow it makes it harder for him to admit his own wrongdoings. “But not in the right way.” He mutters mostly to himself, exhaling the last of his cigarette.

Frowning, not catching his mumbled whisper, you take another step bravely and stand beside him, finally capturing a glimpse at his face. It holds no clear emotion of how he’s truly feeling, constrained by the mask he wears protectively. Eyes locked dead on the smoothness of the water, the clouds darkening out above the lake and the surface breaks as raindrops ripple, gently dropping onto it. Even in his blank expression, he still looks gorgeous, making the butterflies flutter.

He sighs, knowing you’re giving him a look to explain, for an answer, anything as he keeps his lips pressed into a thin line. His jaw clenches desperately trying to avoid glancing at you, for he’s well aware that with just one look, he'd crumble.

He stabs the end of his cigarette out on the wooden panels, discarding it into the previous piles of used up ones. “It's fine, Ace. You’re forgiven. We’re still friends, alright.”

Even as he says the words, he curses himself for leaving your relationship there, when he so wants to take the conversation somewhere else. Somewhere further, where he can express himself to you fully, but he’s afraid. He turns towards the exit. “It's late, and it's starting to rain. Let's head back up.”

You stand frozen, reflecting over his words, “wait - what? I’m forgiven?!”

“Yes, that's what I said. Isn’t that why you came here?” He pushes through the door, feeling the beginning of the downpour hitting his skin, quickening his pace, not checking to see if you’re following.

You trail behind him in disbelief, appalled by his audacity. You knew he was stubborn, but not to this extent. “Yes, but-what about yours? Don’t you think I deserve one too?!”

He hears the pain and confusion in your tone and curses himself. He fights the part of him wanting to swallow his pride and spit out an apology, but he’d never been good at those. That would mean he’d have to explain the reasoning and vulnerable depth, years' worth of trauma that built a viscous insecurity he’d never shared with anyone, not even you. He didn’t feel exactly spritely about indulging you just because you were upset that he hit Dean.

“For what? You’re the one that called me unwanted.”

He knows it's a hard blow as soon as the words leave his lips. But he refuses to change something about himself he knows will only make him weak. Showing that kind of vulnerability and transparency to you is not something he can afford in his life. He can't stand to see your view of him change. To see him fragile, the hidden boy behind the hard exterior. Even if you end up hating him, he’d go to the grave protecting that piece of him, even from himself.

He keeps walking, not noticing that you’ve come to a stand stall, frozen in shock from his jab. His words make your heart ache. It's clear he still holds a grudge over the words you said. You had never meant it like that. It wasn’t that he was unwanted, but his overwhelming protectiveness that ultimately made you feel like he was in control of you, and you had always put up with it.

Never once had you allowed yourself to be selfish and actually enjoy the potential opportunity of romance. Until now, and yet he still continues to act cold, pushing you away.

The rain pours harder, soaking your clothes through to the bone, and you wish for it to absorb you completely. Mattheo finally notices the quieting of your pestering and turns to see you just standing there with an unreadable stare. His brows knit with concern, his earlier irritation washing away, and he blinks through the rain, feeling a wave of guilt.

“Ace.” He descends back down the stairs with a fasten pace, “Fuck- Don’t just stand there, merlin it's pouring.”

Your arms wrap around your body to provide any warmth physically and to your heart, lifting your head heavily as he approaches. “I said I was sorry.” The words whisper with the tone of desolation. Despite your anger, the guilt and worry break the barrier through the emotions you wear on your sleeves, knowing you never wished to hurt him.

He sighs with realization, his habit of self protection had only projected an icy blast at you and messed with your head. He steps without hesitation; coming closer, wrapping you up into his arms, a much needed hug for the both of you. He aches, feeling you reciprocate, gently hugging him back, and he holds you a little tighter, having missed your touch. The way your hands grip with need the longer the two of you stay embraced, and your head snuggles into his chest.

It's one of his favourite positions, his chin aligned with the crown of your head so perfectly. The way he feels ten times lighter now that you’re in his arms, and his eyes close, finally taking a breath of clean air. He gets lost in the moment, grateful for how you’re able to calm him so quickly. How you can take away all his anger at the snap of fingers, all his stress, all his pain even if momentarily just from the mere warmth of your touch.

His peaceful tranquillity breaks by the shakes of your body, and he’s reminded that he is the one to have hurt you. The small sounds of your sniffles smothering into his chest vibrate through to his heart painfully, like an earthquake causing destruction to his protective walls.

Cold water continues to splatter, coating the wet clothes that cling to your bodies, the only warmth radiating from your chests pressed together as one. He rubs your back soothingly, allowing you to express his feelings in the only way he knows how to offer comfort.

He opens his eyes, looking up at the thick darkness of the night; blinking back the rain that has no effort to cease. He can’t fully determine whether your body is still shaking from sadness or the cold. He sighs deeply, looking down at you, offering a smiling feeling as if things will calm back to normal at any moment. “Come on, we should get inside.”

You shake your head stubbornly, not wanting the conversation to end here, and pull back with a deep frown. His smile does little to ease the pain and, in fact, bothers you at how nonchalant he’s acting. “No. it’s just a little rain, and it’s not hurting me nearly enough as your absence of an explanation.”

He studies the wedge of separation you stick between the two of you, the reigniting of infuriated energy charging him like an electric circuit. Why won't you just drop this? He doesn’t answer you, his head turning, looking out over the castle grounds, afraid that if he opens his mouth, he’ll snap at you or, worse, reveal something vulnerable.

You press onwards despite the tensing in his jaw, annoyed that he ignores you. “Don’t you trust me? Why can't you tell me the real reason? I just need to know why you hit Dean?”

“Please, just drop it Ace.” He grits out, trying to keep from raising his voice. His body still turned; his mind buzzing, humming with anxiety.

The lingering anger swarms to the surface at his refusal to even look at you, “I’ve been here for you through thick and thin and you can't even tell me this one simple thing?!”

The clouds boom before a thicker onslaught of water spits down harder on the concrete steps, making it harder for him to hear you. Cowardly, he’s hoping if he ignores the issue, it will go away. But he knows you, and the determination you’re expressing only makes you stubborn like a mule, knowing you won't drop it till you’re satisfied with an answer.

He turns glaring at you. “Let’s just go inside, Ace! It’s fucking thundering!”

Apprehensively, you pause at his loud tone, knowing he’s beyond pissed. But the urgency for the truth pushes you onwards into your questioning, with your heart thinly stretched on the line.

“I can't! I need to know!”

He groans, “Why?! Can’t you just believe me and drop it? Like I already told you that shithead deserved what he g-”

“No! That's not good enough. I need more, a proper explanation Mattheo… and if you can’t tell me why.. I-I'll-”

“You’ll what?!” He snaps with an offensive scornful tone, so bitter he can taste the metal on his tongue for the attitude he’s giving. He blinks the water out of his eyes, shaking his wet hair that hangs soaked to his forehead. “You’ll leave?”

He's ignoring how his mind is screaming to just tell you the truth, to finally bare his heart and soul to you, but the fear of rejection has him by the throat. At this point, though, he’s afraid it won't matter what he does. The outcome is hanging dangerously, that he might lose you either way.

You swallow your turn not to say anything. You hadn’t wanted to actually say it, because it wasn't true. You didn’t want to leave, but you were feeling frustrated, hurt, betrayed.

He continues walking closer with intense energy, the darkness of the atmosphere making him look intimidating than ever. “Gonna walk away? Had too much of me finally, huh!”

His voice raises and you force yourself to hold still and not move from your spot, even when he gets right up in your face. You noticed the clear strain behind his words, and there's a flash of something more in his eyes other than anger, pain.

“Please Matty-y just tell-” you whisper pleadingly.

“Don’t. Don’t do that.. Stop looking at me like that.” He breathes out, hissing with venom and agony.

“Like what?” Uttering the question feels risky, as if the answer will hold all the truth to how he feels. His face twists and turns as your mind spins with anxiety. This is it.

“Just,” He groans with frustration, his voice raising again. “Like that! Fuck. Ace.” The lump in his throat grows, making him uncomfortable and his fists shake, clenching them to control the unravelling pressure.

You blink back the swelling tears and take a braver step closer, “Tell me- god please Mattheo, I swear if this friendship means anything to you! You’ll fucking tell me.” The doubt creeps back in; Dean was wrong. He doesn’t see you the same.

He’s cracking under the pressure and intensity of your gaze, seeing the fire burning like an inferno. There's no longer the usual glowing light he loves. How you stare at him like his answer will make all the difference to how you feel about him. But it's the way you mention your friendship with him that ultimately makes him combust, spilling his deepest, most impenetrable secret.

“Because when you look at me like that, it makes me feel unworthy!” He spits, not pausing to even let you process the emotions coming out of him. “Like I’m breaking you apart from the inside and i-I can't handle that. I can't handle seeing you cry…or even when you look at me in anger. It makes me feel like a piece of shit for who I am.”

His arms are up and his hands stress tangle through the wet locks in distress, “because you’re the best thing in my life! And yet I'm just scum on the bottom of your shoe.. And that motherfucker was right and I hate him for it, because I-i-I don't deserve you!.. Not your kindness… or attention… or friendship, and yet I'm still greedy. I still want more!”

He takes a step back, needing the distance from you. His chest heaves while he lowers his eyes at the pebbled ground, deep in realization that he’s slipped up. The silence between you two is killing him and he’s lost in his head with dread and doubt that he’s just gone and fucked up everything more. He raises his eyes with the little spirit he has left, eyes filled with great pain that knocks the air out of your lungs.

“You want… more.. With me?” The question is barely breathed out into the open space of increasing vulnerability.

He licks his lips, contemplating his next words, taking his time to really study your appearance. He notes the lack of uncomfortableness. There's no show of disgust or rejection of his disclosure for how he feels. He’s surprised he’s still standing considering how his heart is beating, sure if it beats any more he’d need a replacement.

He swallows with force the last of his fear, feeling the lump drag down his throat and sink to the bottom of his pit. He nods, unable to utter anything else, allowing himself to be fully transparent for once.

Tears of realization stream down your face as you comprehend his words, blending with the saturation on your face. He’s not even mad at you. He’s angry with himself. You know him well enough to spot that his eyes reveal his tell. He’s afraid. He wants more, even though he can’t admit it. Your heart skips a beat at the confession.

He’s close enough to catch the onslaught of tears beginning and his face falls with fear. This is what he had apprehended. “Fuck!” He turns with anger, his fists clenching, his body shaking with regret and anguish. “Ace-e - why would you let me tell you this? Jesus!” He’s facing away from you to hold back his tears, his head clouded with assumptions of why you’re upset, all heading in the wrong direction.

“W-what? Mattheo - no these are-” You step forwards reaching for him with a tender arm.

“Dont. Don’t lie to me, Ace.” He shrugs your touch off, blocking his walls back up with ease.

“Mattheo, I'm not lying! I’m not upset-”

“Y/n I’m being serious.. I don’t want your pity-”

You scoff, offended, “Pity!? I've never once taken pity on you, Mattheo Riddle. Is that how you think I see you?” You blink back the tears as he turns again, fighting the frustrations to not just smack some sense into him. God, how oblivious is he to you. “I could never pity you. I respect you too much.”

“Respect me?! What in fuck for?”

The water builds behind your eyes, blurring your vision amongst the rain, watching him express his insecurities. “B-because- because I fucking love you, you idiot!”

There's a buzzing, fluttering feeling in his chest like all his nerves have lit on fire, and he blinks, frozen in shock. His chest rises and falls, shallow and slow, but his heart palpates rampaging behind it. The fuzzy feeling migrates around, running from his fingertips up to the apples of his cheeks like an unwelcoming chill as he attempts to process your words.

Everything he thought he knew disintegrates out into the open space, like a gust of wind swept through his mind collecting all his stupid, suspecting doubts. You love him. Love. Love! The unfamiliar word bounces around his mind as he mulls over the possibilities of the meaning. His mouth runs dry despite the assault of rain, as he struggles to form any words.

“I know this is hard, hell I can’t believe I just said that to you-”

Truly, every piece of love for you is magnified by your relationship with him. Your generosity to accept him for who he is, to open your heart to him, even if he always believed it to be platonic. It was enough to grow his heart, and since then, it had always belonged to you. He pushes every ounce of emotion through, knowing it's easier to express than through words.

“You-u..” He breathes, catching his breath as he pulls back, struggling to get the words out.

A smile graces your face with wide, full cheeks that burn with happiness and you reciprocate his choked upness, feeling the tears start again. The way your head nods ridiculously fast, flicking your drenched hair in all directions, makes him chuckle and he cups your cheeks for fear of it flying off. “Not fucking with me are you now Ace, cuz I swear to god if you-”

Leaning forwards you capture his lips effortlessly, now being the one to shut him up. It's sweet but passionate and he can’t get enough when you pull away. He threads a hand through his soaked hair in utter disbelief, his eyes returning to your loving ones. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long. Kiss the crap out of you over and over.” He rests his forehead against yours and reaches down for your hand.

He’s taking in everything you’ve just said, grasping for the same longing that's been sitting, waiting to be released between the two of you like a dam. His face lights, and a little smile curves onto his face, and for the first time he feels the words sitting with ease on his tongue. “You have no idea how in love I am with you. Ace, I’ve been in love with you since forever. Fuck i-just you know I'm not good with words, feelings, all that bullshit.”

You try to fight the blush creeping up your neck, but the smile that appears beaming brightly back at him is impossible to suppress. You’re completely speechless, overwhelmed with euphoric feelings of contentment. Words you’d only dreamed of hearing, now confessed to you in the eye of a storm, and suddenly you’re laughing. “Are we insane?”

His eyes light at your happiness, but he raises a curious brow, not catching what you said at the sound of another boom. “Are- we…WHAT?”

The sound of your laughter bubbles at his adorable confusion. “It doesn’t matter! We should head inside now.” He seems to catch the end of that and nods hurriedly, reaching out to grab your arm, leading the two of you up and into the castle.

Under the shelter of the overhanging archways he turns, grabbing you by your shoulders, “wait- just let me get something else off my chest first.” He swallows, pushing the wet strands back behind your ears, “I’m s-sorry.”

You watch him feeling an immense depth of pride for him, and you smile softly, reassuring him to continue. “look.. I won't apologise for hitting Dean, I don’t regret that and- i-I can’t tell you it all yet, but he said something that cut deep. Whether or not the asshole meant it, I couldn’t take how it made me feel. But I am sorry I ruined your night at the gig. Fuck- I was angry and jealous and I really was trying to look out for you.”

