#wanted to make the assumption she didn’t want to be wrong

[1d1195]

Pucking Rookie VI

Read Pucking Rookie here | ~8.5k words

From me: last part for now 💕 thank you for all the support on this 😍

Warnings: violence Kael, some injuries, anger, some fluff and reassurance.

Summary: She is trying her hardest to keep Harry out; but would it be that bad to let him in?

Has Harry mentioned how much he hates Kael Crowe?

Harry had his hands in his pockets while they skated alongside each other. With gloves on her hands, she held them out slightly at her sides for balance. From someone looking at her, she probably still looked like a toddler when she skated. But she didn’t need Harry to skate backward in front of her anymore, which was a win in her book.

The chill in the air made her nose red and she looked so cute. She was all bundled, nice and warm. Harry wanted to find mistletoe even though it was well past Christmas. Granted, he would have done just about anything to kiss her. She bit her lip when she concentrated, especially while skating. The same expression when she focused on the eye piece of her camera making sure the picture would turn out perfectly. Harry swore his smile was going to split his face in half just looking at her.

Unlike her, Harry looked so at ease. She loved seeing him on his used skates, the ones that he clearly had for years and weren’t for the show of his games and because of his sponsors. He looked so tranquil and happy. The ice was his happy place. It almost seemed more natural for him to be on skates than it did on solid ground.

Also unlike Harry, she was not smiling. Especially not smiling like the joy was going to burst out of him like a princess singing a song.

“Y’look more comfortable on y’skates.”

“Mm,” she shrugged. “It’s getting easier.”

Harry noted that she had seemed a bit more introverted the last couple of days—a little more withdrawn. Something was clearly bothering her, and he couldn’t quite place it himself. Callie flirting with her didn’t even faze her (although it certainly fazed Harry). When she directed the guys to pose, her smile didn’t reach her eyes. She didn’t joke about Asher’s good side (or lack thereof, in Harry’s opinion—especially when Asher insisted that she tell him he had a good side). At The Locker Room she didn’t laugh as much, and she didn’t invite Harry inside when he made sure she got home safely. “Rookie, is something wrong?”

“No.”

But she answered way too quickly. Immediately, Harry did an about face, turned to skate in front of her, gliding backwards so effortlessly. One eyebrow quirked up in question. “Talk t’me, Rookie,” he encouraged.

She took a deep breath. “We’re going to play The Wolves,” she reminded him. Harry had seen the schedule; he knew the game was coming up.

What did that have to do with anything? “Yeah,” he nodded. “So?”

She stopped skating, executing her little stop perfectly. Harry was so proud of her abilities and how much better she had gotten with practice over the last couple of months. Still, she looked upset. She rolled her lips into her mouth as she worked through whatever was going through her brain. “I don’t want you to get into it with Kael.”

Harry shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Is that what you’re worried ‘bout? Why you’ve been so quiet the last few days?” She shrugged and looked away from his face. “Rookie, do y’think distancing yourself from me for a couple of shitty days is going t’make me less likely t’fight that sorry excuse for a man?” She glanced at him briefly, her cheeks turning pink under his assumption. His very correct assumption. “Bunny,” he frowned.

She sighed heavily. “It’s just... you’ll get in trouble, and I don’t want that, and I don’t want you to get hurt. I can barely handle it when you get checked into the boards. I’m always worried you have a concussion,” she grumbled.

Harry felt a tug in his chest over her sweet words. “You like me, Rookie," he wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

She glared at him. “Shut up, I do not.”

“You care about me.”

“I care about you the same way I care about Niall or..." he was praying she wouldn't say it. But she was feisty--one of Harry's favoirte things about her; so of course she was going to say it. "...Kian.”

He scoffed and narrowed his eyes at her. The flirtatious smile left his mouth. “S’not the same way y’care ‘bout Callie, Rookie. Not even a little.”

“You’re so ridiculous about Kian, Harry.”

“Stop calling him that. And quit distracting me,” he grumbled. Taking a deep breath he shook his head of thoughts regarding his least favorite teammate (which was a real shame because other than Niall, Harry loved Callie). Sighing, he smirked again as he watched her avoid his eyes. “You like me, Bunny.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “Of course I like you Harry,” she rolled her eyes as she mumbled the sentiment.

“Yeah, but you like-like me.”

“Are you six?”

He ignored her fake insult and leaned in to peck her cheek. “I like-like you too,” he whispered in her ear.

She shoved him gently, but her cheeks remained flushed with color. “You’re insane.”

He took her hand and tugged her toward him to continue skating. “I don’t care ‘bout Crowe,” he said quietly. “I don’t want y’worrying ‘bout me over him. The last time we saw him... hopefully that got the message across,” he squeezed her hand. It was nice to pull her along now that she could skate better. He liked holding her hand. Touching her in general was one of his favorite past times. “M’worried ‘bout you seeing him again.”

“Well, I’m going to wear my number eleven jersey,” she smiled brightly at the thought. Harry thought he had won MVP, the championship game, all rolled into one. “So maybe you’re right. Maybe he’ll get the message.”

The face-splitting grin was back. “Yeah?” He spun again so he was in front of her, this time he pulled her flush against him. It would be so easy to lean in and kiss her. “Didn’t think y’would be one t’make someone intentionally jealous.”

She shrugged. “If you don’t want to be part of my plan, I could always wear Niall’s jersey, or Lang’s, or even Cal—”

“Do not finish that thought, Rookie,” he growled and pressed her face into his body where she laughed silently against him, shaking as she giggled. “You’re mine.”

*

The arena where The Glacier Wolves played truly felt like enemy territory. There was something palpable in the air; you could practically taste the venom coming from both teams. The last time they played, the whole team was pissed at Kael. She tried to keep her distance, but she felt the stares of the guys coming from every angle. Harry’s name and number were all over her body. She kept to herself staying by the media and press at the other end of the rink so that she wouldn’t distract the team.

“Is she good?” Charlie asked Harry.

Harry glanced toward the other end, finding her immediately in black and silver. “Think so,” he shrugged hoping it wouldn't be too obvious he was in love with his coach's niece.

“Styles,” Charlie’s voice was deeper somehow, filled with intensity. Harry looked at his coach. Instantly he swallowed nervously, seeing the seriousness on his face that clearly had nothing to do with hockey.

“Coach?”

“You’re going to take care of her?”

“With my life, sir,” Harry vowed.

Charlie ran a hand over his face and then through his hair as he pushed it back. Harry could see the anxiety all over his face. “You hurt one hair on her head, I’ll bench you for the rest of your career.”

Harry smirked and nodded. That wouldn't be a problem. Harry would welcome it. Plus, he appreciated the approval. “That seems fair t’me.”

“If you hit Crowe a little too hard today, I’ll look the other way. Or chip in on the fine.”

Harry smiled brightly. “You got it, Coach.”

*

Kael found Harry on the ice almost as soon as the game started. Both started essentially in the same position as the puck was dropped between Asher and Kael’s teammate. It was the matchup of the league. Every news outlet was talking about it leading up to the game. Two of the biggest names in hockey. Old rivals playing against one another just like old times. The shit-talking that ensued made him crazy but he tried to keep his cool for her.

Each time he was checked into the boards, he remembered her sweet face saying she worried about him. Harry didn’t want a single penalty (well, that wasn’t true. He wanted to knock every single one of Crowe’s teeth out). Instead, he caught a glimpse of her at the glass the camera lens pressed through the cutout for the media. His jersey with his name and number all over her.

He wasn’t going to fight Crowe.

Fortunately, Harry’s team was having a hell of a time doing it on his behalf. Collectively there had been almost one full period worth of penalties. Callie cheered from the penalty box when Asher laid Crowe into the boards. Their level-headed captain even got sent to the box for two minutes with a smile on his face. Niall didn’t let a single one of Crowe’s shots get past him. And maybe Niall tripped him up when he got too close to the net.

As such, the Chargers played short-handed almost the entire second period, yet they were still winning at the second intermission.

