#they always want to separate her from the family she has and the family she's built in some way

[mariclerc]

betrayal and rescue (pt.2) | cl16

Summary: your ex betrays you, but luckily your teammate has your back.

Warnings: ferrari driver!reader, single mom reader, misogynistic comments, fluff and Charles being such a sweetheart.

Part 1

The last month living with Charles have been a real dream come true for you and Mia, he has been a very important support for both of you during this time, he's a very caring and gentle person, his soft touch and kind nature is what you and Mia needed to really start healing. It was a rare, lazy Sunday with no commitments pulling you two away from bed, Charles lay propped against pillows, dozing lightly with Mia curled on his chest. You smiled at their peaceful forms, carding gentle fingers through Charles' tousled and soft chocolate curls.

Mia stirred, yawning widely before spotting you. “Mama! Morning!” she crawled over to snuggle into your side, little hand gripping Charles' shirt.

“Good morning my pretty girl!” you say softly at her, kissing her cheek. “Good morning Charlie!” you giggled.

Chuckling softly, Charles' arms wound around both of you as his eyes fluttered open, he smiled sleepily. “Bonjour, mes amours.” he murmured, pressing kisses to your heads. (good morning, my loves)

You sighed contentedly, resting your cheek against his warm and comfy chest. In that moment, all the cares and worries of the world felt so far away, here in your very own cocoon of blankets, surrounded by the love of your makeshift family, nothing could touch the three of you.

Your mind wandered back over the torturous last months you've spent trapped in your ex's grip... the constant walking on eggshells, never knowing what might set off his volatile temper, never having that feeling of safety or protection, even in your own home with Mia...

Now, Charles' strong arms encircled you both, radiating an unshakable calm, warmth and safety you'd never known before. His affection for you and Mia was unconditional, showering you daily with kind words, gifts, and adventures that filled your hearts to bursting.

Tears welled in your eyes as you peered up at Charles' handsome, adoring face. “I never thought I could feel this happy and content.” you whispered. “You gave me and Mia the life, the family, we always wanted.”

Charles' gaze softened, brushing away your tears with his thumb. “I'm the lucky one, princess.” he insisted gently. “You both brought me more joy than I ever believed possible.”

Leaning down to capture your lips in a slow and tender kiss, he poured every ounce of love into it that you still had trouble believing was truly yours after so long in the darkness. But in Charles' light, you and Mia were starting to heal, to believe, and to understand that happy endings do exist for those who keep hoping.

Mia let out a squeal of happiness. “Dada, Mama! Kisses!” she said giggling.

Charles smiled at her. “We have multiple kisses for you too, petite étoile.” (little star)

He said and then he started to fill Mia's face with kisses, who giggled more and was so happy, you smiled when you saw them, it was your beautiful family.

***

The Miami race weekend brought new challenges as you and Charles tried to keep your blossoming relationship private amid the media frenzy in the paddock and social media.

You two arrived separately to avoid suspicion, only allowing your hands to brush as you passed beside each other in the paddock Charles' eyes lingered with a smile, filling you with warmth.

During the practice sessions your radios remained businesslike, but his frequent checks that if you were hydrated or had enough fuel said everything. Small glances across the garage were your only connection, yet more intimate than any public display could be.

Qualifying came, neither of you hold back—though whether from passion for racing or each other, even if you weren't sure. You were pushing your cars to their limits as if nothing else existed.

After that, you stopped by Charles' driver room under the guise of strategy debrief. But as the door closed, his lips captured yours feverishly. Your restraint finally snapped under the tension of the day, the kiss is very slow and soft, as you two break away from the kiss, you place your forehead against his.

You gazed up at him worriedly. “Do you think people will start speculating about us?” you whispered softly.

Charles brushed his lips softly over your forehead. “Let them speculate baby, I don't care who knows how much you and Mia mean to me.”

His words filled you with joy and longing for the day you could shout your love from the rooftops, but for now, this stolen moment between you two, where the world fell away, was enough.

The press conference after the qualifying session were in full swing, you fielded questions professionally about setup choices and tire strategies that put both of the Ferrari cars on the front row for sunday's race.

But one of the journalists had an accusatory tone. “Some think it's no coincidence you and Leclerc are performing so well together... Care to elaborate on rumors of an forbidden relationship distracting you both?”

You started to reply calmly when another cut in. “Yeah, she's probably just sleeping her way to the top! Honestly, what else is a pretty face good for in a man's sport?”

Venomous laughter rose from some journalists in the room, your chest tightened in panic and rage —this was your nightmare scenario. Being a woman and also being in motorsports, you have often encountered derogatory and unpleasant comments about you and about women in general, it's like most men are bothered by the fact that a girl is faster than them on the track or that women deserve a place everywhere as them, that includes sports too. Before you could respond, Charles suddenly grabbed his microphone.

“That is completely unacceptable.” he said in a low, dangerous tone that chilled the room. His green eyes blazed with barely contained fury. “She is one of the most talented and dedicated professionals in this paddock, regardless of gender. The disrespect shown here today is a disgrace to the sport.” Charles leaned over the mic, jaw clenched. “I suggest selecting your next questions more wisely and showing my teammate the respect she deserves not only as a driver, but as a human being... If not, this conference is over.”

An uneasy silence fell as Charles grasped your trembling hand supportively under the table, you took a calming breath, regaining composure.

You swallowed dryly. ”Our performances speak for themselves, which I think is good for the team.” you stated clearly. “Charles and I simply push each other to excellence through our competition and partnership, that's all.”

Max Verstappen also wanted to give his opinion on the journalist's misogynistic comment towards you.

“Forgive me for being so bold, but I think that kind of comment is very out of place. I mean, considering that y/n is a mother and an exceptional driver and she deserves the same respect as all of us, right?” Max said, staring at the journalist, who was completely pale. “I think you should ask her about her race and strategy, and not about her private life, I don't know, that's just my opinion.” he said and dropped the microphone leaving everyone in the room speechless.

The rest of the questions thankfully remained respectful, but later, outside of the press conference room, Charles embraced you tenderly.

“No one gets to tear you down like that. You are so much stronger than their smallmindedness, okay?” he whispered in your ear.

You smiled up at him through happy tears, gripping his race suit. In that moment, you knew that with Charles by your side, you could overcome any obstacle that came your way.

Despite of those awful comments, the Miami Grand Prix was a huge success for both of you, with Charles taking victory and you claiming second place on the podium, the third 1-2 finish in the season for Ferrari, you're in total bliss. You two opted to skip the official afterparties and all the glamour, eager for some low-key family time.

Back at the hotel, Charles ordered a feast from room service while you and Mia showered away the sweat of the day. Emerging refreshed in pajamas, your heart overflowed seeing Charles play with Mia on the floor, her giggles echoing.

“Mama, dada won! Yay!” Mia squealed proudly as you bent to pepper her face with kisses, Charles beamed up at you, eyes sparkling.

“You were so incredible out there today babe!” he praised, helping you plate your overflowing meal spread across the suite's floors and furniture.

The three of you dined under the moonlight spilling through enormous windows, talking and laughing for hours as Mia dozed in your lap. Finally content and full bellies, the evening wound down with Mia yawning off to bed, Charles gathered you into his lap on the couch, kissing you so deeply and yet gently as if you were made of flickering glass.

“Thank you for giving me the family I never knew I wanted... For filling these months with a happiness I ever believed possible.” he whispered softly against your lips.

You cradled his handsome face, memorizing every beautiful line and facet. “I should be the one thanking you, you know? For trying to heal the wounds of my past and giving Mia and I the love and safety we always deserved.”

He shakes his head. “It has been such a pleasure, being with you and taking care of both of you it's been a journey, a beautiful one.” he whispered and you giggled softly.

Your relationship was far from traditional, that's for sure! But on nights like this, in the blissful quiet of each other's arms, it felt more right than anything you'd ever known.

***

You definitely enjoy the little breaks in-between races, it's were you can take a moment to ground yourself outside racing and just enjoy the calm and warm of your little family and that can be just a rewarding like a race win or a podium.

“Mama!” Mia screams a little. “A scary ghost is following me!” she says while running and giggling around the living room.

Almost a second later, Charles appeared hiding in a white blanket trying to catch Mia in his arms, but she runs away... He almost collide with the coffee table.

You laughed at their funny antics. “Oh no Mia! It's a really clumsy ghost.” you say while giggling.

“Boo! There's a sneaky little girl around here, I'm going to grab her in my arms and turn her into a little ghost!” Charles' said imitating the voice of a ghost.

Mia giggled again. “No, no! Bad ghost, really bad!” she covered her mouth. “Catch mama!” she said pointing at you.

You opened your mouth, shocked. “Me? But I'm just trying to make some tea!” you say. “It's not fair baby!”

You and Mia started run around the living room, making Charles crash almost with every single chair and the rug, you two laughed at him.

You feel and arm behind you. “Haha, gotcha!” he said in a mocking tone, making you and Mia collide to the rug, he took off the blanket, revealing is disheveled hair and a flustered cheeks.

“Dada, again, again!” she said giggling.

Charles giggled too. “Oh baby, maybe tomorrow, does that sounds good?” he asked her and she nodded.

You just smiled at him, you never saw him looking so radiant and joyful, it's like he's reliving things from his own childhood and it's so nice to see him like this with Mia.

You smiled. “You are a rather scary ghost and a little silly.” you giggled.

He chuckled softly. “Well, thank you, love! It's been years of practice.” he kissed your cheek.

“You know? You're amazing Charlie!” you say softly.

He looks at you. “Really? Well, um... Thanks darling, the truth is I only do what I can.” he blushed. “It's just me.”

You kiss the tip of his nose. “And that's why you're so amazing! You're you, as silly as it might sound, you're so passionate and so gentle at the same time!”

Mia smiled and kissed Charles' cheek. “Mwah! Dada kisses!” she said softly and he giggled.

“Do you want kisses, petite princesse?” he said to Mia and she nodded. “Okay, here we go!” (little princess)

Then he proceeded to cover Mia's face with kisses all over and she let out loud giggles, you smiled at the beautiful scene, and you realized something very important... You were in front of the love of your life and your little ray of sunshine, maybe everything would have been very different if you had tried from the beginning with Charles, or maybe not, but you are very sure of one thing... You are at home, in your safe place, with your two favorite people, the ones who keep you on your toes most of the time, but you wouldn't change it for anything in the world, Not even all the podiums or victories the world has to offer you, nothing compares to this.

[leniisreallycool]

Man my eye bags are genetic or something I always look tired

I done fucked up

Are you kidding me

I don't fucking use R cards

What the fuck

Okay this one and the next are going to be from the same pull you'll see why I'm pissed

SEE

Two UR cards in one pull is sick though

Two new UR+ and and SSR in one pull was also nice

Cool

Thirteen and Mammon should spend more time together they're so stupid and I love them

Why is he skinny that ain't right

Are you fuckinf kidding me

Solomon you shady bastard I love you but there's no benefit to getting the same one over and over when I barely use this card

NOT YOU TOO

You can see the terror in Mammon's eyes

Aww look at da weepy babyyy

Yeah I see why that's a lust card ngl

Good news everyone: Barbatos can be surprised. And he's fucking adorable

Djskoalqllaoopaopwoakakzmsmam

Cuteness overload???

Satan's contraband kitty

You KNOW he wanted to bring that kitty home

"To sound the somber balls" why did they name it that. Anything but that

More confirmation that MC has their own bathroom separate from the brothers

What am I, chopped liver? I'm not your unpaid family therapist for nothing

Please call it anything but that

Thirteen I love you but genuinely how did you say that with a straight face

See even Mammon gets it

My beautiful dumbasses

Again with the ridiculous names

she wouldn't be her without them though

[caldella]

It's absolutely heart-rending, though from Via's perspective it makes so much sense why she resents Blitzø. Yet despite that at some point she managed to get his phone number saved at some point, too...

As others have said for months, Blitzø wouldn't have given Stolas an iota of affection if he thought he was an uncaring father. And I still guess that's one of the things they first unintentionally bonded over. The same way Stolas never imagined a scenario where he was both alive and separated from Via, Blitzø has never even entertained a situation were Stolas exists without her. He's always seen them as a package deal, the same way he'd never let anyone make him abandon Loona. As soon as he realized he wanted Stolas, he probably realized he wanted everything that came with that - second kid/blended family included. He grew up in a circus. He surrounded himself with people he loves in IMP. Found family is his thing.

I cannot wait for the eventual progression of these two punk/emo characters eventually getting to know each other better.

You know what kills me. Via understandably feels like she's been left behind, like Stolas has chosen Blitz instead of her. That they've gone off and formed a relationship she can't be a part of.

And in the same episode as she confronts Stolas about that, she has no idea that the "shitty boyfriend" is daydreaming about not just having Stolas and his own daughter in his life, but about HAVING VIA THERE TOO.

Like I completely get why she thinks she's been left out, but the irony of the very guy she thinks is the cause of her exclusion, actually of his own accord, without prompting from anyone, yearning for her to be part of it, to become family.

It is killing me. In Blitz's perfect family daydream, he has TWO daughters, not just one. He's gonna love her so hard when she's willing to let him.

[mc-critical]

1.06 / 2.09 (33)

[a-shadowedvales]

so… in the additional media of stranger things (specifically the comics i’m mentioning), it was initially brenner’s idea/plan to kill off the other test subjects because they weren’t performing as well as eleven was. it was his best solution because that way, all the resources, time, and money could instead be placed only to her. and i just…. sure henry is a fine character and the massacre makes a lot of sense to me, but i think i am once again gonna change up my canon to actually fit this potential narrative instead.

i genuinely think the comic canon of the lab and brenner is far more intriguing than the show. everything with 9/9.5, ricky, and francine. eleven being the only one who grew up completely in the lab. those other kids were either volunteers, well into their teens, or had some semblance of a home life. eleven was the only one practically moulded from the womb. and they all had such a range of interesting powers. i firmly stand with the idea that jane is the only one who can contact the void.

brenner’s entire point of view on the lab subjects changed the second he found out terry was pregnant. he discovered he could steal this baby and make her his own. there would be no convincing the child because it’s all she would have ever known. because of this, i would not put it past a man like brenner to kill the other subjects for the sake of the “greater good” in this case, eleven.

eleven’s gifts just continue thriving beyond his wildest expectations. brenner would never dare assume that having moulded her from the womb, she would still be able to grow into her own person, her own mind, and one day be able to see him for exactly who he was.

back before season four aired, it was obvious there were other test subjects because jane was 011. so there were at least ten kids before her. but i always liked the idea/assumed that she was the last experiment because she was the most successful. that they didn’t need anyone after her because she was fulfilling everything they set out for her to do. with flying colours.

i just think the whole rainbow room idea, pitting the kids against each other thing… been there, done that. boring and predictable. i think at this point my portrayal of her time in hawkins lab really stems from the complete isolation she endured. where having the rainbow room, although eleven was obviously the most isolated out of the kids, brings that sense of community and sister/brotherhood. albeit extremely warped and toxic. knowing that she wasn’t alone in that experience just. doesn’t sit well with me. i think it’s important to note that she was alone, physically and mentally. which is why kali is also so important to her growth. i thought a lot of the flashbacks of her time in the lab during season four was really boring, repetitive, and just very predictable. although peter becoming vecna was a surprise to me, and was a nice little twist, the idea of her having an ally on the inside was really interesting.

maybe they did get as far as they do in canon, peter ballad was telling the truth about everything, about some of the workers there being prisoners like him, and he really wanted to get her out and to safety. but before they can escape through the pipes, they’re caught. peter is shot on the spot, and eleven is put into the isolation room for a few days as punishment. in this timeline, henry would be vecna, but henry would not be peter ballad.

when eleven turned seven, and was already showing extreme promise, where the other children were average at best, brenner had the eight children killed. kali had already escaped. this was the main cause for peter to gain eleven’s trust and try to get her out. because if brenner could murder his “children” in cold blood, there’s no way eleven was safe even in spite of her power.

when eleven is allowed out of the isolation room, her testing becomes more rigorous in attempt to distance and make her forget about what she attempted to do with peter. brenner begins gaslighting her, saying that there was never a peter, that she must have been dreaming. eleven does ask “papa” about “mama”, given peter told her of the day terry broke in the lab, but brenner is convincing enough to make eleven believe it was all in her head. say she is around eight years old, meaning the same timeline of season fours canon flashbacks.

i still do wanna keep the henry creel canon, and keep him as 001. brenner didn’t have him killed alongside the other test subjects, because who knows, one day he could become an even better asset than 011. brenner definitely wants to be able to control henry, but keeps the chip in him because, for the moment, doesn’t know how. killing him would be too big of a loss.

when eleven is ten years old, henry’s concealed powers break free and he manages to get the chip out himself, and unleashes hell onto hawkins lab. he almost kills brenner by snapping his bones, but eleven manages to stop him. her extreme abilities are unleashed, and she sends henry to the upside down. she does fall into a coma due to the extremity of the situation, but she does not forget what happened. brenner believes she’s the perfect weapon as she stepped in to save him without a second thought, was able to defeat henry, and opened a door to something he never thought possible. eleven is rewarded for her efforts. although she remembers the entire battle / confrontation, her memories regarding the portal are very hazy.

brenner decides not to focus on the portal straight away, instead gets her training harder and harder to see what else she can accomplish. also loved the idea of brenner sending her into the void to “look for him” so that will definitely be kept.

by the time she escapes and season one begins, her knowledge of the upside down is basically what we see in canon. because she passed out the moment after she sent henry away, she was once again gaslighted into believing she merely threw him through the glass and killed him. for two years she believed this, until making contact with the demogorgan, and those memories return completely.

due to her saving brenner’s life, (it was pure instinct. she happened to be there. saw her “papa” hurt and knew she had to make him better.) brenner constantly thanks her. but in a very condescending way. tells her: “you saved me so i can continue saving you.” aka, harness your abilities and see what else i can achieve from you. despite the fact that she saved his life, these words and phrases make her feel indebted to him. that she owes him something further.

i don't realistically see her thriving with her speech improvement until she's well into her twenties at least. her slowed development, sensory and social deprivation causes a serious delay in language. surrounded by other children she would have overheard conversations, some would have spoken to her. her conveniently forgetting her upbringing pre the battle with henry just isn't good enough for me anymore. it makes more sense for her to have been raised alone.

it also helps indicate why she gravitated towards the boys when they found her in the woods. they would have been the first people her age she ever remembered seeing. as far as she knew, during the lab there was no one like her. everyone was much older, they were adults-- although she stayed with benny, i'm not sure if she would have stuck around very long. where she followed the boys home without thought.

also it's important to note that after time, jane does understand that peter ballad was a real person, and was truly the first person (aside from terry) who wanted the best for her. when she remembers him, knows that brenner was lying, she deals with immense guilt regarding his death. he was shot right in front of her eyes, because he was trying to help her. this is another catalyst as to why after season two, jane never refers to brenner as papa. she does not give him that sort of credit.

[welcometogrouchland]

EXTREMELY CRUSTY but I’ve been working on oc designs in between DC prompts. My little meow meows im so sorry i neglected you (i will inevitably do it again </3)

[phagodyke]

yeah I'm not gonna talk abt it am I...

[harrysfolklore]

i'm begging for that ex!charles fic. ex!trope is always a must

comeback - cl16

summary: charles and yn break up after seven years together and they also break everyone’s hearts. did they find their way back to each other?

folkie radio: silly little smau for the end of the summer break! i hope you like this, i love the ex trope

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

2023

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc and 302,268 others

yourinstagram 7 years with my love 🥹 to celebrate, here’s a picture of us circa our last year of high school when we were just little babies. i love you @/charles_leclerc 🤍

view all 3,963 comments

view all 5,037 comments

username1 AWEEEE

username2 THE CUTEST EVERRR

pascale_leclerc Mes bébés ❤️ ♥︎ by author

username3 THE STANDARD

username4 BABY CHARLIEEE MY HEART

landonorris I want what you have ♥︎ by author, charles_leclerc

lorenzotl Did I take that picture?

↳ charles_leclerc Most likely

↳ yourinstagram our personal photographer since forever

username5 the real high school sweethearts i can’t wait for their wedding ♥︎ by author

charles_leclerc Best seven years ever. Je t’aime ❤️ ♥︎ by author

↳ yourinstagram i love you forever 🤍🤍

liked by yourinstagram, maxverstappen1 and 1,028,634 others

charles_leclerc Happy birthday to mon amour @/yourinstagram ❤️ Seven years celebrating with you and I wouldn’t have it any other way, I hope I made you happy today, I love you

view all 39,836 comments

username1 HAPPY BDAYYYY YN

username2 istg this couple is everything to me

carlossainz55 Happy birthday @/yourinstagram 🎉 ♥︎ by author, yourinstagram

username3 BDAY PROPOSAL??

↳ username1 lmfao we wish

pierregasly Best party ever ! ♥︎ by author, francisca.cgomes, lancestroll, yourinstagram

scuderiaferrari Happy birthday to the Ferrari girl ❤️ ♥︎ by author, yourinstagram

username4 if they ever break up i’ll stop believing in love

arthur_leclerc Love you both ! ♥︎ by author, yourinstagram

landonorris I’m still drunk

↳ charles_leclerc This is no surprise to anyone

↳ username1 HEEELP

yourinstagram you always make me happy, i love you 🤍 ♥︎ by author

liked by carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari and 2,278,354 others

charles_leclerc and yourinstagtam After seven wonderful years together, we have made the difficult decision to end our romantic relationship. This was a mutual agreement and one made thinking about what was best for each other. While we may be going our separate ways romantically, we want to emphasize that our bond remains strong. We still share a deep friendship and hold a tremendous amount of love and respect for each other.

We kindly request that neither of us be subjected to any hateful comments or speculation from the media or fans. We appreciate your respect for our privacy as we navigate this new chapter in our lives.

-Charles & YN

view all 28,527 comments

username1 GOD PLEASE NOOOOOOO

username2 just fell to my knees

landonorris You will always remain as my favorite couple 🥲

↳ username1 LANDO NOW ITS NOT THE TIME

francisca.cgomes Love you both so much 💗

↳ username3 kika has been promoted to #1 wag now that yn is no longer in the picture

username3 well now my heart is broken

username4 i started reading this and i thought zayn was leaving one direction again

username5 THERES NO WAY THIS IS REAL. they’re high school lovers charles always talked about yn being his first love SEVEN years together how did this happen

pierregasly ❤️

username6 yn can’t leave her wag status, i suggest she dates russell now

arthur_leclerc You will always be family @yourinstagtam 🫶

↳ username2 why did this make me cry

username8 seven years and no ring wow

username9 i hope we still see yn in the paddock from time to time :(((

username10 having major isa and carlos flashbacks

username11 this is so sad. how can you fall out of love with someone you’ve shared nearly a decade with

username12 i will be crying forever over this

yourinstagram has added to their stories

replies:

username1 the fact that this is charles’ car 🥲🥲

username2 just in my char-yn heart

francisca.cgomes i miss you so much around here, any chance you could come soon? 🥹

↳ yourinstagram is still too soon for that kiks :(

landonorris If you ever want to come to a race just let me know and I’ll send you some passes okay

↳ yourinstagram you’re a cutie lan ty

leclerc_pascale Ma belle, We miss you so much ❤️

↳ yourinstagram ❤️❤️

2024

liked by yourinstagram, pierregasly and 1,204,062 others

charles_leclerc Testing doneeee.