You nod in understanding, accepting that he’s not ready to bear that much emotion in one night, and bring him in for a hug. “Matty.. You don’t know how much I appreciate you trying.” He clings to you, a desperate boy finally receiving the much needed love he had been deprived of for too long. “And-d you didn’t really ruin my night. I wanted to go with you first, anyway. But I got in my head - the doubt i-i just didn’t want to ruin us.”

He pulls back cupping your cheeks, “god we’re stupid aren’t we?” He smiles amused with the obliviousness and blindness you both held for one another. “I’m just glad I didn’t lose you.”

You shake your head, “you never would have. I was bluffing completely.. I couldn’t handle being without you, Mattheo.”

He grins, leaning down to press another soft passionate kiss to your lips, “and you couldn’t have lost me even if you tried Ace. You’re literally iron cast around my heart. The knot is too tight. You’d have to break me just to free the attachment I have to you.” His eyes are sincere and hold so much emotion you’re verging on tears again.

“Okay, ah let's not cry again. I wasn’t lying about not being able to handle that. Let's go back to my dorm. Come on.” His arm guides you wrapping around your waist, a stark contrast to the way his arm usually drapes over your shoulder casually. He helps you walk back to his dorm with care and compassion, the energy between you a mixture of excitement and lightness, the weight of the confession lifted.

He helps you into his dorm, closing the door and gazes at you with pure happiness before searching his dorm for some towels. A room you’ve stood in many times before but never in this sense, and just being here with all your feelings out in the open makes your body prick with anticipation.

You stand watching him shivering a little, and begin to unstick your thick sweater, clinging to your soaked through shirt, stripping it up with difficulty while Mattheo searches through his draws for some clean clothes. The head of the material sticks trapping your head and you groan, frustrated, trying to pull it off, catching Mattheo’s attention. He peers over his shoulder, laughing at the awkward situation he’s spotted you in.

He slides his hands gently up your sides till he pushes the sleeves of the sweater up, freeing your arms before helping squeeze your head through the hole. The sweater drops to the floor; the moment becoming charged with heightened tension and desperate looks reflected in both of you.

His fingers descend, tracing down your sides in slow strokes that makes your heart leap your full attention on him. You exhale small shallow breaths, feeling your insides squirm under his intense stare, not daring to say a word. His hands wrap around the curve of your waist, tugging you inwards till you press fully up against him, giving you his signature boyish grin.

“That's better.” His eyes flicker between the desperation dripping in your eyes to the soft parting of your lips, waiting with anticipation.

You nod, your chest rising and falling with intense yearning, whispering back, “Yes.. I know now.”

“Good. That’s good.” He presses another kiss travelling up your cheek, sparking the heat to rise, flushing the skin a deep red. He grins sincerely, “you look so pretty when you blush.”

You swallow, feeling your body alight with need, buzzing with electricity that runs down to the tips of your toes. You wonder if he knows how aroused you feel right now. The rest of your clothes are slick still with rainwater, but you already know the puddle forming in your panties is definitely from the heat. You attempt to exhale quiet bated breaths throughout your nose, unable to trust your mouth to open, uncertain what kind of animalistic sound would fall out.

Mattheo might be oblivious to love, but he’s a keen observer in the act of sexual intimacy. It’s as if his eyes are an x-ray lust detector. He knows all the tells of an aroused woman. “So pretty Ace, fuck..you’re making me want to kiss you senseless.” His voice strains with restraint. He’s still holding onto some concern, not wanting to freak you out with all his intense energy waiting to consume you.

The struggle in his tone only makes you want him more and your eyes lift upwards, filled with hungry persuasions. Uttering a simple, “please.”

The moment you plead with those sweet eyes, all his control gets thrown out the window. Taking your jaw in his hand, he leans back in to kiss you. His lips melting onto yours, the two of your lips colliding in synchronization. His hands cup the nape of your head, tilting it back, and diving deeper, his tongue pushes, seeking entrance as kindly as he can be while he fights the pure animalistic hunger to devour you urgently.

You moan softly, allowing him access, the two of your tongues dancing with one another like a fervent tango. He mumbles softly against them, “Do you know how long I craved to feel these lips, Ace?”

A deep flush grows on your cheeks and you breathe heavily, gazing up, feeling his lips kiss along the side of your neck. “How long?” You ask breathlessly.

He chuckles at your response and interest. “too fucking long. I always knew that you’d taste this sweet.” The soft sighs and hums that vibrate out of you have his mind spinning and he presses his lips harder onto your skin, needing to entice more out of you. He pulls you closer to him before he’s back, kissing your lips, engulfing you completely.

The two of you continue to make out, still standing, before his fingers slip under your wet shirt and he hisses at the cold contact. “Merin, you're still freezing.”

“I’m okay.” You reassure him, shivering from his touch.

He smiles, noticing the shiver. “Yeah?”

You nod, promising him, finding it sweet how he’s concerned about you. Sliding your own hands up his arms, you find solace cupping the back of his neck, pulling him down, needing another kiss. He falls back into the growing pattern, not wanting to miss even a single moment of your touch.

“I know a way you can warm me up, though.”

His eyes flutter open and he gazes at you, his eyes glistening with similar intention. “Oh, yeah?” He flashes an amused smile, intrigued by your flirtatious energy. “What might that be, Ace?”

Biting your lip with a teasing smile of your own, you step back, pulling him with you onto the bed, causing him to chuckle happily. His arms flex, holding himself up from crushing you with his weight, and his head dips. “Fuck, you look so sexy when you bite that.”

Your face contorts with a soft whine at the flustering compliment and he grins, more pleased with your reaction. His lips reclaim yours once more with delicate urgency, and you match it quickly getting lost, diving your hands into his curls. Having only stroked his hair tenderly, your fingers move with eagerness, tugging and pulling desperately to get a sound out of him.

His hands trace you with the utmost respect and value, different from his experiences with other girls. There's reasoning and depth behind every touch. Enjoying every sweet moment, being able to explore every curve he’s only dreamed about touching. He’s finally able to hold you the way he's always wanted, no longer needing to hide behind his fragile vulnerability in the dark. He's finally giving you all of him under the limelight, and he hopes to show you how he’s felt this whole time.

Mattheo groans at each tug of hair, lowering himself to keep kissing you, his hands sliding under your shirt again, feeling the way your body contracts. The muscles twitch with sensitivity and he swallows your gasp, grinning before pushing dominantly his tongue back in. His fingers peel the wet shirt up and over your bra.

He sits up ditching his own shirt, and your hands roam over his chest, feeling the groves of his past scars, sending shivers down his back. He watches gazing at your eyes and how they view him. You already know about the meaning behind them, but now you get to love them, and he bites his lip to not get choked up at how you look at him with love in your eyes.

“I’ll go gentle on you...just for today, yeah.” Another cheeky grin flashes your way, unaware of the concealed experience of your sexual life.

You laugh at his sweet reassurance, squeezing his hands, loving the feeling of holding onto him. “I’m really not as innocent as you believe, Matty.”

He raises a brow with surprised curiosity. “Are you telling me I’m not about to be your first Ace?”

The silence confuses him, for when he looks down at you, there's a flash of guilt in your eyes. “I’m not?” He feels a wave of jealousy flow through his veins at the thought of you with someone else, though he knows he has no reason to. He leans down, carrying on his sensual onslaught, kissing up behind your ear. He nips it gently as he whispers sultry, “really?”

Feeling your head nod, he lets out a tiny groan, mostly at himself for taking too fucking long to get his shit together. “That is a shame, baby.”

Turning your head to lock with his sight, reassuring him, “It means more with you, though, Matty.”

His eyes soften, giving a curt nod. He can see the sincerity and honesty in your eyes and he offers a smile back, pecking you. He knows it's true, as it is for him. “The same goes for me.” He cups your cheeks, pressing his forehead to yours, “This isn't a one time thing, okay? You mean so much to me, Ace, and never again do I want to make you feel how I did before.”

His eyes hold so much truth and devotion that you can feel your eyes beginning to water. That is before his hips shift, pressing ever so subtly down, getting into a grinding rhythm as he distracts you from the raw moment with kisses.

He almost jumps out of his skin when your bold hand explores down south, not expecting you to act so brazenly. He shifts, rolling onto his side, allowing your hand to slip inside his pants and wrap around his cock. He can’t help but buck his hips into your palm at the feel of your hand making contact.

“Fuck-Ace.” His eyes droop, looking at you shifting onto your side too, your tits squishing together in the constraints of your bra, his mouth gaping letting out a hitched shaky breath.

Capturing your lips once more, moaning into your mouth, he drowns in the pleasure of how your hand increasingly pumps his cock up and down. He murmurs, resting his forehead against yours with knitted brows, “oh - yeah, ace like that.”

His own hands creep and unbutton your jeans, pushing them down with a bit of urgency. “This okay?”

You nod and ask back, “You? This okay?”

He nods, kissing your cheek and down your neck, “Yes.. better than okay- your hand feels so good.”

You tug your jeans down, kicking them off revealing your panties and he groans, peering down, before he slides a hand rubbing your thigh and tracing his fingers teasingly over the skin as they itch with temptation, brushing gently over your core. He rubs, applying slow pressure over your clothed covered clit and runs a hand through your hair, tugging it back to kiss you. He loves hearing your little sounds muffled into his mouth at the extra sensation you’re feeling.

“So pretty..you sounds so hot.”

You whine sensitively and he swears he’s sent to heaven at the harmonic pitch of your voice. His cock twitches, pulsing in your hand to the sound. Your actions slow focusing on your pleasure and for once he doesn’t mind not being the centre of attention.

He watches with an intense focus full of desire at how your pretty eyes can’t handle staying open, fluttering. The steady rise of your chest increases with every bit of pressure he rubs tauntingly slow. He can't wait any longer, maneuvering his hand under your panties, sliding one finger in, his skin saturated instantly in your juices.

His own breathing congeals to short tiny gasps, eyes darkening, consumed with lustral appreciation. “Soakin Ace. You've been this wet the whole time?”

His question, which seems sincere, causes a flustered reaction and you moan again, grabbing hold of the sheets. He takes it as a yes.

Soft moans of satisfaction infiltrate the room at each hum of your lips. He can feel just how much you’re enjoying this, welcoming him to do what he wants. The trust you have to know what he’s doing is appreciated, and he hums himself in arrogance. Every reaction, sound, movement - watching as your hips begin to jut slightly seek more friction only fills him with a deep pride. You're his girl now, and he’ll never disappoint you again.

His lips move peppering kisses down your neck, nipping at the skin, seeking the achievement of leaving marks of purple hues. “You like that, yeah?”

His finger protrudes deeper, gaining a steady pace, and his eyes flicker away from decoration markings on your neck to your legs spreading wider for his hand. He needs more, hearing every gasp and the sweet moan exhaling from you is pure bliss, and makes him feel on cloud nine.

He hisses gently at how your hand involuntarily squeezes the nearest thing, which happens to be his cock still. It's torture, as you're so focused on him, just pleasing him to even notice the subtle teasing you’re providing. “Sweetheart..” His tone is gritted with bated breath. “F-fuck, please either let go or do something with your hand.”

You moan at the pet name and begin pumping him again, trying to multitask, your brows frowning at his addition of another finger. “Ah- sorry Matty.. I’m trying…just feels s’good!”

He grins at your struggle to speak. “Yeah, feels good?” His fingers meticulously move with skill, slick knuckles deep in your cunt, before he curls them, scraping the spot to make your back arch.

There’s a string of whines as your hips buck up into his hand, “Uh! Yes!”

“Yeah, you want another? Want me to stretch you out…wanna be ready for me, don’t you, Ace?”

While his words are forward and prompting for more, he doesn’t make any moves to do anything until you give him confirmation. He’s continuously checking for your assurance, making sure this is what you want. He just wants to bring you pleasure, watch you get off riding slowly onto his fingers. How your back is arching and your muttering soft pleads, all for him. What's yours is his right.

You nod desperately, “Please Matty!”

He obliges, pushing in a third with ease, your walls contracting to fit him snug inside your drenched pussy. The warmth that evades his fingers has him groaning, listening to a new wave of mews slur out of you. “Fuck-that’s it. Such a good girl, baby.”

He bites back the small protest when you release his cock and grip his arm instead, the indents of your nails digging into his skin, stinging but filling him with a possessive power. He wants your marks on him as much as he wants to leave them on you. To combine your bodies as one and intertwine in a way that goes beyond physical.

Pure bliss overcomes your face and you turn, opening your eyes, glossy with need. Bringing his head down in urgency, you plead. “Matty…Matty, I want more.. Please, I don’t wanna cum unless it’s in you.”

“Shit-t yes yeah?”

His fingers slowly drag, retracting out, pulling a needy whine from the back of your throat, and you nod urgently. He gives his fingers a quick lick, not wanting to waste a single drop of you, watching focused how you shuffle out of your panties.

He shifts sitting up and starts removing his own wet pants with great difficulty. The jeans are heavy and compressed to his thighs tight, causing them to stick, his groin constricted pushing snuggly against the material of his unbutton pants. “Shit- fuck, these are fucking tight now.”

“Fucking Salazar.” He takes in your body as you lay waiting patiently. His lustful gaze only makes you that much hotter. He leans against the bedpost, unable to drag his eyes away. “Ace?”

“Yeah?”

“Just checking this is real.” He finishes pulling his pants down, almost tripping over them with excitement that draws a giggle out of you. The sound of your laugh shakes him out of his daze, and he grins cheekily, continuing his mission of ridding his clothes as fast as possible. “God, I love your laugh.. gonna make me cum right now.”

Your laugh grows in ecstatic shock at his vulgar words. “Mattheo!”

“Oh yeah, look at you practicing screaming already.” He grins, finding your flustering adoring. He frees his cock, admiring the absolutely thirsty look painting your face. He can’t help how his mind backtracks to your admission of not being a virgin, and he lets out a speck of jealousy. “Tell me really, am I bigger?”

“Bigger?” Only just are your eyes able to drift away and up with a furrowed brow.

“Yeah.. Then the fucker who stole your virginity.”

You can’t help the pleased laugh breaking out at his not-so-subtle jealousy, trying to hold back the smug attitude. “Seriously, you're getting jealous now, while I'm baring not only my body but my heart and soul to you.” Lifting a feigned unimpressed eyebrow, you watch with astonishment at how his face changes, expressing a small sheepish smile.

You beckon him closer with a finger, welcoming the confidence flowing through you. “Come here.”

As if pulled by a magnet, he crawls back down, hovering above, his eyes gleaming enticingly and the deep inhale of need. The way you’re looking at him as if he holds all your answers, holds all the warmth for you and that he’s the only one to bring you happiness prick at his skin, feeling nervous. But then you smile and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and whisper an adorable, “Hi.”

He grins back, finding himself relaxing just at the mere sight of those brimming cheeks and whispers back, “Hey gorgeous.”