It didn’t stop Crowe from his onslaught of shit-talking despite being down. He told Harry how terrible he was, how shitty his stick handling was, and that he kept missing obvious shots. All his comments seemed to be a projection of how terrible he was playing and perhaps it was because the pretty photographer wearing Harry’s jersey added it to the mind games in Kael's head.

Maybe Harry would have to rethink the whole jealousy ploy she had going on. It was a nice touch (especially when he wasn’t subject to the feeling).

Harry smirked as he stood across from Crowe while they dropped the puck. Almost immediately Crowe slashed at him. Earning zero penalties and no looks from the ref. Harry growled but remained calm. He was only keeping calm for her and only her. Otherwise, he would have added himself to the penalty box. It would mean more to Crowe than it did to Harry if he lashed out about the pretty photographer.

There was only a minute left in the game and Crowe’s team was down by two, so it was sure as hell a win in the Chargers book. But Harry wasn’t celebrating until the piece of shit was off the ice.

With no one in the Wolves’ net, Harry stole the puck away from Kael and slapped it directly into the back of the net. He grinned brightly as his team cheered and tackled him, pressing him into the glass right near the pretty girl who had the camera pressed to her face. He winked at her amidst the madness and Harry couldn’t help but notice how big her smile—not even the camera obstructed how joyful she looked.

As the buzzer signaled the end of the game, Harry and his team skated for their bench. They were happy to win, but they were all thrilled to get off the enemy’s ice.

“Enjoy my sloppy seconds Styles.”

Harry could take the comments about his effort, his ability, his looks, anything.

But he would not, under any circumstance, take criticism about the lovely girl at the other end of the ice.

Harry skated right in front of Crowe standing almost the same height as him, marveling happily at how he was a couple inches taller than his opponent. “What the fuck did you say, Crowe?”

“Harry!” Niall shouted skating back onto the ice almost instantly. Camera flashes from every angle ensued.

“Styles!” Ray shouted from nearby.

“It’s not just talent and ability you want from me, you have to take my girl?”

“She’s not yours, you piece of shit,” Harry was gripping his stick tight, talking through gritted teeth.

“Harry!” She screamed—her voice was far away but Harry could pick it out of a sea of people.

“You couldn’t find your own girl, had to take mine. Don’t worry, I stretched her out for you. She’s a good lay—” Harry dropped his stick and gloves with a quiet thunk on the ice. By then his teammates made it to him, Callie and Asher lunged for him holding him back.

“Crowe, walk the fuck away!” Asher snapped. Harry pushed against him as he got in the fray; he could only imagine what the announcers were saying as they watched two of the top players in the league get dangerously close to fighting after the game had ended.

“Charlie!” She shouted, her voice was closer but not close enough.

“Harry don’t do it,” Callie begged. “Walk away," he tried to plead calmly. "Go get her and you can take her—”

“That’s right listen to every one of your teammates and that naggy bitc—”

Right as he clenched his hands into fists, he felt her soft, delicate fingers wrapping around his hands. She was on the ice. Unsteady and standing in front of him in just her boots. “Hey, look at me,” she begged her eyes a bit wild.

“Bunny—” He started his teeth clenched together. "Get out--"

“Cute, well you got one thing right, Styles. She’s a dumb little puck bunny.”

She shoved Harry as much as she could while he tried to get away from her gentle touch. “Sweetheart,” Asher warned.

Crowe laughed. “You sleeping with the whole team, baby? One whole team to replace me?”

She spun on her heel, nearly sliding to the ground, but Harry caught her by the elbow because he was certain his first priority would always be to take care of her no matter what. “Your problem is with me, Kael,” she snapped. “So, if you’re going to pick fights, pick it with the person you have an actual problem with, you coward.”

“I’m not the one calling you a puck bunny, baby. They are. You must like it if they all call you one,” he teased with a shrug. He knew she didn’t. She said it all the time while they dated. “That’s what you get for riding dick like it’s your job, Bunny,” his tone was antagonizing. Who was he trying to get a rise out of? Was it Harry? It couldn’t have been. Harry was already pissed. Was it her? Maybe. She already hated him.

“Get off the fucking ice!” Charlie shouted.

No one moved. Except Harry who was dying to get his hands on Kael.

Kael took his helmet off and looked at her. “You’re nothing but a groupie, baby. When Harry’s done with you, you’ll come crawling back. You have nothing.”

She was shaking, perhaps as badly as the rest of the team was. She wanted to smack him across his stupid fucking face, but she was trying to remain composed with so many cameras on her. This was already going to be a PR nightmare, and it was all her fault. Although she was sure none of the guys would care, it bothered her. Just another reason to add to how she fucked with the team’s energy and made everything different since her arrival.

“Kael, just stop. Leave me alone,” she hissed.

“Or what, baby?” He taunted. “Your group of fuck buddies will go after me?”

“Watch it,” Harry snarled still straining against Callie and Asher.

“Let’s go,” she whispered, pushing her hands into Harry's chest behind her. He slid backwards a little to create more space between them. “This isn’t worth it,” she said loud enough for Kael to hear.

However, he wasn't accepting their escape. Their way to take the higher ground. But before she could get away, Kael grabbed her arm, hard.

Time seemed to stop for a moment. Truly, suspended in disbelief as she gasped. "Ow, Kael!” She yelped.

“Oh, fuck no,” Harry growled lowly.

“Shit,” Callie grabbed at Harry harder and yanked him back before he could kill Crowe on a live broadcast.

Niall and Lang stepped forward as Asher helped Callie hold Harry back. “Let go of her fucking wrist, Crowe,” Niall said putting a hand on her back.

“You have two seconds to let go of her,” Lang added at the same time.

“Let fucking go of me,” Harry thrashed against his teammates.

She bent awkwardly trying to get her arm back, gasping at the pressure he pitted against her so effortlessly. “HEY!” It was Ray who shouted. “That’s enough! Crowe, let go of my niece or I’ll kill you!”

But Charlie was already on the move, next to Crowe in the blink of an eye. He was shorter than the bulky, built hockey player on skates by a head or maybe even two. Without hesitation he reached for Kael’s neck as if he were the same height and pressed on the space between his neck and clavicle. Within seconds, Kael was gasping, he dropped her arm instantly.

There wasn’t a break in his movements, everything fluid like he was skating on the ice as Charlie shoved his niece backwards making her lose her balance, but Harry caught her just before she hit the ground. “Everyone off the fucking ice!” Coach yelled.

Harry had never been so relieved to have her in his embrace as he skated off the ice, pushing her forward quickly even though he wanted to kill Kael.

“Are you alright, Sweetheart?” Callie asked.

“Shut the fuck up, Callie,” Harry snarled.

“Harry,” she whispered.

“Jesus, Styles, I just wanted—”

“Shut. Up.  Don’t ever get in my way like that Calloway, not when she’s—”

“Harry,” she repeated stronger as she nearly had to race to catch up to them on their long legs—even with skates. She grabbed his hand, still balled into a shaking fist. She gave it a gentle squeeze. “Kian isn’t the bad guy here,” she reminded him. Harry glared at his teammate, shoulders heaving with each angry breath. After a moment he nodded, his jaw flexing tautly as he did.

“Sorry, Callie,” she whispered, squeezing his arm which made Harry huff out a breath and look away. He strongly considered snapping his stick in half. Again.

“It’s okay, Sweetheart. We all get a little crazy about you,” he smirked. “Harry,” he nodded and headed into the locker room. She turned to Harry to remind him that his teammates weren’t the problem, ever.

“Are you alright?” Charlie asked, catching up as they stopped in front of the locker room.

Harry stared at her unsurely waiting for her answer with bated breath. She nodded, putting on a brave face. “Yes.”

“You’re sure?” Harry asked, taking a heaving breath. His hands were still shaking at his sides.

She nodded. “I’m fine,” because she was. There might be a bruise on her arm from the grip he had, but she wasn’t in pain anymore. He didn’t break anything (which was a horrifying thought) but it wasn’t any less true. “Please go change, I want to get out of here,” she urged. Harry’s eyes flicked to Charlie before he went into the locker room after his teammates. She twisted her wrist once he was out of sight. Charlie narrowed his eyes at the movement.