Cannot wait for the first race of the season next week !

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username1 IM SO READYYYYYY

username2 FORZA CHARLES

scuderiaferrari We go again 🙌

username3 let this season be good i’m begging

carlossainz55 🔥🔥

username4 first season without yn (yes i’m still mourning)

username5 season of single charles

yourinstagram best of lucks 🤍 you can do this ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 HUH???

↳ username2 AM I READING THIS RIGHT?

↳ username3 i had to triple check this wasn’t a fake account

↳ username4 YN BROKE PUBLIC NO CONTACT OMFG

↳ username5 GET BACK TOGETHER WE’RE BEGGING

yourinstagram has added to their stories

replies:

username1 UM HELLO THE AUS GP IS TOMORROW?

username2 my delusional ass wants me to believe you’re going to the GP

francisca.cgomes IS THIS WHAT I THINK IT IS ???

↳ yourinstagram 👀👀

↳ yourinstagram it’s very lowkey tho, i don’t want to be spotted so i’ll be hiding in the corners

↳ francisca.cgomes Don’t care, we’re grabbing lunch together

landonorris You freaking muppet, you didn’t fall me you were back in Perceval’s arms

↳ yourinstagram because i’m not, lan

↳ landonorris sure sure

charles_leclerc ❤️

liked by username1, username2 and 25,837 others

f1gossip Charles Leclerc and ex girlfriend YN spotted together at the Australian GP

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username1 OMFGGGGGG

username2 AH I KNEW IT I KNEW IT

username3 THEY’RE BACK????

username4 please this was bound to happen there was no way they were breaking up for real after seven years

username5 it only took a year but WE’RE SO BACK

username6 y’all jumping into conclusions that they’re back together but yn could just be hanging out there bc she loves f1

username7 sadly i don’t think they’re back together

liked by charles_leclerc, lilyhme and 536,397 others

yourinstagram recents 💌

view all 7,836 comments

username1 my favorite dumps istg

username2 UMMM ARE WE ALL THINKING THE SAME THING

username3 ferrer jacket ? a man? miami? kika? YUP CHAR-YN IS BACK

francisca.cgomes Reunited and it feels so good 🤍 ♥︎ by author

↳ yourinstagram love you forever

landonorris Absolutely heartbroken bc I didn’t make it ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 hear me out, lando and yn 👀

↳ username2 wouldn’t sound too crazy tbh

↳ yourinstagram next time maybe!

username4 THATS CHARLES IN THE SECOND PIC JAHSIS I KNOW MY MAN

↳ username3 that’s also his jacket in the first pic

username5 GIRL ADDRESS THE RUMORS

arthur_leclerc Please bring cookies for dinner tonight ♥︎ by author

↳ username3 LIKE DINNER WITH THE LECLERCS ??

↳ yourinstagram on it 🫡

username6 CHARLES IN THE LIKES ASWELL

username7 everyone assuming that she’s back with charles have you ever heard about being friendly with your ex ♥︎ by author

↳ username2 liking this comment won’t fool us yn

liked by username1, username2 and 18,486 others

charlesandyn YN IS AT THE MONACO GRAND PRIX RIGHT NOW THIS IS NOT A DRILL !!!!!

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username1 AHHHHHH OMFG

username2 WITH MAMA PASCALE TOO

username3 THEY'RE SO BACK TOGETHER

username4 guys don't get your hopes up of course she was going to be there this is such a huge day

username5 she's still part of charles' life even tho they're not together anymore

username6 CHARYN IS SOOOO BACK

username7 LETS FCKING GO

liked by charles_leclerc, lilymhe and 675,095 others

yourinstagram MONACO LOVES HIM BACK ❤️🤍 we waited so long for this day, but it was all worth it. it has been a journey to watch you fight for this dream for so many years, and i feel honored to be part of it today. everyone is beyond proud of you, charlie. congratulations

view all 9,550 comments

username1 OMFGGGGG

username2 MY HEART CANT TAKE THIS

username3 WE'RE SO BACKKKKK

lorenzotl 🙌🙌🙌🙌

username4 this is how a supportive ex looks like

username5 yn needed to be there for his monaco win i’m happy she still attended even tho they’re not together

username6 THEY’RE SO BACK TOGETHER THERE’S NO WAY

landonorris Not me crying right now ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 me actually

↳ username2 LANDO 😭😭😭

username7 AH I JUST NEED THEM TO CONFIRM THEY’RE BACK TOGETHER

pascale_leclerc ❤️❤️

fracisca.cgomes BRAVO CHARLES 🎉

username8 as much as i want the rumors to be true this is just a healthy friendship after sharing so many years together

username9 don’t give me “exes can be friends” bullshit THEY’RE TOGETHER

charles_leclerc ❤️ ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 DONT DO THIS TO US

↳ username2 JUST CONFIRM IT

liked by pierregasly, yourinstagram and 1,170,665

charles_leclerc Half of the season done. Some ups like realizing a childhood dream in Monaco and some downs, but it’s time to rest and come back stronger for the second half. I can’t wait to spend the holidays with some special people 🤍

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username1 this picture is so iconic

username2 hi charles are you spending the holidays with your ex girlfriend hopefully your girlfriend again?? we would like to know

instagram have a great holiday king 😌

scuderiaferrari Here’s to a great second half of the season ❤️

username3 ARE YOU AND YN BACK TOGETHER ???

username4 and when he spends the holidays with yn

username5 summer break means char-yn comeback i don’t make the rules

pierregasly 🙌🙌🙌

username6 ignore this comment if you and yn are back together

username7 comment section full of char-yn comments GET A GRIP

yourinstagram 💘 ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 THERE SHE IS

↳ username2 THEYRE SO BACK TOGETHER

↳ username3 HARD LAUNCH HARD LAUNCH

yourinstagram has added to their stories

replies:

username1 BESTIE ARE YOU BACK WITH CHARLES??

username2 charles’ yatch ?? 👀👀

arthur_leclerc I hate you guys for not taking me with you

↳ yourinstagram romantic getaway sorry bro

iamrebeccad 😍

charles_leclerc Come back here ❤️

↳ yourinstagram you’re so needy

liked by username1, username2 and 38,735 others

f1gossip 🚨 CHARLES LECLERC AND YN SPOTTED ON A YATCH IN MALLORCA TODAY

view all 3,987 comments

username1 OMFG

username2 I KNEW IT I KNEW ITTTT

username3 PRETENDS TO BE SHOCKED

username4 ABOUT DAMN TIME

username5 AHH im happy they got back together they’re made for each other

username6 THE BEST COUPLE IS BACKKKKK

username7 THIS CURED MY DEPRESSION

liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes and 802,367 others

yourinstagram this love came back to me 🤍

tagged: charles_leclerc

view all 8,322 comments

username1 AHHHHHH

username2 IM LOSING IT

francisca.cgomes 🥹🥹🥹🥹 ♥︎ by author

username3 THE TAYLOR LYRIC JUST KILL ME ALREADY

arthur_leclerc Not me tearing up ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 😭😭😭😭

username4 they found their way back to each other i could cry ♥︎ by author

leclerc_pascale ❤️

username5 THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT WE NEEDED

landonorris MY PARENTS MY PARENTS ♥︎ by author, charles_leclerc

↳ username2 he just gets it

↳ username3 lando was begging for this to happen

username6 THAT TWITTER ACCOUNT WAS RIGHT ALL THIS TIME

lilymhe the lyrics 🥺 im happy for you ♥︎ by author

charles_leclerc L'amour de ma vie. Forever ❤️ ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 AND IM CRYING AGAIN

↳ username2 DONT BREAK UP EVER AGAIN

↳ username3 they’re the reason i believe in love

liked by yourinstagram, arthur_leclerc and 2,736,399 others

charles_leclerc Heart full ❤️

view all 17,037 comments

username1 I’VE DIED AGAIN

username2 YES YES YES

username3 they even got a dog char-yn is stronger than ever

pierregasly 👏👏👏

landonorris If you need another one I can bark

↳ username1 LANDO JUST STOP

scuderiaferarri ❤️

username4 NOW GET MARRIED

username5 came back stronger than ever fr

username6 HANG THIS IN THE LOUVRE

oscarpiastri 🙌🙌

username7 can’t believe they were really broken up for over a year WHAT WERE THEY THINKING

lorenzotl We love you both

yourinstagram Mon cœur 💓 ♥︎ by author

[opencommunion]

“The children are always ours, every single one of them, all over the globe; and I am beginning to suspect that whoever is incapable of recognizing this may be incapable of morality.”

― James Baldwin

the way colonizers unchild Palestinian kids is so heartless and disturbing. colonialism crushes children's dreams ON PURPOSE to try to destroy indigenous people's futures.

Wafaa's nephew Ahmed is 17. Because of this genocide, he went from playing soccer on his high school team, to playing with the other kids in his refugee camp in the rare moments between his odd jobs to support his family during famine, and volunteering as an aid worker to help other families. Ahmed lost many of his teammates, including his best friend Mahmoud, who he saw martyred.

Ahmed's cousin Yazid is 18. He planned to marry his high school sweetheart after their first year of college, but the genocide stopped their education. Yazid's fiancee's father was martyred and Yazid is now working to support both his family and hers. He also volunteers alongside Ahmed, risking their lives as the genocidal IOF targets aid workers -- Ahmed has even been injured by drones targeting him.

I'm not saying all this to make them look like superheros (although they are both wonderful people). I just want you all to see how totally the genocide has shattered their childhoods, and how much they have to struggle to resist that violence and hold the pieces together, and how the free world has failed to care for them.

fortunately there is a way we can help them.

Wafaa @wafans-blog is currently raising money to evacuate Ahmed and Yazid. This is time sensitive -- she needs to pay the registration fees to Hala Company within the next 2 days, by August 11th.

The full amount needed to evacuate Wafaa's entire family is $80,000; to cover the upcoming fees we need to get to $40,000 by the 11th. We're nearly there but donations are slowing.

Please reblog, and most importantly, donate any amount you can spare. Those $5s add up if enough people help. So much of the world is so hostile to Palestinian boys, please stand up for Yazid and Ahmed and help them escape. Don't let them get separated from their family, don't leave them behind.

August 9th: $35,914 / $40,000

plain text and tags under the cut

PT:

“The children are always ours, every single one of them, all over the globe; and I am beginning to suspect that whoever is incapable of recognizing this may be incapable of morality.”

― James Baldwin

the way colonizers unchild Palestinian kids is so heartless and disturbing. colonialism crushes children's dreams on purpose to try to destroy indigenous people's futures.

Wafaa's nephew Ahmed is 17. Because of this genocide, he went from playing soccer on his high school team, to playing with the other kids in his refugee camp in the rare moments between his odd jobs to support his family during famine, and volunteering as an aid worker to help other families. Ahmed lost many of his teammates, including his best friend Mahmoud, who he saw martyred.

Ahmed's cousin Yazid is 18. He planned to marry his high school sweetheart after their first year of college, but the genocide stopped their education. Yazid's fiancee's father was martyred and Yazid is now working to support both his family and hers. He also volunteers alongside Ahmed, risking their lives as the genocidal IOF targets aid workers -- Ahmed has even been injured by drones targeting him.

I'm not saying all this to make them look like superheroes (although they are both wonderful people). I just want you all to see how totally the genocide has shattered their childhoods, and how much they have to struggle to resist that violence and hold the pieces together, and how the free world has failed to care for them.

fortunately there is a way we can help them.

Wafaa @/wafans-blog is currently raising money to evacuate Ahmed and Yazid. This is time sensitive -- she needs to pay the registration fees to Hala Company within the next 2 days, by August 11th.

The full amount needed to evacuate Wafaa's entire family is $80,000; to cover the upcoming fees we need to get to $40,000 by the 11th. We're nearly there but donations are slowing.

Please reblog, and most importantly, donate any amount you can spare. Those $5s add up if enough people help. So much of the world is so hostile to Palestinian boys, please stand up for Yazid and Ahmed and help them escape. Don't let them get separated from their family, don't leave them behind.

August 9th: $35,914 / $40,000

/ end PT

lmk if you don't want to be tagged next time! ty!

@feluka @tortiefrancis @timetravellingkitty @flouryhedgehog @jinnazah

@mazzikah @irhabiya @terroristiraqis @watchnpray @stuckinapril

@soracities @bloglikeanegyptian @handweavers @trans-axolotl @plomegranate

@briarhips @dirhwangdaseul @mahoushojoe @rhubarbspring @schoolhater

@pcktknife @transmutationisms @sawasawako @anneemay @bedufairy

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@chilewithcarnage @psychotic-gerard @post-brahminism @bringmemyrocks @arslanjae

@determinate-negation @khanger @kibumkim @qattdraws @brutaliakhoa

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@capricornpropaganda @communist-ojou-sama @xinakwans @heritageposts @velvetys

@ot3 @amygdalae @ankle-beez @communistchilchuck @dykesbat @watermotif @mavigator

@lacecap @littlestpersimmon @socalgal @ghelgheli @northgazaupdates2 @vakarians-babe

[brummiereader]

@mischievouslittlecreature Lizzie, please stop 😩...

Another chapter that has me raging internally at Lizzie's misplaced superiority in Tommy's life and Arrow House 😤. She's never gonna give it a rest, is she?

My heart broke for Lucy when she was watching them during their boardgame. I hate how she misinterprets those moments she sees between them for a happy family 😭.

As Lucy watched, Lizzie’s hand came to rest on Tommy’s thigh, her long, pale fingers inching towards brushing against his. Arghhh, Tommy! Why didn't he swat her hand away 🤦🏼‍♀️?? This was such a crushing scene for her to have to witness. No fucking wonder she feels the way she does all the time!

His eyes widened, and she heard him call her name softly but she pretended not to hear, walking briskly towards the stairs. Immediately she felt bad. It was not her intention to make him feel guilty for prioritizing his family over her. Am I cruel? I feel like I'm cruel, but I want him to feel guilty for this. Lucy has drawn the short straw ever since his major fuck up. And Lucy is his family too 😭!

The next part with Lizzie, enraged me! I can't believe she "changed her mind" which I believe wasn't her having a change of heart but her playing her next move in her endeavour to have Tommy all to herself. I'm genuinely starting to think that that was her plan all along, because she agreed to this arrangement far to quickly for someone that has shown so much hate towards everything.

Yeah, well, she would never pull this kind of shit on me in the first place. She bends over backwards to make you happy and comfortable and all you do is treat her like garbage.” - Tommy rounded on her. “Stop making it out to be more than it was! We fucked in a dark dirty canal while I was thinking of someone else. That’s all.” FINALLY! He's telling her how it is! I know this was a pretty hurtful and a harsh thing for him to say, but I feel like she needed to hear it. She's deluded herself into believing that that quick shag was more than what it was, and that's exactly where she went wrong with it all.

Arghh 👌🏼😍!! Their reunion sex was so hot! You had me at this line 🥴... He froze, slowly lifting his face to look at her. “Feel,” he took her hand, sliding it down to cup his crotch, where his cock was already bulging in his slacks. His fingers flexed around hers, encouraging her to squeeze slightly around him. “Feel how much I still want you, Lucy.” I'm weak 😩! I can't explain to you how sultry how steamy this was. I live for these moves he makes. It exudes that confident, passionate side to him I love to see between him and Lucy.

Don’t stop,” he half begged once they separated for air. His mouth dropped open, breathing heavily and letting her hear him as he drew closer to his climax. Another hot line! Them kissing is enough to have them both falling over the edge...I love it 🥴!

It's honestly a relief to see Lucy just relax for once 😂. He's the one that stops that constant nagging of thoughts in her head, and he's the only one that can reassure her enough for her to understand that she will always be his only girl! I just wish Lizzie would get the memo. Hopefully she did after hearing some hard truths from Tommy!

I'm on edge as much as Lucy with Lizzie's yo-yo cattiness 🙈. It's so hard to see her step around her bratty behaviour like she's a guest in Lizzie and Tommy's house. And as much as they were able to open up and clear the air in this scene, Lizzie still opened with this line...“And yet you’re not going to stop doing it.” she agreed to this arrangement !! I swear I'm gonna be pulling my hair out by the time this season ends 😬! Imagine if Lucy turned around and said "Well, you spoiled mine and Tommy's fun when you got knocked up"?? Tommy was never hers to begin with, and it's like she's playing the betrayer wife or something. It's so hard to understand the way her brain works 🤦🏼‍♀️!

Ok so we left on a better note with Lizzie, for now 😬. But it never lasts long. Can we have Dian make an entrance so Lizzie can turn her vengeance to her and give Lucy a break 😂? Maybe having a common enemy will do the trick 🤭?

Amazing as always hun! Excited to read more 😍.

Part 22: This Misery We've Made

Summary: Tommy has to make a choice of which woman he will pledge himself to.

Word Count: 7,520

Warnings: Jealousy, depression, smut, and infidelity (sort of).

Notes: I am so sorry for the high word count of this chapter. I just couldn't find a good place to break it in two. Tommy's a bit of an idiot here, but he is trying.

Thank you to everyone who has read this fic! I have been absolutely blown away by the reception it has gotten. If you enjoyed this and are looking for more like it, I am planning to post another fic set in this same timeline that takes place during season 5, and manages to be somehow even more angsty than this one. So keep your eyes open for that if you're interested!

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Part

Chapter 5: Promises

“Miss. Winters.”

Lucy looked up, startled out of the sharp focus she’d been concentrating onto the papers in front of her. Frances was standing there near her desk, peering at her from over the tray of steaming food clutched in her hands. 

“Mr. Shelby wanted me to bring this for you. He didn’t want you to go hungry.”

Lucy frowned, capping her pen and setting it aside. Grabbing a stack of papers, she moved them out of the way to make room on her desk for the tray. “They’re having dinner?”

“Yes, Miss. They were just finishing, I think.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.”

Frances frowned. “Mrs. Shelby told me that you were working and wouldn’t be able to eat with them this evening.”

“Ah.” That made sense, then. Frances stuttered. 

“I’m sorry if there’s been a miscommunication…”

“It’s alright. Don’t worry about it,” Lucy waved away her apologies. “Thank you for bringing the tray.”

Frances nodded, and departed from the room. Fingertips rubbing together, Lucy glanced over at the plate on her desk. Piled upon it was a filet of salmon, some potatoes, and steamed vegetables. Picking up the fork, she picked idly at the fish, flaking it but bringing only a few mouthfuls to her lips. Her appetite was nonexistent.

Something in Lizzie had changed. That much was clear. Whatever warmth or amiable attitude towards her and the arrangement they’d agreed upon prior to the wedding had evaporated. She must have changed her mind about being okay with Tommy remaining involved with her. Or maybe this was her plan all along; to get Tommy legally bound to her and then push Lucy out. 

She could not say for how long she sat there, staring into space and picking at her food. When she looked up at the clock, it was to find that it was a lot later than she’d expected. Fucking hell, had it really been that long since she’d watched Tommy and Lizzie depart with the children for their picnic? 

Pushing away from her desk, she made her way out of her office with mechanical movements. In her mind, she debated whether or not she should even try to seek out Tommy wherever he was in the massive house. Probably with his wife. Enjoying their time together. 

She’d just leave them be, she decided, taking the route towards the stairs to head to bed. He clearly didn’t want to see her, considering it had been hours and he hadn’t even stopped by her office after they got back from their outing. She’d hate to pop their happy little bubble more than she already had.  

On her way to the staircase she passed by the library. The door leading inside was slightly cracked open, revealing a sliver of golden light. From within, she caught snippets of chatter and laughter. Footsteps coming to a stop, she stared at the wooden door, the feeling of being left out sitting like a rock inside her chest. 

Unable to stop herself, despite knowing it would only cause her pain, she shuffled forward to peek through the small crack between the doors.

Tommy, Lizzie, and Charlie were all crowded around a table, playing a board game together. Tommy and Lizzie were seated next to each other on a couch, both laughing at something Charlie must have done during his turn. As Lucy watched, Lizzie’s hand came to rest on Tommy’s thigh, her long, pale fingers inching towards brushing against his. 

 A crushing sensation squeezed harshly at Lucy’s heart. She took a staggering step back, hoping to escape before any of them spotted her, but Tommy’s eyes lifted before she could fully dart out of view from the doorway. Maybe he had sensed her there. Or maybe it was just her movement in the corner of his eye that caught his attention. 

“Lucy?” he straightened, and the way that the small smile that had been playing on his lips as he watched his wife and child fell just about killed her. It felt like she’d burst in on a private moment that she had no business being a part of. As if with just her presence alone she had ruined all the fun and joy he was experiencing. 

“I was just going to bed,” she said, so that they knew that she had no intention of intruding further. “So, erm…goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, Lucy,” Charlie said, despite most of his concentration being focused on moving his piece across the board. Lizzie said nothing, but Tommy scrambled to his feet, crossing the room to her before she could back away. 

“Hey,” he spoke gently, taking her gently by the arm. “I’m sorry. Frances said you were busy, and Charlie wanted to play–”

“It’s fine.”

He blinked, concern filling his eyes. “Love–”

“It’s late,” she shrugged him off. “I’m going to bed.”

“Dad, it’s your turn!” Charlie called. Lucy started to retreat away. So that he could return to his family.  

Tommy tried to reach out for her again. “I’ll be there in just a minute.”

Pausing, she looked back at him. “It’s fine if you don’t.”

His eyes widened, and she heard him call her name softly but she pretended not to hear, walking briskly towards the stairs. Immediately she felt bad. It was not her intention to make him feel guilty for prioritizing his family over her. The breaths leaving her lips turned shaky. Hands stuffing into her pockets, her head bowed, she began the walk through the winding halls to her room. Tucked far in the back of the house, away from the main apartments, where hardly anyone ever wandered. 

Hidden out of sight, out of mind. She wondered if he knew she had moved rooms. And if he did, if he knew where she was. 

If he would even try to come looking for her.   

∗ ∗ ∗

“Alright, Charlie, mate, it is well past your bedtime,” Tommy said, gesturing to Frances who was hovering by the door, ready to take him up to his room.

“Aw, c’mon, just one more round!” Charlie whined. 

“Yes, Tommy, just one more,” Lizzie agreed, smiling around her cigarette. Tommy narrowed his eyes at them. 

“I don’t know if I like this with you two ganging up on me.”

They both smiled innocently. 

“Pleaseeeeeeeeeeee,” Charlie begged. Tommy chuckled, ruffling his hair fondly. 

“I’ve had a long day, son. I’m tired. Maybe tomorrow, eh?”

Charlie pouted a little, but relented, saying goodnight to both him and Lizzie before taking Frances’s outstretched hand and letting her lead him away.

“Right,” wedging his cigarette between his lips, Tommy eyed the door that led out to the main staircase eagerly. Anxiety constricted within his chest.  

It’s fine if you don’t.

God, he was such a fucking shit. He should have gone after her immediately, or at the very least invited her to join them. But she had practically run away from him before he could get the chance. 

The day was almost over, and he had barely gotten to spend any time with her. 

“I’m going to bed. If you need anything, just pull the cord in your room and a maid will come around.”

“Tommy, wait!” Lizzie’s voice was strained with agitation, her eyes suddenly frantic. “Why don’t…why don’t we go for a walk on the grounds?”

Tommy took a long drag from his cigarette, eyes narrowing. “Lizzie, it’s dark out.”