His hands roam, maneuvering over your body and pushing your thighs apart. He notes how your eyes fall, breath spiking with anticipation. “Hey, look at me.” His voice is a soft, strained whisper, on the break of losing it altogether as the head of his tip drags through your folds. “You know I love your eyes. It's one of your favourite features of mine.”

He’s never done this before. Been so openly intimate, especially as he’s preparing to fuck someone. He nudges the tip a little further in just gently, a low rumble etching out with hoarse feralness. “I want your eyes on me the whole time, ok Ace.”

Meeting his eye, losing yourself drowning in warm pools of brown neediness, listening to his gentle but essential request, you nod in confirmation. “I will. I never want to turn my back on you again. I love your eyes too much, too.”

His cheeks are hurting from how much they’ve stretched into a smile tonight. “God, you’re perfect, aren’t you?” He captures your lips in a short but passionate kiss.

“Just tell me if it's too much, yeah.” He warns concerningly, biting back the desire to lose control and wreck you completely. At just your nod he utters, looking back up, “words Ace.”

“I will.. yeah, Matty just please..”

“Good girl, such sweet manners.” He grins, licking his lip as he grips his cock, nudging it further in between your folds, his eyes fixed on the way your pretty pussy embraces the head so perfectly, like it was made just for him. A glottal groan of relief passes through his lips and he thrusts his hips gently, his cock sliding deeper into the tightness of your warm walls.

“Oh-f-fuck.” He drops his head, pressing his forehead already beginning to bare a sheen of sweat onto yours, feeling the gaping of your own mouth. The sound that pulls from you is sinful, a delicious lewd moan that makes him grip your hips with firmness to not fall apart so quickly.

“God-yeah…You feel so fucking’good.”

At the flexible way your legs bend back towards your chest naturally, he groans breathlessly, taking it as a sign you’re okay for him to pick up the pace. His hips thrust, driving into you with a satisfying rhythm, the moans continuing to tumble from your lips.

“That’s it… you sound so pretty, baby.” He rasps low and husky. He’s looking at everything, watching the pleasure etched on your face while you lay with your eyes scrunched closed, absorbing it all. He flickers his eyes back and forth from how his cock slides between your folds captivatingly and up to your pretty blessed out face. Your mouth gaping as streams of whiney moans flows out, your head thrown back in ecstasy. “Fuck, I don't know where to look baby…look so good taking me.”

Clutching onto him with a grip of iron, nails pinching into his skin as he cages your body in. His biceps bulge under the movement of holding his weight above you. He drops his head into the crook of your neck and he groans, feeling your fingers dig into his hair, listening to your babbled praises. “Matty- ah feel s’good.”

He roams his hands, stretching your legs wider as he presses his palm down to stabilize himself, his hips vigorously bucking with the strength of a raging bull. He doesn’t know how he told himself he could go easy, with the way your pussy squeezes his cock feels as good as pure heroine. He plants kisses on your neck and turns your head towards him, pressing his lips back onto yours.

He’s in love with the way you feel, the way you sound, your touches roaming his body, switching from gentle caresses to carnal scratches. He feels whole with you, intertwined as bursts of passion taint your tongues, each sound harmonising together heavenly. “Ace.. fuck, you’re so perfect.”

You nod, trying to form a solid thought in response, but the way the tip of his cock is gliding so effortlessly into your cervix only makes you chant his name, your voice breaking with a high pitch strain.

It’s one of the most beautiful things he’s ever witnessed and he kisses your ear, whispering sweet nothings into them, encouraging your onboarding orgasm. “Mmm yeah, cum for me baby, so fuckin pretty wanna watch you fall apart.”

Your climax breaks, spots of white light blurring your vision and you tighten your arms around him, clinging to the one thing grounding you from the overwhelming pleasure. His head lifts, watching with pure delight at the way your body convulses, glistening with sweat like an ethereal being. His body shakes as his hips jutter following you. Broken groans mumble against the skin of your neck as he spills his seed into you entirely.

He huffs a tired pant, not wanting to move, for he’s never felt so whole as right now. He murmurs softly, pressing a sloppy kiss to your ear, “s'good..the best ace. I could live in your pussy, just fall asleep and never wake up.”

You catch your breath, letting out a shaky laugh that makes your cunt squeeze his cock, releasing another deep groan. He shifts his cock aching sensitivity and pulls out rolling to lie beside you, wrapping an arm around your neck to tuck you into his side.

He rests his chin on top of your head. “You okay?”

Nodding with droopy eyes, you plant a kiss on his collarbone and try to calm your mind and absorb the reality of what’s just happened. “Yeah..you're definitely bigger.” You grin answering his earlier question. You blink, gazing up at him with nothing but love and a rapturous glow on your face. “but I’m ok.. im great.”

He chuckles warmly, not even caring to be cocky anymore. He tangles his hand into the still wet knot of your locks. “fuck yeah you are..and your super sure you're real?”

You pinch his thigh, making a sudden squeal come out of his mouth. “Alright! Aight, no need to seek revenge on me - I already apologised.” He jests cupping your head in a firm hold like one of his usual headlocks, but only plants a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“I am sorry, though, and I mean it.” He shifts so your face is parallel to his and he admires the returning light that shines back into your eyes, a warmth that lights the darkness inside him. He brushes your check with his thumb, over the red hues adorning your cheeks, evidence of your spent state.

“I may be a twat a good portion of the time, and this-”, he gestures between the two of you. “Still scares me, so fucking much.” His words are raw and burn with a vulnerability that still sits unfamiliar in his throat. “You’re truly an enigma. I still don’t know what in the hell you see in me?”

You smile, eyes brimming with the utmost love. "I see everything you don’t.”

It’s the truth, and it always has been. The way Mattheo makes you feel is frightening, electrifying, like you’re caught in a storm and he’s your saving grace, parting the seas, giving you everything you need. How his eyes shine, reflecting your clear emotion, makes your heart beat with the force of a thousand drums stimulating the rest of your body.

A warm buzz vibrates between the two of you, knowing that all along, everything you were both missing was right there. The notion that you'll both be alright, swaddled in the new cocoon of your relationship, both finally receiving the love you deserve together.

This work is my own, please don't copy or claim. Any and all interactions are appreciated, thank you for reading! ty again @amongemeraldclouds for your love and support! couldn't have done this without you!

Navigation. Masterlist. Mattheo Riddle Masterlist.

#— 𝐥𝐞𝐨’𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐬 ༯ #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader

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theodorenmyth · 2 days ago

Note

hey!

could i please request a fic where theodore's sibling is dating mattheo and they want it to be a secret, but then everyone ends up finding out and they think theo's going to be angry/overprotective but he's really chill? and the pair are confused and a little offended by how unbothered he is?

i love reading your comedy fics because they always make me laugh!!

Secret Relationship

pairings ; Mattheo Riddle x GN!Reader

summary ; You and Mattheo Riddle secretly date behind your brother aka Theodore’s back, fearing his reaction. But when everyone finds out, Theodore is shockingly chill — leaving your chaotic friend group furious and dramatically disappointed by the lack of sibling rage.

A/N ; it's been so long since I uploaded 😭😭😭😭😭 I missed u all sm, AND ITS BEEN SO LONG SINCE I WROTE A MATTHEO FIC HELLO?! I've been on a Theodore streak I swear 😭 pls enjoy this comedic mess

Warnings ; none, just pure chaos

Word count ; 4.1k+

The night air curled around you in thin, biting tendrils, the wind sweeping through the Astronomy Tower and chilling your fingers where they gripped the stone ledge. The tower loomed above the castle, far removed from the warm flicker of torches and the comfortable murmur of the common rooms. Up here, the world felt suspended—like time had stopped and the stars were the only witnesses to your terrible, beautiful secret.

You were absolutely not supposed to be here.

"You’re shivering."

The voice, smooth and low, cut through the silence. You didn’t even need to look—you’d recognize that voice in your sleep. Mattheo Riddle stepped forward from the shadows with that familiar slouch, half-hooded eyes glinting with mischief and something gentler he’d never admit to. His black coat hung loosely from his shoulders, already halfway off as he reached out and draped it over yours.

The weight of it was immediate—warm, worn, and unmistakably his. It smelled like firewood, mint, and danger. A combination you had no business enjoying as much as you did.

"I'm not cold," you muttered, hugging the coat tighter around yourself despite the denial.

Mattheo arched a brow, unimpressed. "You're a terrible liar."

"No, I’m not."

"Yes, you are," he insisted, stepping closer, his grin growing with every step. "You always do that thing with your nose when you lie."

You blinked. “What thing?”

"That—" He pointed at you with a smirk as your nose instinctively scrunched. "Exactly that."

Your scowl deepened. “You’re infuriating.”

“I’ve been told.”

“And yet, here I am.”

He was fully in front of you now, close enough to steal your breath if you let him. His fingers grazed your waist like a question, an invitation. One you never could refuse.

"You could’ve stayed in bed like a reasonable person," he teased, voice dipped in velvet. "Instead, you came all the way up here just to see me."

"Don't flatter yourself," you muttered.

But he knew better.

And so did you.

Mattheo leaned in, his lips brushing yours, barely touching—just enough to set your nerves alight. "Say it."

"Say what?" you breathed, feigning innocence.

"That you missed me."

"I didn’t."

"Liar," he whispered against your mouth, and then he kissed you.

The world fell away.

His mouth on yours was rough and unrelenting, like he had waited too long and thought too much and wanted to erase the time you’d spent apart. You kissed him back with equal fervor, clutching his collar as if to tether yourself to the moment. The cold didn’t matter. The risk didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way his hands roamed your sides like he couldn’t decide where to hold you, like he wanted to touch everything at once.

He was infuriating and impulsive and impossible—but gods, he was yours.

Eventually, you pulled away, lips tingling and lungs begging for breath. He rested his forehead against yours, his grip on your waist still firm, possessive.

"This is reckless," you whispered, eyes half-lidded and drunk on him.

Mattheo didn’t even blink. "Reckless is snogging your best mate’s sibling in the Astronomy Tower at one in the morning while the entire school sleeps."

You groaned and thumped your head against his shoulder. "Don’t remind me."

"Just saying. We’ve already passed the point of no return, haven’t we?"

You didn't answer right away. Instead, you watched the stars—millions of them, quiet and distant and probably laughing at the mess you’d made of yourself. You should’ve stopped this weeks ago. You’d tried to stop. But Mattheo always had this way of pulling you back in, like gravity.

"This is insane," you murmured.

"Mm," he agreed. "And I love it."

You tilted your head to look at him. "You would."

Mattheo smiled, that crooked, charming sort of smile that spelled nothing but trouble. He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear with a gentleness that contradicted everything he usually projected.

"I like you like this," he said suddenly.

"Like what?"

"Defiant. Warm. Close." His voice dropped. "Mine."

Your breath hitched.

You hated how easily he could unravel you.

“You know my brother would murder you,” you said, only half-joking.

Mattheo’s expression didn’t change. “Yeah, well. That’s why he doesn’t know.”

“And if he finds out?”

His eyes darkened—not in fear, but in resolve. "Then we deal with it. Together."

Something in your chest tightened painfully. Mattheo Riddle was not known for making promises, but when he did, they meant something.

You tried to play it off, to lighten the moment. "Very noble of you. Might even make you look brave."

"I'm always brave," he deadpanned.

You laughed despite yourself and leaned up to kiss him again—softer this time, slower. Like a lullaby in the middle of a war.

Another set of footsteps—distant but undeniable—snapped you both out of it. Mattheo jerked away instantly, eyes sharp, scanning the stairwell below.

Your stomach dropped as you ducked behind one of the stone columns, barely breathing.

Please not a professor. Please not a prefect. Please not—

Silence.

The footsteps faded.

Mattheo let out a slow exhale. "That was way too close."

You nodded, pressing a hand over your pounding heart. “We need to stop doing this in public places.”

"Then invite me to your dorm."

"Absolutely not."

"The library?"

"Too exposed."

"Empty classroom?"

"Too cliché."

"Room of Requirement?"

You paused. "...Too convenient."

He gave a low laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are.”

Mattheo leaned forward and kissed your cheek, just above your jaw. “Tomorrow night?”

You hesitated. You should say no. You meant to say no.

“…Fine. But somewhere safer.”

"Deal."

He squeezed your hand once before retreating back down the stairs with the grace of someone who’d done this a dozen times and would do it a dozen more.

You stayed a moment longer, the weight of his coat still wrapped around your shoulders and the ghost of his lips still on your mouth. The stars blinked silently overhead, their light cool and unjudging. You exhaled and turned to go, already thinking about tomorrow—and all the chaos it might bring.

You were in too deep.

And you didn’t care.

Rain was pouring against the windows like the sky itself was throwing a tantrum, Hogwarts cloaked in that damp, miserable grey that made everyone collectively more dramatic than usual. You trudged into the Great Hall, dragging your feet like a ghost of your former, snogged-out self. You spotted your friends instantly—because they were loud, nosy, and sitting in their usual spot, plotting world domination over croissants and coffee.

You slid into your seat next to Blaise with the elegance of a sleep-deprived troll and immediately reached for a slice of toast, praying today would be normal. No scandal. No drama. No accidental references to someone’s pine-scented hair or stupid smirking face or warm hands on your—

Mattheo Riddle plopped himself directly beside you.

Your toast froze mid-air.

“Oh, excellent,” he said, sounding obscenely cheerful for someone who hadn’t brushed his curls. “You got the good jam.”

He reached across your plate like a heathen and scooped up a glob of raspberry jam with his butter knife, smearing it messily on your toast like he was helping.

“I was going to eat that,” you deadpanned.

“And now you are, but with flavor,” he replied, looking far too pleased with himself.

Across the table, Lorenzo choked on his tea. Draco froze mid-butter-spread. Blaise leaned back slowly with a suspicious grin. Pansy squinted like she was trying to read the entire history of your existence from the look on your face. Astoria didn’t even look up—she just let out the most disappointed sigh in the history of human breathing.

You, a rational and responsible person, did the obvious thing.

You pretended absolutely nothing was happening.

Mattheo, who was clearly born to make everything worse, leaned in. “Are you going to eat that, or are you going to keep staring at me like you’re in love?”

You dropped your toast. Draco visibly gasped. Blaise bit his knuckle.

“Okay,” Lorenzo said slowly, dramatically. “I think we all need to pause and—what the hell is going on here?”

“Nothing,” you and Mattheo said in perfect harmony.

A collective suspicious silence fell over the group.

Pansy narrowed her eyes. “You’re sitting suspiciously close to each other.”

“Coincidence,” you said.

“He stole your toast.”

“Generous community breakfasting,” Mattheo supplied.

“You’re blushing,” Draco noted, pointing a butter knife at your face.