“Are you—”

Quickly with an awful realization, she touched her neck. “Oh fuck, I left my camera,” she grumbled rubbing her hand over her face.

Charlie was staring at her just as unsurely. “I’ll have someone go get it.”

“No, it’s fine,” she shook her head. “I need the walk, the air,” she sighed.

“I have a press conference. I can skip it. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Positive. I’m sorry I caused all this,” she frowned. “I really feel like you didn’t ask for any of this with the team.”

“Hey Sweetheart?” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I always hated Crowe,” he smiled. “You were way too good for him. If the whole team got in trouble for hurting him, well, that would be worth it in my book. If he ever touches you again, I think the whole team will kill him.”

“Well, we have a whole season to prepare for that,” she smirked sadly. “Thank you, Uncle Charlie.”

“Anything for you Sweetheart. Go take a few breaths,” he squeezed her shoulder and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Wish you slapped him; you earned it,” he winked over his shoulder as he headed for the media room.

She smiled and took several deep breaths calming herself as much as she could as she walked back down the tunnel to the rink. She had been in the very arena hundreds of times. It never felt like home. Not the way The Arctic Chargers arena felt. In a shorter amount of time at that. The idea that she had ever thought she could live her life in this arena feeling like she was less was crazy. Especially when Harry and the entire team made her feel so important.

She said hello and waved to people she recognized from her days spent watching Kael. Her new media friends said hello as well. She waved to the man driving the Zamboni and snagged her camera off the visiting bench that she dropped there when she saw Kael antagonizing Harry from across the rink. She couldn’t believe she nearly lost it in all the commotion; but she supposed for Harry, it was worth it. It could have been a lot worse.

Following Charlie’s advice, she continued breathing deeply. Hoping to calm herself from the inside out. She was glad she didn’t hit Kael. As much as she wanted to. With her luck, he would have pressed charges or something. It would have played right into his act.

Hopefully everyone saw the way he grabbed her wrist.

For several seconds, she sat on the bench, her head between her knees breathing and collecting herself. Harry looked murderous. She hoped he showered and felt better. She would have to thank Callie and Asher again for holding him back before he did something terrible.

Sighing, she stood, headed for the locker room once more. Relieved there would once more be a whole year between now and the next game she would have to see Kael next season. She was going to forget about any of her stuff at their old apartment. He could have it. It didn’t matter. As long as she had her camera, she could make everything else work. She looked at the screen to continue calming herself. As soon as the boys were ready, they would head to the hotel and get some sleep before a red eye flight home. Her hotel room bed sounded like heaven (even if it was going to be missing a number eleven in her blankets).

She was so ready for this day to be over.

Right as she exited the tunnel and headed down the hall toward the locker room, she was shoved against the wall, hard. She didn’t know how the guys got checked into the boards all the time. Even with padding on that had to have hurt—and multiple times? Forget it. She felt an ache all over her back. The air in her lungs was displaced and she moaned as she tried to breathe through it. It felt like her body was one giant bruise in a matter of seconds.

Kael held her in place. His eyes dark and his face expressionless. “You’re a lot more vulnerable without a hockey team behind you.”

She gaped, as he easily yanked her camera from her grip and dropped it to the ground. Her eyes watered at the sound of all the mechanical pieces cracking. She whimpered. “Kael,” she gasped as the air slowly returned. “Let me go.”

“You were good for my image, baby,” he crooned. “Didn’t you like living the luxurious lifestyle?” He skimmed the back of his finger along her cheek. Other than a helmet and gloves, he was still in all his gear, skates, and pads, so he towered imposingly over her. She whimpered again. “You have no power here,” he reminded her pinning her in place by pressing close to her. If anyone walked by, they would think it was just a heated form of foreplay. His legs caged her in. His body holding her in place.

His hand closed around her throat.

“Stop,” she begged squirming to get away from him.

“You’re pathetic. You think just because your uncle is a coach and your new boyfriend is a sorry excuse of a look-a-like for me that you can do whatever you want,” his voice was low, threatening. If it wasn’t immediately following a game maybe someone would have seen the interaction. But instead, the players were in the locker room, coaches in the media room, other workers in the arena. It was just the pair of them. “You’re nothing, baby. You’ve got nothing.”

He was good. Waiting until she was most vulnerable. Even if she was lucky enough for someone to come by, she was certain he made it so he didn’t look like he was harming her or speaking terrible things to her.

But she was right there. Hearing every menacing word. Every word meant to cut her deeper than any physical harm he could cause her. “You’re nothing but a groupie, baby. You’ll always be a dumb puck bunny.”

“Please,” she croaked, gasping for breath. Her squirming wasn’t enough, he was too strong, and Lord knew how long until the boys would come out of the locker room and Charlie out of the press conference. No one was coming to her rescue.

She clawed at his arms, but the pads protected him. Everything was protected which seemed like a metaphor she couldn’t quite put together right now.

Everything except the hand on her throat.

She bent her head at an awkward angle allowing air to flow just enough. Thrashing against his hold hoping he would slip just a bit. He didn’t notice she was trying to reach for his hand. He must have assumed she was trying to escape. It didn’t have to be a lot she just needed something to give.

When it did finally give, she wasted no time. His hand moved just enough so that she could bend her neck completely. Once she could, she bit down as hard as she could on his finger.

She bit so hard that she tasted blood.

“What the fuck!” He growled yanking away instinctively. She didn’t waste a second and bolted. He was on skates, and she was in her boots so for once in an ice arena she had the speed advantage, and she wasn’t going to lose that.

Without really noticing where her feet carried her, the locker room burst open before her. She couldn’t even see because her eyes were blurred over with tears. She choked out a sob as the door shut behind her.

“Bunny?” Harry sounded concerned, curious, and confused all in one little word that she hated so much (especially right now) but loved when Harry said it.

“Oh hell,” Asher whispered. It was quiet then, no one moving, or speaking.

“Harry?” She cried, unable to see as she wiped uselessly at her face to rid herself of the tears and she pressed her other hand to the top of her chest trying to stop her heart from flying out of her ribcage and soothe the ache and burn of knowing his hand was on her neck. The other hand went to her mouth. Her face tilted down, and her hair fell in front of her face.

If the team was naked, she wouldn’t even know. Her vision wasn’t clear enough to see an inch in front of her.

“Bunny?” He repeated, his voice closer, his hands gently caressing her face. A massive juxtaposition to how Kael held her moments before. “Kitten,” he turned her neck ever so gently inspecting every inch of her face. “What happened?”

“H-he broke m-my camera,” she sniffled and swiped at her eyes. With a little more clarity, she could see Harry was half undressed, just his practice jersey and compression pants on him. He was sweaty and never looked hotter and she was a goddamn wreck.

“I’ll kill him,” but it was Niall who growled out the sentiment. Before another word could be uttered, she heard the locker-room door open.

“Oh fuck,” Lang was quick to follow.

“Bunny,” Harry crouched slightly to meet her gaze. “Kitten, what happened?” He repeated. She shook her head, her cries catching in her throat again. She buried her face into his chest and sobbed. Harry cupped the back of her head, curling around her protectively the way he always seemed to when she cried. “Fuck, Bunny,” he frowned. His lips found her ear. “Did he touch you?” He asked.

She nodded. The rest of the team must have already anticipated what she was upset over, because it was even quieter than when she entered. She felt Harry start shaking again. It started from the center of his body outward. She imagined his toes were shaking. Fully vibrating with anger. “I’m gonna kill him,” Harry’s voice was so low and so terrifying she shivered.

“Please don’t leave me,” she sniffled.

He groaned and tightened his grip on her. “Y’killing me, Rookie,” he mumbled.

“I just want to go home, please,” she begged her voice breaking.

His heart broke. “We’re heading to the hotel soon, and I’ll drive y’home when we land, Bunny, I promise,” he assured her. The thought of leaving her alone was repulsive. Almost as much as this whole moment with Kael.

“No... take me home with you,” she whispered.

Well, if there was one way to keep him sane, he supposed that would be it. “Take you home?” He repeated. “My home?”

She nodded. “Please, I don’t want to be away from you.”

Make that, two ways to keep him sane.