“B-but we could–”

“Lizzie,” he wasn’t shouting, but his voice was firm, stopping her in her tracks before she could say any more. “Enough. I know what you’re trying to do. And you need to stop.”

Her jaw clenched, and while anger entered her face, the desperation in her eyes did not cease. “I just…I thought…”

He sighed, turning to face her fully. “You knew what this arrangement was going to look like,” he was mindful to keep his voice calm, not wanting to be unkind. It was understandable that she might struggle with it all at first. But that didn’t mean that he was going to suddenly go back on all the promises he’d made to Lucy. “I gave you a whole week in Paris. I need to go back to her now.”

“No, you don’t.” She rose to her feet, going to him and resting her hands on his arm. 

“Lizzie, this is what you agreed to–”

“I changed my mind,” she blurted out. Tommy stared at her, lips half parted, eyes wide. Horror twisted deeply in his chest. No. Oh, God, no, Lizzie, for fuck’s sake…

Of course he had known that this was a possibility, but after he and Lucy worked so hard to double and triple check that Lizzie was alright with their arrangement, and to impress upon her how things were going to be, he had hoped she would have known better than to hope for more than what he was explicitly offering her. 

He felt his features harden. “Well, I haven’t.”

Lizzie’s features twitched. He could see her trying to keep her vulnerability hidden behind a facade of sternness, but there were cracks forming in the mask. Especially in her eyes.

“We agreed to a very specific type of marriage, Lizzie. Just because you’ve decided to go back on that, doesn’t mean that I have any obligation towards you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “The rings on our fingers and our marriage license say otherwise.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he rubbed a hand across his eyes. “How many times did we ask if you were alright with the deal we were presenting you with, huh? Are you fucking kidding me, Lizzie!?” He pulled back, shaking her hands off of him and half turning away from her. A headache was starting to build behind his eyes. When he looked back at her it was to find Lizzie watching him, hands playing with the buttons on the front of her dress. There was still a tendril of hope in her eyes. 

“What do you want from me?” he asked defeatedly. Lizzie swallowed, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders.

“I don’t want you to see her ever again.”

He shook his head. “That’s never going to happen. I’m not leaving her, Lizzie. Not ever. I don’t know how many more times I have to tell you that before you understand–”

“You would never treat her like this!” Lizzie exploded, the mask she’d been trying to keep carefully in place over her features shattering. Bitterness laced her voice as she spat the words out. “If it was the other way around, you would do what she asked of you in a heartbeat!”

He winced at the truth in her words. She was right. He would always prioritize Lucy’s desires. It wasn’t fair to Lizzie. She deserved better. But for fuck’s sake, she knew all of this going into things. It wasn’t like they’d pulled a blindfold over her eyes and tricked her into marrying him with promises of more than what he could offer. He had been as upfront as he knew how on what a marriage to him would be like for her. 

She said she was okay with it. Had she been lying? Had she intended to trap him all along? Or did she think she could handle things only to realize that she was in over her head after the fact? Or was she still that delusional to believe that he would somehow have a change of heart once the rings went on and the honeymoon was finished?

“Yeah, well, she would never pull this kind of shit on me in the first place. She bends over backwards to make you happy and comfortable and all you do is treat her like garbage.”

Shame entered Lizzie’s face, head dipping to stare down at the floor while her arms wrapped around herself. 

“It’s not personal.”

“You hate her.” He accused, feeling his own resentment and bitterness begin to burn in his eyes. 

“No, I don’t! But she has you and it’s not fair! I’ve been in your life longer. We created a child together—”

Tommy rounded on her. “Stop making it out to be more than it was! We fucked in a dark dirty canal while I was thinking of someone else. That’s all.”

Lizzie’s eyes widened and grew glassy with tears, and he immediately felt bad. But God, he didn’t know how else to make her understand…

Silence hung heavily between the two of them

“Tommy, I love you,” Lizzie said in a quiet voice. He could hear the hope in it still. For fuck’s sake, woman, he thought, closing his eyes. In his head, he debated whether or not to tell her that she didn’t. That you couldn’t love someone who you didn’t really know. Who you didn’t understand.

He opened his eyes, and forced himself to meet her hopeful gaze. “I’m sorry.” He saw something in Lizzie crack at the words, but forced himself to go on, despite the self loathing he felt for hurting her. “I love Lucy. If you’re forcing me to choose between you two, it’s going to her, Lizzie. It always will be. That does not mean you aren’t important, or unwelcome here. We want you and the kids here with us. We already have an arrangement sorted out. One you agreed to, remember? And we’re willing to make adjustments and compromises here and there, within reason. But I love her and that isn’t going to change. It’s up to you if you can make peace with that or not.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Then we need to talk about other options.”

She looked at him as if he’d just hit her. 

Swiping a hand across his brow, brushing his fringe to the side, he shifted from foot to foot, suddenly feeling the need to try to somewhat soften the blow. “Look, give it some time before you make a decision. Let yourself get adjusted. It might not be as bad as you think.”

The clock on the mantle chimed. Lizzie was still hugging herself, looking seconds away from tears.    

“I have to go,” Tommy said. “I promised her.” He looked deep into Lizzie’s eyes, begging her to understand. But she said nothing, just staring at him with wounded, hate-filled eyes. He sighed. There was nothing really left to be said. As he walked past her to get to the door, he reached out to touch her arm. “I’m sorry.”

She winced away from his touch, turning her back to him. Tommy felt his heart sink at her pain but kept on moving, figuring that it might be better to leave her alone. 

He went to the library door, opening and stepping through it. Right before he closed it behind him, he heard the sounds of Lizzie starting to cry.

His hand hovered over the doorknob, considering, and then retracted, slipping back into his pocket. With hasty footsteps he retreated away from the library, heading towards Lucy. And away from the sounds of Lizzie’s heartbreak.

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy stared at herself miserably in the mirror. Hands flexing into fists against the tabletop of the vanity, she was half tempted to smash the reflection of the pathetic, pale, ugly girl staring back at her. She had finished wiping off her makeup, scrubbing perhaps a tad too aggressively at the sensitive skin of her face. And then she’d caught herself fluffing at her hair and adjusting the lay of her lacy red nightgown, and felt so damn stupid. What was the point? He wasn’t coming.

Lizzie had obviously changed her mind about being alright with everything. And maybe Tommy had too. It was over. 

Her eyes squeezed shut painfully at the thought, hands bracing on the edges of the basin in front of her until her knuckles turned white. How ridiculous she felt, to have ever thought that the arrangement they’d made with Lizzie would work. 

Should she start packing her things now, or wait until he gave her the official order to get out of his house?

She opened her eyes, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand and sniffling, swallowing down tears. It was amazing just how quickly everything had fallen apart.

Unable to stand looking at herself any longer, she abandoned the sink to shuffle her way into the bedroom. 

Golden light from the lamps set on the two nightstands on either side of the bed illuminated the room. Shivers wracked down Lucy’s spine from a chill that she was pretty sure was the result of a draft somewhere by the window. The staff had tried to keep the layout of the room the same as it had been in her previous quarters, but everything was just more cramped in the smaller space. Lucy was suddenly struck with a stab of claustrophobia; the feeling settling nauseatingly alongside the tightness of unshed tears already in her throat. 

Rubbing at her forehead, she took a step towards the bed, just reaching for the sash on her dressing gown to remove it when the door opened. 

Tommy’s expression was tightened with stress and exhaustion when he first stepped into the room, but it softened when his eyes landed on her. Features relaxing, a small smile found its way onto his face while he closed the door behind him with a soft click.

“Took me a while to find you. I had to ask Frances what room you were in.” He took a step forward, head cocking. “What are you doing all the way out here in this part of the house? No one comes to this wing much except for the maids.”

“Lizzie moved me here. She had the servants switch around my things during the wedding and reception.”

He frowned, inching even closer to her, eyes taking in the dimly lit bedroom. “You don’t have to stay in this room just because she says so.”

“It’s fine. It might be for the best that she and I aren’t that close to each other anyway.”

He reached out and touched her face, angling her head up so she was looking at him rather than the floor. His thumb traced the shape of her lips, eyebrow quirking slightly. “You didn’t think that I would come.” It wasn’t an accusation or a question, just a simple statement. Lucy shrugged.

“She seemed very intent on keeping you with her.”

“I made you a promise.”

“You’ve made promises to her too.”

His head tilted. “I’d rather keep the ones I’ve made to you.” 

He made a move to kiss her, palms coming to rest on her hips, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. Her eyes searched his face, not even entirely sure what she was looking for. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked, voice suddenly very hoarse. 

“Do what?”

She looked at him sadly. “Cheat on your wife.”

He frowned. “I’m not sure if what we’re doing really counts as cheating…”

“I doubt Lizzie sees it that way.”

His gaze lowered, thumbs beginning to rub circles into her waist. “She just needs time to adjust.”

“Tommy, she’s changed her mind. It’s obvious. She wants a real marriage with you.”

“That’s her problem. We both did our part to make sure that she knew what she was signing up for. She really has no leg to stand on if she’s shocked about it now.”

“Was she upset when you left to come see me?”

He didn’t answer, gaze darting away again.

“She was, wasn’t she?”

“That’s not your responsibility.”

“My presence is the reason she’s getting her heart broken–”

“No.” Something sharpened stubbornly in his eyes, his grip tightening on her. “Don’t you dare try to put responsibility for Lizzie’s bad decision making onto yourself. She knew I wasn’t going to stop being with you. And she agreed to marry me anyway. That was her choice. We didn’t force her into it.” He cupped her face urgently. “It isn’t your fault if she’s miserable.”

“It’s hard not to feel like it isn’t…” 

“I know. I know. But love…even if you weren’t a factor at all, I doubt that I would be faithful to Lizzie.” He shot her a sheepish look. “I don’t love her. At least not the way that she wants me to. If anyone’s to blame for her unhappiness, it’s me. Not you.”

She smoothed her hands along his chest, leaning forward until her forehead rested between his pecs. Tommy embraced her tightly, rubbing her back.

“I thought you might’ve changed your mind too,” she mumbled. He drew back only far enough to look into her eyes. That stubbornness that she’d grown so fond of, despite how exasperating it sometimes was, had taken root in his blue irises. 

“I’m not going to change my mind. I’m not going to leave you or stop loving you.” Up and down, his thumb stroked across her cheek while his palm cradled it. His face was so close that she could feel the warmth of his breaths on her skin. The stubbornness in his eyes had transformed into earnestness. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Her bottom lip started to tremble, and her voice broke on her next words. “But maybe there’s no room for me…”

“Of course there is. Of course there is; there will always be room for you in my life.”

“Tommy,” she sighed, feeling as though the weight of the world was resting upon her. The guilt so encompassing she felt that it might swallow her whole. “You have other priorities now. You have a wife and children. I can’t…”

His brows furrowed, eyes turning stern. “If you’re asking me to not make you a priority, that isn’t something that I can do,” he shifted closer, wiping a stray tear she hadn’t even realized had rolled down her cheek. “You’ll always be a priority to me.”

“I can’t ask that of you.”

“You don’t have to ask. I’m giving it to you anyway.”

She lifted both hands to rest on his face, throat constricting hard with emotion at his words. One of Tommy’s large palms landed on top of hers, squeezing her hand. Face turning, he pressed a kiss to the center of her palm. Then he tipped his head down, so their foreheads could touch. A few more tears leaked from her eyes.

“This has been harder than I thought it would be.”

His strong hands pressed into the middle of her back, encouraging her to press herself closer to him. “Yeah,” he agreed, then looked away, clearing his throat. Lucy frowned at the change of expression in his eyes, something ashamed and deeply guilty entering them. 

“Tommy?”

“I feel like I’ve been unfaithful to you.” 

“What? Love, no…I said it was okay.”

He breathed in deeply. “Still. It was awful without you being there.”

Her thumb stroked the length of his cheek, raising up on her toes to get closer to him. “You didn’t betray me,” she said, lips almost ghosting over his. Tommy pressed himself even more firmly against her, leaning forwards and kissing the tears that still lingered on her cheeks. He raised his face enough to brush his nose with hers. 

“You’re not upset with me?”

“No, of course not. I was just scared you might change your mind about us, that’s all.”

His eyes softened, hands caressing her. “I would never. I love you.”

She drew in a shaky breath. “I love you too.”

He kissed her tenderly, lips at first only brushing over hers before pressing more firmly, hands gripping her tighter. She sighed into his mouth, lips parting to him, arms coiling around his neck. When his kisses migrated from her lips to her neck, and his hands started to palm at her needily, she let out a small, desperate sound, latching onto his shoulders while he started to fumble with the strings at the back of her nightgown. 

“Oh, I missed you,” he whispered, kisses growing more urgent against her skin. “Let me show you how much I missed you.”

She could only moan softly and tilt her head back as he pressed his lips to her chest, right under her clavicle. Fingers fumbling with the buttons holding his waistcoat closed, all the while she let him pull her nightgown from her body. His hands moved to help her in undressing him, shedding all his upper layers and drawing her back into the circle of his arms.  

He purred when his hand slipped up from her waist to cup one of her bare breasts, her breath hitching at his thumb running across her nipple. 

“My beautiful girl,” he tucked his face into her neck, kissing from behind her ear all the way down the column of her throat. “Come here,” he murmured, as if she were not already pressed flush against him. But his hands still tried to draw her in even closer.

Her chest tightened, fingers stroking along the back of his head. “You know, I was worried for a while that you didn’t want me anymore.”

He froze, slowly lifting his face to look at her. “Feel,” he took her hand, sliding it down to cup his crotch, where his cock was already bulging in his slacks. His fingers flexed around hers, encouraging her to squeeze slightly around him. “Feel how much I still want you, Lucy.”

A moan shivered from her lungs, lips parting so that when his mouth descended on hers, his tongue entered her mouth with ease. He kissed her harder, a hand on the back of her neck while the other curled over her hip, beginning to walk her backwards towards the bed. He moaned deeply while she palmed him through his trousers, hips twitching.

She let him press her back onto the bed, him taking but a moment to unfasten his trousers and slip them and his underwear off before joining her. He crawled on top of her, slotting himself between her legs and kissing her hungrily. Lucy cradled his jaw in her hand, nuzzling at him while he explored her mouth before beginning to move down her body, spending time palming and sucking on her breasts, tracing the scars that marked her body with his lips, and then seeking out her cunt with his mouth and thick fingers. With clever, practiced movements he coaxed her into arching her back and gripping his hair, thighs twitching in response to his movements.

Maybe it was selfish, or signified something else wrong with her, but any and all guilt–or thought at all, for that matter--regarding Lizzie vanished the second that he kissed her. It was wondrous, really, how she could feel so inconsequential and insecure one moment, only for those feelings to almost entirely evaporate when he touched her. 

Terrible as it may have been, her guilt for what she was doing to Lizzie did not outweigh the desire, love, and loyalty she held for him.

She cried out when he added a second finger inside of her, crooking it and pumping rhythmically while his tongue toyed with her clit. Her nails scraped against his scalp while her head fell back against the pillows, thighs twitching. All it took was a strategic curling of his fingers inside her, and she came with a hoarse cry. 

Perhaps it was good that they were tucked away in such a far corner of the house. At least they didn’t need to worry about being quiet. 

Tommy brought her down from her high gingerly, withdrawing his fingers and pecking her inner thighs before rising up onto his arms, hovering over her. He wetted his lips, dark tendrils of hair falling across his forehead, pretty blue eyes wide and gazing down at her softly. He was so beautiful it nearly made her want to weep, stunned that someone so gorgeous would ever even consider wasting their time on her.   

As if reading her mind, he smoothed a hand over her hair, cupping the side of her face and drawing their foreheads together. “You’re perfect,” he said, eyes roving over her, dropping his weight onto her. Not enough to crush her beneath him, but enough so that she could feel every inch of his torso pressing into her. “I don’t deserve you.”

Her brows drew in on each other. “Yes, you do.”

The look he gave he was affectionate yet somber. She stretched her head up to kiss him. 

“You do,” she insisted. “I love you. I don’t want anyone else but you.”

“I love you too,” he said hoarsely, burying his face in her shoulder, hissing as he reached down to guide his cock to her entrance. “I’ll always love you.”

She drew in a harsh breath as he sank into her, filling her completely with a singular deep thrust. Tommy made a sound of intense relief, face nuzzling deeper into the crook of her neck. Lucy latched onto him tightly, a sharp mewl leaving her lips, solace washing over her potently once they were fully joined. Hand seeking out hers, he entwined their fingers together as he started to move.

The thrusts he gave her were slow and deep, grunts and praises passing his lips against the shell of her ear. Lucy clung to his back, legs wrapping around him. Her head was, finally, blissfully empty of any and all thoughts save for the pleasure he was giving her. All she knew was the heavy comfort of him on top of her, and the stretch of his large cock fitting snugly inside her. 

“Tommy…” she spoke without really being aware that her lips were moving. “My Tommy…”

“Yours, all yours…” he agreed, still moving. Her eyes rolled in her head at a particularly deep thrust, trying to comprehend how in the hell she had managed to survive a whole week with him. Without this.

They belonged together; and their bodies knew it. Their coupling was as natural as breathing. His pelvis ground into her clit, making her see stars, and when she pulled his hair to lift his face from where he was sucking marks into her neck, he growled. Instantly, he knew what she wanted, kissing her open mouthed and desperate.

“Don’t stop,” he half begged once they separated for air. His mouth dropped open, breathing heavily and letting her hear him as he drew closer to his climax. Hips moving half frantically to meet each of his thrusts, Lucy scratched her nails down his shoulders, legs tightening around his waist. 

She teetered on the edge, wobbling like a trinket about to fall off the edge of a desk. Her walls squeezed and fluttered around him in warning, and when he reached between them to brush his thumb across her clit, she howled and clung to him for dear life. The barely-there touch was enough to send her careening off over the edge completely. Eyes rolling in her head, back arching, ankles pressing down harder into the small of his back, she came violently.   

Tommy shouted, grabbing onto her hard enough to bruise, but that was okay. She was holding onto him just as tightly. His cock twitched, then throbbed hard, and a contented moan emitted from low in his chest as he started to cum right after her.  

He thrusted a handful more times, prolonging both their orgasms and spilling languidly into her before coming to a stop, face pressed into her shoulder, back heaving up and down with exertion. Lucy realized that they were both covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Had they really been going at it that hard? She had been too lost in having him again to notice. 

She wrapped her arms around his back, nuzzling at the side of his head while they both caught their breath. He was trembling a little against her, face turning to kiss her shoulder a few times before pulling out and moving to lay beside her.

It fully hit her then. Seeing him return to filling the space that for the past week had been left vacant was enough to do it. He had come back to her. He had kept his promise. She wasn’t going to lose him. 

Tears clogged in her throat, emotion almost entirely overwhelming her. Tommy’s arm hooked around her, pulling her into his chest. Immediately she snuggled into the warmth of his bare skin, head laying atop the patch of hair between his pectorals. His fingers stroked along the ridges of her spine, cheek moving to rest on the top of her head. Every once in a while his face turned to press kisses against her hairline. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked quietly after a moment. Lucy dragged in a shaky breath. 

“I think I will be.”

“Don’t worry about Lizzie. I expect that things will be as they always have with her. She’ll have her good days and bad. But you don’t have to spend time with her or deal with her if you don’t want to. She’s my problem. Not yours.”

“Your problems are my problems,” she said, adjusting her head on his chest to peer up at him. He gave her a tiny smile.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He swept a curl behind her ear. “It’s going to be alright,” he decreed, shifting to relax more properly on the pillows, holding her tightly. As if to remind them both they were just as inseparable as they had been before he made his vows to Lizzie. Lucy closed her eyes, clinging to that indescribable, unbreakable bond between them, letting the presence of it soothe and lull her into believing him. “I promise,” he added.

And Tommy never broke his promises to her. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy watched Lizzie with a mounting sense of terror building in her chest. Hands fidgeting with each other earnestly, her heart leapt upwards to pound relentlessly in her throat. 

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she ought to leave; before Lizzie noticed her. 

And yet she didn’t move, frozen in place, just watching as Lizzie poured over a book propped up in her lap, steam from the teacup perched on the nearby table curling up into the air. 

She had slipped away while Tommy was busy returning all the calls he’d missed during his absence. They had risen early that morning, first for another round of sex, and then to begin getting him caught up on everything. There was a small mountain of papers for him to sign, and that was just for things to do with his position in Parliament. 

Forcing herself to be brave, Lucy took a step forward. “Lizzie?”

She looked up, expression immediately souring. Lucy gulped at the chilly reception, but forced her features to remain in an expression of pleasantness, her voice warm.  

“We didn’t really get to talk yesterday.”

“No, we didn’t,” Lizzie returned her gaze to the book in her lap, her tone greatly suggesting that the lack of conversation had been by design. 

“Well…did you have fun? In Paris, I mean.”

Lizzie looked up at her again. “Yes.” Her shoulders heaved with a sigh. “And now it’s over.”

She couldn’t bring herself to continue to hold that gaze. Not when it was filled was such heartbreak and accusation. Instead, she dropped her head to stare down at her shoes. “I’m sorry.”

“And yet you’re not going to stop doing it.”

“It’s…it’s what we all agreed to…”

Lizzie scoffed, slamming the cover of her book shut with a light thwap, placing it on the table and standing. 

“Lizzie,” she brought more firmness into her voice when she started to walk away from her. Lizzie froze, back stiffening. When she turned to face her, she had her chin tilted up, only adding to the intimidation of her already considerable height. Lucy gentled her voice, aware that barking at her was likely to get her nowhere. “You and I have to figure out a way to deal with each other.” 

Lizzie’s throat worked, but still she said nothing. 

“I know that you want me to leave…but…I told him I’d stay. I can’t just abandon him and Charlie,” Lucy tried desperately to explain. 

“So devoted to each other,” Lizzie sneered, shaking her head from side to side. “You don’t care who else you both hurt because of it.”

“I do care.” She took a step forward. “I do. That’s why we asked you so many times if you were sure about this, Lizzie,” her voice cracked with frustration. “Why did you say yes if you weren’t?”

Lizzie’s lips pressed together, head turning towards the windows. Lucy felt her shoulders slump. 

“Did you really expect things to change, once you got back?” That thought had been plaguing her since last night. The question. Did Lizzie plan this along? Did she intend to trap him? Did she know from the very first moment that she accepted the proposal that she was going to change her mind about letting them be together? “You know who he is, Lizzie. You’ve known for years. Did you really think that he would just transform overnight into what you wanted him to be?”

“He changed for Grace.”

“Yeah, but that was different, he–” she cut herself off sharply. He was in love with her, she had been about to say. Lizzie shot her a wounded expression. Lucy looked away. It felt like too cruel of a thing to actually speak aloud. Even if it was the truth. “Even then he couldn’t change the core of who he is,” she decided to say instead. “And if he knew you were going to change your mind, he would never have married you. You know that.”

“Yes,” Lizzie whispered. Lucy took another cautious step towards her. “I have a feeling that you’d leave, if I asked you to. If I really pushed hard enough. To try to…assuage your guilt and make things easier for him. Is that right?” 

“Probably.” She admitted, feeling a lump starting to grow in her throat. “Are you asking me to leave?”