“It’s warm in here,” you snapped. “There’s body heat. Circulation. Weather.”

“You’re playing footsie,” Blaise added smugly.

“We are absolutely not playing footsie,” Mattheo said, jerking his leg away from yours so fast he kneed the underside of the table and nearly knocked over the entire jug of pumpkin juice.

“Okay,” Lorenzo muttered. “If this isn’t a secret relationship, then I am the ghost of Salazar Slytherin, here to reclaim his house from the deranged couple defiling it.”

You tried to glare. Really, you did. But Mattheo had crumbs on his lip, and his eyes were doing that annoyingly attractive sparkle thing, and your face betrayed you by melting.

“OH MY GOD,” Pansy screamed. “YOU’RE LITERALLY SO IN LOVE.”

“I am in denial,” you barked. “Which is very different.”

Blaise laughed so hard he nearly fell off the bench. “So, just to confirm—are you or are you not snogging this absolute chaos goblin in secret?”

“We’re not snogging,” Mattheo said quickly. “Why would we snog? Snogging is for people with… lips.”

“You have lips,” Draco said flatly.

“Debatable,” Mattheo replied, before turning to you with pleading eyes. “Help me.”

“Everyone is being very dramatic,” you announced. “Mattheo and I are friends. Acquaintances. Mortal enemies with occasional group project chemistry.”

“You left the Potions lab last Thursday with your tie undone and a hickey on your neck,” Astoria said without looking up.

“It was a mosquito! ” Mattheo cried. “They were everywhere.”

“In the Potions lab?” Blaise asked, blinking.

“...Yes,” you said weakly. “It was.. uhm.. infested.”

Pansy slammed her hands on the table. “HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN GOING ON?”

“Five minutes,” you blurted. “No time at all. We’re still in the test trial phase.”

“Two months,” Mattheo mumbled at the same time.

You turned to him slowly, eyes wide. “What happened to denying everything?”

“I panicked!” he whispered. “You’re really bad at lying and it’s contagious!”

“Oh my god, it’s been TWO MONTHS?” Draco’s voice cracked like a choirboy’s. “And you didn’t tell us? We could’ve made popcorn!”

“I’m going to cry,” Pansy announced. “I feel betrayed. Emotionally compromised. Romantically offended.”

“You literally told me yesterday to snog someone or die lonely,” you muttered.

“I didn’t mean him! ”

Mattheo raised a hand. “Okay, now that’s just rude.”

“I SWEAR,” Pansy continued, “if Theodore finds out and kills you, I am not attending your funeral unless there’s drama and vengeance.”

You blinked. “Okay, but—what if he just doesn’t… find out?”

The table went still.

Pansy looked like she was about to burst into flames. “Okay. Someone get Theodore. He deserves to know that his sibling is dating—dating—Mattheo ‘bite me’ Riddle.”

You stiffened.

The entire table stilled.

Then, as if summoned by the devil himself, all heads turned in slow-motion toward the far end of the Slytherin table… where Theodore Nott sat, expression calm, buttering a scone with the serenity of a man who was either extremely zen or planning to murder someone using only a teaspoon.

You froze.

Mattheo froze.

Even Draco looked nervous.

“He doesn’t know,” you whispered.

“He definitely knows,” Astoria said calmly. “He’s buttering that scone with deadly precision. No one but assassins butter that neatly.”

Blaise leaned in, stage-whispering like a six-year-old gossip. “He’s holding the knife like he’s considering options.”

Pansy was practically vibrating. “I live for this. Theodore is going to explode. It’s going to be glorious. I want screaming. Threats. At least one table flip. I want to feel alive again!”

“Do not summon violence into this sacred breakfast,” you hissed.

Draco smirked. “Better tell Mattheo to run now while he still has all his limbs.”

Pansy stood up and immediately rolled up her sleeves. “I AM READY FOR THE DRAMA. BRING IT. DUEL AT DAWN. I’LL BE YOUR SECOND.”

Astoria grabbed her by the back of the cloak and yanked her down like she was restraining a feral cat. “Sit. Down. You’re not sword-fighting Theodore in the middle of breakfast.”

“Why not?” Pansy whined. “We live in a magical castle. This is the perfect place for sword-fighting!”

You and Mattheo exchanged a horrified glance.

“I think we just declared war,” he whispered.

You nodded. “Well. At least we’re dying pretty.”

If Mattheo Riddle had a Galleon for every time he thought, “this is how I die,” he could’ve funded a whole underground resistance, a few cursed artifacts, and still had enough left to buy you a shiny ring and a nice flat in Hogsmeade.

This time, though?

There would be no ring.

No flat.

No wedding.

Just his body launched into orbit by Theodore Nott’s inevitable, unstoppable rage.

You were standing in the corridor just outside the Great Hall, trying to decide whether to walk into your own execution or drag your boyfriend back to the dungeons by his ear.

Mattheo Riddle had been pacing like a man possessed for the past fifteen minutes.

“Okay, okay, okay—maybe I should bow?” he muttered to himself. “No. Too much. Theodore might think I’m mocking him. Should I curtsy? Would that be better? Classier?”

“Mattheo,” you said, voice deadpan, “if you curtsy to my brother, I will physically throw you out of a window.”

“I just—he’s going to murder me,” Mattheo wailed, throwing his hands in the air like some kind of tragic widow. “He’s going to skin me and use my corpse as a decorative throw for the Slytherin common room. I’ll be throw fashion, darling.”

You stared. “You’ve lost your mind.”

He spun dramatically and grabbed both your hands. “You don’t get it. That man terrifies me. He’s tall. He’s quiet. He wears all black. He looks like he reads tragic poetry for fun. He has ‘I’ll bury you behind the greenhouse’ energy.”

You tried not to laugh. “He’s just my brother.”

“No. He’s a whole experience. A terrifying one. Like one of those silent movies where the guy never speaks but everyone dies anyway.”

“Mattheo—”

“What if he pulls a wand on me and casts some obscure ancient curse from the Nott family grimoire and my skin turns inside out?”

“Then I’ll get you some exfoliating cream and a hug.”

Mattheo gave you an utterly wounded look. “That’s all the sympathy I get in my darkest hour?”

“Your darkest hour hasn’t even started.”

Footsteps echoed ominously down the hallway.

Mattheo froze, grabbing the wall like a man in mourning. “Oh Merlin. It’s him. It’s Theodore. I’m not ready. You said I had five more minutes!”

“You said that twenty minutes ago.”

“I wasn’t emotionally prepared then and I’m *less* emotionally prepared now!”

You didn't have time to argue. Theodore turned the corner, walking toward you with his usual unbothered, slow-as-hell stride, like he had all the time in the world to arrive at your crime scene.

Mattheo made a strangled noise like a dying bird and—without shame—threw himself behind you.

“Don’t let him hurt me!” he whisper-yelled into your shoulder. “If I die, tell your mother I looked amazing at my funeral.”

Theodore raised a single eyebrow. “Are you hiding behind my sibling?”

Mattheo popped his head out. “Not hiding—strategically retreating. It’s different.”

“Yes,” you muttered, “the strategy is cowardice.”

He clung to your robes like a damsel. “This is not cowardice. This is self-preservation, thank you very much.”

Theodore stared at him blankly. “You’re pathetic.”

Mattheo inhaled deeply and then stepped out with the air of a man marching to the gallows. “Okay. Okay. Theodore. I—I want to say something.”

Theodore tilted his head, mildly curious.

“I want to apologize for—uh—for all the... snogging. And emotional bonding. And, uh, the fact that I may or may not have licked and attacked your sibling’s neck in a highly inappropriate location on the Astronomy Tower—NOT THE POINT—what I’m trying to say is I’m sorry and please don’t hex my kneecaps or transfigure my ears into cauliflowers or whatever it is you Notts do when people betray your bloodline.”

Theodore blinked.

Mattheo cleared his throat. “I just—really, really like your sibling, alright? Like, a lot. Like, ‘I’d write you letters in blood if I wasn’t squeamish’ a lot. And I know I’m kind of a mess and also a little deranged but I swear on Salazar’s bald head that I’m serious about this and if you want to punch me, just go for the left side, that’s my less photogenic side anyway—”

“I already knew,” Theodore interrupted.

Mattheo stopped mid-rant, finger in the air like he had more dramatic declarations to unleash. “Wait. What?”

“I’ve known for weeks.”

There was a beat of complete, shell-shocked silence.

Mattheo’s hand slowly lowered. “You… what?”

“I saw you sneaking out of the Astronomy Tower the first time,” Theodore said casually. “The scarf was a dead giveaway. And the second time. And the third. And the time you came back to the dorms with glitter in your hair and that weird grin like you'd just invented a new sin.”

Mattheo blinked rapidly. “So you knew... this whole time?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“No.”

“You didn’t curse me? Or duel me? Or send a howler to my mother?!”

Theodore shrugged. “I was enjoying watching you panic.”

You smacked your forehead.

Mattheo gasped and dramatically grabbed your sleeve. “He played me like a fiddle. A fiddle made of pure emotional torment.”

Theodore looked at you, dead serious. “If he breaks your heart, I’ll feed him to the Giant Squid.”

Mattheo nodded solemnly. “Honestly? That’s fair. Bit overkill, but poetic.”

“You two are insufferable,” you muttered.

Mattheo flopped against your back again, sighing dramatically. “You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

He peeked at Theodore again. “So we’re good?”

Theodore gave him a long look. “Don’t push it.”

Mattheo immediately retreated behind you again. “He said don’t push it. I’m not pushing it. I’m hiding behind it.”

“You’re a grown man.”

“I’m a terrified man!”

Pansy, who had just turned the corner behind you with Draco and Astoria in tow, screeched like someone had been stabbed—an unholy, earsplitting shriek that ricocheted off the stone walls of the corridor like a cursed howler let loose during a funeral.

“HE FUCKING KNEW?!” she howled, her eyes wide with the sheer betrayal of it all, like Theodore had personally wronged her ancestral bloodline.

The entire hallway fell into a stunned silence for half a second before chaos exploded like a badly brewed potion. A nearby portrait of a sleepy wizard jolted awake and threw his goblet at the ground, muttering something about “witches these days.” You and Mattheo both flinched so violently you almost knocked heads—and Mattheo, being the brave soul that he was, dove behind you like a coward, clutching the back of your robes with the death grip of a man facing an angry hippogriff.

“HOLY SHIT, Pansy!” Lorenzo barked, careening in behind her like a gale-force wind in Gucci boots, nearly tripping over his own feet and the bag of crisps he had clearly brought specifically for this moment. “You trying to rupture the space-time continuum with your lungs? I think my left eardrum just committed suicide!”

“You—you KNEW?!” Blaise turned to Theodore with all the grace and fury of someone who just found out his favorite soap opera had been canceled mid-cliffhanger. “And you didn’t do anything?! Not even a single ominous shoulder squeeze? A disapproving nod? A slow, terrifying walk behind them in the corridors with your eyes narrowed like a cryptid in the fog?!”

“I was counting on some emotionally stunted vengeance,” Lorenzo chimed in, now holding his crisps like a judgmental gavel. “You let us down, Nott.”

“EXACTLY!” Pansy shrieked, spinning around with the energy of a banshee leading a revolution. “Where’s the drama?! Where’s the furious wand duel at midnight in the courtyard? WHERE'S THE TWO-PAGE SPEECH ABOUT BETRAYAL AND SIBLING HONOUR AND A TRAGIC LOVE DOOMED FROM THE START?!”

Draco looked like he was genuinely grieving. He placed one hand on his heart, the other dramatically outstretched as if speaking to the heavens. “This is worse than my father’s fourth engagement party. At least that had fireworks and an enchanted swan that exploded.”

Theodore, for his part, looked like he’d just woken up from a nap and couldn’t be arsed. Standing with his hands in his pockets and his expression set to “Could Not Care Less If I Tried,” he said, “I already told them. I’ve known for weeks.”

“WEEKS?!” Blaise yelped, clutching Lorenzo’s shoulder like he needed emotional support.

“And you didn’t even glare once?!” Draco gasped, eyes practically bulging out of his head. “You didn’t pull out your wand and threaten to CRUCIO his bloodline?!”

“I expected some level of ominous sibling rage,” Lorenzo muttered. “Instead I got... emotional neutrality. Honestly, it’s offensive.”

“I’m just—confused,” Blaise said, flinging his arms out. “Do you even care? You’re acting like Mattheo hasn’t spent the past month playing tonsil hockey with your sibling in every broom cupboard in the castle.”

“I expected fireworks,” Pansy seethed. “Screaming. Maybe a duel that would’ve made the school nurse cry. At least a threatened expulsion! And instead—” she gestured wildly at Theodore “—we got this! Calm! Rational! Emotionally intelligent?! I’m DISGUSTED.”

Astoria, who had been quietly standing by, now had both hands around Pansy’s waist, physically holding her back like she was restraining a chihuahua on steroids. “Pans, don’t lunge. You promised no tackling.”

“I DIDN’T PROMISE NOTHING,” Pansy roared.

Theodore blinked slowly, looking almost bored. “If Mattheo breaks their heart, I’ll throw him off the Astronomy Tower myself. Until then, I’ve got exams.”

Mattheo, still half-hiding behind you like a traumatized Victorian child, made a strangled sound. “He’s gonna what—?”

“I—I tried to apologize,” Mattheo spluttered, peeking out from behind your shoulder with the world’s most wounded expression. “I was halfway through my bloody sentence and he just cut me off! I had a whole speech! With metaphors!”

“You didn’t even get to the metaphor about comparing Theodore’s glare to a dementor with a caffeine addiction,” you whispered.

“RIGHT?” Mattheo pointed at you with a pout. “That was my best one!”

“You were sobbing into a chocolate frog outside the potions lab,” Blaise said, deadpan.

“Yeah, I remember that,” Lorenzo added with a snort. “You kept whispering, ‘he’s going to turn me into a ferret’.”

“You weren’t even dating me when you did that,” you muttered.

Mattheo groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “I was emotionally preparing! For war!”

“And there was no war!” Draco cried. “Just—just peace! Like we’re living in some healthy, emotionally mature AU!”

“This is worse than my cousin’s vow renewal,” Pansy snapped, now pacing in a circle. “At least that ended with a hexed priest and someone’s wig catching fire.”

Lorenzo clapped Blaise on the back. “Well, guess I lost the bet.”

“What bet?” you asked, dreading the answer.

“I had twenty galleons on Theodore turning Mattheo into a cactus and leaving him outside Hagrid’s hut.”

“Honestly, I would’ve preferred that,” Mattheo muttered.

“Same,” Draco said, disgusted.

“You’re all insane,” Theodore said.

“And you’re boring,” Blaise fired back. “Where’s the trauma?! Where’s the iconic sibling rage? You had the perfect opportunity to deliver a one-liner and threaten him with a slow, painful doom! Instead you let him live?!”