*

She refused to say what he did specifically. He didn’t do anything but hold her in the hotel bed until the team left in the middle of the night for their red eye flight. He sat next to her on the bus and the plane, carrying her stuff and wincing every time she sniffled. He combed his fingers through her hair, refusing to let go of her for anything other than the bathroom. He made sure she drank enough water and had medicine for all the aches she endured.

Charlie was fuming in his seat. Between what happened and her lack of response about what happened, he may have sent Harry several messages regarding how he would enjoy going to jail if Harry hurt her. He ignored those messages for the time being. But he did pay attention to the one where Charlie said he was looking into getting the security footage pulled before Kael could swipe it from the arena.

The team had no problem messaging Kael. The coward left before anyone could find him. Niall found her camera shattered to bits on the floor. Callie pulled the memory card from the wreck but there wasn’t anything that could be done to save the equipment.

Except of course, Harry ordered her a new, top-of-the-line camera while she showered in his bathroom.

After what felt like hours but was only maybe half at most, she finally exited the bathroom. Harry turned from lying on his bed to sitting on the edge watching her immediately. Her eyes were red-rimmed, hair damp. She looked adorable even when she was sad, and it was so unfair. She was wearing a T-shirt Harry pulled from one of his drawers. It had the Chargers logo across the front, and he wished more than anything it had his name on the back.

“Did that help?” He asked.

She nodded but held the towel out to him. “I don’t know where to put this,” she avoided his gaze which had to be next to impossible because Harry couldn’t tear his away from her. He took the towel and tossed it toward the corner of the room where his hamper lived, although he hadn’t done laundry in a week, and so the towel fell off the side to the pile beside it.

“Bunny,” he murmured. “Look at me please,” he whispered.

She shook her head, her eyes welling with tears. “I’m so embarrassed, I’ll cry again.”

“Y’have nothing t’be embarrassed ‘bout, Rookie, love,” his voice was gentle, he reached for her hip and pulled her toward him, opening his legs so she fit between his thighs. “What did he do?” He asked, keeping one hand on her hip and the other traveled up her arm, cupped the side of her neck and slid along to her face.

“You’ll get mad,” she whispered.

“M’already mad, kitten,” he reminded her.

“What is with you and the animal names?” Her voice was soft.

“You’re an adorable creature, Bunny, I don’t have a choice,” he smirked, spoke just as quietly as she did, but not falling for her dodging what he wanted to know. “Don’t distract me,” he brushed his fingertips softly along the outline of her face.

“You’ll be mad at me.”

“Never, Rookie. M’never mad at you,” he hoped he sounded as reassuring as he wanted to be. It was true. He was never mad at her.

“I bit his finger,” she mumbled. “Really hard.”

Harry tilted his head. “You what?”

“He...” she swallowed and pressed her face into the space of his shoulder and neck hiding. “He was choking me,” her voice was so quiet Harry had to strain to hear it. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the anger to stay at bay so she wouldn’t be scared. “And I couldn’t move and... and I just needed the right angle, so I bit his finger. Really hard. I tasted blood,” she explained.

Harry chuckled despite everything. “Good girl,” he pulled her to him and squeezed her tight. “And y’came t’me?” he mumbled thoughtfully cupping her face watching her eyes. He brushed his thumb along her cheek. It was selfish of him to ask when she was hurt. But he couldn't help it. She was his whole world whether she knew it or not and he needed to know.

“I didn’t want anyone else,” her skin turned the slightest pink. “Is that okay?”

Harry’s heart softened. “Yeah, Bunny. S’really okay,” he assured her, then he pulled her back against his shoulder, tucking her into his embrace. “The guys couldn’t find him... the coward,” he snipped.

Harry felt a smile on her lips warm his skin. He grinned half-heartedly and swayed her gently. “For the best,” she admitted. “I like your room,” she whispered glancing around. “Maybe I will take it.”

“S’fine with me,” he shrugged.

She stared at him pointedly. “I don’t want to live here for free.”

“Oh, come on, Rookie I have a hundred rooms with nothing in them.”

“I won’t live here for free.”

“Fine, but you’re not paying rent-prices. Y’can buy groceries or pay the electric bill. Or maybe the Internet bill. But not all three.”

She laughed and shook her head. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re keeping the car.”

“Certifiable.”

*

“Harry, are you awake?” She whispered.

“Mmm,” he hummed sleepily. Her soft voice in his bed was going to haunt him for the rest of his life. It was the first time they slept in his bed. Harry was a lot of things, and it was evident that possessive was a major one. He loved sleeping in her tiny bed when there was no room, so she always ended up burrowing into his side. Still, there something about having her in his room, his bed, wrapped in his blankets that made the Neanderthalic part of his mind undeniably happy. He kept space between them, as he always tried to maintain when they shared a bed. But he felt a compulsion to hold her hand between them as he stared at the ceiling unable to sleep thinking about how much he hated someone who hurt the pretty woman beside him.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Bunny,” he whispered quietly shaking his head. “Y’never have t’thank me. Not for that.”

“I do though,” she sounded like she was nodding. “I don’t know why you like me so much. Like... from the start... and still. I’ve been nothing but trouble.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t think s’true. And does that matter from the start?”

“I don’t know... it never really happened to me before...” she trailed off. “Kael and I were just around each other for a while—got to know each other and it made sense. Then we were together for a really long time... I never had someone just like me for me, right away without knowing anything else about me. I guess I’m just worried that if... if you do like me—and I do believe you when you say you do—it will change because it changed for him. I’m not that special, you know? I’m not a celebrity. I just take pictures and—”

Harry sighed, if he was visible in the night, she would see him rolling his eyes at the ceiling and shaking his head. “Y’know I had a bunch of contacts for women for all the different cities we visit, right?” He interrupted. It wasn’t the best segue in conversation, and it probably wasn’t a nice thing to hear when he was trying to convince her he liked her infinitely more than he ever liked anybody. Especially after the day she had.

There was a slight pause. If she said something like that to Harry, he would be jealous for days and would probably have to break another hockey stick. So, he was well aware he needed to give her a second to think through her emotions. “Yeah...?” Her voice was quiet again. Unsure.

He reached beside him for his phone on his nightstand. He unlocked it, turned the brightness down, blinking awkwardly against it so he wouldn’t hurt her eyes as well. He opened his messages and handed it to her.

There were a good number of unsaved numbers listed in the threads. Many had the same start of each message previewed before clicking on it. I am deleting your number because I’ve met—

“Harry,” she said softly.

“Open one,” he offered.

She shook her head. “Harry, you didn’t do anything—I don’t want to go through—”

He reached over and tapped on one of the messages.

—a really lovely girl and I want to take it seriously. I won’t be contacting you anymore... You were a great person to know. I wish you all the best. Xx Harry

“Harry,” she whispered breathlessly.

Only some had answered. From what she could see, most who had responded thought it was sweet; they understood where he was coming from, it was kind of him to reach out and not leave them hanging. Some were less happy for him but since they all knew what they signed up for, none appeared to be outright angry or derisive. Harry took his phone back and opened his contacts. If the unsaved numbers were to be believed, he should have had plenty more contacts listed. Instead, it was just teammates, coaches, his family.

And hers. Rookie 📷🐇

She bit her lip.

“I think ‘ve been waiting for you, Rookie, love. I never wanted someone more,” he put his phone back. “M’not kidding. I’ll wait forever,” he promised. She felt her face crumple in half. Emotional over and in complete disbelief that someone so kind and sweet was willing to wait for her when he could truly have anyone he wanted. Someone way more talented and beautiful than her. "Go t'sleep, Bunny," he whispered softly and pressed a kiss to her temple. "We can talk 'bout it tomorrow."

*

Harry made sure she had everything she needed for the day; he snuck into her phone to turn her alarm off. He put a note on the bedside table. No work today. Enjoy playing hooky, Bunny. But please stay so I can see you when I come home. She wished she had her camera so she could take a picture of the note, but her phone would suffice for now. She dreaded the thought of purchasing a new camera. But she needed to deal with one thing at a time. First of which meant breakfast and coffee. She headed to the kitchen after using the bathroom.