Lizzie’s chin had dipped, face turning down to the floor. “If I did, and you left, he’d go after you. He’d bring you back home, and then he’d divorce me. Just like he would divorce me if I asked him outright to choose between you and me.” A spasm went through her chest. “I know…I know that there’s no competition between us where I’ll come out on top. Not in his eyes.”

“You’re the mother of his child,” Lucy inched a little closer to her, wanting to reach out, to touch her arm, to maybe even give her a hug. But she was too afraid that any physical contact between them would be unwelcome. 

Lizzie finally looked up at her with teary eyes. “So are you.”

“It’s not the same–”

“To him it is.” She sniffled, hands gripping at the material of her dress. “I’m not asking you to leave.”

Lucy nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I can keep out of your way, if you’d prefer. I’ll stick to my wing of the house. We don’t have to eat together, or spend evenings with each other. You won’t have to see me much at all. The only thing I ask is that I get to have some time with the kids.” 

“Tommy would never agree to you being excluded like that.”

“He would if I asked him to.” He would kick up a fuss about it at first, she was sure, but in the end he’d relent. So long as it was her who asked him to do it. Fixing Lizzie with a careful look, Lucy tilted her head, bracing herself. “Is that what you want, Lizzie?”

Lizzie’s lips had started to tremble, chin wobbling. She suddenly raised a hand to her face, pressing her palm to her eyes as the tears welling in them finally spilled over. “I don’t know what I want,” she started to sob. Lucy reached out for her, touching lightly at one of her shaking shoulders. When she didn’t jerk away from the touch, she shuffled close to her, wrapping her arms around her in a hug. 

“That’s okay,” she tried to soothe, feeling a little lost as far as what to do or what sort of comfort would be welcome from her. “You don’t have to decide right now. The three of us are just going to have to feel things out for a little while. Figure out what works best for all of us.” 

Lizzie nodded, head dropping to rest in the crook of her shoulder. Lucy rubbed at her back. “I’m sorry for how I acted yesterday.”

“Don’t be. I understand. I know…I know that I don’t have nearly as much to be upset about as you do. Not even close, but, this isn’t exactly how I would have preferred for things to go either.”

Lizzie raised her head, looking at her with red-rimmed eyes. “No?”

Lucy raised an eyebrow. “You think that I wanted to have to watch the love of my life have a family with someone else?” Her fingers squeezed around Lizzie’s arms. “You’re his wife. I’ll only ever be his mistress.” We’ll never have a full life together, she swallowed around the unspoken words and the hurt they inflicted. Despite what Tommy had said, about eventually divorcing Lizzie, she couldn’t help but be skeptical that such a thing would ever actually come to pass.

Lizzie’s hands rested on her waist very lightly, and Lucy leaned closer to her until their foreheads touched. 

“I’m sorry we can’t love you the way you want us to,” she whispered, feeling Lizzie shudder and sob a little more at the words. “But we do care about you, Lizzie. Please know that. We do care.”

“I know.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

She let her go, and Lizzie drew from her, space once more finding its way between them. Lizzie sank slowly into a nearby armchair, limbs slumping like a marionette that had just had its strings snipped. Lucy pulled out a handkerchief that she passed to her to dab at her eyes.

“Take some time to adjust,” she said as she watched her. “Maybe…maybe it’ll get better.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

She forced half a smile to pull at one side of her lips. “I’m sure that you can find some other benefits to your life as Mrs. Shelby that don’t involve me and Tommy. With just the house, the kids, and the foundation I imagine you can keep yourself quite busy.”

“Yeah.” Her voice was monotone, not full of much hope; the wall that had briefly come down while she cried in Lucy’s arms starting to rise back up. Brick after brick being placed between them.  

“Do you want me to leave you alone now?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay.” Struck with a sudden feeling of boldness, she bent down, pressing a quick kiss to Lizzie’s forehead before doing as asked and going to the door. 

She found Tommy still in his office, just setting the phone down. He smiled when he looked up and saw her, standing and walking around his desk to meet her. 

“Where did you sneak off to?”

“I went to go talk to Lizzie.”

His smile dropped. “Oh?” At her nod, he put his arms around her. “How did it go?”

Shrugging, she rested her head on his chest. “She didn’t shout at me, so I suppose it can be considered a positive interaction.” She craned her head up to look at him. “This isn’t going to be easy for her, Tommy.”

“No,” he agreed with a sigh, kissing her forehead. “It’ll be okay.”

“She might never adjust. Not fully. This most recent conversation between us went alright, but the next could be awful with how all over the place she can be.”

“I know. It’s like living with a fucking pendulum.” He sighed, rubbing her back. “We’ll look at getting a place in London like we talked about, eh? Give us somewhere to go hide out during the times when it gets really bad.”

“Do you think that it would be better if I lived somewhere else? I could get another flat in Small Heath…”

“Absolutely not.”

“It might be worth thinking about.”

He drew back enough to cup her cheeks. “You’re staying with me. You’re living with me, wherever I am. End of discussion.”

“Stubborn mule.” But she was fighting back a fond smile.

“Oi!”

Grin blooming, she rested her chin on the center of his chest. “It’s just something to consider. If things don’t get better…”

“I’d go mad in this house without you,” he said, shaking his head, giving her a kiss and then taking her hand. “C’mon. I’ve got more calls still to make. Mr. Martenson kept me on the phone for thirty bloody minutes.”

“And what have I got to do with that?” she asked, letting him pull her along with him. He collapsed back into his chair behind his desk.

“To keep my lap warm,” he grinned, and promptly pulled her squealing into his arms to sit upon his thighs.

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[lovscb97]

bang chan recs (18+)

key: !!! = personal favourite, s = smut, f = fluff, a = angst

add. notes: hai :3 i know i said i would make a skz recs list but the minute i scrolled thru my likes n started saving from chan onwards, i realised i had Too many recommended fics for him (this list is like 40 fics/drabbles long....) so i decided to just make member separate posts instead!!! i tried not to have repeats of authors to give u guys a broader scope to choose from n also sorry in advance that i yapped so much abt them it's just like . these r my all time fav authors so it's expected. anyways i hope u guys love these works as much as i do bcs they r from some of my absolute fav creators n plz give them lots of love n always make sure to appreciate these ppl <3

. . .

hopelessly devoted to you — @changbunnies (!!!, s, a?)

this was literally a 11/10 fic like i am not even joking rn. i luv greaser chan n even tho he messed up, the way he makes it up to mc is so so soooo sweet. the fact that he's so gone n pussydrunk while eating her out, the sweetness in how he holds her n fucks her is all too mindnumbing n i hope u continue writing bcs u r amazing at it!! i will always come back 2 this when i need a pick me up fr

2. bad idea — @hyunsvngs (!!!, s)

JUNOOOOO my lovely baby.... i adore u n all ur work always but this fic. This Fic. it changed the trajectory of my life. like not even kidding but i was a different person when i started reading this n when i finished it i was Changed. life is worth living now, the grass is greener n the birds always sing 2 me which i firmly believe is bcs of u n this beautiful yummy fic. i fucking LOVE stepdad chan sm like there's smth so gross n nasty abt fucking ur mom's bf n even tho mc is a menace, i still loved it. never stop doing what u do!!!

3. 1095 days — @luvyeni (s)

EX INMATE CHAN RAHHHHH!! i have akshewally been following ur work for so long n i LOVE!! the way u write :3 thank u for always churning out ur work so fast n being so good at what u do. im obv a sucker for daddy kink considering i eat it up every time n it's so fucking good i love how chan cares for mc n the way he gives it to her once he's back. mark my words i will EAT this man up n this fic whenever i stumble across it

4. milk and honey — @straykeedz (s, f, a?)

user straykeedz u have to stop... ur work too addicting n perfect.. ur depiction of chan too real n crazy (/pos)... they're gonna get u... but seriously i love bffs2lovers so bad n the way u always characterise chan n make him call mc so many cute pet names melts my heart :( i've also been following U for a long time n even tho everything u write is so so soooo good, this has to be one of my faves alongside ur inexperienced chan fic. i hope u don't pressure urself too much to update n jus do what u have to do :D

5. my wife — @chrizzztopherbang (s, f)

ngl i Think this is my first fic from u cus i followed u bcs of it n that's a given honestly cus newly turned husband chan?? eating his wife out metres away from his friends n family on the other side of the door n fucking her within an inch of her life right after they're pronounced husband n wife?? i love it i loved their bickering over who's a pervert n i just love the idea of mc finally calling the love of her life hers forever. i hope they r always happy alongside u

6. sweet nothing — @frenchkisstheabyss (!!!, s, f, a)

this fic actually changed me as a person too not even kidding. i EAT UP exes to lovers n the portrayal of it was so good here bcs there's so much unspoken tension between the two n then chan begging mc to not leave again n her promising she won't bcs all she wants to do is be his at last?? AWOOGAAAAA i need him so bad it's jinja michin (i am so cringe sorry..) ANYWAYS!! i hope u know tattoo artist + ex bangchan is a crazy combo n that the makeup sex was HOT HOT HOT!!! plz keep writing i adore u <3

7. pick you up — @moonchild9350 (!!!, s)

see idk if this is tmi but sex where ure being picked up n fucked is downright nasty in the best possible way n i fear i need to get railed like that by chan so u writing abt is literally u making my fantasies come true. this fic was a delicious mix of cute w chan telling mc he only works out so he can pick her up (based off of his bbl texts obv) n hot w him Actually fucking her within an inch of her life. i love all ur work tee bee eich so keep doing what ur doing!!!

8. spring has sprung — @cbini (!!!, f, s)

miss ems where do i even begin with u.. (u probably Do Not Know me but i know u smirk emoji. soz that was weird erm but ya i am the binnie anon who said u deserve changbin LOLZ) this fic was the perfect mix of cuteness w raw passionate fucking i love the idea of chan getting hard bcs ur dressed so preciously in a pretty dress i think it's rooted somewhere in his slight corruption kink which comes out def when u r all dolled up for him. anyways u never miss n i hope u know that <3

9. walking in on rooomate!chan / pt. 2 — @kacciidubs (!!!, s, f)

going 2 be very honest here i do not even remember what happened in part 1 bcs part 2 of this roommate chan fic actually blew my mind away like Seriously user kacciidubs u r insane!!! all ur work never misses n i am always so eager whenever u post bcs i've been following u n loving everything u put out for so long. ofc ur chan work is my favourite as u can tell but this fic... this fic was crazy the switch between daddy n sir oh my god what if i cream my pants rn. plz never stop writing <3

10. last nerve / pt. 2 — @cb97percent (!!!, s)

user cb97percent let me just preface this by saying whatever u write is INSANE. like i already knew u were a great writer but this fic? changed me as a person not even joking rn. the way mc n chan banter n how chan's an asshole who is pissed off how he can't get it up anymore unless he fucks mc is so funny n how the raw passion between them results in the best sex Ever. n ofc the ending w minho took me out n Yea i just . i have no words plz never stop writing to u as well

11. hush — @petrichor-han (s)

sucker for exhibitionism n sucker for chan so what better way to comemorate this occasion than by reading abt it? this entire scenario was so hot like honestly i can totally imagine chan's bitchass doing this bcs he's so cheeky in nature he would lose himself from the thrill of almost getting caught. u r amazing as always thank u for churning out so much content for kinktober may god or whoever u believe in bless u with eternal inspiration

12. daddy!chan helping you shave — @hyunjins-orange-slice-too (!!!, s, f)

i sent u an ask already talking abt how much i love u n everything u write but THIS. this made me weak in the knees bcs i have imagined this very scenario so many times if im being brutally honest. there's smth so sweet n domestic abt the act of helping ur partner shave n with daddy chan in the mix? kill me now plz. the way he asks if he can play w mc once he's done n how he sternly instructs her to be safe like omgkjdfjhjdfgjhhjg need him in ways that give the pits of hell a run for its money w how hot n nasty im abt to be fr

13. one last time — @baby-yongbok (!!!, s, a?)

like i said, i am a sucker for the exes to lovers pipeline alongside husband chan so while this isn't Either of those things entirely it still scratches the itch in my brain very very well. the way mc n chan exchange snarky remarks n how chan only says he's satisfied once they're done fucking OHHHH MYYYYY GODDDD... need this man carnally like i would dump him just so he can fuck me the way he fucked mc in this fr (that is a lie we r locked in 4 life). u r brilliant as always i always look forward to ur work so next time u r questioning if this is worth it just know lovscb97 on tumblr has ur back fr

14. chan ask drabble #1 — @skzms (s)

maymay.. my eternal luvr... the genius behind smrsmf minsung... ofc u were bound to eat this up n end up on this list. idgaf if it's just an ask answer or drabble bcs the way u write is so . so Elegant. i love how u always use ur words to describe the emotion lingering between ppl in love n the way u do it here w chan n mc, the way he reassures her afterwards n how he promises her he'll give her everything later while fucking his fingers into her ohhhh mannnn.. i can just imagine him in his suit thank u for bringing the vision to life fr

15. you're right, baby — @chlorinecake (s, f)

soft dom chan who is ur fiancé fucking u n claiming u bcs he's a lil pouty that u forgot ur ring?? n then going so far to say he'll cum in u to make sure everyone knows who u belong to?? RAHHHHHH HE NEEDS ME!!! this was written so deliciously i loved the way mc n chan cared for each other n also the ending was so cute LOLZ hope they r happy in every universe n that their wedding goes great fr u r an awesome writer user chlorinecake

16. silence — @valkyriexo (s, a)

make up sex make up sex make up sex!!! i love it so good even tho it hurts so bad when mc realises chan forgot to show up :( but the fact that he makes it up to her by begging her to not leave him n making her cum as many times on his tongue as possible for her to forgive him?? INSANITY!! the longing in their eyes n words n actions from how much they've missed e/o when he finally touches mc n oh man.. u ate this up

17. corruption — @goquokka00 (s)

STEPBRO CHAN RAHHHHH i am a sucker for him (in more ways than one iygwim eheheh.. soz) i loved the sinister blackmail u added into the story n how he fucked mc bcs of her bad grades by making up some shit excuse abt learning how to please someone like y/n u can't be this dense girl!!! (i'd do it too if he asked me #Tbh) ANYWAYS. idk how this didn't have more notes bcs it was hot asfk i hope u keep writing more stuff to come :3

18. chef's kiss — @hyuniepies (s, f)

the tenderness of mc n chan's love mixed w the nasty dirty talk ohhhh hyuniepies u r a GENIUS!! this is exactly how i imagine domestic life w chan would be like; him coming back home to u cooking a dinner n then fucking u absolutely silly on the countertop bcs he just can't wait after getting a look at ur figure n bcs he's missed u so much. i too would be obsessed w bangchan if (read: when) he becomes my husband teehee

19. chan ask drabble #2 — @miupow (!!!, s)

USER MIUPOW UR FUCKING BRAIN!! HOW DO U CARRY SUCH A HUGE BRAIN IN UR HEAD!!! DOES UR BACK NOT HURT FROM HOLDING UP THE DELICIOUS IDEAS OF BCHAN SIZE KINK!!! like i told u yst i love ur writing n i love U so bad. u always eat w every request or idea u come up with n i absolutely adore that for u i hope u truly never stop writing bcs u have a serious gift n i hope ppl keep telling u that constantly bcs i sure as hell will <3

20. pretty mouth of yours — @jeongin-lvr (s, f)

need to give chan head like . Yesterday. but OHHHH MEINNNN GOTTTT fiancé channie w mc sucking him off so pretty u know exactly what im a sucker for u dont u user jeongin-lvr? ur writing is tooooooo good i swear i have read so much of ur work n granted this is one of my fave chan works from u icl i love the jeongin ones even more but i'll add those to my innie recs list later :3 ANYWAYS!! plz never stop writing u r awesomesauce (cringe.) n i love u hope u r having a great day today

21. daddy issues — @hwan-g (!!!, s, a)

HELLO THIS FUCKING FICCCCC... it is so good so delicious so fucking beautifully written that it brought tears to my eyes no joke. i still remember the first time i stumbled across it n like wow.. i think i dmed u on my side reading account too to express how much i liked it bcs i rly Did like it truly was a piece of art n sometimes i can't believe ppl like u just write stuff like this for free?? u should be getting paid good money bcs all ur work ALWAYS eats <3

22. closing the distance / pt. 2 — @thefantasyden (s, f)

ik long distance relationships r tough n it's awful when u can't spend time w each other physically or touch either but hear me out . it would Not suck w chan bcs he'd do everything for u the way he does everything for mc in this fic. from how he shows up n is too nervy to kiss her to them finally touching each other for the first time n then she moves back to him?? ohhhh man i love love n i love U for making this ur work always eats n trust that i'll always come back to this fic when i need to rmb how much i love chan

23. riding chan's thigh/knees — @faeryacha (!!!, s, f)

i love daddy chan so bad im sorry im not even gonna hide it anymore n i love the way he was written here too, from the way he asks if mc wants to play to the way he has her fuck herself on him to get herself off like i'm not even into little space like that but the minute he refers to himself as daddy n speaks to me all soft n protective im on my knees on the floor ready to suck him off like my life depends on it. u ate so bad w this plz continue doing more amazing work in the future!!!

24. steamy desires — @notsoangels (s)

shower sex w chan mngnghfhghgh.. need him so bad id let him fuck me anywhere as he pleases but in the shower?? w the hot water cascading over us w just us in our little world like omgomgomg NEED. i love the simplicity in ur writing too n how it paints a picture in my mind bcs i can vividly imagine all of this happening like him making u squirt on his cock n then rinsing u off so u can spend time wrapped up with each other on the bed like plz. One chance plz.

25. the fuckboy next door — @seospicybin (!!!, s, a)

miss seospicybin.. how do u always do it? how do u always come out w the most mindbreaking jawdropping amazing insane array of fics without even breaking a sweat like hello? this series is so fucking good from the smut to the angst that hurts so good. i love the development of the plot n that chan tries So hard to be true to mc so he can be w her n the way she tells him to do it for himself like :( they deserve each other sm i am very much looking forward to part 4!!!

26. pussydrunk chan — @aeliuss (s, f)

mngngngngjghgh i love pussydrunk chan so bad n i love the idea of him being so infatuated w mc that he just Had to drag her away n eat her out. i also love that he's there to support her in the end n how turned on he gets from her just being herself like that is a real man!!! n the way it's so reflective of how chan is irl too? i feel like this is how exactly how he'd behave— needy but so so soo in love with u too

27. kitty — @bandgie (!!!, s, f)

no joke this fic made my pussy throb. i need him 2 do this to him so bad bcs i need Him so bad. the way u wrote the subspace drop n how immersed mc was in her role n the way chan guides her thru everything n then the aftermath of it like hngnngnfgddjghjgh... i always have loved ur writing but this particular piece rly got to me along w ur kinktober series i hope u continue to do writing bcs u seriously so so SO good at it fr!!

28. angel eyes — @temptaetions (!!!, s, a)

this fic. this fucking FIC. bro this is actual evidence of the fact that literary geniuses exist bcs the way u wrote so beautifully not just the actual smut but the whole storyline?? u r a godsend fr like u should be getting paid to put out work of this degree. not only r u a PHENOMENAL writer but i hope u never stop writing bcs this was actually so so lovely n amazing to read i wish i could revisit the first time i read this T_T

29. just (fucking) friends? — @snowyquokka (s)

HELLOOOO i love possessive fwb chan almost as much as i love ur writing!! the way he's so annoyed at how she said they're just friends so he takes out his anger on her but then at the same time asks her what her color is to make sure she's still okay WOWZAAAA.. need him Bad. n in the end when they both agree they don't wanna be just friends like chan.. i don't want 2 be just friends either.. come 2 me plz... anyways very yummy work fr

30. american whiskey — @straywrds (!!!, s, a)

this fic... how do i even begin w this fic... the way u write is actually so . so otherwordly yk? u rly pour all ur passion into ur writing n the way u describe everything like every emotion every detail every feeling it's so raw n real that it touches my heart. i can Feel what each of the characters go thru n the SMUT... the smut is so so delicious ofc. i've read ur other work n u r such a good writer plz keep going with what u do i will always support u fr

31. free use w/ soft dom chris — @hwanghyunjinenthusiast (s, f)

the dirty talk in this.. hngnngkgjjdgjjh. i need free use w daddy!chan just as bad as i need to reread this fic ten times until it's ingrained in my brain n any telepath w the ability to read minds out there is disgusted by how many times i think abt it (idk what this analogy was i am sorry). the way he eats mc out n the way he fucks her omgfkjdgjhjhgjh NEED HIM RAHHHHH u did so well w this

32. play tight / pt. 4  — @roseykat (s, a)

squirting w chan squirting w chan SQUIRTING!! W CHAN!!! the way he makes mc do it once n then immediately goes "yea i need to feel that on my dick" n fucks her within an inch of her life like ohmygodjkdjhsfghj i did eat up the angst too but the way u wrote them fuckinig was so nasty n delicious I ENJOYED IT SM!! this entire series is such a good read even tho it's not chan centered idk if there r more parts to it but if there r plz link me to them!!

33. dream you — @charmercharm3r (s, f)

ok i know we r discussing smut n all n trust that i will get to that but THIS!! this was so cute n precious ohemgee the way he loves mc n takes care of her n banters w her at the start so lovingly is so so precious to me i want him so bad :( the smut was also very delicious w chan switching to hard dom mode n making mc suck him off before ravishing her like oh my god PLZZZZ FUCK ME PLZPLZPLZ u did so well on this plz continue writing more for me at the least <3

34. brat-taming w/ chan — @blurboki (s)

this damn drabble was so.. hngngjfjghjhdgjh. i want 2 be a brat to chan so bad n act out just so he'll snap n put me into my place which is exactly what u wrote n i LOVED IT!!! it's so short n simple (not a bad thing at all btw) yet it's so powerful too? i love the characterisation of chan cus i firmly believe this is how he'd act in bed w a fussy bratty s/o like wow. Just wow. i love u and ur delicious mind i hope u r having a great day just for this :3

35. tell me all about it.. — @chnsbm (s, f)

hngnfjhdfsjghgjh the idea of chan making u forget all about ur stress n playing with u to help u sleep is so gfjfjjjffjhgjhjh HOT!!! the way he lovingly reassures mc like u don't need to worry abt it now just let me take care of u n how he's such a fuckin TEASE!! w the way he's touching her is so so hot u ate w this idea n i will forever die on the hill that this is really smth chan would do— tease u n make u talk while he's doing ungodly things to u just to see u stutter over ur words

36. be that guy — @daizymax (!!!, s, a)

i have said it once i have said it twice n i will say it one more time bcs i don't care how many times i need to reiterate it needs to be said: EXES TO LOVERS W CHAN IS TOP TIER!!! the smut in this was so delicious but the LONGING chan had for mc.. the way he felt the twinge in his chest for letting her go oh man.. i'd take him back if he so even looked at me but maybe im just crazy. BUT ANYWAYS!! this is possibly one of the hottest chan smuts there ever is so thank U for this delicious gift fr

37. more than just friends — @kwanisms (!!!, s, f)

werewolf chan my luvr... my big strong baby who will knock me up w his knot n fuck me until the sun rises RAHHHHHHHH!!! this was so so SOOOOO good n yummy like from the way he pinned mc to the wall to the way he ordered her around n how his self restraint snapped the moment she called him daddy like why's that so Me behaviour HELPPPP anyways user kwanisms u fucking ATE w this i hope ur pillow is cold every night u go to sleep <3

38. connected — @j-0ne25 (s, f, a)

let me just start this by saying I FUCKING LOVE U USER J-0NE25!!! ur interactive stories esp megaverse r so fucking good how r u so bigbrained my dumbass could never like actually JSDHJFJHGJH. anyways i rmb reading this very vividly n oh boy.. "baby patience, or do you need me to teach you a lesson?" Brother my panties r drenched n off dont even start w me rn. anyways this was so so delicious plz never stop writing i beg u

39. chan ask drabble #3 — @hyungszn (!!!, s, f)

saved the best for last but CLOVER.. (u dk me but i am ur biggest fan hai :3) "your mouth is saying no but your body is telling me a different story, mrs. bang." GRRRHJDJSDFJHKJSFKJSFKJGJ... I NEED HIM SOO FUCKING BAD!!! the way they banter even while having nasty sex n just love each other so bad n hello my breeding kink went feral w this. when mc asked him to not eat his cum out of her pussy n he was like "and why is that?" cus he wanted to hear her say it GRAHHHHH I WILL EAT HIM!!! on a side note, u r so so soooo amazing i have been reading ur work for so long i think since american pie n i can safely say u r one of the best skzblr writers i have ever seen along w so many other ppl like plz keep up the good work bcs i will ALWAYS support u for it !!!