Pansy turned on Theodore with wide, devastated eyes. “You’re not mad at all? Like not even a little? There’s no secret plotting? No passive aggressive breakfast commentary?!”

Theodore just shrugged. “I like my sibling. I don’t hate Riddle. I’m not wasting spell energy unless he does something dumb.”

“I am something dumb!” Mattheo squeaked from behind you.

“WE KNOW!” Pansy and Draco yelled in unison.

Astoria buried her face in her hands. “I’m too sober for this.”

Draco sighed dramatically and crossed his arms. “Fine. New plan. Someone date someone they shouldn’t so we can salvage this absolute travesty.”

“I VOLUNTEER!” Lorenzo said immediately.

“NO YOU DON’T!” Blaise and Draco snapped.

You turned to Mattheo with a dazed smile as the rest of your friends devolved into chaos, arguing over who should pretend to get engaged for maximum scandal.

“Well,” you muttered. “That went well.”

Mattheo blinked at you, still clutching your robes. “I feel like I survived an execution by emotional chaos.”

You patted his cheek. “You did great, sweetheart.”

“I hate all of them,” he whispered.

From behind you, Pansy screamed, “SOMEONE THROW SOMETHING DRAMATIC OR I’M GOING TO COMBUST.”

A shoe flew past your head.

“Okay,” Mattheo muttered. “Maybe I don’t hate them. I just… fear them.”

You nodded. “Reasonable.”

And somewhere, Theodore was already walking away from the scene like a man who had never emotionally invested in anything except his morning tea and the hope that someone, someday, would shut Pansy up for more than two minutes.

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honeyblackberries · 16 hours ago

Text

The world you left behind

Sylus died but what about the people left to miss him? What of the boy who’ll never know what lies beyond the shadow of his father’s wings?

sylus x reader (reader referred to as mother but no pronouns) 1.8k

cw: angst with a (maybe) happy ending, hurt with (maybe) comfort, mentions of blood and physical injuries, lore inaccurate, unnamed son pov.

basically a 'what if' au where mc/reader has sylus's kid after he dies in their dragon myth times. *sylus's son and the transformation scene was inspired by this art by @/napanewt (whole thread makes me sob) | also on ao3

The first time your son wished for his father happened when he was just a child.

He was born hearing tales of great dragons, of love in bloodshed, of kindred spirits and souls bound together for all eternity. Legends whispered throughout the cities were his bedtime stories, a requiem for the deceased was his lullaby.

Oh how exciting it all was to a young boy. What incredible adventures you’ve had! He wished to know more, desired to always hear of the man who's name stoked the flames of Tarus city.

“When can I meet him?” He’d asked you one night as you lay beside him in bed.

He was seven summers old, practically grown up. He would like to meet his father soon. Sylus was familiar yet completely unknown to him. A fiend that strikes fear into the hearts of the strongest warriors. Yet someone his mother speaks of so fondly, with a voice always gentle.

“I’m sorry love, your father has gone far away,” the words were ones he’d grow used to hearing. Ones he would come to resent.

But not yet.

Your son wondered if he looked the same as Sylus, as he stared at his own reflection in a chalice atop one of the many piles of treasure in your cave. You’d told him that regardless of how much he might look like you now, his silver hair and ruby red eyes come from his father.

“What about the horns?” he asked while pointing to his head. Where yours are and where his own should be. “And the tail, and… wings?”

“I hope you never grow them.” Those words confused him.

“Why?”

“Because they are a curse.”

Back then he didn’t understand what you meant. They would make him stronger, fiercer, more dragon-like. They would make him the same as the man he caught glimpses of in the shadows on the wall. The same as the man he saw in the twinkle of your eyes..

“Well, I hope I do.”

And hope he did, wished and prayed to every shining star. Desperate to be even half the man his father is. He had to be since Sylus was gone.

How else could he protect you from those who wanted to do you harm; fight off all the monsters that curse your existence and hunt you down. Men with wicked intentions and venom on their tongues. How else could he get rid of the sadness that would creep into your gaze when you think he isn’t looking. Stop the heartache that would overcome you sometimes, when you reminisce on the dragon who left you behind.

Your son was stuck with Sylus’s stories and nothing more.

The second time your son wished for his father was when the transformation started. It came suddenly and it tore him apart all at once.

The scream of pain he let out as something began to grow through the bone of his skull, tearing delicate skin. The way his own blood thickly trickled into his eyes from the open wounds. The sickening wet sounds of his body unwillingly shifting in ways it wasn't used to.

That’s how you found him. Curled up in a heap on the floor, body convulsing as if it didn’t know what to do with itself. Crimson staining everything around him.

“Mama—” he sobbed, something he hadn’t called you in years.

His voice sounded broken to his own ears, but he no longer cared about being weak. Not when it hurt so much that he wished death would save him. What a foolish child he had been to dream of this. And what a cruel father Sylus must be to let it happen. How could a father who didn’t even know him curse him so—give him what he so desperately wanted but at such a horrible cost.

He blacked out not long after, cradled in your shaking arms.

You told him later on that the same thing had happened to Sylus when he was still a young dragon and your son wondered if it would have been less scary with him around. If his father would have held him through it like you did, if he would have known what to say to make it hurt less.

He can almost imagine it.

‘Bite down on a cloth so you don’t bite your tongue.’

‘Slow your breathing, don’t panic. The adrenaline will only make it happen faster.’

‘It'll be over soon.’

‘I’m here for you.’

The next few years were hard on your son. Having to learn how to exist within his new body. He always moved wrong. Would trip over his own tail as he walked, cut his mouth with his fangs, tear flesh with his talons.

But all of that paled in comparison to the challenge that was his wings. To the humbling experience of learning to fly.

A part of him yearned for the skies yet he was wet behind the ears with the way his wings would allow him to rise for only a moment, before plummeting to the ground. Always two steps behind spring’s baby birds who could soar past him.

He learned a lot about himself during this time. That he was impatient, easy to anger, easier to lose common sense. It’s good he supposes, looking back on it. The way he was forced to prematurely clip the hubris that was growing within him. Lest he fall just as bad as Icarus.

It was during each failure—in the moment just before the crash—where he would find himself wondering if his father would hold his hands as he taught him how to take flight. Show him how to follow the wind above mountain peaks and along the edge of the horizon. Go with him to the edge of the sea beyond where the datura flowers bloom.

He remembers you asking him once, years later, if he regretted wishing to be like Sylus. If after what had to be done for it to happen, he could still want to be like him.

His answer then is the same as it would be today.

Even if the pain was once unbearable and the struggle seemingly never-ending, it chipped away at his rough edges. Honed him like a blade. He could now fight his own battles; win against those who started ones against you. He could hear the joy in your laugh as he picked you up and flew off towards the dawn. Could see the look of pride on your face.

You were proud of the man he grew to be.

It was worth it to get a step closer to his father.

The last time your son wished for his father was on the day you left him. Dragons live long but not forever and you only had half the soul of one.

It had been lifetimes since he was a boy but he felt more helpless than ever before. He could do nothing for the mother who kissed his bruises and loved him twice as much to make up for the absence of his father.

He could only lay you to rest in the field of flowers you cherished. Could only fix your hair and cover you in the softest fabric as he buried you. Lay by your grave as long as his body would let him. Through tears he cursed the heavens, cursed whatever deemed it fit to take you away. Cursed the father who was never there.

Where was he when you needed him?

…

He wondered for the last time what Sylus was like. Not as a myth or a father, but as a man.

A man beloved enough to have a son with. A man you hoped to see again in the next life.

A man you'd to turn yourself into a monster for.

Your son never came back to visit you. Never came back to the home that held nothing except bittersweet memories. He left for the farthest corners of the world and still sought to go further.

Without the father he never knew and the mother who was his everything, he was truly alone.

Centuries passed but your son never forgot you. Everywhere he went the wind and the wings of birds carried your presence. In the people he met he saw your kindness. But time was a gentle mistress to him. It healed wounds, altered him in ways never expected.

He was different. Changed to fit the new life he was living—one with towers that reached beyond the clouds, new monsters, and so many people. There was a maturity to him now. A quiet patience. Gone was the boy who would dream of dragons.

Actually, he hadn't been him for a long time.

Then it happened one day.

He was out in the city centre—waiting in line for a new cafe—when he saw you. It was only in passing but he knew it was really you. Knew it in that innate way one can recognise their mother.

Feet moved on their own and he was following behind you before he even realised. You were younger, closer to how he remembered you looking when he was a child. And where were you going? Home? Or to meet up with friends, maybe even a lover?

He just wants to watch you for a bit; won't approach you. You were different, you wouldn’t remember him and that’s okay.

You cross the street and stop, seeming to reach your destination.

He watches curiously as you sneak up behind a man with his back facing the two of you. Sees you throw yourself onto him, hugging his neck. The man turns suddenly and lets out a deep laugh, arms wrap around your waist and he leans down to smile at you.

His breath catches when he sees the stranger's face.

This man is someone he'd recognise from the very marrow of his bones. Hair silvery white like the flash of light that would hit his eyes when he used to fly too close to the sun. Eyes like the rubies that littered the floor of the cave he once called home, a perfect twin to his. And his gaze is fixed on you, much like his own. But there’s something there, a depth of love and longing he’s never seen.

“Hey!” a voice calls out to your son.

“Where are you running off too?” his lover chides out of breath, as they run up to him. “You just suddenly disappeared, I thought you were waiting for me.”

“Sorry,” he smiles apologetically. “It’s nothing. I just… I thought I saw someone familiar.”

They talk his ear off and drag him back to the main street, but the warm feeling bubbling in his chest stops him from hearing any of it. What are the chances that his wish would finally come true. He got to see his father. On top of that, he can tell from the way he holds you that the man loves you with depths beyond time.

Across the street Sylus watches the retreating figure of a man. His gaze drawn to him with a pull he can’t quite explain.

“Sy, you know him?” you ask as you tilt your head to see who he’s looking at.

“No,” it’s true, and yet—

“He just seems familiar.”

a/n: this only exists because i was listening to epic and had sons never knowing their fathers on the brain. also tysm for 200 followers! kissing each of you on the forehead *muah*

#love and deepspace #sylus x reader #sylus angst #dad sylus #sylus x mc #lads x reader #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace angst #lnds #l&ds sylus #sylus qin #qin che #sylus x you #love and deepspace fic #love and deepspace x reader #lads oc

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absdollievu · 2 days ago

Text

Off the Rink

hockey!abby x EMT!reader

The first time you meet Abby Anderson, she slams into the boards so hard the whole rink flinches.

You’re halfway through your shift, watching the game from the medic station with one boot untied and a granola bar half-eaten in your lap. The sound pulls you to your feet—clean hit, but the way she hit the ice wasn’t great.

You’re already moving before the ref finishes whistling.

Abby’s sitting upright when you get there, helmet askew, one glove missing. She’s waving off her teammates and muttering that she’s fine. Typical.

You kneel beside her. “You don’t look fine.”

She looks over. Blue eyes, sharp jaw, blood on her knuckles. She’s bigger up close. Solid. Calm.

“I’ve had worse,” she says, like it’s supposed to reassure you.

“Cool. I’ll just leave, then,” you reply, already checking her wrist. “Or do you want to do my job?”

That gets a faint smirk. “Didn’t know sarcasm was part of the first aid protocol.”

You glance up at her, deadpan. “It is when someone keeps pretending they’re made of concrete.”

She lets you work, quiet for a beat. Her pulse is steady under your fingers.

“Wrist’s not broken,” you say. “But you’ll feel it tomorrow.”

“Great.”

You pause, give her a look. “Ice it when you get home.”

“I was gonna do that anyway.”

“Mmhmm.” You mumble, taking what she said with a little bit of salt.

She stands, flexes her hand like she’s testing it. You offer an ice pack. She hesitates, then takes it.

“Thanks,” she says.

You nod. “Try not to give me a reason to run out here next time.”

She doesn’t smile, but she doesn’t look away either. “No promises.”

⸻

A week later, she shows up after practice, holding a bag of frozen peas against her shoulder.

“You again,” you say.

She shrugs. “Took a bad hit. Thought I’d get ahead of it.”

You raise an eyebrow. “So now you care about recovery?”

“I figured you’d complain less if I didn’t wait till it was worse.”

You tilt your head. “That was almost considerate.”

She sits down without waiting for permission. You grab the ibuprofen out of habit.

“You don’t have to keep showing up, you know,” you say.

“Yeah. I could just tough it out.” She pauses. “But then I wouldn’t get to hear you talk shit every time I get injured.”

You glance at her. She’s relaxed, elbows on her knees, eyes fixed on the floor like she didn’t just say something that landed oddly close to flirting.

You hand her the pills. “Try not to make this a regular thing.”

“No promises,” she says again.

⸻

Another night, after the rink clears out, she finds you in the medic room, stacking towels.

“I was heading out,” you say, not looking up.

“I know. Just figured I’d say hi.”

You turn. She’s dressed down—hoodie, joggers, hair damp from a quick rinse. Something quieter about her tonight.

You lean against the table. “No injury?”

“Nope.”

You nod once. “Alright.”

She stays in the doorway, one hand on the frame. “You always stay this late?”

“Someone’s gotta clean up.”

She watches you for a second. “You ever actually watch the games?”

You look up. “Yeah.”

She lifts her chin slightly. “Then you know I’m not bad.”

“I never said you were.”

“Just clumsy.” You add.

You allow yourself a small smile. “Just reckless.”

There’s a pause.

She shifts like she’s about to say something else, then doesn’t.

“Alright,” she says, backing up. “Guess I’ll see you around.”

You nod. “Yeah.”

And you do. Again. And again. Sometimes with bruises. Sometimes not. But always a little closer than the last time.

⸻

The rink is quiet by the time you’re locking up the supply cabinet. Most of the team cleared out twenty minutes ago, and you assumed Abby was long gone with them.

You hear the door open behind you.

“You always clean everything yourself?” she asks, voice casual.

You glance back. “You always sneak up on people like that?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Just walks in and leans against the wall, arms crossed. Her hoodie sleeves are pushed up to the elbow, revealing a darkening bruise near her bicep. You frown, already reaching for your kit.

“Seriously?” you ask. “When were you gonna tell me about that?”

“It’s fine,” she says, but this time her voice is quieter. Less like she’s brushing you off. “Didn’t notice it ‘til I sat down.”

You give her a look but keep your mouth shut. She sits on the table without asking. You move in close and start checking the swelling. Neither of you speaks for a while. It’s quiet. Comfortable, almost.

Her eyes flick to yours.

“You always this careful with players?”

“Just the ones who lie about being fine.”

That earns a small huff from her. A ghost of a smile.