The doorbell rang at the exact same time. She peered through the window and saw a man in a black shirt with a green apron. She tilted her head. “Rookie?” He asked tentatively.

“Uh... yeah?”

“Here you go,” he handed her a drink—her favorite coffee and the man left.

She blinked. “How many times have you been here?”

“I was instructed to come every half hour with a fresh drink and wait five minutes until you answered,” he explained backing toward his car. She smirked sipping it. It was delicious.

“Did he pay you at least?” She called tapping her fingers against the plastic.

“Excessively!” He shouted with a grin, pulling his door closed. She smiled, closed the front door, locked it, before heading for the living room sipping her favorite kind of coffee from her favorite guy.

*

She heard the garage door open around five and the door creak from the mudroom attached to the garage to the house.

“Do you like chicken noodle soup?” She asked. “I know that sounds silly, because it’s a classic. But because it’s a classic, there was a time when I was in high school, and I swear I was sick for a month and all I ate was chicken noodle soup. I haven’t had any since, I think. But on a whim, I had some last week, and it was literally the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten,” she explained while Harry took his shoes off. She grabbed the bread she was toasting out of the oven, and she smiled as he slowly made his way to the kitchen.

He looked around the room for a moment. “Did y’clean?” He asked ignoring her rant about soup, he ran his finger along the thin side table that was directly next to the counter. It looked dusted, and the little trinkets were placed back on the table just so.

She smiled sheepishly and nodded. “I know you hate when I do stuff like this, but I was really bored. I shouldn’t be allowed to have a day off. Idle minds, you know? I also figured you must not have time to clean often with your schedule. This place isn’t even that dirty, and I think I’m the one that tracks in all the snow and dirt from the pond,” she explained.

He stared at her as she spoke, dropped his small duffle bag beside him.

She blinked at his weird stance as she stirred the soup in the big pot she was using. “Are you mad?”

His gaze was unmoving from her face. He tilted his head toward the laundry room, the sound of the dryer humming from the hallway. “And laundry?” He asked.

Now she felt like she was in trouble. “Well... you had a mountain of it in your room and I was finished cleaning. Which meant I was about to go insane due to boredom again,” she shrugged. “You’re mad,” she frowned. “I was just trying to do something nice.”

“Dishes?” He jutted his chin toward the empty sink.

“That’s on you for leaving them. You know I love dishes.”

“Grocery shopping?” He hummed.

“I figured if I’m going to live here, I may as well chip in since you won’t let me pay for—”

“What’s this?” He asked looking at the picture frames face down on the kitchen table. He picked one up and inspected it. She had selected several photos. Some of the team, some from her series of photo. There was even one of Marc and Michael. But naturally, the one he picked up was one of the photos from the gallery night.

Harry’s arm wrapped around her waist, his hand resting on her hip. While she looked at the woman holding his phone camera, Harry was gazing down at her. His smile was full of adoration. She picked it to be framed because even though the camera didn’t get a look at his pretty green eyes for one photo (which was truly a loss), she felt like the most beautiful thing in the world with the way he looked at her.

“Oh, I thought they were cute pictures, and we could put them—” Harry put the frame down, turned toward the stove and flicked the burner off. “Harry...? What are you—”

He then faced her; he slid his hands along both of her cheeks. Gently, he tilted her neck, so her eyes met his. “My pretty, pretty Bunny,” he murmured brushing the tip of his nose against hers. Her breath caught in her throat. Whatever smart remark she was going to make about him being bossy or extra was stuck on her tongue. His gaze dropped to her lips and then she was overwhelmed by the color green again. Her face felt hot with a blush that she couldn't stop and she was only seconds ahead of what his intention was. “Y’can tell me t’stop, Rookie, love. I don’t want t’rush it.”

“Please don’t stop,” she whispered.

“Oh Bunny, y’never have t’beg for me, ever,” his voice was deep, gravelly. Filled with desire and wanting.

And he wanted her.

Harry had waited a very long time to kiss her. But these last few seconds leading to their first kiss felt like a literal eternity, but finally his lips met hers.

She moaned softly, a quiet almost-whimper, nearly the exact moment his mouth touched hers. He was so gentle; it felt like his lips were hardly moving and the drag of his mouth was so sinful she could feel it burning. It burned her lips and every other inch of her skin. Her mind was so entranced with the feel of Harry’s lips between hers, the way his tongue slipped gently along the seam of her mouth, carefully coaxing her open so he could get a better taste of her.

Harry knew she would taste delicious. He didn’t know it was going to be so instantly addictive. But he shouldn’t have been surprised.

She was a little unsure how it happened—too distracted by the feeling of the prettiest man in hockey kissing her, but she was lifted to the counter, her legs around his waist. His hips flush against the edge of the counter. With one hand, he cupped the back of her head, his fingers winding in her hair. The other was at the small of her back, pulling her toward him.

“God Bunny,” he groaned and peppered kisses along her jaw and down her neck. “I’ve wanted this for s'long.” She shivered feeling overwhelmed with his desire. Harry had a way of making her feel special and she should have known kissing him wasn’t going to be the exception. She was nearly out of breath and didn’t know how Harry could keep kissing her. “You’re so perfect,” he whispered into her throat.

“Harry,” she whispered.

He moaned. “Oh, Rookie, y’say m’name like that m’gonna be done for. What d’you want, Bunny? Y’can have whatever y’want... anything. S’yours.”

She laughed silently, her shoulders shaking as his mouth worked across her collarbone to the other side of her throat. He was so tender and intentional in his kisses of where Kael hurt her, and he took all that pain away. “Nothing, I just... like—”

He groaned again and brought her lips back to his, kissing her so passionately it ached. “I like you so much, Bunny,” he whispered, his mouth dragging along her skin. “I don’t want you t’go. Please don’t close yourself off from me. I’ll do anything.”

She felt bad that he felt like he had to beg for her attention. He had it, and he always had it. If she was honest, since the very first time she met him. “I won’t, I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered.

“Oh, thank God,” he sighed and pulled her toward him. He wrapped his arms beneath her, supporting her weight and carried her to his room.

“Harry, baby, you gotta slow down,” she giggled.

He moaned or growled. Perhaps a little of both. He tucked his face into her neck again. “Y’call me baby, m’not gonna live.”

She laughed. “Oh, you have to.”

Carefully he laid her back on his mattress. Yeah, he slept beside her the night before. He had snuggled with her in her own bed several times as well. This was different. This was all her walls finally down. Her vulnerability and trust were on full display. Harry was the luckiest man in the world to witness it. To be trusted to take care of her. He didn’t know how anyone could betray such a sweet, perfect person.

“M’gonna kiss every inch of you,” he promised.

“You’ve been awfully patient, Harry. Don’t you want to jump to the good stuff?” Her cheeks warmed once more as she asked.

He shook his head. “No, not even a little. I want every single second of you. Every single kiss. I’d wait forever for you, Bunny.”

She didn’t deserve him, but she would happily keep him. “You’re too good,” she whispered cupping his face and stroking her thumbs along his cheeks. He rested his forehead against hers as he hovered beside her.

“M’not Rookie. You’re too good. Exceptionally intelligent, creative, and deliriously beautiful. My schedule is all kinds of fucked,” he reminded her. “I never had a girlfriend because I can only give you five months.

She smiled. “I’m literally with the team all the time, Harry.”

“But when y’open your studio, y’won’t be.”

“I’m not opening a studio,” she laughed shaking her head, her nose bumping his.

He rolled his eyes. He wanted to kiss her, hold her, and very much wanted to make her come all over him. But this was important to him because she was the most important thing to him. “Of course you are, Rookie. Y’have too much talent t’be wasting it on a group of rowdy hockey players.”

There was a wave of pride that bloomed over her. His unwavering support and constant belief in her. She grinned. “Harry Styles," she sighed. "You’re incredible. Number one twice for sure.”

He chuckled softly, ducking his gaze slightly at her compliment. It meant more than any other time he heard it because this was her saying it. “Thanks, Bunny,” he smiled and kissed her again lingering and holding her face in his hands like he never wanted to let go. “You’re pucking perfect.”