. . .

add notes: thank u very much to all these amazing writers fr. if ur work wasn't featured here now do not fret!! i probably (most definitely knowing my dumbass) just missed it cus i didn't scroll Very far down in my likes (there's like 2k+....) so trust that u will most likely end up on the next recs list!! i love u all very much regardless if u r here or not n as always a very big thank u once more for all ur amazing hard work, u r all doing so well n i hope u guys know that <3

[theonottsbxtch]

LOVE - LOCKED | FC43

an: this is based off of this request and i hope you like it bc i had sm fun writing a romantic slightly angsty thing i cant wait to hear what y'all thin, i also think it may be slightly rushed tho so lol ALSO LOL WE'RE GONNA PRETEND CARLOS IS YOUNGER IN THIS BC I NEEDED HER TO BE HIS OLDER SISTER

summary: carlos' sister has lived her life completely separated from him and their family name, instead she went and made a name for herself in the tennis world - she likes her life like that. that is until she meets franco colapinto

wc: 8.7k

The roar of engines, even from a distance, unsettled her.

They reminded her of the long days her father and brother spent in garages, the low rumble of motors and sharp tang of fuel in the air. Those were the hours she’d spend alone, working on her serve in the empty court across town, each hit ricocheting off the walls with a hollow, lonely echo. Her own choice, of course. She’d had no interest in the world of carbon fibre and grease, no desire to be the girl who simply tagged along, her name always in her brother’s shadow.

Now, years later, she’d become someone entirely on her own terms. A name people knew on its own — Vázquez de Castro — a name that meant something outside of her family, outside of her brother’s fame.

She slipped her phone into her bag and looked around the chaotic pit lane. Journalists, engineers, teams in matching shirts, faces alight with anticipation for the weekend's race. She knew she’d stand out here; her face might be familiar, but she was a stranger in this world.

The hum of voices around her faded as she felt his gaze. She’d been hoping to move through unnoticed, just a face in a sea of faces, but there he was: tall, familiar, unmistakably Carlos. His brow furrowed in surprise as he caught sight of her, his quick steps carrying him closer before she had a chance to dodge. She braced herself, turning to him with a calm that she didn’t quite feel.

“No aquí,” she murmured, her voice low, hoping that would be enough to keep curious ears at bay.

He paused, just a moment, his expression softening in understanding, and he tilted his head, his face somewhere between a grin and a frown. “You came.”

It wasn’t an accusation exactly — more surprise than anything. But she couldn’t miss the faint hope in his eyes, as if he thought she might be here to see him, to share a piece of his world after all this time. She let his words linger for a beat before she replied, her tone steady.

“I was invited,” she said, giving a slight shrug, “by Fernando.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the green and silver canopy, keeping her tone casual, but she saw his shoulders fall ever so slightly.

He nodded, glancing away for a moment, his jaw set. “Right. Fernando.”

There was something she wanted to say, something to soften the look in his eyes, but the pit lane was crowded, the eyes and cameras trained on every inch of the paddock sharper than she’d ever expected. They’d notice anything. And the last thing she wanted was for the papers to start spinning stories, putting her under a headline right next to him.

She touched his arm briefly. “Te hablo en el hotel. I’ll speak to you at the hotel.”

As she made her way toward the exit, ready to slip back into the background and disappear, she heard a voice calling out just over the rumble of engines and chatter.

“¡La princesa española!”

The words were unmistakable, lilting and clear, even with the crowd and machinery all around. The Spanish Princess. The nickname made her falter. It was something she sometimes heard on the tennis courts in Madrid or whispered by fans in distant cities when she played in international tournaments. But here? She scanned the area, puzzled at who would recognise her in this world of racing.

When she turned, her eyes met those of someone unfamiliar yet striking. He was tall, with an easy, disarming smile, his race suit gleaming with the bright, bold colours of his team’s livery. He looked young, not much older than she was, but he carried himself with that unmistakable energy she’d seen in rising stars before. The rookie, she realised, though she hadn’t kept up enough to know his name.

He held her gaze a moment too long, that same smile lingering as he approached, his eyes sparking with something between amusement and curiosity. She felt herself tense, almost involuntarily, her instinct telling her to slip away, to avoid whatever came next.

“Es realmente la princesa española,” he said, his tone playful yet certain.

Then it hit her.

Franco.

That was his name.

Franco’s grin widened as he closed the distance between them, his eyes bright with an almost boyish enthusiasm. “Soy un gran admirador de tu trabajo,” he said, his Argentine accent softening his words. “I’ve watched almost all your matches — I love the way you play.”

She blinked, taken aback. This wasn’t the usual kind of recognition she got, especially not here. She could count on one hand how many times she’d been recognised in public. She looked at him, trying to reconcile this confident young driver with the earnest fan in front of her.

“¿Me conoces?” The question slipped out before she could think, her voice tinged with disbelief.

He raised an eyebrow, his smile never faltering. “¿Quién no te conoce?” he replied, with a touch of humour. “La princesa española, queen of the clay court, unstoppable backhand — yeah, I know you.”

There was something genuine in his tone, something that set him apart from the usual strangers who said they knew her. 

And before she could stop herself, she found herself almost smiling. She cleared her throat, searching for a response, but her mind was blank. What could she say? That she knew nothing of him, or any of these people — that she had only set foot here today by chance?

She settled for a simple, “Gracias.”

Franco’s curiosity didn’t waver. He leaned in slightly, folding his arms with an amused glint in his eyes. “So, what brings la princesa española to the F1 paddock?”

She shrugged lightly, careful not to reveal too much. “I’m here as one of Fernando Alonso’s guests. Aston Martin.” She left it at that, hoping he wouldn’t dig further. Noticing that she looked a bit like another driver on the paddock. Thankfully, he didn’t.

His grin only grew wider, and she had the feeling that her mystery intrigued him. “Well then, if you’re one of Fernando’s guests, that means you’re not tied to my team,” he said with a glint of mischief. “Come with me — I’ll give you a tour of my garage. It’ll be like… a private tour.”

She hesitated, her gaze shifting back toward the exit, where she’d planned to slip out and leave all of this behind. If she went with him, there was a chance people would recognise her, start to connect her with her brother’s world. She’d spent her whole career carefully avoiding this — the headlines, the whispers, the inevitable questions about why she’d chosen such a different path. But the look on his face, that open, boyish enthusiasm, was hard to resist.

She let out a sigh, then looked up at him with a sudden, defiant glimmer in her eye. “Screw it. ¿Por qué no?”

His whole face lit up. She could practically see the excitement radiating off him as he extended his hand, his confidence a little too easy, a little too certain. She eyed his hand for a moment before raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms.

“Modales,” she chided, her tone playful. “I’ve known you for five minutes. We’re not dating.”

“Yet,” he replied without missing a beat, a spark in his eyes.

Despite herself, she smiled, a real one, something she hadn’t felt since stepping into the paddock that day.

He led her through the bustling paddock with an easy confidence, weaving between crew members, equipment, and cameras as if none of it could touch him. She was impressed, though she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of saying so. The chaos of the pit lane, the narrow spaces and the clang of metal, all seemed to bend around him.

When they reached his team’s garage, he stopped by a young assistant stationed just outside, who looked at them with curious eyes.

“Do me a favour,” he said, barely containing his grin, “and grab a VIP lanyard for Williams’ guests, will you?”

The assistant glanced at her, his eyes widening slightly in recognition before he nodded and ducked away, returning a moment later with a crisp, team-branded lanyard. Franco took it with a pleased smile, then held out his hand for hers. She unclipped the Aston Martin lanyard from her neck and handed it over, watching with a mix of surprise and amusement as he replaced it with the one from his own team.

“There,” he said, adjusting the lanyard’s position with exaggerated care. “Now you’re officially part of the team.”

She couldn’t hold back her smirk. “You know, I don’t think lanyards change allegiances so easily.”

“Maybe not. But I do think it’s an improvement.” He winked, stepping back to admire his handiwork. “Besides, the only lanyard you should be wearing here is mine.”

She laughed, caught off guard by his unfiltered charm, as he held out his arm with an exaggerated flourish. “And now, mi princesa, a grand tour.”

He led her into the garage, his tone switching between informative and teasing as he explained the various stations. “Over here, we have the engineering bay — where the magic of data happens.” He gestured toward a row of monitors displaying endless streams of numbers. “And these guys in the corner? They’re the wizards of aerodynamics. Make a mess, they won’t let you forget it.”

As they moved through each section, he offered her a glimpse into the world of F1, his energy and excitement almost contagious. She watched him with quiet intrigue; he seemed to belong here completely, as if he thrived in the chaos and intensity of it all.

“Now, over here,” he continued, leaning a bit closer to her as they approached a sleek wall of tires and tools, “this is where I go for my pre-race pep talks. I think it helps the tires, too.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You talk to the tires?”

“Only on occasion,” he said with a mock-serious nod. “And they listen. Or at least, I hope they do.” He grinned again, that glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “Besides, they never talk back.”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, but there was a smile in it, one she couldn’t quite suppress. He was disarming, funny in a way that felt refreshingly different from the sharp, serious world she’d known. He noticed the hint of a smile and held her gaze, leaning in just slightly.

Before she could say anything else, Franco led her deeper into the garage, weaving through the maze of tools, car parts, and engineers, who looked up now and then with curious glances. She followed, intrigued despite herself, and finally, unable to keep silent, asked, “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he said, shooting her a look over his shoulder that was both charming and infuriatingly vague.

He stopped in front of a nondescript door tucked away from the bustle of the main garage. She glanced around, realising they were in the private part of the team’s area. He opened the door to his driver room, gesturing for her to step inside. The room was small but comfortable, filled with team memorabilia, spare racing gloves, and a neat rack of team-branded clothes. Before she could take it all in, he went over to a stack of neatly folded shirts and pulled one from the pile.

He turned back to her, holding up the shirt with a proud smile. “Here,” he said, offering it to her. “Wear this tomorrow.”

She raised an eyebrow, glancing between him and the shirt with mock scepticism. “Bold of you to assume I’d wear your merch.”

His grin only widened. “I think you’d look great in it,” he said, undeterred. “Besides, it’d be an honour to have la princesa española in my colours.”

She took the shirt, running her fingers over the soft fabric, and met his gaze with a slight smirk. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good enough for me,” he replied, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. He looked like he wanted to say more, but just then, his phone buzzed on the nearby table, and he glanced at it with a slight frown before pocketing it again.

“So,” he continued, his tone shifting to something a little more casual, “what are you doing for dinner?”

The question surprised her. She hadn’t planned on lingering much longer after her brother’s race prep finished. She hadn’t planned on any of this, really. But he was watching her expectantly, and for a moment, she let herself consider it.

“Dinner?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow in mock suspicion. “You’re not very subtle, are you?”

“Not at all,” he admitted with a grin. “What do you say? Let me take you out. I promise I’m as good at picking places to eat as I am at tours.”

She couldn’t resist a small laugh. “Alright,” she said, glancing up at him with an easy smile. “I’ll see you for dinner.”

He opened his mouth to say something more, but just then, a voice called out from down the hallway. “Franco man, we’ve been looking all around for you!” A team manager appeared in the doorway, looking equal parts exasperated and amused.

Franco sighed, flashing her an apologetic look as he straightened. “Duty calls,” he muttered with a smirk. He lingered a moment, as if reluctant to leave, then glanced back at her with a warm smile.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she said, feeling a thrill she hadn’t expected. “See you tonight.”

He nodded, his grin returning full force, then turned to follow the manager out, giving her a final, backward glance that lingered just a second too long.

Back in her hotel room, she brushed a final touch of mascara over her lashes and glanced at her phone, where a text from Franco glowed on the screen.

Franco: “Ready whenever you are. No rush. See you soon :)”

She couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. Tonight felt surprisingly… normal. Like she was just someone getting ready for a date, no stakes attached. She straightened her dress, checked her reflection, and took a steadying breath.

A soft knock at her door snapped her from her thoughts, and she felt a small flutter of excitement, assuming it was him. But when she opened the door, her breath caught.

Her brother stood there, his expression a mixture of confusion and something she couldn’t quite read. She masked her surprise quickly, stepping aside to let him in, though her voice was firm. “I can talk for a bit, but I have plans tonight.”

“With Franco?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

She narrowed her eyes slightly, caught off guard. “How did you know?”

He gave a soft, humourless laugh, crossing his arms. “I saw you two in the paddock,” he said. “And I overheard him talking about it in the garage. Apparently, he couldn’t stop telling anyone who’d listen about his ‘date with la princesa de España.’” He looked at her, and his voice softened. “So why is it you have no problem being seen with him, but not with your own brother?”

His question hung heavily in the air, the familiar tension between them settling back into place. She took a breath, struggling for the right words. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be seen with him — it was the weight of everything that came with it. The press, the fans, the inevitable comparisons. She could already see the headlines if they were spotted together, her name placed directly beside his, stripping away the hard-won independence she’d fought for.

She sighed, glancing at him. “It’s not… about you,” she said carefully. “It’s just… everything that comes with it. You know how it is.”

He shook his head, looking slightly hurt. “I don’t know, actually. I’ve always thought we were supposed to be in this together. But I feel like… I don’t know, like you’re just trying to run from anything that connects us.”

She sighed, leaning against the doorframe, her voice dropping to something softer, more serious. “It’s not that I don’t want to be seen with you,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I just don’t want to be known as Carlos’ sister everywhere I go. I’ve worked hard to build my own name, my own career, and sometimes… being around you, it overshadows that.”

Her brother studied her, his face a mix of understanding and something else, a flash of protective instinct. “You know, if you date Franco, you’ll just end up being known as his girlfriend,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “It’s just a date, Carlos. Nothing more.”

He shrugged, his mouth quirking in a small smile. “Yeah, well, with him, nothing ever stays ‘just’ anything. Just saying.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a warmth behind it. “Thanks for the concern, but I’ll be fine.”

They shared a quiet moment of understanding before she gently nudged him toward the door. “Go get some rest. And good luck tomorrow. I’ll be cheering from the sidelines.”

The evening was soft and cool, the sky painted in shades of violet and indigo as the city stretched out below them. The balcony they’d stepped onto was tucked away from the bustling noise of the hotel, private and intimate, offering only the sounds of the night breeze and the occasional far-off hum of the city.

Franco had arranged it all—quiet, serene, away from prying eyes. The dinner was simple but elegant: a few delicate dishes of fresh seafood, wine that wasn’t too heavy, just enough to let the conversation flow freely. It was just the two of them, and she realised as she stood there, her hand brushing the railing, how rare that felt.

She’d worn a dress that was understated, yet elegant—a deep midnight blue that mirrored the evening sky, the fabric light enough to catch the breeze. She hadn’t given it much thought; it wasn’t for anyone but herself. But when Franco first saw her, the look in his eyes told her that, maybe, it had been the right choice after all.

His gaze lifted from the table where he had been adjusting the wine glasses, and the moment he saw her, the words spilled out before he could even stop them.

“Dios mío, qué hermosa estás.” His voice was low, his gaze sweeping over her with a mixture of surprise and admiration.

She felt her cheeks flush, the compliment unexpected but not unwelcome. She had been nervous about the evening, unsure of what this was or what it would become. But his words, simple and sincere, relaxed something inside her.

“Gracias,” she replied with a small smile, feeling the warmth in her chest spread, her eyes meeting his.

He stood up, taking a small step toward her as if to take in the full picture, his gaze never leaving her face. “I swear,” he continued, his voice filled with genuine awe, “I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re even more stunning than earlier. It's like... you're glowing.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “I think you’re just being kind.”

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head as he closed the distance between them. “I’m not the kind of guy to throw compliments around just to be polite. Te ves increíble, you look incredible.”

After a decent amount of eating, a stretched out silence, Franco spoke up. “So,” he began, his voice casual but warm, “what’s it like to be the la princesa española outside of tennis?”

She raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of her wine. “I don’t really think of myself as that,” she said lightly. “It’s just a nickname.”

“I don’t know,” he teased. “I think it suits you. You have a... regal air about you.” His eyes glinted with mischief as he added, “I’m sure you’d never get away with being late for anything. Everyone would just wait for the princess to show up.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. “You really are persistent with those compliments, aren’t you?”

“Solo con la verdad,” he said with a grin, leaning back in his chair, clearly pleased with himself.

The evening unfolded easily after that. They spoke about everything and nothing: about their childhoods, what had brought them to this point in their careers, how it felt to always be in the spotlight. She told him stories from her tennis matches, and he shared wild tales of racing, of the constant pressure and adrenaline.

But it was the quieter moments, the small pauses between their words, that felt the most significant. When he leaned in to pass her the bottle of wine, their hands brushed, and the air seemed to thicken for a moment. His gaze lingered a bit longer than it needed to, and she noticed the subtle way his smile softened when their eyes met. She wasn’t used to this — this ease, this comfort that felt so unforced — but it was exactly what she hadn’t realised she’d been searching for.

“You know,” Franco said, his tone thoughtful, “I can’t remember the last time I had a night like this. Just—” He waved his hand toward the view, the quiet that surrounded them. “It’s nice. To not be rushing off to something. No cameras, no expectations.”

She looked out over the balcony at the skyline, the city lights twinkling in the distance. “I know what you mean. There’s always so much noise, so many people trying to pull you in different directions. It’s rare to just… be.” She turned to look at him, her voice lowering slightly. “It’s a little surreal, actually.”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, there was a silence between them that felt like a shared understanding. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he looked at her, his expression genuine. “I’m glad you’re here with me tonight. I’m glad I got to spend this time with you.”

Her heart did a little flip at the sincerity in his voice. She wasn’t sure what she had expected from the evening, but this — this felt right.

“So,” he continued, his voice lightening again, “any chance I can convince you to wear my team’s shirt tomorrow?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re relentless, aren’t you?”

“I am,” he said with a wink, “but only because I know you’d look amazing in it.”

She rolled her eyes but could feel the warmth in her chest spread. “I’ll think about it,” she teased, mirroring his playful tone.

The conversation drifted back to lighter topics, the evening unfolding with ease as the world seemed to blur around them. As the night deepened, they shared stories, laughter, and quiet glances that spoke volumes. It wasn’t the fireworks, the grand gestures of a first date. But it was something else — something that felt like a beginning.

When the last of the wine was finished, and the candles flickered low, Franco stood, offering her a hand to help her to her feet. He didn’t say anything at first, but his eyes told her everything. His fingers brushed against hers, and she didn’t pull away.

As the night grew later, the air around them cooled, and they moved to the edge of the balcony, gazing out over the city. The quiet was comforting, the soft hum of distant traffic the only sound breaking the stillness between them.

She let out a small sigh, her mind wandering, and with it, the weight of everything that had brought her to this moment. She looked up at him, caught in the calm but uncertain about what this night might mean.

"Well, this has been lovely," she said, her voice light but tinged with something else. "But, just so you know… this is probably going to be our only date."

His eyebrows furrowed, his smile faltering for just a fraction of a second. “Why?” he asked, his tone suddenly laced with concern. “Have I done something wrong?”

She met his gaze, her chest tight for reasons she couldn’t quite place. There was no logical reason for her to feel that way — he had been nothing but kind, charming, and genuine all night. But there was still that lingering sense of hesitation, a wall she wasn’t sure she could bring herself to tear down.

“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head as if to reassure him. “You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s just… I don’t know if I can do this.”

He looked at her for a long moment, studying her face. The playful glint in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something softer, something quieter, as if he were trying to understand her better.

“I’m not really a person who runs from things," she said, her voice lowering slightly, unsure how to put her thoughts into words. “But there are parts of my life I’m... careful about. I can’t help but keep them to myself.”

She hesitated, feeling a strange tug in her chest. For the first time in what felt like forever, she found herself wanting to share something personal, something she had hidden away. She took a breath and let it slip out before she could second-guess herself.

“I have a brother,” she began, looking out at the city below them, trying to steady her voice. “He’s a Formula 1 driver.”

Franco froze, his brows knitting together in confusion. “Wait... what?”

She glanced at him, a slight laugh escaping her lips at the look of genuine surprise on his face. “Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “Carlos.”

He blinked, his surprise turning into a quiet sense of disbelief. “Carlos Sainz?” He repeated her brother’s name, almost as if he were trying to process it. “I had no idea…”

She looked at him, a slight sadness settling in her chest. “Most people don’t,” she said, her voice quiet now. “I never tell anyone. I’ve worked my entire life to be known for me—for what I do, not because of who I’m related to. I don’t want to live in someone’s shadow.”

Franco didn’t say anything at first, letting the silence stretch out between them. He was thinking, she could tell. It was as though he were weighing her words, weighing the tension in her tone. Then, slowly, he spoke, his voice steady but sincere.

“With me, you wouldn't,” he said, his gaze meeting hers with an intensity that took her by surprise. “You wouldn’t be in anyone’s shadow. Not if you didn’t want to be.”

She was quiet for a long moment, his words sinking in. Part of her wanted to dismiss it, wanted to keep pushing away the idea of anyone in her life stepping into that shadow. But there was something in his eyes—something honest and unwavering—that made her hesitate. He wasn’t offering her fame or status. He was offering her something far simpler. The space to be herself.

Then, he said something that made her heart skip a beat.

“I’ll be your WAG,” he said, his voice surprisingly matter-of-fact, his smile just a little crooked.

She laughed, a quick, startled sound. “What?” she teased, shaking her head. “Are you serious? ‘WAG’—really?”

He leaned in slightly, the smile still on his face but his eyes unflinching. “En serio. I’m serious.” he added with a little more emphasis, the words flowing naturally from him.

Her laughter died down, replaced by a brief, curious silence. She was still processing his words, still trying to understand how it had escalated from a simple dinner to this.

“You’re joking,” she said softly, unsure whether to laugh or take him seriously.

“No,” he7 replied, his voice now calm, almost earnest. “I’m not. Look, I get it. The whole ‘WAG’ thing... it sounds ridiculous, I know. But the way I see it, we’d be a team. You’d have my back, and I’d have yours. No shadows, no expectations, just us. What we make of it.”