You wrap the compression band gently, hands brushing her skin. She watches you—really watches. Not the kind of glance you toss casually. The kind that lingers, like she’s trying to memorize your face.

“You don’t have to keep doing this,” you say after a minute.

She tilts her head. “Doing what?”

“Finding excuses to come back here.”

You finish wrapping her arm but don’t move away. She doesn’t either.

“I like talking to you,” she says, plain and simple.

There’s no smirk this time. No posturing. Just honesty, low and direct.

You nod, unsure what to do with it. “Okay.”

She holds your gaze. “You?”

You hesitate. Then: “Yeah. I like talking to you too.”

Something shifts again. You don’t know what, but the room feels different now. Charged, in that quiet, undeniable way.

She slides off the table, still close. Her voice drops just slightly.

“You work next game?”

“Always.”

She nods. “Good.”

She lingers at the door before leaving.

You catch yourself smiling after she’s gone.

⸻

158 notes · View notes

engenlvr · 1 day ago

Text

i miss you, i’m sorry | alexia putellas

pairing: alexia putellas x mila crnogorčević (oc)

summary: years ago she messed up the best thing that ever happened to her and now it's back in front of her she won't make that mistake again

tags: angst, fluff, acl's, firstlove!alexia, past relationship, exes that haven’t seen each other in years, orange coloured text means that it is spanish and blue is swiss german. i hate writing games so it will probably be written horribly.

word count: 10k+

it was match day.

an el clásico to be exact. barcelona vs real madrid. champions league quarter final. you’ve been to many of these when you moved to spain from switzerland when you were fourteen.

football was your favourite sport growing up your dad was huge on it he even tried to get you in the sport but it was horrible and you quit immediately. you traded playing the sport to taking pictures of it.

you cousin ana-marie was the whole reason why you were here today, sat next to your friend bella. you were beyond proud of the girl and everything she’s achieved in her career.

today she was going to play in front of a world record crowd for women’s football. thousands of people in one stadium to see the team’s kick a ball around.

when you were offered an invite to see her play you couldn’t decline it wasn’t just a big moment in her career but also yours if you could capture the right moment. there were times where you’d see her play and the stadium barely had any people but today was the stadium was basically full.

the two girls were sat in their barcelona shirts with the name crnogorčević on the back of it. the game was just about to start with just the whistle needing to be blown.

and when it did the twenty two players began to run up and down the pitch. the score was already 3-1 on aggregate but it didn’t stay like that for long with a lovely cross from barcelona’s number four in the seventh minute.

there was something about el clásico no matter what, they were entertaining the rivalry between the two clubs causing that. then came the penalty due to a hand ball which only added to the game. it ended up going in real madrid’s favour with it barely slipping passing pass the goalkeeper fingers.

but it wasn’t till the second half when you got really invested, it wasn’t your cousin getting subbed on the pitch that the game really started to interest you. and a goal from the opposing team, a goal that was a beaut even thought it was hard to say with your barça heart.

but with that goal you knew it was only going to motivate them more and it did. that goal drove the home team to get a few more in their name. but it wasn’t the second or third goal that caught your attention it was the fourth that did.

the way they played was so familiar but you couldn’t place who it was or if your even knew them. the confidence in their movement and passes, their confidence full stop was too similar. the was she bowed to the fans as they all cheered for her. you didn’t have the clearest of views from where you were sat but with that being said whenever you were taking pictures you don’t really pay attention to their face everything was blurred out.

the rest of the game was a blur all your thoughts on the teams number 11 who seemed to be everyone’s favourite and it wasn’t until the final whistle that you snapped out of that trance.

“that game was amazing, i mean all the goals was beautiful” hanna blabbed in excitement over the game as the two of you made your way down to the pitch now that everyone was gone “i mean you have to show me all your photos”

looking at the girl “you always see my photos before anyone else” if there was one thing that the spanish girl loved about you was that you knew someone on the team meaning that you could get her tickets.

the two of you met about three years ago and have been best friends since and it wasn’t until a year in your friendship that she realised that you knew ana-marie but that you were actually family.

“ana! i’m so proud of you” pulling the girl into a hug and not letting her go till she started to pull away to hug hanna.

“you were amazing” the spanish girl complimented completely in awe at the swiss girl’s performance today.

the three girl continued to chat about the match that happened, from the goals to saves that happened. you listed nodding every now and then to the teams number 10 caught your eyes.

“jenni?” eyes full of confusion as you walked to the dark haired girl “what are you doing here? you know when we met and you were all secretive about your job i didn’t know it was because you were a footballer” she pulled you into a hug completely shocked that the girl she thought about a lot after they last saw each other months ago.

“what am i doing here? i could ask you the same thing. i can’t believe your here” her eyes looked at you “you know ana she’s my cousin and she asked me to come see her play. i’m also a sports photographer and it was worth coming i mean it was beautiful to think so many people came to watch you play. but i don’t blame them”

“are you flirting with me?” she joked remembering how you where when the two of you met on holiday “your family is looking at us well more me but still”

you looked back at your cousin and friend who glanced at the two of you “i think she just shocked that i know another footballer i mean she was shocked when i told her that ana was my cousin like she screamed cause she she loves this team”

“and you? do you love this team”

“i guess i do i’ve lived here since i was fifteen and been to may of these games and my shirt” spinning around to show her the your name ( ana-maria’s name ) on the back “love everything about this club, in fact i know everything about it”

“well since you love this club so much out of the kindness of my heart i’ll give you my shirt” pulling the fabric off her body and handing it to you “and the team we’re going out tonight to celebrate the win you should come”

“i don’t want to intrude” shaking your head no “you won’t i promise i want you there and the team will love you”

jenni heard her name being called “look i got to go but please come”

“hanna how do u feel about going to a party tonight”

so that’s how the two of your found yourselves in the club full of professional footballers “not to sound like i’m using you or anything but i love the fact that you know footballers especially barça ones. but how do you know jenni” the dark haired spaniard asked while dragging you to the bar to get shots number, well she didn’t know.

“err, we met on holiday”

her head shot around “you slept with her” the words jumbled up in your throat trying to come up with lie but nothing worked and you knew that she could see right through you so you stopped “no, okay so maybe i did, but it was months ago and a total coincidence that i met her today. i didn’t even know she played for barça”

“well i’m happy that you know them cause girl this place has been booked out for months”

the swiss girl humed in agreement before picking up the shot and downing it clearly needing it after her best friend integration.

the footballers were scatters all around across the club. you have yet to see everyone on the team, only really talked to ana-maria, ingrid, mapi and of course jenni.

“i don’t blame you, she’s really hot”

“thank you, hanna. i’m gonna steal her for a dance” pulling you alonge with her before you could say by to the girl.

“you’re a hard girl to find” she whispered in your ear from behind, the way she spoke with such confidence in everything that she does.

“well i’ve been on the dance floor or at the bar”

your body up against hers, the way her hand run up your bare back due to your backless crop top you wore. the touch that caused goosebumps to appear. maybe it was the alcohol that enhanced all that you felt but you didn’t care, both of you didn’t.

“you look beautiful, your top with that small skirt of yours i love it” her fingers grazing the price of clothing as she named them “it reminds me of that night in kos. you at that club in that tight red dress that compliments you so well” pushing you hair to the side “i still think about that night, how good you were for me all night” her lips meeting your neck peppering kisses on it.

you finally looked away from the girl and looked at the table in front of you. your movements halted as you saw her, you saw alexia after all these years. after ten years you saw her and she was looking directly back at you. those eyes you used to wake up next to, those hazel eyes you loved looking at.

after ten years and she still had the same effect on you as if the two of you still knew one another. god you hated that she did, you hated that she looked more beautiful since the last time you saw her.

looking at her and you suddenly were a teenage girl and in love with girl and the two of you were in her room kissing each other every chance you had.

“i’m sorry, i’ve got to go” running out the club ignoring the calls not only from jenni but from hanna and your cousin as well.

you didn’t remember how you got there but there you were at beach the two of you used to always go to. looking at the rock which had the initials of the two of you and drawings that the two of you have put.

you felt a figure sit beside you, not even having to look as that scent was so familiar. the midfielder sat down beside you and the seconds she did you got up to walk away.

her hand grabbing your wrist to stop you from fleeing.

“no ale—alexia no. you don’t get to come here and touch me like nothing happened. you were horrible to me i stuck with you through everything the highs and the lows but then you took out all your anger on me and i tried to stay but it wasn’t just that. you never showed up. i was there at every important event of yours but you never came to mine even if i told you weeks in advance there was always something to stop you from coming but that night was it. i just couldn’t do it no more”

seeing her just brought everything up again, everything that you thought you had healed all those years ago but it didn’t, it still hurt.

“i don’t blame you” her voice sweeter than ever it still sounded like pure heaven to you but how couldn’t it. it was the voice that told you that she loved you and that she was gonna marry you and so much more. you couldn’t stand that fact that it still did “i would of done the same thing, walking out on me. i was a horrible girlfriend not just after he died but before as well. my need to just be the best ruined what we had and after years of having you by my side i was so used to having you there and i took it for granted and i thought you’d stay, no matter what but i pushed you too far but losing you made me see everything that i done and how wrong i done you. the trophies mean nothing if your not by my side”

her eyes were on you but yours were focusing on the waves and the sound it made it helped you slow the tears falling down your face “seeing you with jenni, my best friend. how close she was to you, her body up against your whispering in your ear and kissing you. i don’t ever want to see that. i used to be the one to do that to you and i want to make things right. there hasn’t been a day no a second where i haven’t thought about you and i’m going to make it right cause losing you made me realise how much i love you and need you in my life”

her words caused you to look at her for the first time since the club. you had a chance to really look at her alexia had changed her hair now blonde it complimented her but you miss her brown hair.

you often thought about what would of happened if you told the girl straight up how you felt whether you’d be at the match for her instead of ana-marie. whether you’d be there after every win and lost. whether you’d still go her family’s house chatting with her mum or going out with alba to gossip or if you’d still be with her.

“alexia i— i don’t think that can happen” her eyes looking a bit sad at your words “no mila i will make us us again i’m not gonna give up on this on us”

standing up from where the two of your were sat, slowly moving away till you were by the right of her to say your last words to her “i’m glad you got everything you ever wanted” walking away but not before glancing back at her one more time.

those words hurt her more knowing you thought that she couldn’t fix this or that you didn’t want her to try at all but she had changed losing you changed her for the better “not everything” she whispered sadly looking directly at you. she let you slip away once but she wouldn’t let it happen again.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

october 2009

it was your first day at school in spain obviously you were beyond nervous, how could you not be in a place where the language wasn’t you first and only understood basic phrases.

if it wasn’t bad enough that you were the new kid you had to be the new kid who joined midway through the the term. everyone already had their established friendship groups and you would be there all alone.

your dad who was a football coach moved us here as being the coach of barça was something he couldn’t turn down, so that’s how you found yourself in barcelona. ever since finding out that you were moving you tried to learn spainsh and catalan but it was harder than you thought.

the halls were crowded with friends walking around making their way for lunch, while you walked in the complete opposite direction. lessons weren’t necessarily bad but you felt like the odd one out everyone speaking rapid spanish while you could only latch on to maybe a few words if lucky. having the teacher speak to the class and then you, which wasn’t to hurt you or make you feel separate but it did.

you had found a secluded space, the football stands. despite not being that good at the sport you felt comfort there. your dad often took you with him when he practiced. though you had never been here, every stand felt familiar and brought you comfort.

everywhere you went you had a camera always ready to capture a moment whether it was a person or scenery, taking pictures was what you were meant to do. your love for sports photography began with all the training sessions your day would take you to. when you were younger you would always complain about how boring it was but then your mum had the idea to give you a camera. and to their surprise the pictures you took were great, great enough to even be used for promo.

a brunette walked on to the pitch with a ball in her hands before going to do some football drills. the girl obviously didn’t notice you seeing as she continued to move effortlessly with the ball.

you could tell she was popular as every time someone walked pass they wave to her or have a conversation with her.

it was beautiful.

a scene worth capturing. she looked beautiful and confident in each stride. so you picked up your film camera and took multiple pictures of the girl who moved gracefully on the pitch.

she was perfected each stride except for the last which went straight for you and totally would of hit you if you hadn’t of ducked “i’m sorry, i didn’t see you there” she apologised profusely while running over to you. the language of that spoke from her lips confused you for a moment completely forgetting that you weren’t in switzerland anymore but spain “it’s okay” you face full of confusion as you didn’t know if you had said the words right.

and she continued apologising well that’s what you thought she was saying as you were completely lost and your face displayed it.

“your the new student aren’t you” finally switching to english which calmed your nerves completely “yeah, i’m sorry i’m trying to learn catalan but i’m not that good yet”

reaching for the ball behind you, grabbing it and handing it to her. you could finally look at the girl, hazel eyes which complimented her brown hair so well. “so why are you here and not eating lunch”

“i don’t really know anyone here. actually you’re the first person to really put in an effort to talk to me” shrugging your shoulders

“well you know me now”

the words spoken with a smile “alexia” putting her hand out for you to shake.

“mila”

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

present day

fate.

that’s what alexia liked to call it whenever the two of you seemed to bump into each other. at the coffee shop, in the middle of the streets, your weekly food shop and more.

obviously she was happy about seeing you but after you hadn’t seen her for ten years it was weird seeing her this often.

you slammed the door shut as you entered your flat which hanna was currently in “mila what happened for you to slamming that poor door?”

glaring at the girl with her comment “ugh i hate her why can’t she just leave me alone”

“who”

“i mean everyday i bump into her and she’ll be all happy acting as if nothing happened. asking me how my day was”

“again i don’t know who your talking about”

“it’s just why do i have to see her practically everyday—“

the spaniard grabbed your shoulders shaking them to stop you from talking “mila who? who are you talking about?”

“alexia” the words coming out slow “okay alexia who alexia jones, alexia smith. mila who’s alexia? i don’t know everything”

“alexia from the bar”

a look of realisation appeared on her face “alexia putellas!” you nodded “you know alexia what did you sleep with her or something how do you know her? why is it you who knows all the barça player and i don’t” whispering the last bit to herself.

“i kinda know her”

“yeah i’ve got that but how?”

“well i kinda used to date her” hanna’s face filled with shock cause if she was in your position she’d be telling everyone she knew “i know i should of told you but the break up was so messy we were so messy in the last few month’s. when we first met it was perfect like i was so in love and it only grew as our careers did. i’d go to her games and she’d go to my events everything was perfect. then her dad died and everything went down hill she’d start arguments over anything i did that showed that i cared. she missed my events and then i just left, couldn’t even tell her to her face or else i wouldn’t go through with it so i left her a silly letter, i left her when she needed me most”

“you used to date alexia putellas, the the caption of fc barcelona” completely ignoring everything but the first sentence

“yes hanna” slight annoyed at her for being up her name again “okay just making sure we’re talking about the same person here”

dropping yourself on the sofa and grabbing a pillow of yours to squeeze. at first hanna was going to make a joke about the two of you but she saw the way you looked over you bumbing into the captain and how much it really effected you in more ways than you wished.