--

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[magics-neptunes-things]

Lightning Love

Hi guys!

Like I said, after seeing Steph in that outfit I just COULDN'T not write something for her.

It's longer than I expected to be honest, but I hope you will like it!

TW : Some Angst maybe, Alcohol consumption, mention of breakup

It’s always strange to be at a wedding while your ex-girlfriend just ends things with you. Until early November, you were due to come here with Leila Ouahabi, your former girlfriend.

She broke up with you after an eight-month relationship but, with the reasons she gave you, you can’t really be mad at her. She accused you of not being as involved in your relationship as you should have been after so long. It was true that with her being in Manchester and you in London, you aren’t able to see each other very often.

But it was good for you, you had fun dates, you laughed a lot, and you had good moments with her.

Leila was right to say that though, because the real reason for your lack of involvement is probably very related to the fact that you are dead in love with your Australian teammates, Steph Catley.

And seeing her today at Emily and Kat’s wedding doesn’t help.

Steph is absolutely stunning, and you have trouble looking somewhere else.

You never told anyone about your crush on her, you never wanted to make things strange with anyone. Steph was in love with Dean, happier than ever and that is all you want for her. You never had a talk with her about her preference before she met Dean, but for you Steph is as straight as a ruler.

So, you totally have not a single chance with her.

You were happy for her when you learned about her engagement and genuinely sad when you learned that her and Dean broke up.

And right now, as you are looking at her laughing with Caitlin and Katie, you just can feel your heart clenched. Maybe it’s the consumption of alcohol that makes you feel sadder than you actually did. It doesn’t stop you from accepting another glass of champagne when a waiter comes for you.

“You alright?”

You turn your head towards Kristie, Sam’s girlfriend, you are sitting next to you. You promised to Sam to look for her while she takes some pictures with some of your friends, but you probably weren't good company after all.

“Yeah, sorry” you turn yourself towards the blonde. “Do you need something to drink?”

You realise that her glass is empty when you glance at it and that the waiter didn’t bring something alcohol free. With her being pregnant and the heath around today, you hope that he will get fired soon.

“I’m alright” she smiles.

“No, please drink at least water. Sam is going to kill me otherwise”

Kristie smiles when you fill her glass with cold water and it’s only two minutes before Sam comes back with Steph and Mackenzie Arnold.

“Have you been treated well?” Sam smirks towards you. “I’ve heard that she doesn’t know how to treat girls right”

You roll your eyes and let yourself go against the back of your chair. You know that Leila hasn’t said anything bad against you, your breakup was pretty chill, and you are still talking from time to time. But the woso-world is a small world and some of her friends probably made some assumptions.

“What do you mean?” Mackenzie asks while Steph frowns.

“I’m just saying what I’ve heard” Sam says, raising her hands defensively.

“I’m sure that is wrong. Y/N is the cutest of all of you”

Steph statements and the defensive hands she puts on your arm make you feel warm inside. And stupid to react like a teenage boy.

Sam smirks before inviting Kristie to go dancing, leaving you with Mackenzie and Steph alone at the table. It’s a little bit depressing to see all these couples to be honest. A moment of silence floats between you three, all of you probably lost in their thoughts.

You know that Mackenzie broke up with her girlfriend some weeks ago too, or that her girlfriend broke up with her. Either way, it’s never really great to be in that position for a wedding.

“Well, that’s surely depressing” Mackenzie finally states, looking at you three.

You can’t help but giggle at that, Steph smiling next to you. You know that there are more single people there, by the way where the hell is Alanna?

“You don’t see someone who might be interesting for you? Weddings leading to another wedding are great love stories” you say, looking at Mackenzie.

“No, and I’m not sure that I want to” she sights softly. “On another hand, Steph probably could try something with the way our waiter looks at her every time he is near”

You hold a grimace of disgust thinking about that waiter and glance towards Steph, to see that she has the same expression you just retained.

“No thanks” she mumbles.

“She deserves someone better than him anyway” you add, before taking another sip of your drink.

You feel Steph’s gaze on you, but you distract yourself by looking at Caitlin and Katie dancing a little further than the other people in the crowd.

“I’m going to see if I can find Lany” Mackenzie says before standing up.

You watch her leave before turning your head towards Steph. She was already looking at you and you are glad that the night has fallen otherwise she would have seen the red colouring your cheeks.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” she asks softly.

“Sure” you accept with a smile.

You stand up and have some trouble finding your balance, between your heels and the champagne you drank in probably too much quantity. You feel stupid at first, before feeling Steph grabs your arm to give you more balance.

“Are you okay?” she laughs.

“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t stand for a long time and the Champagne kept coming back in my glass” you smirk.

She laughs again and you feel the habitual feeling in your stomach. At first you were sad to learn that Steph signed to Arsenal and not Tottenham where you are playing with Charlie. But then you realised too that it’s probably better like this. You wouldn’t have been able to hide the reality of your feelings in another way.

It’s already too hard to do it when you are at Australian camp. Thank God Kyra is always here to distract her, you are pretty sure that other than that you would have been caught since a long time.

You silently walk next to her, your arms always linked together. You like it that way, feeling her against you without you being the one making the first move.

Steph and you are pretty close, you are the same age and started to play at the same time. You played together in Melbourne until she left for the USA, and you went to Tottenham. With her being in London from 2020 it’s easier for you to see each other, usually for walking Calvin or drinking coffee.

“Seriously, how are you dealing with your breakup?” Steph suddenly asks.

Surprised, you turn your head in her direction before shrugging. You didn’t really talk about it with her to be honest. Leila broke up with you early November, then you had all of those games and after that Christmas break was there. It is only thanks to the wedding that you are able to see her before January.

“I’m okay, for real. It wasn’t that serious from my side, and I think she understands it. I liked her but I wasn’t in love, you know” you shrug.

“You were in a relationship without being in love?”

You can hear Steph’s surprise and almost discontent in her tone. You know how that girl is romantic, and you cringe a little after saying what you said.

“I was hoping to really fall in love with her” you precise. “I mean she’s funny, beautiful and everything… But I don’t know. Something was missing”

“I think I can understand” Steph says slowly.

“It was comfortable, but we weren’t meant to be”

She nods and you keep walking in silence a little more. You are in the vineyards now, the noise of the party coming from far behind you. It’s quiet and peaceful here. You like it.

“What about you?” you ask quietly.

“I’m okay, I think. I wasn’t expecting this to be honest, but I can’t fight against it”

“Are you still in love with him?”

You realise when Steph looks at you how inappropriate your question is. You are not her mother, her sister and even her best friend. You are just a friend who has nothing to say in her relationships.

“I’m sorry, I –“

“I don’t think I’m in love with him anymore” Steph cuts you.

By then you stopped walking, and you are facing each other. With the sun going down Steph gets ride of her sunglasses but she’s still stunning. You could look at her pretty face all day long anyway.

You weren’t expecting an answer, so you shut your mouth and let her talk.

“I don’t think I was for a long time now… I can’t say since when, though. It doesn’t mean I don’t have any affection for him, you know? I just fall out of love with him”

She seems sad though and you take all the strength you have in you not to crush her against you. You take her hand back in yours instead, giving her what you hope is a comforting squeeze.

“You will find the right person for you” you smile at her, continuing when she makes a pouty face. “Of course you will. I mean, every single person would be lucky to have you in their life.”

“We’ll see”

You hum, looking at the landscape around you. Em and Kat made a good choice by coming here. It’s really beautiful.

“You’ll find someone too, you know?”

You pout and shrug, not really believing this. In almost ten years you never found someone able to make you forget Steph, it’s not going to change now. You just have to live with the fact that you fall in love with someone straight and will never be able to be happy with her.

You can’t say that to Steph like this, though.

“Want to go back?” you ask.

But Steph shakes her head no and when you look around you spot a bench between two lines of vineyard. You make Steph wait before sitting down, using your jacket to protect her dress.

“Can I ask you a question?” Steph asks a little after.

“Sure” you mumble, looking now at the stars.

But after that there is only silence and you turn your face to Steph, to see that she seems to be thinking about how to tell you what’s in her mind. It attracts your curiosity, and you tilt your head on the side, silently questioning her.