She took a step back, crossing her arms as she considered what he was saying. The idea of it felt foreign, a little intimidating, but something about it also felt right in a way she hadn’t expected. No grand gestures, no drama. Just… us, as he’d said.

“Don’t you think I’d look good in a sponsored Channel crop top?” he joked, and the thought of it made her laugh.

Before she could stop it, however, her mind flashed to her brother, to the years of keeping her life private, to the way she had fought so hard to remain in the background of her family’s legacy. And yet here was Franco, offering something different. He wasn’t asking her to be a part of his world—he was offering her a partnership, an equal footing.

For the first time that evening, she allowed herself to truly think about what that might mean. To be seen, not as someone’s sister or someone’s girlfriend, but just as herself.

“Maybe... maybe it’s not such a bad idea,” she said quietly, her voice uncertain but filled with a growing sense of possibility.

Franco looked at her, a quiet confidence in his eyes. “Entonces, we’ll figure it out together. No shadows. Just us.”

“Just us.”

“You better wear my shirt tomorrow,” he said, his voice teasing but hopeful.

She smirked, folding her arms across her chest as she looked at him. “I’ll think about it.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly closer. “You better. I’ll be watching.”

She laughed, shaking her head at his persistence. “We’ll see.”

The next morning arrived with the usual rush, the anticipation of race day filling the air. She woke up to a sunlit room and a few messages on her phone, the familiar bustle of the paddock already beginning to take shape outside her window. As she moved around the room, preparing for the day ahead, her mind wandered back to the previous evening.

She stood in front of the mirror, brushing her hair back into a sleek ponytail, glancing over her outfit choices. She’d packed a nice pair of fitted trousers and a smart blouse for the day. But then, as she opened her suitcase to grab something, she saw it—the shirt.

It was sitting on top of her suitcase, folded neatly, the soft fabric of his team’s shirt catching the light. The sight of it made her pause. She could feel a flutter of uncertainty in her chest as she stared at the shirt. It wasn’t like her to let herself be swayed by someone else’s request. But something about Franco, about the way he’d looked at her, made her reconsider.

She bit her lip, considering her options. The shirt was casual, simple, but it also felt like a statement. She could wear it for him, just this once, maybe just to see how it felt. There was no harm in that, right?

She grabbed the shirt, examining it for a moment. It was an understated design—his team’s logo in the corner, a soft fabric, nothing too flashy. It wasn’t the sort of thing she would normally wear, but for some reason, she felt drawn to it. And then it hit her—maybe it wasn’t about the shirt at all. It was about the confidence to wear it, to stand beside him and let the world see her as she was, without hesitation.

She had a moment of inspiration.

Instead of simply slipping it on with jeans like she’d imagined, she decided to give it a bit of a twist. She styled it with an oversized blazer, the sleeves rolled up just enough to show off the shirt underneath, and a pair of high-waisted pants. The look was effortlessly cool, edgy, but still very much her. She paired it with a pair of sleek, minimalist sneakers, and, just before she finished, added a bold red lip to complete the ensemble.

When she looked in the mirror, she felt a sense of pride. It was a simple shirt, yes, but it was her way of wearing it. And somehow, it made her feel like she was making her own mark, not hiding behind anyone else’s expectations.

She grabbed her phone, checking the time, then sent Franco a quick message.

“I thought about it. I’ll wear the shirt. But only because it goes with my outfit.”

She added a playful winking emoji before hitting send, knowing that he’d appreciate the humour in it.

The morning was just beginning to pick up its pace as she finished getting ready. The weight of the day’s events, the race, the energy of the paddock, all began to settle in. But for the first time in a while, she felt a small sense of excitement, an eagerness she hadn’t expected. It wasn’t about the race itself, but about the people she was meeting, the connections she was making, and—perhaps most unexpectedly—what might lie ahead with Franco.

She was just about to head out of her hotel room when there was a knock on the door. She knew that knock—steady and familiar. Taking a deep breath, she opened it to find her brother standing there, his usual calm exterior softened by a quiet intensity in his gaze.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice low, his eyes searching hers.

She nodded, stepping back to let him in. She could tell he was a bit surprised when he saw the shirt she was wearing—the shirt of a rival team. He glanced at it, one brow raised slightly, but he didn’t comment, just closed the door behind him and leaned against the wall.

He took a deep breath, as if he’d been building up to this. “Are you… thinking of seeing him again?”

There was something tentative in the way he asked, a kind of brotherly concern that she hadn’t seen in a long time. She shrugged, trying to keep her tone casual. “Maybe. I’m considering it.”

He nodded slowly, looking away for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Then, almost hesitantly, he said, “Why are you okay with being seen with him, and not with me?”

The question landed heavily between them, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to answer. She looked at him, seeing the vulnerability in his expression, the unspoken hurt in his eyes. It was rare for him to open up like this, to say exactly what was on his mind. She let out a long breath, searching for the right words.

“It’s different,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Different how?” he pressed, his tone gentle but persistent.

She met his gaze, feeling a lump rise in her throat. She hadn’t realised just how much this division had affected them both, how much it lingered in moments like these. “I never felt like I was a part of your world,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “It wasn’t just about you. It was Dad, too. He… he made it clear that I wasn’t cut out to be a part of it. I wasn’t… enough. Not like you.”

He looked at her, the quiet hurt in his eyes turning into something deeper, something sadder. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

She gave him a small, sad smile. “How could you? You were busy making him proud. And you were great at it. I always saw how he looked at you, how proud he was of everything you were doing. He saw you as this… continuation of him, of his legacy. But me… I was never part of that.”

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he processed her words. “I never wanted it to be that way. I thought you just didn’t care about what we were doing. I thought you were happy doing your own thing.”

“I am,” she said, and she meant it. “Tennis is my world; it’s where I feel strong, where I feel like I belong. But… it didn’t come without sacrifices. I grew up watching you and Dad bond over racing, and it was like there was this door between us that was shut for good. I could watch, but I couldn’t be a part of it.”

There was a long pause, her brother absorbing her words, the weight of years of misunderstanding settling between them.

“I wish I’d known,” he said finally, his voice soft, tinged with regret. “I thought… I thought you didn’t want to be a part of it. I thought it didn’t matter to you if Dad and I had that bond. But I get it now. I see what it must’ve felt like, standing on the outside.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken years filling the space between them. And then he added, “You know, you don’t have to keep yourself hidden to be in my life, right? I get it now. But it doesn’t have to be like that.”

Her throat tightened, a wave of unexpected emotion rising within her. She’d spent so long feeling like an outsider in her own family, so sure that her brother had never noticed. But now, here he was, standing in front of her, wanting to bridge that gap.

“It’s hard to just undo it all,” she admitted. “Sometimes, it feels easier to just… stay on my own path. To keep these things separate.”

He nodded, understanding. “But if you’re thinking of seeing Franco… letting yourself be part of his world… doesn’t it mean you’re ready to be seen? To be yourself, even in places that are unfamiliar?”

She considered this, his words striking a chord deep within her. He wasn’t wrong. She’d spent so long hiding parts of herself, keeping herself separate to avoid comparison or judgement. But with Franco, she hadn’t felt the same need. For once, she had felt like she could be herself—no shadows, no expectations.

“I think… I just want to find something that’s mine,” she said finally. “A space where I’m not just ‘your sister,’ where I don’t have to carry someone else’s legacy.”

Her brother gave her a soft, understanding look. “You’ve already done that. You are more than just my sister. You’ve made a name for yourself that has nothing to do with anyone else. You’re not living in anyone’s shadow… but if you ever want to step into our world—my world—I’d like to be part of yours too. Just… let me be there for you, even if it’s only sometimes.”

She nodded, feeling a sense of warmth, a sense of connection that hadn’t been there before. Maybe there was room for both worlds, after all. For the first time, she felt like she didn’t have to choose.

“I’ll think about it,” she said softly, echoing her words from last night.

He smiled, a hint of relief in his eyes. “I hope you do.”

With that, he gave her a quick, reassuring squeeze on her shoulder, a wordless acknowledgment of the unspoken bond they shared. And as he left, she felt a sense of closure, a feeling that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to keep running from her family’s legacy to be seen as her own person. She could walk her own path, even if it sometimes crossed into theirs.

She arrived at the paddock a little while later, weaving her way through the bustle of race day, her heart beating a little faster than usual. Wearing Franco’s shirt under her blazer felt like a small, bold choice—one that had her both excited and slightly nervous. She walked through the crowd until she reached his team’s garage, where the energy was already crackling with anticipation.

As soon as she stepped in, Franco spotted her from across the garage. His face lit up the second he saw her, and he immediately started making his way toward her. When he was close enough, he lowered his voice and said in Spanish, a playful gleam in his eyes, “Wait here for just a second. Don’t move.”

Before she could respond, he turned and jogged back toward his driver’s room, leaving her standing in the middle of the garage, a little bewildered but smiling to herself. She watched as he disappeared into the room, curious about whatever he was planning. Within a moment, he was back, holding a bouquet of flowers—a mix of deep red roses and bright sunflowers, their colours vivid against the greys and metallics of the garage.

“For you,” he said, handing them over with a grin, his accent warm and lilting. His eyes softened as he added, “To celebrate your first race day as my guest.”

She took the bouquet, feeling a rush of warmth as she held the flowers. “You know, you didn’t have to do this,” she said, trying to hide the smile tugging at her lips. “I’m just here as… well, just as me.”

“And I think that’s worth celebrating,” he replied smoothly, his gaze locked on hers with unmistakable admiration. “Besides, you didn’t say no to the shirt, so I think I’m allowed a little celebration, no?”

She laughed, her cheeks warming as she looked down at the bouquet. “Alright, fine. You win. Thank you—they’re beautiful.”

Franco glanced around the garage, then leaned in slightly, dropping his voice to a playful murmur. “You know, you’re even more beautiful than I remember from last night. I thought maybe I was exaggerating, but… no. I wasn’t.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. “Careful, or I’ll start to think you’re trying to distract me from the race.”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, chuckling. Then, as if struck by a sudden idea, he looked around the garage again and spotted one of his engineers nearby. Franco gestured to the man, who quickly nodded, understanding exactly what Franco was after.

The engineer handed him a headset, and Franco turned back to her, holding it up. “Here—so you can listen in and watch from inside the garage. You’ll get the best seat here.”

She blinked, surprised by the gesture. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. You’ll get to hear all the comms, see how it all works up close. Plus”—he leaned in, his voice low—“you’ll have an excuse to stay around here.”

She shook her head with a smirk, taking the headset from him. “Alright. But only because you’ve convinced me with flowers and shameless flattery.”

“Good,” he replied, his grin widening as he watched her settle the headset over her ears. “I’ll keep it coming if it means you stay.”

As the team began their pre-race preparations, Franco showed her the best spot to watch from, and he took a few moments to explain some of the technical details. She found herself captivated, not just by the race, but by the way he was so eager to share his world with her. His enthusiasm was infectious, and despite herself, she felt the thrill of race day in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

Before he had to step away to start his own warm-up routine, he gave her one last look, his gaze holding a touch of that familiar mischievous glint. “Enjoy the show, princesa. And don’t go falling in love with the cars now—they’re not as charming as I am.”

She laughed, giving him a playful shove. “No promises.”

Franco winked, backing away with a grin as he joined the other drivers and team members preparing for the race. She stayed in the garage, feeling the weight of the headset and bouquet in her hands, both of them symbols of the way her world had shifted in just a few days.

As she watched him walk away, his words echoing in her ears, she realised just how different today felt. For the first time, she wasn’t just watching as an outsider; she was here, part of the energy, sharing a moment in his world, just as he’d promised. And maybe—just maybe—she was finally ready to be a part of something new.

The race was intense, the roar of engines filling the air as she watched Franco’s car weave through the track, making his way up from P16 to P12, gaining positions one by one with determined precision. Her heart raced with every turn, every overtake. She’d never felt the thrill of Formula One from this close before, and she found herself completely absorbed, balancing her attention between the live race and the screens in the garage that tracked every driver’s progress.

And then, in the final laps, her eyes moved to another part of the screen—a familiar car that was in the lead. A red car. Her brother was out front, defending his position with expert skill, pushing with everything he had toward the finish line. She held her breath, fingers tightening around the edges of the headset as she watched the seconds count down. When he crossed the finish line in first place, a feeling she hadn’t expected washed over her—pride, pure and radiant, filled her chest. She found herself clapping, cheering, a bright smile spreading across her face.

Franco, having just finished his own race and done the mandatory weigh-in and debrief with his engineers, finally found her in the garage. He looked exhausted but happy, his face still flushed from the adrenaline of the race. When he walked over, he paused, noticing the way her eyes were glued to the screen as her brother celebrated his victory, lifting his fists in the air in triumph.

“You’re glowing,” Franco murmured, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched her reaction.

She blinked, glancing back at him and realising how giddy she must look. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think it would feel like this. I’m just… so happy for him.” Her voice was breathless, filled with a genuine joy she couldn’t hide.

He chuckled, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from her face. “Then you should go to him. He’s probably waiting for you.”

She shook her head, hesitating, her gaze flickering back to the screen. “No, I couldn’t. I don’t… I don’t belong over there, with everyone. That’s his world.”

Franco tilted his head, giving her a knowing look. “Maybe that’s true most days. But today, you belong there just as much as anyone else. He’s your brother. Go celebrate with him. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

She bit her lip, uncertainty still holding her back. “I wouldn’t even know what to say.”

“Start with congratulations,” Franco said, flashing her a gentle, reassuring grin. “Trust me, it’ll be enough.”

He gestured toward the edge of the garage, where the barriers separated the track from the paddock. After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded, taking a shaky breath as he guided her forward. The crowd around them was roaring with excitement as her brother’s car was pulled into parc fermé, fans and teammates celebrating around him. She could feel her heart pounding, each step filling her with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness.

At the barrier, Franco gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Go on. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

With that, he released her hand, and she took a step forward, catching sight of her brother through the haze of people and cameras. He was laughing, practically glowing as he embraced his team, still basking in the thrill of his victory. And then, as if sensing her, he turned and saw her standing there, just beyond the barrier.

His expression softened, and a smile broke across his face, one that was filled with surprise and unmistakable happiness. Without a moment’s hesitation, he made his way over, reaching out to pull her into a tight, heartfelt hug. She hugged him back, feeling the last remnants of the old distance between them dissolve as she held her brother close, finally sharing in his moment.

When they pulled apart, he looked at her, pride shining in his eyes. “You came,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet gratitude. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

She laughed softly, tears threatening to sting her eyes. “I wouldn’t have missed it. I’m so proud of you.”

He grinned, leaning in to press a quick, brotherly kiss to her forehead. “Thank you. It means a lot that you’re here. Really.”

As the team around them cheered and the cameras continued to flash, she felt the enormity of the moment—a sense of belonging, not just as a tennis player, or his sister, but as herself.

She grinned at her brother, reaching up to ruffle his hair in a rare show of sibling affection. “Te quiero mucho, hermanito,” she said, her voice filled with warmth and pride. “I’m so proud of you, you know that?”

His smile softened, and he looked at her with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. “Te quiero también,” he replied, wrapping her in one last quick hug. “Thank you for being here. Really.”

The moment was brief but profound, a quiet reassurance that, despite the different worlds they had each chosen, they were still connected. He glanced back toward his team, who were waving him over for post-race celebrations and interviews.

“I have to go,” he said, releasing her. “But I’ll see you later?”

“Of course,” she replied, giving him a nod and a small wave as he returned to his crew. She watched him for a moment longer, feeling a sense of pride she hadn’t felt in years—one that was entirely unclouded by the complexities of the past. Then she turned and made her way back toward Franco’s garage, her heart still racing from the intense energy of the day.

When she found him, Franco was waiting near the garage entrance, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a proud smile lighting up his face as he saw her approach.

“You did it,” he said softly, admiration in his eyes. “You finally let yourself be a part of all this.”

As she reached Franco, he turned to face her, his expression softening with a mixture of pride and relief as he took her hands in his. Her heart pounded, the intensity of the day lingering between them like a magnetic pull. She gazed up at him, her breath catching as she saw the warmth in his eyes—the genuine care and admiration there, as if he saw every part of her that she had worked so hard to keep separate.

Without a word, she stepped closer, her hand moving up to rest gently against his cheek. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze searching hers, as if waiting for her to close the last small gap between them. Finally, she leaned up, closing her eyes as her lips met his in a slow, lingering kiss.

The world around them seemed to dissolve, the roar of the crowd and bustle of the paddock fading as the kiss deepened. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer, his touch both steady and tender. She felt the warmth of him seep into her, grounding her in the moment, and she responded instinctively, fingers threading through his hair as he held her tighter. There was a gentleness in his touch, but an undeniable passion too, a desire that built slowly between them.

Time slipped away as they shared this unguarded moment, the boundaries she had set for herself crumbling with every heartbeat. She could feel the strength in his arms, the quiet reassurance he offered, and a warmth that sparked through her, as if he was silently promising that he would be there, no matter what.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing a little harder, their foreheads touching as they lingered close, unwilling to step away. Franco’s thumb traced a gentle line along her jaw as he looked into her eyes, his gaze filled with an affection so deep that it nearly overwhelmed her. “I needed that push,” she murmured against his lips.

His arms came around her, but he laughed as he pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “Come on,” he said with a teasing glint, “the cameras have probably caught enough kissing for one day.”

She chuckled, letting him lead her back toward the quiet of his garage, away from the noise and eyes of the crowd. For the first time, she felt an undeniable sense of belonging—not just to the world she had worked so hard to create for herself, but to this moment, with him, with her family. She’d finally allowed herself to be part of it all, and it felt right in a way she hadn’t expected.

the end.

[i-like-writing-stuff]

never changing [ five hargreeves x reader ]

a/n: hi y’all! it’s been a hot minute since i’ve been on here, but after the absolute shit show that season 4 was, some sparks ignited in me to write up anything to take my mind off it 🙌

its not anything crazy, just fluff and banter since i haven’t written anything in years so it may be as poorly redacted as this season lmao

summary: five and y/n attend their niece birthday party together, yet separate

“Happy birthday, little Gracie!” You smiled widely, trying not to drop the wrapped present box as the six year old girl jumped into your arms, “Oh my gosh, look at you! You’re just getting prettier by day, aren’t you?”

You had just got off work in a hurry to make your appearance at the little girl’s birthday party at a decent time, in spite of the amount of paperwork you managed to bury yourself in lately. You knew how much it would have meant for the celebrated one to show up and you couldn’t bear to let her down, especially on her birthday.

After spending most of your life working for the Commission, and then a decent amount of time exhausting yourself in trying to stop multiple Apocalypses, your last six years have been pretty quiet as a lawyer. You really wanted to get out of the whole assassin thing, but at the same time couldn’t exactly move on from the thrill of the work field. Your career as a lawyer took off really well these past years, but inevitably it came along with the cost of always being stuck at work, so whenever your niece got the chance to see you, she was truly enthusiastic.

“Auntie Y/N!” She wrapped her tiny arms around your neck, engulfing you into a tight hug, “You are here!”

Nonetheless, these six years have been truly and undeniably the most peaceful time of your life for as long as you could remember.

“You literally saw each other the other day,” Five raised a brow, watching you and the celebrated one act as if you hadn’t seen each other in years.

You and the little girl shared a look, before rolling your eyes and turning to glare at the man next to you. Ever since Grace learned how to talk, you and her would gang up on her uncle for your amusement, especially since he was so keen on entertaining the banter.

These past six year have gone by in the blink of an eye, yet at the same time at a slow and steady pace. You spent most of your time working anyway, but still kept in touch with the seven siblings you’d grown to love.

Some in different ways than others.

“Uncle Five, you’re always more excited than me to see Aunt Y/N,” Gracie waved him off, making you burst out laughing, “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you anyway.”

“What is a good look on him anyway?” You smirked, making the little girl laugh, as Five swept her into his arms;

“Okay, munchkin, it’s your birthday today, but tomorrow I’m going back to bullying you,” He joked, causing you both to laugh, before the two shared a hug before you, “You’re lucky your gift has no return policy.”

The party had already started by the time you made it there. The playground was huddled by other kids around Grace’s age, along with their parents. The music was playing loudly over the laughter of children and you were pretty sure that most of the family had already arrived. It was not the most ideal gathering, but you tried your best to keep in touch with most of the family to your best capabilities.

“Y/N, I’m so glad you could make it!” Luther smiled, appearing from the crowd of guests, immediately giving you a big hug as his niece was still wrapped around Five, “Haven’t seen you since Thanksgiving!”

“Big shot lawyer doesn’t always have the time to stay in touch with family, huh?” Diego teased you, following suit, as you rolled your eyes, dropping off his daughter’s gift in his hands.

“Big shot delivery driver doesn’t know the phone works both ways, huh?” You smirked, putting your hands on your hips.

Diego laughed out loud as he gave you a hug, always in the mood for a back and forth short banter with you. After all, you truly were family, even if you didn’t always have the time to be present in the Hargreeves’ day to day lives. You may have met them in the original timeline in 2019, when you accidentally time traveled with your former partner at the Commission, Five, but after all you’ve been through, you didn’t need to have grown up together or be blood related to be considered that. And you truly were grateful for each and every single one of them, in spite of the many differences over the years.

After everything that’s happened six years ago at Hotel Oblivion, everyone went their separate ways. Allison was back with her daughter while trying to further her acting career and also help Klaus stay on the sober line, Viktor had moved to Canada where he opened a bar, Diego and Lila had three kids, Luther was “professionally dancing”, Ben had some run-ins with the law and Five, ironically enough, was working for the CIA.

“Well, you two are as annoying as always,” Ben told you and his brother, making Diego roll his eyes as he walked towards the gift table to set down your present.

“Please try to stay out of prison at least for the remainder of the year,” You joked with the man, making him roll his eyes as he hugged you loosely, “There’s only so much favors I could owe the DA.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ben groaned, “I don’t even know why they let you work at the law firm since you still look like a prepubescent with no boobs. Even Five got a growth spurt.”

“I sized up to B recently, thank you very much,” You nudged his shoulder, before placing your hands on your chest in an offended manner.

“Okay, Gracie, not a conversation you’d wanna hear,” Five spoke up, putting his niece down, “Your aunt needs to learn some etiquette on how to act around children.”

“Funny coming from you,” You couldn’t help but wave him off.

You didn’t come in with Five at the party, but as fate had it, you did run into him as you were parking your car. He had just gone out to his brother’s dusty van to bring inside some more cookies for the guests. You kept in touch with him as well, but not as often as you would have liked. It’s not all that serious, but given the fact that you were a lawyer still climbing your way to the top and him being a top notch CIA agent, you didn’t exactly have the time to hang out.

At least, not as much as you’d have liked.

Five was watching you with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and his hands in his pockets. He had the same look on his face as always when watching you. He had the same smile when he saw you in combat for the first time during your first mission for the Commission together, the same look in his eyes when you appeared for the first time in 2019 alongside him in your teen bodies. The same posture he had when he met you again in 1963 after months of not seeing each other.

He wore the same love on his face while looking at you when you and the siblings split up after the events at Oblivion.

And never once did you notice that.

Not once in these past six years you let your feelings surface.

“You know Grace is my niece too, right?” He couldn’t drop the small smile even if he wanted to.

“Since when are you such a family man?” You raised a brow, trying to keep a confident composure.