“you want my opinion” looking at you and waiting for a sigh but you stayed still staring at the view form your window “okay well i’m gonna give you it anyway. well it’s clear that she still means something to you wether you want it to or not but you still love her and miss her and what the two of you had. well i don’t know alexia personally but i think if she really didn’t care about you and didn’t feel sorry she wouldn’t talk to you each time she bumps into you. i think you leaving really showed her how wrong her actions were and i think the reason she didn’t reach out is to respect your boundaries even if it hurt her.”

“all i’m saying is that it won’t hurt to at least talk things out so that the both of you can move on” pulling your head to her chests “just think about it okay”

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

february 2010

you learnt very quickly that alexia practically bleed blaugrana. you figured that out practically the first day you met.

at your old school when people found out who your dad was they would always ask for favours. like to meet the players and get stuff signed for them. so they never really wanted to be your friend.

so when you heard that you were gonna move to barcelona you made the choice to go by your mums last name instead of your dads.

though you didn’t want your mind to go there it did. you thought somehow she found a picture of you online and that’s why she started talking to you. but as the days went on she never asked for anything infact when she saw your face when she talked about the club she’d stop.

slowly you realised that maybe she was friends with you solely cause of you and not for your dad. that she actually liked you for you. most of your friends were ones from your childhood other than that you didn’t make any.

normally you wouldn’t use your dads connections for your own personal use. but it was alexia you were talking about, your alexia and seeing the smile that would come on her face would be so worth it.

alexia was gutted that she couldn’t get tickets to that game barcelona vs real madrid seeing as the game was a day after her birthday.

“alexia i have one more gift for you” pulling out the bag for behind you “mila i told you that you didn’t need to get me anything, you being here is enough” seeing as you already got her too much stuff in her eyes from new football boots which she instited that you took back and the only present she truly accepted was the necklace you bought for her.

your face could barely keep your emotions in as you were smiling so much “i know but you’ll love it i swear”

“open it please” pushing the bag more towards her. you watched as she hesitantly opened the bag and her face filled with excitement as she read what was on the paper.

“no you didn’t” she repeated before throwing herself your arms causing you to fall backwards on the floor “mila, i love you. best birthday present ever” she said while placing kisses on your cheeks which caused them to heat up.

her parents watched as the two of you hugged on the floor while her sister picked the piece of paper and showed her parent which only made their smile widen.

you were exactly what alexia needed. sure she had others friends that they thought were good enough for alexia but seeing you with her only made them realise that what they saw before was nothing like what the two of you had.

“but these were sold out how could you possibly get them and the first row” pulling away to look at you through her tear filled eyes before hugging you again “i have my ways and we even get to go on the pitch afterwards and talk to the players” you were meant to keep that last bit in but you couldn’t help it. seeing alexia happy makes you happy

“what did i do to deserve you”

what you didn’t know was the you buying the tickets was the best thing to ever happen to the two of you. after the game which barcelona won of course alexia’s words. you didn’t just get tickets for the two of you you also got tickets for her mum, dad and sister.

the lot of you made your way down the pitch. the clothes you wore which were simply a t-shirt and a pair of jeans and alexia said you should of worn the barcelona top she got you seeing as everyone but you wore one.

dragging her hand as you went on to the pitch and to your dad which she was yet to know was your dad “dad” shouting as you ran and hugged him “hi, i see you we’re finally brave enough to tell her who your dad is” whispering in your ear.

“ale, come here pls” telling the girl who stood confused next to her parents. she was really confused about her her mila knew the head coach of barcelona. “ale i’d like you to meet my dad”

“it’s nice to finally meet you alexia” bring the girl into a hug where she stood still in shock

“your dad. he’s your dad. the head coach of barcelona is your dad” pointing between the two of you “i’m sorry i should of told you but at my last school people only wanted to be friend with me cause of it and i just didn’t want that. i wanted to be sure that you were friend with me cause of me not cause of my day”

she stood still for a second her face emotionless, no tell of what she was feeling “no i get it, i’m glad that you trust me” pulling you into a hug. before you dragged her to meet the players.

safe to say that she need a minute after meeting the players. she pulled you into the bathroom, you immediately sat on the sink as you watched the girl just pace back and fourth thinking about the event that happened in the previous hour.

“mila” finally breaking the silence “i can’t believe that just happened. i always thought about how i would act if i met the players but i didn’t really think it would happen”

she stoped pacing and moved between the the gap of your legs. alexia knew that what she felt for you was stronger than her other friendships. She knew she loved you even at the start of your friendship. whether she meant it in the way she loved her friends or more she just knew that she did.

everyone your age had boyfriends, alexia claimed she doesn’t have one as she didn’t see the appeal. you on the other hand, had boys ask you out which you always declined. that was something that annoyed alexia but she’d never tell you why not that she knew why she hated it. you hadn’t been in a relationship since your boyfriend back in switzerland.

she loved you. your hair, your eyes the way you’d smiled or how you generally were intrigue in the silly stories she tell you. maybe it was the little to no distance between the two of you or the high from meeting her football idols that made her do it. but she did

alexia’s hand went to your cheek which you leaned into. her eyes flickering between your eyes and lips.

her lips were suddenly placed on yours moving but it was your turn to stand still in shock. when you didn’t reciprocate she moved away “mila, i’m sorry that was a mistake. i hope i haven’t ruined this—” placing your lips on hers showing her that you felt the same. your hand wrapped around her neck pulling you closer, wanting to feel more of her on you. the two of you seemed to forget that this was a bathroom as the two of you were lost in each other.

kissing your ex never felt like this, like you were on cloud nine.

“best birthday present ever” alexia spoke between kisses and went to deepen the last when a knock stopped it from happening. causing the two of you to laugh.

“we should go” you murmured kissing her and dragging her out of the bathroom.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

present day

unblock alexiaputellas

unblocked

unblocking was first thing you done since your talk with hanna. you told yourself that you were doing it to finally move on but part of you done it to i guess see her but at the some time not. watch her life from afar.

the second you pressed that button you saw ten years worth of memories that you could of been part of. her first cap for her country, days out with her family, winning the league and the one that hurt most her signing for barcelona. the one you promised to be there for.

milacc

hey

the notification on alexia’s screen caused her to drop her home phone in the changing room once she saw it. gaining looks form all her teammates especially once they saw her face.

alexiaputellas

milacc

we need to talk

i know you have a team meet up tomorrow can I meet you there???

if not we can find a better date

alexiaputellas

no that fine

i’m sure all my teammates will be fine with you coming

milacc

perfect see you tomorrow

alexiaputellas

wait

how do you know about tomorrow?

milacc

ana-maria told me

alexiaputellas

how do you know ana

milacc

she’s my cousin

alexiaputellas

she’s the ana you said you always missed

makes sense now she’s exactly how you said she was

milacc

yeah

anyway i’ve got to go work is calling

bye

alexiaputellas

bye

see you tomorrow

when you texted her yesterday the meet up it was meant to be at a cafe, but once that heard how many people were coming they said the party was too big.

so you got a text from ana-maria saying that it was being held a alexia place. arriving at her place didn’t really setting in till you went inside.

hesitantly you knocked on the door, rocking back and forth on your feet. when the door finally opened it revealed alexia.

“hi” putting her into a small hug a hug in which she missed more than words could describe. she would of held on a little longer if you hadn’t pulled away when something fluffy ran towards you.

“nala, my baby. oh how i’ve missed you”

picking up her dog which couldn’t contain her excitement in your arms and kissing you’re face. now you’ve known nala since alexia first got her. she claimed that she got it for her but she also knew how much you loved dogs.

when nala was little she spent most of her time with you so she got very close to you and you would also joke saying that you were nala’s favorite ( you were ) even though alexia would never admit it.

obviously it wouldn’t be that bad seeing as you’d have ana-maria here with you so if you needed a break you’d could just go to her.

once fully being inside her place you muttered a quick hi to the other girls and giving jenni a small hug before sitting down and the only seat that was left was next to alexia.

once all the greeting and introductions were done you took a sip of the coffee that alexia got for you and it was exactly how you liked.

she remembered after all these years.

“so mila how do you know ana-maria?”

the two swiss girls looked at each other “she’s my cousin” they all looked between them and only then saw the similarities between the two.

you liked the girls they genuinely seemed like nice girls and you got on with everyone. alexia smiled while she watched you talk to her friends and imagined that this was the everyday norm. she imagined that you were her girlfriend and this was normal.

made her want this back even more.

while talking to the girls you had a proper look at her place. you noticed things that the others wouldn’t like the candle holder, the swiss book that’s you loved, flower pot and many more.

after years she still had your things littered around her place as if it was ours. alexia knew that it was wrong but she didn’t have you in her life and this was the best she would get.

jana came back through the bathroom door with a video camera in her hands and a sneaky smile “you’ll never guess what i found?”

alexia looked over at jana and what she was holding and launched herself at jana to grab it but failed “this has old video of alexia”

“jana no” giving the girl a serious look but that did nothing seeing as the girl started to play the video on the tv.

it was video that you instead on taking documenting you and Jaume’s journey to her games. it was a tradition every game you’d vlog your journey.

the clip was half played and you were stood in the stands cheering as alexia’s father recorded the two of you. alexia scored and instead of celebrating with her teammates she ran over to you and kissed you, a type of kiss that makes you lose train of thought.

your eyes stared at the video, frozen in place. you hadn’t seen this video since the two of you broke up.

the next clip cut to after the match where he was recording the two of you whispering sweet nothings to eachother sneaking in a kiss every now and then. so stuck in your own world you didn’t notice the camera turning from you to him saying ‘if alexia doesn’t marry this girl, i won’t believe in love. they’re made for each other”

then the screen went black.

you were stuck in your seat, you have never seen this clip before. did he really think that? that the two of you were made for each other. cause if he did he’d be shocked at how the two of you were now.

“what?” you questioned as jana looked at the you and the the scene repeatedly “the two of you look a like”

the realisation finally settling in for her and just as she was about to ask more questions the door opening stopped her. but what came next answered her question anyway.

“alexia you forgot your phone at my place” a voice called taking the phone from her bag, finally looking up to see you.

“mila”

then her sister shouted in joy before running over to you and wrapping her arms around you, completely forgetting about why she originally came here.

obviously you thought about the possibility of bumping in to her family but somehow it never did.

you loved alba with all your heart and missed her at lot more than you’d like to admit. the two of you got on so well it annoyed alexia seeing as her sister would always steal you from her. but it wasn’t just her you missed it was her family in general especially her mum. her food, her hugs, talks and so much more.

“i missed you so much. why didn’t you call or text i missed you so much but that put aside does this mean that you guys have sorted this out seeing as well in the same room together. oh i can’t wait to talk to mum, she’s misses you so much”

you tried to intervene to stop her from basically telling everyone what you didn’t want them to know but it was to late.

“alba, we’re not back together”

the joy slipped from her face sadness now replacing it. thought the two of you were speaking catalan most of girl’s definitely understood everything.

jenni looked at you, the scene from the club making sense. you walking out once you saw alexia “wait you and alexia were a thing?”

“she’s the alexia that broke your heart” ana on the other hand heard everything when the two of you broke up and let’s just say she didn’t want to be face to face with the girl.

“yeah erm we used to date when we were younger back at school and ana don’t start anything please” seeing the glare that was sent to alexia.

things started to click them for mapi “wait she’s the girl” whispering quietly to her best friends which she only nodded a yes to.

now mapi knew everything from the way the two of you met to how you guys broke up. she was the only one who knew why alexia would reject every girl that came her way, why she was extra quite and sad on your birthday.

grabbing the younger putellas sister and pulling her into the spare bedroom “i’m so sorry, i spoke without thinking. i was just so happy that i saw you two together i just assumed. i’m sorry”

“i’m not mad at you okay. i know you didn’t mean to say all that” smiling at the girl weekly.

sitting down to the bed that seemed to be alexia’s. you thought that your stuff outside her room was a lot but in here there was so much more, even some pictures of the two of you.

“she still loves you, you know” stinging next to you “she knows she messed up, trust me”

you finally looked at alba “you know i was the who found this place. we were looking for places for when barça finally signed her and i fell in love with this place the second i saw it” a small tear falling from your eye’s

“i thought that i could do this, be around her. but i can’t, i don’t know how to anymore”

alba pulled you back into the hug holding just like you held her when she first got her heart broken all those years ago.

and the two of you stayed there for a while, as you didn’t want to let go. her hugs always made you feel comfortable and you needed that right now.

finally re-entering the room with your makeup touched up. the room was a little tense with all that has been uncovered.

“so i slept with the both of you” were the words that finally broke silence. both yours and alexia eye’s widened.

you looked at jenni “oh please tell me your joking” she slowly shook her head no. everyone was quiet expect for alba who found the whole funny minus the part where they were talking about her sisters sex life.

“well at least tell me i was better” telling a joke trying to lighten the situation but jenni couldn’t tell that it was a joke and answered truthfully tilting her head towards you.

“jenni i was joking you didn’t have to answer that i was just trying to lighten the mood”

alexia didn’t think it was as funny mumbling some words in catalan “what” the words slightly harsh.

“it’s just that i taught you like everything” looking at you as if her words were factual “you taught me everything. no alexia who was the who was a virgin when we met not me, you. also i wasn’t the sex crazed one you were”

“no i remember it otherwise but what do i know plus i have proof” her words to the rest of the girls sounded like nonsense and to you as well till it all clicked “omg don’t tell me you still have that, ale. tell me that you deleted it”

the two of you seemed to forget that it want just the both of you and the rest of the team was there as well and well most of them understood everything.

“i forgot, okay”

alba who was currently sat in your lap finally spoke up making a joke as usual “well don’t tell me it was a sex tape?” laughing seeming as it was something that you as well as her sister would never do something like that.

but with the both of you stilling and looking around away awkwardly not meeting her eyes “your joking right”

“it was accidental” was the only excuse you could come up with. but it wasn’t a lie you only put the camera there so you could film her reaction but then one thing led to another.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

june 2010

from that day forward the two of you where inseparable always at each others house. you were always at ale’s games with her dad no matter what. you were there when she made her debut, there when she scored her first goal, there when she won games and there when she lost.

you and alexia were in the best place you’ve ever been. always staying at her place and kissing when ever the two of you were left alone. you didn’t know when you guys changed from best friends to girlfriend??? but the day after that game things changed since then.

you didn’t know what the two of you were but you loved it. the lovesick girls layed on alexia’s bed, with her head in your lap and you stroking her hair.

it was moments like these that you lived for the simplicity of them as all the two girl could think about was each other.

now since then your spainsh and catalan had improved immensely due to alexia who helped you every day with it. the truth was that alexia loved hearing you speak her language it made her love you even more.