“Don’t take that the wrong way, but… I’ve never seen you really into your girlfriends, you know? Sure, you liked them and treated them well despite what Sam said before, but I never saw you fond of them. Have you really been in love once?”

You sigh softly, now turning your eyes back on the stars. She seems scared about your reaction at her question, but you are not mad. You are more jaded by the situation than something else.

“Once” you finally answer.

“You were in love once?” Steph asks for clarity.

You nod, still without looking at her. You are scared that she would be able to understand if you look her in the eyes.

“With whom?”

“I never told her”

“What? Why?”

Steph seems genuinely surprised and almost concerned by this statement. She sits to be able to lean and be able to look at you correctly, not only the side of your face. It’s hard to ignore her like this and you bite your lip unconsciously when she’s still looking at you.

“It’s complicated, Steph”

“Why?”

“Because it is”

“Is she in a relationship? Is it someone who’s here?”

“Can we please talk about something else?” you whisper.

Realising that she was maybe put too much pressure on your, Steph sits back and seems a little bit embarrassed by her behaviour.

“Of course. I’m sorry”

You give her a small smile. It maybe would be great to able to talk about it to someone, but you don’t know who. All of your close friends are close to Steph, and you don’t want to put them in a complicated situation. You don’t like lies and secrets, even if you keep this one for years now.

“Do you want to go back?”

“Yes, please.”

You totally can do with more alcohol.

Even if you offered her your hand to help her walk in the dark, the way back is filled with silence and just a glance at Steph makes you understand that she’s lost in her thoughts.

You wonder what it is, hoping that she’s not thinking about Dean. That boy has fallen far down in your esteem since her breakup with Steph. You refer to him as “Calvin’s dad”. It amuses Steph though, so it’s probably okay that way.

“Ow, look who took the most beautiful girl away to kiss her in the vineyard?”

Alanna’s voice makes Steph and you jump. You don’t really know which one of Steph or you let the other hand go first, but you blush stupidly.

“Shut up” Steph answers.

You are surprised to see that she seems flustered too, but Steph is taken away from you by Mackenzie for something related to a new cocktail to try. You are a little sad to watch her go away but try to concentrate your attention on something else.

Like the glass Hayley gives you.

********

You watch Steph from afar for the rest of the night, staying with Hayley during this time. You had a lot of fun to be honest, even if you feel a pang of jealousy in your chest every time you see her laughing with Mackenzie.

You haven’t realised that they were so close, to be honest.

At some point of the night, you decide that you are too drunk to stay any longer and take advantage of Clare leaving to do the same thing. After saying goodbye to the married couple, you take your taxi and leave to go back to your hotel room.

You are almost relieved to find the silence here and even if it’s late (or early in the morning) you take the time to take a hot shower. It helps you sober up a little bit. You are still glad to find the softness and the warmth of your bed.

You were almost asleep when someone gently knocks on your door, making you groan in your pillow. But you still get up, opening your door just a little bit to be able to see who it is.

“Steph?” you frown, opening it a little more.

“I didn’t see you leaving” she says, playing with her bag.

“You were busy dancing with Macca” you shrug with a soft smile.

You weren’t jealous at all, of course.

(That’s a lie)

“Do you want to come inside?”

You open the door completely now and after a second of hesitation, Steph comes inside.

“I just wanted to say goodnight” Steph says, sitting on your bed. “And I wanted to be sure that you know you can talk to me about anything, at any time. You know that, right?”

“I know” you smile at her. “Thanks, though”

You are leaning against the desk in front of your bed, looking at her. You are glad that you put an old jersey and a shorty to sleep. Steph is still in her dress, and you love that you are able to look at her longer with this dress.

“And about that girl you are in love with…”

“Mh?”

“It’s not Hayley, is it?”

“No” you laugh. “The problem isn’t for her to be in a relationship. Hayley is just a friend”

You see her looking at you for several seconds, just like if she wants to be sure that you are saying the truth. But you are and she finally smiles again.

“Good. Do I know her?”

You hesitate to answer this time, biting your bottom lip thoughtfully. You know that if you say stop about this conversation at any time, Steph will accept it and talk about something else.

“You do” you finally answer.

“Is she a footballer?”

“She is” you smile.

Steph seems to have fun asking you those questions and you don’t want to suppress her smile. She said earlier that she never saw you fond of someone, it’s only because you aren’t allowed to show it. But you are so whipped.

“And it’s not Hayley” she thinks aloud while you shake your head. “Macca?”

“No” you laugh softly.

“Right, you told me that her relationship state isn’t the problem”

She still seems lost in her thoughts and you smile softly at her before talking again. You really hope that she will forget this conversation after a good night of sleep and having sober up.

“I do. But now you probably should go to bed. You look tired”

“You really know how to talk to women”

Steph rolls her eyes while you help her to get up, making you laugh. You guide her to the door that you open for her, smiling softly.

“You can look tired but still be beautiful, you know?” you point anyway.

She doesn’t answer but smiles before kissing your cheek. You froze, not expecting this gesture now. Your skin tickles you where she kissed you and you have to take all your concentration to stay focused in the moment.

“Sleep well” you say at the same time.

You smile and she giggles before going to her room. You close the door of yours, before letting yourself go against it and taking a big breath. Why is your life so complicated? Why aren’t you able to forget her and have a happy relationship with someone? Leila was great, for example.

Thinking about your ex, you look for your phone several minutes before spotting it in the bottom of your bag. You have several notifications there, including two messages from Steph asking you where you are. They came one hour before and you imagine that it was before she came back to the hotel too.

When you open Leila’s conversation, you see that she was online twenty minutes ago. Probably because it’s the middle of the afternoon in Spain. She went back to her country too to spend Christmas with her family.

You go in your bed again, looking at Leila’s goofy profile picture. After some hesitation, you start to write something like “Hello. I hope you are okay and have a great holiday for now. Can we just please talk about something if you have time?”

After all, Leila understood that you were totally into your relationship with her for a reason. She deserves to know why and maybe talking about it to someone will help you to pass to something else? Leila told you that she was still for you if you needed anything. And right now you really need to talk to someone.

Just after you send it, someone knocks at your door… Again. But you choose not to go answer this time, Steph is safely in her room, and can’t a girl have her beauty sleep?

But the person insists and at the third knock, you finally get up. If it’s Lany asking for a makeup remover, you are going to crush her.

But it’s not her. It’s Steph, again.

She has meanwhile removed her makeup, and her hair is down now. But it’s not what is the first thing you spot. She seems strange.

“Are you okay?” you ask her, frowning.

She doesn’t wait for you to propose to her to enter your room this time, passing in front of you to go inside. But you let her. After all she’s Steph, she can do everything she can.

“The girl you love. She’s a footballer and she’s single, because her relationship status isn’t the problem”

You watch her pacing around in your room, only nodding when she looks up to see your answer. What the hell is happening.

“Your problem is that she’s straight”

It’s not a question, but a statement. She doesn’t say it accusatively either, she makes you think about someone who is exposing his theory about something. You bite your lip when you nod again.

“And it’s not Charlie, is it?”

“No” you whisper.

Charlie is great and beautiful, but a little bit too young maybe. And definitively not Steph, once again. You look at Steph when she takes a big breathing, still not understanding what she’s up to.

“I think I know who it is, then”

“No, you don’t” you giggle softly.

She will never know and that is comforting and depressing at the same time. She’s still wearing this damn dress, and you want to rip your eyes apart for not being able to see her for any longer. She’s so beautiful it hurts.

“I do”

You heard that sentence several hours ago, pronounced by Emily and Kat and you found it cute at this time. But right now, coming from Steph’s mouth it feels strange. Maybe because she’s really close to you now.

“I have one more guess, but you have to tell me if I’m wrong”

“I will”

She’s so close that you can see every detail of her face and tell with certitude that she brushed her teeth too.

You still don’t understand what is happening, but by now she has closed the last centimetres existing between you and before you are able to freak out, she presses her lips against yours.

An uppercut probably might have made you less groggy than that. It was just a small press against your lips, but it was everything and you take a step towards Steph when she takes a step back.