“Oh, something changed in me between the first and third time I traded the world for my siblings,” He lightly shrugged his shoulders, making you roll your eyes at the sarcastic remark.

You two never changed.

“Please, I was there for the twins birth,” You waved him off.

You rarely see Five, and even when you do you always try to act normal, as you do around the rest of the Hargreeves. Everyone tried to get you two together at first, since the apocalypse was over and there was no reason for you to not get together, right?

You really wished it was that easy. In hindsight, maybe it was. But you couldn’t take any chances in losing Five forever if something were to go wrong. Maybe some would see it as something stupid, or as if you wasted so many years, but to you- mentally, you were almost seventy, while physically nineteen. You had so much time ahead of you now, all that mattered was to get a stable career first.

Five let a chuckle escape, shaking his head in disbelief, as he looked at the floor for a couple of seconds. When he looked back at you, you tried to keep your composure. You couldn’t help but feel pathetic that after all these years, your heart still skipped a beat whenever he’d look at you.

“You’re doing that thing again where you forget that some other people are still around, guys,” Luther raised his hand, grabbing your attention once again.

“I got bored of watching seventy year old virgins,” Ben shrugged his shoulders, “I’m gonna go get shitfaced.”

“Always a delight seeing you, Benjamin,” Five said, as Luther followed the ex-tentacle boy suit to make re he was not about to actually get drunk;

“This is a six year old’s birthday party!”

You giggled, watching the two brothers speed away while arguing amongst the kids in the crowd. When your eyes laid back on Five, who was intently watching you, you couldn’t help but feel a small blush creep its way in your cheeks.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Spit it out, Hargreeves.”

“I said it’s nothing!”

“Fuck you.”

“Why?”

You watched him dumbfounded for a couple of seconds because of the only answer he could come up with, before walking away, hoping he would follow you.

When he did try to keep up with you, you looked away to hide the proud smile. Even after all these years, things were still the same with him. He was still so eager to spend time with you, he was still smiling at you and entertaining your conversation.

“Aunt Y/N, Uncle Five, come play in the ball pit!” Gracie ushered you from afar, already tucked in the plastic colorful balls.

“You heard the birthday girl!” You smiled, grabbing his hand to drag Five after you.

Even after all these years he would instantly lock his fingers with yours.

[evecolourshock]

....aaaand now i have fic

Apologies to all my RP buddies, stepping back from RP has made the stories runneth over

Tron hesitates, and then sinks into a booth Sam reserved for the this needs a drink kind of explanations. It is, he admits, a useful system given how little Sam knows of his father's work and Tron's own (admittedly patchy) knowledge of how things were before Clu messed with them.

"What's up?" Sam greets Tron, worry creasing that young face. "What happened, is something-"

"Nothing is more wrong than it was when you left eight millicycles ago." Tron soothes. It... kind of works. "More... I'm aware my question earlier was strange, and offer explanations." Because that's something he's learned to do, now. Explain.

Tron wishes he had this new skill when Beck- not going there.

Sam motions at him to go on.

"You'll have noticed by now a lot of things are named after me, and I keep on asking you to change them." Tron decides to start. Sam nods - that's good, he's aware of what Tron's on about. "I didn't have anything to do with the initial naming, that was all your father." Tron sips at the low-grade energy already on the table - it's nice on his scratchy throat, and if he wants a higher grade he can order it. "He... went a lot overboard with it, and I didn't notice."

Sam grimaces, aware of just how many things are named Tron-somethings. He's had to change a lot of them, and there's still more to go.

"By the time I found out... well. Too late to change it, and he didn't listen to my protests. Especially when I told him it was past flattering and well and truly into terrifying. In hindsight... it explains Clu. Or at least some of Clu's actions." Tron winces, reflexively hunching to protect his chest, feeling a phantom blade carve in again. Sam's hand on his arm brings him back to the now quicker than he would on his own (Beck, where's Beck-). "I was genuinely concerned he'd given you my name too."

"He tried." Sam tells him, and Tron's core sinks. Sam deserves better than to be saddled with that- "Mom overruled him. Gave me her dad's name instead and claimed family tradition. How true that is... I don't know. Never met that side of the family, or at least I don't remember."

"Your mother-" Tron takes a fraction of a picocycle to process this new User word, identifying within an error margin of 0.379% that it relates to the Jordan Flynn told him about, "-was an amazing woman, with the patience to put up with Flynn's antics and the strength to not let him get away with too many of them."

That startles a laugh out of Sam, and Tron smiles as best he can too. Sam's joy is infectious (rather like someone else Tron... knew, ow that hurts, leave that topic alone).

"Yeah." Sam murmurs, once the laughter fades. "Yeah, I bet she was." They sit in silence for a while, Program and User, contemplative and companionable.

"We were about to start work in Argon, right?" Sam doesn't question why Tron wants the desolate, burned ruins of a little port town restored, trusting there to be a good reason for this diversion of resources to a place that shouldd be low on the priority list. "Anything major to change there?"

"Nothing named after me, but..." Tron steeples his hands, the way he always does when nervous. "Could we... adjust the main square?"

"What to?"

"A memorial garden and park." Tron looks at the energy shimmering in his glass. Sam's been adding these relaxation spaces, indignant about the lack of peaceful areas to rest, and introduced plants for both the novelty and calm they bring. "Three connected but separate areas."

"Easy." Sam tells him confidently, and he's right now the jitters have subsided. "What would you like them named?"

"Renegade Park." Tron answers immediately, sure of it. "One garden for Beck, the other for Bodhi." Even now, he remembers. Beck had talked at length about Bodhi - the Ram to Beck's Tron, if Tron had to compare it. "...and maybe name an office block for Cyrus. That one's... something of an in-joke as well as a memorial."

Sam smiles at him, and for a moment Tron sees another adored fluffy-haired menace in his place. "I'll see what I can do."

Kevin: I can’t believe you didn’t get the hint. Like, I made so many things because you wanted them. I named tons of stuff after you. Like, Tron Cycles the unit of time, your Tron Tower, in Tron City, in the Tron system-

Tron: The what.

Kevin: This is the Tron system. That’s its official name in the source files, haven’t you seen?

Tron: KEVIN.

Kevin: What? I thought you’d like it!

Tron: There is a point where it goes past flattery and into terrifying!

Kevin: I’d say I should’ve stopped at the city, but obviously the system came first… Oh yeah, and I keep calling Alan ‘Tron’. Hehe, get it, because I thought you were Alan that first time and now the shoe’s on the other foot-

Tron: *faints*

(Later)

Sam logging in: Samuel T. Flynn.

Tron: what does the T stand for

Sam: Timothy. Why?

Tron: oh thank god

[unequivocallyreid]

Why Didn’t You Tell Me?

it has been SO long... i was suffering from serious writers block but it think i'm finally out of it :)

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: Spencer Reid used to be your best friend, but things changed. How long can you pretend that you don't love him before it ruins you?

warnings: angst! (with a happy ending), smut (unprotected piv), character loss, mention of Maeve, very sad Spencer, mental health struggles, drinking/bar scene, light choking, fighting, slight praise kink

wc: 8.8k 🤗

i’m very proud of this one! i hope you love it!

Every morning when you wake up, you feel a familiar and creeping sort of dread in the pit of your stomach.

Don’t get the wrong idea; you love your job. You love helping people and stopping horrible people from ruining any more lives, but the creeping feeling and desire to get out is always in the corner of your mind. Anyone working in this field would tell you that. There’s no absolute separation between you and the victims and their families. You take all of them home with you, and you just have to learn how to deal with that and not let it eat at you.

It doesn’t help that it’s an isolating job as well. The last time you were in a serious relationship was in college. Now, every date you have ends in disappointment. Not only do you lack interest in most of the men and women, but it couldn’t go anywhere even if you did. 75% of your time is spent in the office, on a jet, or hundreds of miles away from your home.

All of this contributes to the feeling, but the worst part of your job is Dr. Spencer Reid.

He’s secretive and dismissive and just about the most attractive person you’d ever seen. You honestly don’t know what is worse: his constant physical presence in your life or the fact that you can’t stop thinking about him no matter what you do. You’ve tried to get over it; you’ve buried yourself in work, lamented to your friends, and gone out on dates (all with guys that looked vaguely similar), but nothing has worked. All his worst traits grate your nerves and light you up at the same time.

The worst part of it all is that it wasn’t always like this. When you first joined the BAU nearly two years ago, you and Spencer got along well. You were friends, he talked to you about his life, he understood you, and you really severely fell for him. He became your best friend.

Everything changed around six months ago. Spencer started to develop migraines, and as those developed, he started distancing himself from you. He became snippy and closed off, he started hiding things from you, and he stopped talking to you about life outside of Quantico. It was like overnight, you became nothing to him, and you really didn’t understand. Everyone else on the team got the same old Spencer, but you went from his right-hand man to someone he only spoke to when it was necessary.

Maybe he didn’t deserve to be vilified. You know, realistically, he can and should be able to decide who he wants to be close to, but working with a man who unknowingly broke your heart was close to the hardest thing you’d ever done. So, you decided hating him was easier. The real emotions you feel toward him sit somewhere inside you, but they have been covered by manufactured distaste. Addressing the actual feeling would hurt too bad, so you pretend to hate the things you used to love.

Nothing, however, could have prepared you for the last case you worked on: helping Spencer save a girl he met about six months ago, a girl he loved. You tried to stay collected, you said nothing when Spencer assisted when he shouldn’t have, and goddamn, did you do everything in your power to find that girl. Maeve. She was perfect for Spencer, and you saw that immediately. Everyone did. The sight of him sobbing in front of her body is one that will never leave your mind.

Now, two weeks later, no one has heard from Reid. The only indication that he hasn’t abandoned his life altogether is the absence of the gift baskets on his doorstep that Pen leaves daily.

Nearly everyone has been to his apartment, but they are met with a closed door and have yet to receive a response. Everyone but you.

Penelope is the first to bring up your lack of appearance at the end of a long day of paperwork.

“Y/n, please, you just have to try. No one is getting anything from him.”

“I really don’t think my presence would do any good,” you pause for a moment, trying to collect the thoughts running through your head like a freight train. “Me and him haven’t been close in a long time, Pen.”

Before you can continue, she cuts in, “Everyone has tried, Y/n. Hell, I’ve even considered tracking down Gideon, and I really, really do not want to do that.”

She pauses for a moment before looking up at you with a pout on her face, “Please, Y/n, for me. I can’t bear the thought of him in there all alone, just wasting away in grief.”

For someone who claims not to be a profiler, Penelope knew exactly what to say to get you to agree. She’s the only person in your life who you told about how you felt, though you’re sure everyone else (aside from Spencer) knew: you’re shit at keeping secrets.

“Okay, okay, I’ll try.”

She nearly bursts with excitement, “Thank God-“

You cut her off before she can finish, “But I’m telling you, I’m not the person he wants to hear from right now. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Yes, yes. I just want him to know we all want him to be okay.”

Before you can hurry out of the office to follow Pen’s instructions, she stops you and hands you a basket full of assorted snacks and fruits.

“Make sure he eats!”

The walk up to Spencer’s apartment is a hard one to take. The smell of his building hits you as soon as you step into the lobby. From there, everything rushes back at once. Memories of nights you spent watching reruns of Doctor Who or listening to him prattle off about whatever he last read assault you with every step. As you slowly make your way up, you start to question why you agreed to do this in the first place.

You feel a lot toward Reid. More than you should and less than you could. But all that care and feelings that are so close to love aren’t enough to make you forget why you’ve been trying to hate him for so long. He deserted you without an explanation and cut you off without a warning. You spent weeks (three months) crying over him like a love-struck teen. So, as much as you want to hold him and comfort him, you know it’ll hurt you to do so. Penelope sent you, with the whole team’s approval, you’re sure, to try to patch up a broken heart he got loving someone else. There’s a sickness in your gut, but it’s not enough to stop you from rapping your knuckles against his door.

“Spencer? It’s Y/n.”

There’s no response.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear from me right now, but I want to make sure you’re alright. Can you tell me you’re alright?”

Again, nothing.

You know he’s there. Despite your lack of communication, you know Spencer well enough to know that he would never leave his life behind entirely. That being said, your next few attempts at garnering a response are unsuccessful.

You decide to try one final time before just leaving the basket alone on his doorstep and texting Pen it was a bust.

“There’s a lot I don’t know about you now, and I won’t pretend to know what you’re feeling.”

You don’t exactly know where this is headed, but you continue on regardless.

“I know you’re in there, and I know you can hear me, and I know you’re hurting. You shouldn’t- I don’t want you to be alone right now, Spence. You can either unlock your door, or I can pick it, but I’m coming in one way or the other. You know I will.”

You wouldn’t, actually. It’s a last-ditch effort, and it’s met with the same silence you’ve heard on the other side for the past ten minutes. You’re about to turn to head back down the stairs when you hear the very faint sound of a deadbolt turning.

There’s no other sound or movement, and for a moment, you think you might’ve imagined the sound, but you try the handle anyway. It turns, and the door slides open. You take a step in.

“Spencer,” you call out to him.

You don’t see him at first in the mess of his apartment, but when you do, you feel a crack form in your heart.

Beyond the clutter of his entryway, you see his back on the couch. His frame looks smaller than you’ve ever seen it, and you can see his legs curled into his chest. You set down the gift basket by a collection of others on the entry table and walk over to him. Slowly, like you’re trying not to spook a lost dog, you creep in front of him.

His head is down, and his gaze stays trained on his knees.

You reach out your hand and lay it over his. He flinches but doesn’t pull away.

“Spence, I’m so glad you opened the door.”

You didn’t plan out what you would say, but ‘sorry’ feels redundant and useless.

You go on, “I’m here. I- I don’t know what to do or say, and I’m sorry that I don’t. I can get someone else for you. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

You wait for him to say he wants Penelope or JJ, but it doesn’t come. Nothing comes. You start to move to get up, figuring you could clean up a bit and try to make him something to eat, then go, but he grasps your arm before you can.

He looks up at you, and his eyes hit you right in the gut. They’re bloodshot and sunken but still beautiful.

“Stay. Please. I just- I need to know I’m not dreaming. I keep thinking I’m dreaming.”

His voice is croaky from disuse and breaks at the end, but it’s so heartbreakingly earnest that you feel your breath catch. You move from your crouch and sit beside him on the couch; your hand is still in his.

You stay like that for a long time. His breathing is shakey and uneven, and every so often, his body shakes with what you can only assume are sobs. You stay pressed to his side the whole time, thumb rubbing back and forth over his hand.

Eventually, you speak again, “I’m gonna get you some food, Spence. You should eat.”

He says nothing back, but he does loosen his grip. You push yourself up from the coach with a promise you’ll be as fast as possible.

His kitchen is nearly empty, and you hope he’s been eating from the baskets. Still, you find enough to make noodles and butter, and you figure the carbs should help his energy some.

You return with the bowl. Spencer hasn’t moved, but his head follows you as you walk back over to him.

“It’s not fine dining.”

He studied you for a second, and you catch a glimpse of the old him in his eye.

“You did the same thing when I was sick on a case a year ago.”

You smile at his recollection.

“It helped you then.”

The rest of the night is spent mostly in silence. Occasionally, you tell him something to try to remind him that you’re there and that you won’t leave as long as he wants you there. Eventually, you get up from the couch again.

“Spencer, it’s too late to still be awake.”

He nods and still says nothing, but he is far more receptive than before. You reach your hand out to him to help him up from the couch, and he takes it.

He leads you to his room at a slow pace. His head stays down as you both take a seat on his bed, hands still interlocked. Being in his bedroom is odd for you. You’ve been to his apartment quite a few times before he disappeared from your life, but you never breached this space. It’s all very him. Almost surprisingly cozy, with books scattered around nearly everywhere there’s space.

You take in the moment for a beat before saying, “I’m gonna head home, Spencer, but please call me if you need anything at all. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

This makes his head snap up, and his eyes lock with yours.

“Please stay.”

That’s all he says, but every part of him is pleading with you. It’s not a good idea, and you know it. You’re the only person he’s seen in days, you aren’t close anymore, and you don’t particularly want to sleep on a couch tonight.

“Spencer, I don’t want to sleep in your living room tonight. I’ll come back.”

He pauses for a moment, “You can stay here with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

Your heart cracks again. There was a time when this was all you wanted. It’s still, deep down, all you want, just not like this. You know he doesn’t really want you there and he’s not himself. But you aren’t strong enough to say no, so you don’t.

He gets you clothes to wear, and you change in his bathroom. You come out and find him in his bed, laying with his back to you. You have no fucking idea what you’re doing, but you get into bed next to him anyways. There are a thousand thoughts racing through your head, but the prevailing one is how badly you want to touch him, to hold him, to make him forget, just for the night. You stay still, though, confined to the edge of the bed and start to count to drown out the noise.

Though, you can’t drown out his voice, saying, “Can- Could you hold me? I think that everything feels better when you touch me.”

Another crack. By the end of this, you know Spencer Reid is going to break your heart all over again.

~

When you wake up the next morning, Spencer is still asleep. You sneak out of his room and call Hotch. When he answers, you tell him Spencer has let you in, and you ask for time off to try to help. You can tell from his voice that he doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but he grants you it anyway.

Much of your day is spent like the night before. You stay next to Spencer, and you cook for him after leaving to pick up clothes and groceries. Then, you get him to shower and wash his hair. He sleeps with his head in your lap, and you feel like a fucking idiot at first, but as long as it’s helping him in some way, you let it happen.

That’s the thing: you don’t really know how to help him. You know he isn’t the type to talk about something until he is entirely ready, so all you can do is add something domestic and bright to his life while he grieves. It’s all you can think about in the moments of silence. Hell, you even read to him to try and get your mind off of it, but it barely helps.

The night is the same. You change in different rooms and slip into his bed at different times. You feel dirty for imagining what it would be like if the circumstances were different: if he wanted you like you have wanted him for the past two years. You hold him against you, and you pray for sign that you should be there.

The sign comes the following morning when Derek calls you.

“Y/n…”

You can hear his teasing tone over the phone.

“Hi, Derek.”

“What are you doing, mamas?”

You sigh, “What do you mean?”

You’re playing coy. You know he’s wondering why you’re at Spencer’s house, picking up the pieces, but you won’t be the one to bring it up.

“Why’d you ask Hotch for the week off, Y/n?”

Another sigh, “You know why, Derek. I just, I want to help him.”

“I know you do, Y/n, I know.”

He pauses for a moment, and you let the moment fill with silence.

“I know you care about him. We all care about him. But who is taking care of you?”

“I am. I can take care of him, and I can take care of me.”

“I know you can, but I don’t want you to get hurt, Y/n. Don’t let this be something that hurts you.”

“It won’t. I- You have to- Fuck, I’ll be fine. He’s not fine. I don’t care about me or any feelings that may get hurt right now. I’ll be fine.”

There’s another bear of silence, “Okay, Y/n. Just know you’re allowed to tap out.”

You try to think of anything else to say, but nothing comes, so you say your goodbyes.

You won’t need to tap out. You can take care of him and be good to him and ignore the other feelings you have. You can be good.

The call does make you think it’s time to push, to try harder, to help him get better. So, you approach him that day before bed, before he tucks himself into your arms and falls into a fretful sleep.

“Spencer?”

He takes a moment and then responds, “Yes?”

“You have to talk about it. I think that you need to talk about it. It doesn’t have to be to me but to someone.”

He’s quiet for a long time, and your breath is caught in your throat, waiting for him to say anything.

“I- I don’t want to,” his voice cracks while he says it.

“Spence, you can’t come back if you don’t. You can’t move forward if you don’t.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

A ringing echos in your ears.

“You don’t mean that. She- she would want you to keep going.”

Wrong thing to say.

“You don’t know anything about what she would want.”

He’s seething now, below the surface, but smoke has started to plume from his ears. Still, you don’t stop.

“Spencer, everyone knows that. No one would want you to put your life on hold.”

He speaks his next line through his teeth, “You don’t know anything, Y/n.”

You’ve never heard him sound so angry.

“Spencer-“

“No, just stop. You don’t know her. You don’t know me half as well as you think you do. You don’t know anything. I don’t even know why you’re here. I don’t want you here. You can't be what I need.”

The ringing in your ears is louder.

“Spencer, please. Just-“

“No!” His voice is raised now, bordering on a yell, “I don’t want you here. I want you out, Y/n.”

This has to be what shell shock feels like. The ringing, the tingle in your limbs, and the heat in your face. You don’t know how you are moving, but you are.

His voice is echoing in your head, or maybe he’s still talking, but you can’t tell either way. The only thing you can focus on is how Spencer sounded like he hates you and that Morgan was right about the hurt.

~

You spend the next day trying desperately to shut down the noise in your head. It doesn’t work. The day after is the same. And the days following that. You ignore calls when they come, you ignore the texts, but you can’t stop looking at your phone for a message from the man who fills your thoughts.

Spencer doesn’t call, obviously, and you have to sit with a pit in your stomach while you beg yourself to just get the fuck over it. Two years of reckoning with the severity of your love, months of watching him live happily without you, and it’s the three days you spent trying to help him feel incrementally better that floor you.

You feel like a dumb teenage girl with so much love and nothing to do with it. On top of everything, you feel selfish. Spencer lost the love of his life forever, and you’re nursing the worst heartbreak of your life because a boy will never want you and never has. Still, you send out prayers for him over and over. You hope you’ll see him in the BAU again, even if his eyes glaze over you. Hell, even if they look at you with hate the way they did two days ago. You just want him to function. You want him to be good and eventually be happy. You try to go to bed with soothing thoughts, but you end up with a mantra of his name.

You wake to your alarm and dress for work before you realize you aren’t actually supposed to go back yet. You never set a date to return. You wanted to be open as long as Spencer needed you. You’re supposed to be with him. You’re supposed to be helping and not tapping out. But you aren’t.

You have no reason not to return to the bullpen, so you do. You walk in and feel eyes on you. You wait for Morgan to call out to you, but he doesn’t, so you follow the feeling.

Your breath catches in your throat; it’s Spencer. He’s sitting at his desk, paperwork spread out, and he doesn’t look away from your gaze; he just holds it. His face is unreadable, and yours is definitely not, so you look away first. You don’t look up again until you reach Hotch’s office. You knock and hear him call out to come in.

“I’m back if that’s okay.”

He looks up at you, and you want to cry. You know he can read you. He has always been the best at it.

“Are you okay with that, Y/l/n?”

You lock eyes with him, “Yes, sir.”

It’s no use; he knows your tells and you aren’t being honest.

“Alright, conference room in five.”

Whatever he sees in your face, he ignores and takes you at your word, but there’s a warning in his tone. He knows when to let things go and when to push. More than that, though, he knows you’d never let something like this affect your work.

~

The first case back is in Maryland, and the one after is in Austin, and the next is in Philadelphia with The Replicator. The job takes you all over the country, and the cases blend together. You don’t speak to Spencer through all of it. You’re never partnered, never work together, you sit on opposite ends of the jet. You don’t even speak at Strauss’ funeral. It’s radio silent, and everyone notices it, but no one brings it up.

In that time, you allow yourself to slip away slightly. You don’t go out with the team, you see Pen at nearly half frequency, and basically, the only time you speak is on cases. It’s stupid and melodramatic, but you call it healing. Derek tries to reason with you, JJ sticks to you a bit more than usual, and Penelope calls you virtually whenever she can, but their efforts are mostly in vain. This is your way of protecting yourself. You feel like you have to isolate in order to improve, and you know, given time, you will come back to yourself.