“you know no matter what you the most important thing in my life” the brunette girl confessed.

“more important than football” jokingly already knowing that she’d choose football as it was such an important part of her life.

twisting her body to look at you directly at you “yeah, you come first no matter what” you’re face softening at her words that made you love her more if possible.

“really”

“yeah really”

moving up to kiss you, which slowly started to get more heated as she started to pull your shirt over your head and you doing the same to her.

the kiss getting more eager before alba walked in screaming in schock at what the two of you were doing, before covering her eyes. the two of you jumping away from each other and rushing to get your tops on so you were decent.

“the two of you” her finger pointing between both of you “you and alexia. mila and you” still in shock at the scene in front of her which was you hiding your blushed face in her pink pillow and ale glaring at her sister.

yes there was a you and alexia but at the same time there wasn’t as the two of you weren’t exclusive.

“yes alba me and mila. now please leave!”

“oh i’m so telling mum and dad”

“alba!!!”

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

present day

the girls finally left alexia’s home, leaving you alone with her. something that you dreaded being alone with her, something that use to be so normal and comforting for the both of you. but now it was the opposite unfamiliar and uncomfortable.

none of you have said a word for about twenty minutes, just looking at the wall looking at all the things that used to be yours.

“mila” your hands moving up to tell her to stop which she did.

“i don’t even know why i asked to talk to you.” laughing slightly at the situation “i can’t even be in the same room as you anymore without feeling uncomfortable”

alexia eyes filled with hurt as that was never something that she wanted to make you feel.

“hanna said i should listen to your side of this so i can move on. cause she says it’s killing me now.”

killing you

those words rang through her head.

she looked up at you “okay” her words very weak and sad

“i was a shit girlfriend, i remind myself of it everyday. alba reminds me as well and if she doesn’t someone else in my family says how badly i messed it up with you. you were— no you are my everything and i hate the fact i lost site of that. that being the best clouded what mattered most to me. you.”

tears started to fill your eyes even though you really didn’t what them to.

“before he died, and i’m not saying this is an excuse but i was under so much pressure and i just wanted to make him proud before he died. but in doing so i treated you so bad and im so ashamed of it and i deserve every bad thing that comes my way and more”

“he would of been proud of you no matter what alexia. he was so proud to call you his daughter”

tears finally fell from her eyes hearing you say that, cause if you said it it must of been true. on top of that you always knew what her dad thought, the two of you always got alone so well and that was one of the reasons alexia loved you.

twiddling your hand in your lap “why didn’t you ever try to reach out”

“i wanted to respect your boundaries even if it hurt me not to and i really wanted to but if you wanted to talk to me you would of and you clearly didn’t”

“i love you enough to leave you alone if that’s what you want”

and it was. at least that’s what you thought you wanted. and any time you thought otherwise you remembered exactly why you left all those years ago. but that wasn’t really her and you knew that but what’s gonna stop her from acting like that towards you again. so you said that even if you didn’t truly mean it.

“yeah that’s what i want”

the words not sounding convincing to any of you but neither of you said a thing. you got up and went home free of any thoughts of alexia and she only ended up having more thoughts of you even though every bone of her body tried not to.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

july 2012

everything slowly went downhill with the more goals she scored and games she played, the more she changed. while alexia career was growing so was your as you stated to post your photos online as it got recognition.

at the start she was happy at every achievement you had seeing just how happy it made you. whenever you had an exhibition and if she was free she was there and if she couldn’t her family we always be there no matter what.

slowly she would start missing them even if she had a day off and it was fine at the seeing as she had a packed schedule and was probably tired but after the fifth time it just became annoying her family would ask you where she was a you would have to come up with some stupid excuse seeing as you didn’t even know why.

then her dad died which expectedly changed her seeing how close she was to him. his death hurt you as over the years the two of you created a bond going to alexia games together. you kept it together until she was out, but instead of crying as everyone else did she took it out on you.

“ale, it okay to cry. it’s a natural thing to do you don’t need to hide that from me”

“god mila! why can’t you just leave me alone twenty four seven your on my case. i can never have a moment to myself. your always there even when i’m out your texting me every second trying to see how i am”

the words coming out of her mouth with no look of regret in her eyes or an attempt to apologise to you. “sorry, i’ll just go for a walk” your words said small and barley to be heard if it wasn’t for her being right next to you.

you tried to play this off as a one time thing but it wasn’t. it happened every day and a you put up with it until it was all to much.

you had to leave.

so while she was with her family one night you packed all your things leaving behind all the photos that you put up of the two of you, the decorations that you found and put up to fill the rooms and make it feel like home.

only leaving behind a letter.

alexia came home late that night going straight to the bed and stopping agh the door seeing as you weren’t laying in it, her eyes roaming the room to look for a sign of you only to see the wardrobe empty of your clothes. she rushed through their place searching every room for a sign of you but each one she saw less with each piece of your stuff being gone but a letter addressed to her.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

present day

it was late when you got the call. the ringing jolting you awake from your sleep. at first you were annoyed, who would call you at this hour but then you saw the contact name.

my albs 💞

she hadn’t called you since you broke up with alexia, so it must be important right? her words sounded all jumbled up due to your tiredness and the only words you got was.

“alexia, she’s hurt. please come”

and how couldn’t you, not when alba sounded like that, so you got on the next flight to england. your bags had clothes that didn’t even match due to how you just chucked your clothes in there.

when you got to the hospital, you saw both alba and eli standing outside of a room. the second alba saw you she ran into your arms holding you tight making sure you wouldn’t leave. the second you pulled away you immediately pulled eli into a hug from the first time in over ten years. that hug only made you realise just how much you missed her.

“what happened?”

“she’s done her acl” you paused when you heard that, obviously you knew how bad an acl was, ana knew a few people who did theirs and she would talk to you about how severe it could be. how it was something no footballer wanted to do in their career.

alba looked at you with guilt all over her face “i know that you said you wanted her to leave you alone, but she doesn’t want the surgery and we can’t convince her. she’s saying she deserves it and i don’t know why she would think that. but i know she’ll listen to you and do it if she asks you”

glancing through the glass at alexia who was sleeping and well she looked peaceful. she looks the same as she did when she was younger and you two would sleep at each other.

looking defeated “fine, i’ll do it. but only cause you asked”

opening the door and you were just about to enter when a hand grabbed your wrist “thank you mila” eli spoke softly really appreciating what you were doing even though she knew it wasn’t easy for you.

sitting on the edge of her hospital bed, gently grabbing her hand and whispering her name sounding hesitant which you were. you said you never wanted to see her again and here you are sat beside her going to convince her to get the surgery just to leave again.

after saying her name a few times her eyes started to open, blinking a few times to make sure she was really seeing her and it wasn’t the drugs she was on.

her voice was weak, barely to be heard “mila”

“yeah i’m here alexia, im here”

hearing these words she finally broke down, tears rolling down her cheeks as she collapsed in your lap.

“do the surgery ale, please” she immediately shook her head no “alexia please just do the surgery. you need to get it done okay”

“i can’t mila, i can’t. i deserve it okay i deserve this acl for every bad thing that i’ve done in my life” finally looking up at you “for everything i’ve done to you, this is my karma and im okay with that”

“alexia just do the surgery please. i’ll never be able to live with myself if you didn’t do it cause of me ale. so don’t do it for yourself do it for me please?”

she nodded weakly she could never say no to you even when you were teenagers. she held on to you tighter than even scared you were gonna disappear if she ever let go. but after a while the drugs did get the best of her making her fall into a sleep.

outside the room alexia’s family were met with some of her teammates who came to see how she was doing.

mapi was the first to speak up about what everyone was thinking “so she’s the girl alexia still in love with. also how’d you get her here cause last i heard she wanted nothing to do with ale”

“she doesn’t. i begged her to come because i knew she was the only one who could convince her”

their gaze fell on to the two of you. your hand stroking alexia’s hair as she rested in your lap. to alba and eli they just saw the teenage version on you guys, as they’d always catch you two like that. and to her teammates it looked like two girls who are still very much in love.

gently you picked up alexa’s arm trying your hardest not to wake her up. once free you glanced at her seeing her stir around for a bit then finally settling again.

alba and eli looked at you with a little hope in their eyes “so, did you get her to do it?”

nodding yes “she thinks she deserves it because of what happened between the us.”

“thank you, mila. i know this isn’t ideal so thank you for convincing her to do it” eli hugged you tightly to show her thanks.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

july 2012

dear alexia my love,

i’m sorry.

i tried to stay strong and stick with you but i couldn’t. each day i leave the house and i dread coming back knowing that the second i walk through that door your going to complain about something that i’ve done or that i annoy you to much and care about you to much. i’m sorry that i make you feel that way all i wanted to do was try and give you some sort of comfort in this hard time.

i don’t think in knew that i was gay when we first met but i knew that you were going to be an important part of my life. i think that i’ve loved you since that day.

i miss when we’d actually go out for dinner or even go to your parents so i could see your family who i’ve grown to love over the years. i miss when i’d got to your games and it would be care free seeing you balance me and football.

losing your dad was the hardest thing you’ll ever go through and i miss him to i haven’t show you as i try to stay strong for you but i miss him and i feel guilty saying that seeing as he’s your dad and he was only ever i guess my girlfriends dad. but i miss our weekly drives to your games where we’d laugh about anything and he’d teach me some more phrases in catalan as i’m still not completely fluent and in return i’d teach him some swiss german and even though his pronunciation wasn’t the best his heart was in a good place and he put in an effort.

in a time where you need me the most and need the ones you love most around you, well i think i’m one of them at least and i know deciding to leave you now of all times is cruel but i can’t go on like this.

i wish i could stay strong and make it through this rough patch but we weren’t good even before he died you’d miss my exhibitions you said you were going to and wouldn’t even tell me why and i’d have to lie to your family as to why you weren’t there but i can’t do this anymore i’m so sad in our relationship. i really did try to push through but every day i do something wrong in your eyes and i just let you shout at me.

that not healthy.

so goodbye ale i wish you the best in your life and i’ll love you forever. i really wish we could be better but maybe we’re just not meant for each other and that okay. in another lifetime we got married and had kids, you’ll get every award for club and country ( i still think you can do it in this one ) and i’ll be right by you’re side. but it’s just a dream, a what if.

i’ll never regret meeting you.

love from

your mila or just mila now i guess

and for the first time in weeks alexia cried.

she cried for you at first but slowly it was for her dad and then for her actions towards you. she saw it now and in the time where she needed you most to hold her and tell her it was alright you weren’t there and it was all her fault and she knew it was.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

present day

not that any of you guys saw it but alexia tearing her acl had one good thing come out of it and that was you talking to her again.

at first it was checking up on her, seeing how she was even making some food for her on her worst day.

you were the only person she let see that side of her.

being in her life again made it all worth it in her eyes. you actually smiled at her again instead of groaning in annoyance whenever you saw her.

the world finally saw alexia in love in her documentary. they saw the genuine smile that you brought to her face. they saw a side of alexia they’d never seen before, her being in love.

it showed you two just doing little things nothing that would indicate that you were together, but enough to know that she cared about you deeply.

the fans fought it made sense alexia ‘dating’ the coaches daughter of the men’s teams. it made sense to them why he’d always had a closer relationship with alexia, how he sent her a birthday wish or even how she’d be seen at the men’s game more than the others.

you’re dad never talked about her not after the first time where you burst out crying.

one episode stood out to her fans specifically it was an evening at eli’s place the two of you sat next to each other your head resting on hey shoulder. alexia whispering some joke about her sister in your ear which made you hit her saying that it was rude. then there was a clip of you dancing with one of her nieces while she looked at you like a lovesick fool.

it was late at night when she said she wanted to take you somewhere.

“is the blindfold really necessary” you laughed while alexia hand guided you making sure you didn’t trip or fall. which was no help as you still managed to do so.

“yes now shush”

you finally came to a stop “okay perfect”

she gently pulled the blindfold off and place was too familiar. it was where you first met her.

looking at the pitch and seeing just how much has changed since you’ve last been here “how’d you ever get us in here”

“i said i’d come one day and talk to the team” you both knew how much she hated public speaking but if this worked it be worth it.

“so any reason you took us here of all places. we both know how much you hated school” and she did the only positive about going was that she got to see you.

and then she said it.

“i did it on purpose” you looked at her completely confused about what she was talking about “i kicked the ball at you on purpose”

“i saw you sat up there and you looked so cute and i just wanted to talk to you and the first thing that came to my mind was to do that cause then i’d have to come up and apologise”

you busted out in laughter at the confession and her rosey cheeks “i know” causing her face to be full of embarrassment.

“what”

“i’m not dumb okay. i saw how controlled you were on the pitch you wouldn’t make a silly mistake like that if it wasn’t on purpose. i just never said anything cause i knew you would be embarrassed”

her gaze was now anywhere but you. all these years you knew and you never said a word till ten years later. if alba found this out she’d be dying of laughter at how awkward her sister can be at times.

scratching the side of her neck “i thought i was was slick about it but i guess not”

“i found it cute” making her checks go ever darker “but i’m still confused as to why we’re here”

“yes i nearly forgot” talking a deep breath in to calm her nerves “give me another chance”

your eyes widened. sure you thought about alexia like that again since the two of you started talking but what if that happened again.

“i know that our story hasn’t been the easiest but your the love of my life okay. being without you all those years was torture and seeing you with my family only makes me want to be with you more. but i don’t want to rush you, i wanted to show you that i’ve changed and that i’ll never treat you like how i did before”

“so mila crnogorčević please be my girl again”

option one ) you could say yes and do what you honestly wanted to do since talking to her again. you were still very much if not more in love with her than ever. it would end with the two of you would get married and have kids or breaking up again but then at least you’d know it wasn’t meant to be.

option two ) say no and keep your heart safe from what you felt all those years ago.

you were torn you wanted to say yes but at the same time you didn’t.

but the truth was that you missed her. you missed when she’d grab your hand when she could tell you were nervous. you missed waking up from her kissing your back. you missed when she’d run straight for you after a match. you ever missed her annoying you over the littlest thing.

you just missed her.

“mila—” she didn’t even get to finish the sentence before your lips placed themselves on her’s exactly like her’s did in the bathroom in camp nou all those years ago.

“so i’m gonna take that as a yes” speaking between kisses not wanting to stop at all “yes alexia now shut up and kiss me”

and she did without a second thought.

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