Penelope’s insistence that you go to her Day of the Dead celebration breaks your distance.

“Y/n, please come. I know you aren’t going out, but you have to. I know you have people to honor, and I need you there.”

You sigh, “Whose going, Pen?”

“The team, which you are a part of, so you must be there.”

“I don’t think I can do that. I promise you I will celebrate with you. I’ll help you set up, just please don’t make me go.”

Penelope pauses, but the glint in her eye keys you into the fact that she is not interested in giving up.

“We miss you, Y/n. Everyone loves you and misses you. You’ve been living this stupid, isolated life, and it’s time for you to come back. You are not this person. I refuse to believe it. You’re coming, and that’s final.”

Maybe you don’t have the energy to argue, or maybe you know she’s right, but you agree to go.

~

The thought of seeing him makes your heart race, and the clock you keep glancing at makes it worse. Just a few more hours before you're trapped in a confined space (Pen’s beautiful home) with a man you haven’t spoken to in weeks.

You busy yourself with preparing. Lights are hung, food is made, and you make a trip to the store while Pen sets up her remembrance table. When everything is said and done, you can’t help but feel this is the most beautiful thing you’ve been a part of in a long time.

The first knock comes at 7:30 exactly, and it’s Hotch and Rossi. They are followed closely by Blake, then Derek and JJ. By 7:00, the atmosphere is light and loving, and you feel a bit of your anxiety let up as the minutes go by without Reid. But, eventually, the knock comes, of course it does, and you move into a corner as Spencer walks in. You feel a shift in energy, though you doubt it’s palpable for anyone else. Rossi is the first to make his way over to you, and his presence comforts you nearly immediately.

“How you doing, kid?” His voice is soft like he’s speaking to a scared rabbit.

“I’m better,” you say, and it’s about as honest as you can get. As much as you’d like to think he knows nothing about what’s gone on, you’re smarter than that. He’s the best profiler on the team, and he’s always known when someone was off with you. Even so, you are better than you were, even if you aren’t quite good, and you know he believes you.

There’s some idle conversation between you before he asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not tonight. I don’t know when, but I will. Eventually, I will.”

It’s good enough for him, and you move on easily, which surprises you.

Right before Pen gathers you all to present your photos, he says, “Sometimes we think we’ve seen the whole picture, but we miss a big part. People do things because they don’t want to be hurt, but those things hurt them more. Just, be open.”

You don’t quite understand what he means, but you hope you will.

Penelope presents the first picture, which shows her parents. JJ honors her sister, Derek, his dad, Hotch Haley, and Rossi, Hernandez; then it’s your turn. You place down a photo of your best friend. You hadn’t talked much about her, but you think of her daily. She passed a few years before you joined the BAU.

“I was lucky to have someone that hurt that much to lose.”

That’s all you say, but it’s enough for you, and it would be enough for her.

Spencer is last. He places down a picture of Tesla and a picture of Maeve. Your heart is heavy for everyone.

The night dwindles from there. Hotch and Rossi say their goodbyes, and Rossi gives you a knowing look as he leaves. You just smile. You stay for a few minutes after, but eventually, you move to leave as well.

You make it down Garcia’s porch before you feel a hand grab your arm. You turn, and it’s Spencer’s face you see.

“Would you- Do you think you could come over? Do you think we could talk?”

~

The feeling you have walking up to Spencer's apartment is similar to what you felt the last time. You’re incredibly anxious, but at least you know you’ll be let in this time.

The drive over was silent. Spencer had taken the metro to Penelope’s, so he rode with you. It wasn’t necessarily awkward. There was just an understanding that the car wasn’t the place to begin your conversation.

Now, as Spencer unlocked his door, it’s one of those rare moments you felt starved for words, and you know it’s because you’re scared you’ll say the wrong thing and face the same reaction that you did the last time you were in his home.

He leads you to his living room and motions for you to sit, and you do. The two of you are on opposite ends of his couch while you wait for him to say something.

His first words are airy and light, “Thank you for letting me talk to you.”

You look at him but remain silent, waiting for him to go on. All you can think about is why he wants to speak to you at all. The last time you spoke, he made it incredibly clear he did not want you in his life or around him at all.

Before you can think about it more and let your anger and sadness build, he speaks again, “I feel really stupid right now. I kind of feel stupid whenever I’m around you recently.”

He pauses momentarily before going on, “I’m so, so sorry, Y/n. About the last time we spoke. I’ve been thinking about it pretty constantly for the past few weeks.”

You open your mouth, unsure of what exactly to say, but you can’t get there before he’s off again.

“I’m not sure how to talk to you anymore. I don’t think I’ve known how to for a long time. I just, I need you to know how sorry I am for speaking to you like that.”

He takes a shakey breath but keeps going, “That wasn’t me, and that isn’t how I feel. I’m just unbelievably sorry, Y/n.”

He stops there, and you work to collect your thoughts.

“I know. A part of me knows, at least, that you didn’t mean it. I just wanted to be there for you, and hearing that made me- I just- I think it made me hate myself for wanting to be there.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m unbelievably sorry.”

“You didn’t talk to me for months, Spencer. I just don’t understand. I don’t understand why you let me in in the first place. I thought you hated me.”

He’s silent for a long minute.

“I never hated you, Y/n. I just stopped knowing how to act around you, and then I met Maeve. I fell so deep into it that I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. I- And I just started to feel like you didn’t want me to speak to you, so I didn’t. But, when you came here, after everything, I guess I just felt like you were the only person who would get it. You never, no one on the team ever treated me or talked to me how you did. I just wanted that.”

Tears had begun to well in your eyes now. A part of you gets what he means, at least about letting you in, but the other part is so confused as to why he stopped being comfortable around you.

“I don’t understand, Spencer. Why did you stop knowing how to be around me?”

There’s desperation in your voice that makes you sound like a stranger to yourself. Maybe you’re a stranger to everyone right now.

“I uh, I don’t really know.”

“That's not fair, Spence.”

You’re crying now. Just a little bit, but you can feel the wetness on your cheeks. You can see that you are by the look on his face. He looks broken, and you know it's a reflection of your own image.

You wipe your face, “Thank you for apologizing, Spencer. I just, there are parts of this all that I don’t understand, and if you can't explain them to me, I don’t think I ever will.”

“Y/n-,” he calls out your name like a prayer.

“It’s okay, Spence. You don’t have to say anything more. We talked, and things will go back to how they were eventually.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

You smile sadly as you get up to leave.

“I am, too, for what it's worth. For whatever I did to make things change in the first place.”

You leave it at that, and it takes everything in you not to look back as you leave his apartment.

~

Things do get easier after that. Not completely. You still love him, and it hurts, but it helps to know he doesn’t hate you. He talks to you some, cordial things, and you do the same. You're sure your teammates still sense something is off, but this works for you. Right now, it works. Getting over him, not loving him anymore, is going to take work, but eventually, you know that you won’t hurt anymore.

Shortly after you and him talked, you started going back out with your friends. Spencer joined periodically, but that was normal. Bars were never really his scene.

Tonight, everyone gathers at your local pub. Your last case was particularly grueling, and you all need a way to blow off some steam. It's fun, and you feel good, even with Spencer sitting across from you. You feel proud of yourself for getting to this point.

JJ and Penelope feed you drinks to try and get you to dance, and you let them. Tonight feels as good of a night as any to ‘get back out there’ as Pen says. So, you do. You dance with them, and you ward off the other cops and agents around you who try to pull you away from your group. You aren’t interested in that. Right now, you're just having an appropriate amount of fun for a woman 15 feet from her boss.

Time goes by quickly, and by the time you get back to the table, you, Derek, Penelope, and JJ remain. He tells you that Hotch, Rossi, Reid, and Alex left a few minutes before. The conversation between you flows for a while, up until the drinks loosen Penelope up enough to bring up what you were pretty sure the team designated a no-no topic.

“Y/n, you have to talk about it.”

You’re still laughing as something Derek said when you reply, “What?”

“You know what. You and Boy-Genius. What on Earth happened? You went from ice-cold to semi-friendly. None of us saw it coming.”

“Babygirl-,” Derek tries to stop her, but you cut him off.

“No, it’s okay. I have to talk about it at some point, and I think right now is the only time I’ll be tipsy enough to let you get it out of me.”

You're still laughing slightly, but the pit that's lived in your stomach for the past few months starts to rear its head.

“After your Day of the Dead party, he asked to talk to me. I went to his place, and he apologized. I don’t really understand what he said or what he meant, but I can’t be sad about him forever.”

Pen perks up a bit at that, “I knew that party would bring good things!”

You giggle a bit at her outburst, but then JJ asks, “What did he say?”

The faces around you all tune in at that. You know they don’t see this as gossip. They care about you both too much to trivialize it like that.

“He just said that he stopped knowing how to act around me, and he didn’t know why, but then he met Maeve, and I guess it didn’t matter so much after that. He was my best friend, and then he was nothing.”

JJ shares a glance with Derek and then speaks, “Oh, Y/n.”

“What?”

After a beat, Derek says, “He didn’t just not know how to act around you.”

Now you're confused, “What do you mean? I talked to him, that's what he said. He didn’t know why. I mean, he knows everything and didn’t know why he didn’t want to be around me anymore. How fucking stupid is that.”

You laugh again, but it does come off as genuine in the slightest.

“Y/n, he probably doesn’t really know why. At least not fully. For someone as smart as he is, the kid can be really stupid.”

“Stop being cryptic.”

Derek sighs but goes on, “Pretty girl, pretty boy was in love with you. Probably still is. He just didn’t think you’d ever feel the same.”

“No. That's not true.”

You look at the others around you, but their faces are serious.

“He loved Maeve. He loves Maeve. That, that doesn’t make any sense.”

It's JJ’s turn to talk now.

“He definitely did love Maeve, no one is denying that, but we all saw how he was around you. His whole relationship with her was safe. He couldn’t be hurt by her rejection every day because he had no way of seeing her. With you, he could.”

Your mind is moving a mile a minute, “Did he tell you guys this?”

Penelope puts her hand over yours and says, “He didn’t have to, love. We all say the way he looked at you and acted around you. The way he talked about you. That boy was head over heels.”

“Guys, I appreciate whatever you’re trying to do, but this isn’t real. Spencer doesn’t- this is not real.”

“Y/n, pause. Think about the way he acted around you, the things he said. Think about how Reid is.”

You hear what Derek said, but it all sounds faint like someone stuffed your ears with cotton while you weren't paying attention. All you can focus on are the different scenes running through your head, the scenes of your life with Spencer in it. How he memorized your coffee order and brought it for you every day, how he never shied away from your touch despite his aversion to contact, how he consistently went out of his way to protect you on the field. At his house after everything, the way he clung to you and wanted to be held. How he said in his own words, “You can't be what I need”; not “you aren’t,” but “you can’t.”

Your whole world is crashing down in this bar, and you can’t do anything to stop it.

“Y/n?”

JJ’s voice snaps you out of your spiral.

“Just go talk to him.”

You nod mutely, and you get up.

~

Everything in the last ten months of your life has led you to the exact spot you were when everything blew up in the first place: Spencer’s door.

This time, you aren't too worried about him not letting you in. If anything, it's the opposite. Him opening this door could open a hundred others, and you don’t quite know if you are ready for any of them. You sit there and sit there and sit there, trying to work up the courage to knock, though you aren’t sure it's there to begin with. Right as you're about to walk away and decide you’ll come back another day, his door swings open.

“Y/n?”

His face is lit up with shock, and you notice his hand that is not on the door is holding his pistol.

“What are you doing here?”

You don’t answer, “Why did you open the door?”

He sets his piece down on the entry table before responding, “I heard footsteps in the hall and saw they stopped here. I was anxious. 50.3% of home invasions happen between 8:00 pm and 7:00 am.” He cuts himself off there, “Y/n, why are you here?”

You didn’t pay attention to anything he said. All you could think about was the way his lips were moving and the way his eyes locked onto yours as he talked.

“Do you love me?”

That is not what you wanted to say.

His lips fall open as he takes in a sharp breath, “What?”

“Or I guess did you love me? Before everything? Because Derek and JJ and Pen, they all said that you loved me, and now I can’t think about anything else, Spencer.”

He doesn’t speak, but you don't really give him a chance to.

“I just, I know I sound crazy right now, but I feel fucking crazy. I keep going over everything in my head, and I have been, for the past year I have been, but now it’s all different. It's all different because they said that you loved me, but you didn’t think I’d feel the same way.”

Here, you do pause, but he still doesn’t say anything, so you go on before you can stop yourself.

“Because if that's true, Spencer, it's just- I did. I do. And if it's not, then please just tell me so I can stop feeling this way.”

He sounds resigned when he says, “Y/n,” and you feel like you know what that means.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I'm doing this. You don’t have to say anything. Actually, please don’t say anything. I don't think I can hear it. Just pretend I never-”

He cuts off your ramble, “Y/n, stop.”

You draw your eyes from the floor, look up at him, and find something in his gaze you have never seen before. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you, and it takes everything you have not to look away. His hand raises to cup your jaw, and your skin lights on fire. Before you can process what he’s doing, you feel his lips press against yours, and something clicks. At first, his touch is light, like he’s giving you the chance to pull away. But, when he grasps that you won’t, he presses himself to you harder, and all you can think about is how nothing has ever felt so right.

His lips move against yours, and you don’t know how you're managing to reciprocate because it feels like everything in your body has gone fuzzy. The kiss is by no means long, but it feels like it lasts forever, and by the time he pulls away, you’re breathless.

His forehead stays connected to yours, and he whispers, “I do, Y/n, love you. I have.”

You don’t feel the tears on your cheeks until he’s wiping them away.

“Oh, Y/n.”

“Did you know? That you did? Is that why…”

You trail off, hoping he’ll pick up on what you're asking, and he does.

“I didn’t at first, or I didn’t realize I was falling in love with you until it happened. I got scared, so I ran. I just never thought that you could feel the same or that I was hurting you. I didn’t realize that. I just thought I was doing what was best for us. I felt guilty for being in love with my best friend.”

“And Maeve?”

“I loved Maeve. I’ll always have love for her. I was trying to move on, and I thought I could eventually be with her and be around you without it hurting. I wish I would have told you this before.”

“You’re telling me now. That's enough.”

This time, it's you who pushes your lips to meet his. Your arms snake around his neck, and his fall to your waist. You follow when he pulls you into his apartment and closes the door. There is still pain on both sides, but you can feel it dissipating as you cling to each other. You’re just two broken people who have finally found a way to each other.

This kiss is different, hungrier. Neither of you pulls away for longer than a few seconds as you navigate your way from his entryway to his couch. Every touch is desperate like you're searching for something you never knew existed until now. His hands pull you closer and closer until he's pulling you on top of him, and each of your legs rests on opposite sides of his hips.

Your lips break from his for a moment, “What do you want, Spence?”

His reply is instant, “You.”

From there, things move faster. Your hands unbutton his shirt and push it from his shoulders while he undoes your pants. There are moments of awkwardness that come with exploring another for the first time, but it feels good. His hands trace over your hips and push further until you're left on top of him in only your underwear and bra. He takes you in like you are something to be marveled at, and you know your eyes reflect the same adoration.

You raise yourself off of him and work to get him in the same state of undress as you, and when you position yourself on top of him, you feel his length press against your center. The two thin layers of fabric do little to hinder the intensity as you rock into him. He lets out quiet moans at the action as his lips trace down your neck and over your collarbone.

His breath ghosts over you and makes you shiver when he asks, “Can I touch you?”

“Please.”

His hand moves between the two of you, and his fingers find your clit easily, rubbing circles over the fabric of your panties. You pant his name against his lips at the action. You feel like your whole body is lit up, and under any other circumstance, you'd feel embarrassed at how worked up you are, but you can’t seem to care.

After a few moments, he lifts you up and carries you to his bedroom. From there, he positions you below him on the bed, removing your remaining clothes in the same motion. The new setup lets you grip him, and he feels big in your hand. His fingers resume their previous assault before dipping down into you. You cry out at the feeling of him inside you, slowly pushing in and out, finding a spot that makes your legs start to shake. He’s relentless in his pursuit and all you can muster up the energy to say is his name.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n.”

It's somewhere between a whimper and a whisper, but the sound of his voice causes you to clench around his fingers.

He picks up on this, of course he does, and quickens his pace as he coos at you.

“So pretty like this. I’m so lucky.”

You’re embarrassingly close already, so when he moves his thumb over your clit to rub circles as he fucks into you with his fingers, you come undone almost instantly with a warning and cry of his name. He works you through your orgasm, all while whispering praise in your ear. Once you come down from your high, you start to push his boxers down his legs, but he stops you before you can fully.

“We don’t have to do anything more, Y/n. I liked just making you feel good.”

“I want more. I want to feel you if you want that too.”

“Of course I do. I just don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I couldn’t regret this, Spencer. I love you. I want all of you.”

It's the first time you’ve actually said those three words to him, and it feels so fucking good to say.

“I love you, too. God, so much.”

With that, he positions himself back on top of you, running his fingers over your slit gently before gripping himself.

“Do you have a condom?”

“I might somewhere, but I have an IUD, and I’m clean. I can try to find one if you’re more comfortable with that?”

“IUDs have a failure rate of around .05% and are largely considered the most effective form of birth control, so uh, as long as you're okay with it, I am.”

You smile to yourself at his statistic but nod, “I want to feel you, Spencer.”

He returns your smile before rubbing his length over your entrance a few times and slowly pushing himself into you just slightly. He teases you, or maybe himself, for a moment before fully entering you. You push your hips up to meet his, and feeling him in his entirety makes your jaw fall open. He’s big, and you feel unbelievably full.

He waits a moment for you to adjust before he starts to develop a rhythm. His hands are everywhere, but his eyes are focused solely on your face like he doesn’t want to miss a moment of your reaction to him inside of you. To be fair, you are probably putting on a good show. Every movement he makes hits you in exactly the right spot, and you don’t think you could be louder if you tried. You can feel the leg he’s not holding up against his shoulder shake against the bed. Your first orgasm has made way for your second to be incredibly close.

“Spencer, please.”

You’re crying out, desperate for a little more to push you over the edge.

“What do you need, baby?” His voice is tight like he’s not far himself, and it sounds better than anything you’ve ever heard.

“Harder. Please, harder.”

He takes your direction immediately, rubbing circles on your clit with one hand while he thrusts into you with a bruising force. He’s fucking you like he wants you to remember the feeling long after he stops, and you know that you will. Everything about it is overwhelming: his smell, his pace, his eyes. You are covered in him, and he is covered in you.

After a moment, the hand he had on your stomach trails up to grasp lightly at your throat, and you fall into feeling. You can’t warn him that you're about to come before you do. The feeling is white hot. Bigger than your first, and the fact that you're coming on him sends you into overdrive. You can feel his hips falter for a moment, but you're lost in a daze, crying out his name.

He pumps into you a few more times before he follows suit. He pulls out, and you feel stripes of his come paint your cunt and lower stomach as he finishes with a moan of your name.

He falls next to you on the bed, and it takes you both a few moments to collect yourselves and catch your breath.

Once you do, the only thing you can think to say is, “I love you.”

It feels like those are the only words circling around in your head at the moment. Some mixture of his name and that declaration. While you know you each said it before, that your profession was the exigence of the sex you just had, it feels uniquely vulnerable to say now. It’s like the moment you just had together could have changed things or made him realize that he doesn’t actually love you after all.

That shoe doesn’t drop, though. Instead, you hear the three words echoed back to you by a man who, 6 hours ago, you thought would never, ever say them.

You turn to face him, and the love on his face feels like it could knock you out. He’s looking at you and smiling in a way you haven't seen in a long time.

“Will you let me clean you up?”

You know that part of the reason he’s asking has something to do with the likelihood of bacteria growth or something like that, but you think it's mainly that he wants to take care of you. Him wetting a rag and running it over you feels intimate in a different way, in an excruciatingly gentle way. Personal in a way that makes you feel like nothing between you could ever be wrong again, and maybe that's naive to think, but you feel hopeful regardless.

Once he finishes, he takes his space back next to you in the bed. This time, he pulls you into his arms, and it's different than it was all those months ago. This time, you know that he won’t push you away and that you won't hurt yourself by being next to him. This time, you just tuck yourself into him, and you let him whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you begin to drift off. This time, it feels like peace.

~

The following day, you wake up to Spencer still next to you, looking incredibly soft in the early morning light. You search for a moment to find your phone in the piles of clothes and are greeted with a text from Pen.

How did it go????

You smile before turning your phone off and climbing back into bed next to the man you love. It couldn’t have gone better.

-

all done! yay!!!

i hope you guys love it!! i’m not 100% happy with the ending but i’ve been writing this for so long and just needed to be done.

this is my first time writing angst on here and my longest fic, so PLEASE tell me what you think! all (nice) feedback is welcome and i love to hear from you guys!! :)

[cloudabserk]

the sexism in naruto is actually so crazy and all encompassing. every female character is defined by her relationship to men. the majority are boy-crazy. and it’s constantly remarked upon how weak they are when compared to their male teammates.

not only that but the main male characters actively dislike the women they’ve been paired off with. shikamaru is into temari but his infinite dream is not having to marry her. sai ends up with ino despite finding her ugly. naruto thinks hinata is weird and boring. sasuke’s dislike of sakura is infamous.

adult men’s interest in women is seen as comical and alien. (reactions to the sexy jutsu, jiraiya harassing women). almost all of the adult men are perpetual bachelors or sex perverts (and those who aren’t are stand ins for “mom and dad”).

when boys actually do like girls, it’s to show goofy immaturity and innocence (naruto’s crush on sakura that he grows out of as he reaches maturity, lee’s crush which is dropped entirely, obitos crush on rin which lasts into adulthood just to show he isn’t entirely separate from the boy he once was)

the whole ninja society likes to imagine it is a mostly gender blind world where women can thrive but this is SO obviously untrue. women are almost always healers and support. women make up less than 1/3 of the ninjas even at genin level. girls are almost all desperate to become wives and earn the attention of boys who don’t even like them!

mikoto uchiha was a jonin and presumably directly descended from the uchiha line (based on characters commenting that she/sasuke look just like izuna uchiha), but we only ever see her retired and raising her sons while her husband gets to be clan leader. (why?? if he married into the main family and she is an extremely capable ninja??)

similarly kushina uzumaki is borderline royalty and a jinchuriki, but her husband is hokage. once again the mother carries on the burden of power (for her sons to inherit) but the father has the title and status.

even the backstory of ninja enforces this. kaguya literally ate the forbidden fruit, giving the gift of chakra to all of humanity but also dooming them to fight for eternity. literally womens original sin …

anyway it’s not that all this sexist shit is in the story. it’s that kishimoto seemingly has no idea it’s there and believes the women he writes have epic girl power. how do you even do this by accident. why does every boy hate their wife. why did kaguya commit the original sin ! the girl characters want so badly to be with a boy but they don’t even care that the boy doesn’t like them back!! sakura and hinata are in loveless marriages of obligation and THEY DONT EVEN CARE??? they’re into it??? does kishimoto think men are universally forced to marry women they don’t like? does he blame women for this?WHY IS THE ORIGINAL SIN DRIVING THE BUS ALL THE SUDDEN?