“Maybe your problem isn’t really a problem” the left back whispers at you.

You lose two seconds to look at her deep in her eyes, before kissing her too. You don’t know if you are dreaming or hallucinating because of the alcohol, but it feels real and fucking amazing. Steph kisses you back and you take her against you by her waist.

********

The morning after you need two seconds to remember why you feel so happy and content. But you don’t open your eyes directly, scared to have only dreamed it. You are lying on your side, under the cover still with your pajamas. You didn’t sleep with Steph last night, it was “just” kisses and sweet nothing whispered, before you both fell asleep in your bed.

When you finally slowly open your eyes, you can see that Steph is still here and that she’s already up. The light in the room tells you that it’s probably pretty late, even with the blinds closed.

“Hello” you mumble shyly.

“Hi”

“Did you sleep well?”

Steph only nods and you understand immediately that something is wrong. You feel your stomach squirm uncomfortably. Of course, she would have regrets about it. She was probably at least tipsy last night; you shouldn’t have accepted any kisses from her in this state.

“We still can do it as if nothing happened” you whisper.

She frowns again and you want to erase those lines between her eyebrows with your thumb. At some point last night, she changed her dress for one of your shirts and it’s an unbelievable feeling to see her in one of your clothes.

“Is that what you want?”

“No” you admit before sighing. “But I want you to be comfortable”

“It’s not about yesterday” Steph says before rolling on her back and looking at the ceiling. “I mean, it does, but not exactly”

“Okay?”

You see her take a deep breath, just like yesterday before she kissed you. Waiting for her to talk, you put your head in your hand to have a better look at her. You are nervous, not knowing what to expect at this point.

“You said you love me” she begins and you nod. “So, I assume that what happened last night means something to you”

“It means everything” you whisper.

The smile that is on her face after hearing you saying that is breathtaking. But she is still looking at the ceiling, concentrating on what she wants to tell you.

“I know we have a lot to talk about, but before everything I need to know if you are still involved in any way with Leila Ouahabi?”

You frown at that. You talked about it yesterday at the wedding, so you don’t understand why it is coming back now. But if she still needs reassurances, you will say at every minute if it allows you to have something with her.

“No, I told you yesterday. We are just talking from time to time but that’s all”

You would rather for Steph to look at you, but she’s still looking at the ceiling of your room, her frown deepening.

“In that case, why has she tried to call you several times and sent you messages like Sorry I was busy, What do you want to talk about or Please answer I’m worried?”

Looks like Leila took your message from yesterday in a very serious way.

“Oh… It’s not what you think” you start, but then Steph is turning her head very slowly towards you.

“Those are the exact words Dean told me when I saw the conversation he was having with that girl from his work, the very same he’s going on dates with as we speak”

You feel your face getting soft at her confession. She doesn’t talk a lot about Dean, not wanting for her friends to diabolise him, you think. But it looks like he deserves it finally. You move in the bed to be closer to her, wanting to offer her as much comfort as possible.

“Yesterday after you left my room for the first time, I sent a message to Leila asking her if she was free to talk about something” you explain while sitting up on the bed. “But then before she’s able to answer you came back and… well I hope you remember what happened”

She looks at you for several seconds, scanning your eyes and your face with attention. She’s probably looking for any possibility of lies, but you won’t take it against her.

“I do” she whispers and your mind flies back to yesterday.

“I can show you the conversation if you want to, I have nothing to hide. And I should probably write to Leila to excuse myself” you add, frowning softly.

“No, I – I trust you” she sighs “What did you want to talk about?”

“You” you smile this time.

“Me?”

She seems genuinely surprised by your answer and your smile grows wider. You nod at her and shyly put a strand of hair away from her face.

“Yeah. I needed someone to talk about it. And Leila already understood that I wasn’t really in our relationship for a reason. She was the easier one to talk to, especially because other than Lany, she doesn’t know a lot of Australian people”

“You wanted to talk about your feelings for a girl to one of your exes?”

She seems rather amused now and you realise that I might be a little weird finally. It wasn’t maybe your best idea, but Leila is the only one who came to your mind at that time.

“My feelings about a girl I’ve been in love with forever” you precise with a soft smile. “And that I really want to kiss again, because she’s the most beautiful sigh I’ve ever seen in the morning”

Steph rolls her eyes and smiles, before opening her arms for you. You don’t waste any time before cuddling against her, cupping her cheek before kissing her softly. And just like yesterday, you wouldn’t be able to describe what you feel at every kiss. But you just can’t get enough.

You stop at one point though, when your stomach groans with discontent. It makes Steph laugh and you hide your embarrassment in her neck. Your wild appetite is a big thing, known by a lot of people around you.

“How are you seeing things, back in London?” you ask while you are eating a toast from the meal tray you request at the room service.

“I’m still looking for a flat, I’m living with Beth now and even if Calvin and Myle are great friends I can’t wait to have my own flat”

You nod while looking straight in front of you, munching your toast slowly. You love Steph’s dog, but like everyone around. He’s the best honestly. But that wasn’t really what you were referring to. Steph kept Calvin with her after her breakup, giving it to Dean when she’s away like those days in Australia.

“I’m looking for something in St-Albans, but I could look a little more eastbound maybe?”

You side-eyes her, only to see her looking at you with a knowing smile and you can’t keep yours at bay. Maybe she knows you better than you thought, or maybe she can read you better than you thought.

“That’s a great idea. Like this I could take you easier on a date”

“Oh, do you now?”

She pinches your ribs, making you squeak and almost throw the trail away. After a not very fair tickles fight, you finish on your back with Steph lying on you. You totally could get used to that. It’s Steph's turn to stroke your hair now and you take a look at her before asking what you have in mind.

“Will you say yes? To go on a date with me?”

“Of course. I didn't kiss you last night for nothing. But would you mind taking things slow? I mean – sorry for bringing him now – but I’m not separated for a long time, and I’ve never been with a girl before”

“We will go as slow as you want” you promise her before kissing her.

You feel her smile against your lips as if the feeling of your kiss is as good as it is for you. You like the idea, to be honest.

“Do you want to know a secret?”

Steph whispers and you just hum in answer, distracted by her caresses on your arms.

“I’ve always had a crush on you, but before last night I was saying to myself that it wasn’t something serious. But when I realised yesterday that you might be into me… I don’t know it’s like everything made sense”

“Do you want to know a secret too?” you smirk when she nods “I’ve been in love with you for years. That is the reason why you never saw me fond of someone. It was because I’m fond of you.”

“I love this explanation”

She smiles at you, and you find it hard to breathe easily when she smiles and looks at you like that. You don’t mind hiding your relationship for some time if this is what she needs or waiting for her to be ready to take some steps together. As long as it’s you and her, that’s all that matters.

Next Chapter

[luvth0t]

SLUT! ━ C.L

based off ‘slut!’ by taylor swift

or

in which you work in a man’s world, and loving your competitor is a lot more damning for you than charles.

warnings; smut, driver!reader, themes of sexism and misogyny and touches on inequality, angst, lotta tension tbh, she’s kinda long, unprotected sex, overstimulation, praise, degradation like once, public sex, jealousy and maybe a bad friend reader if u squint, haas suck, manifested monaco win for charles :p

lovelorn and nobody knows

love thorns all over this rose,

i’ll pay the price, you won’t

you’d overcome enough challenges in your life.

you’d constantly proven everyone wrong, do what those said you can’t ━ every step and move you made was met with criticism instead of praise. doubt instead of belief.

you found a way. you broke the records, created your own more so. first modern day female f1 driver, and you didn’t intend to be the last.

haas wasn’t where you wanted to be, and while most expected you to be happy with just having a seat; that’s not why you were here. you didn’t fall in love with the sport to just become a driver.

you wanted to win. podiums, wins, championships. like the other 19 drivers ━ you all wanted the same thing.

for some reason you were the only one who got laughed at when speaking on such wants.

but you got used to the laughter, to the unamused or unimpressed journalists ━ this was a man’s world.

that didn’t scare you as a 14 year old girl, and it wouldn’t scare you now.

all these challenges and obstacles that you overcame, all the doubt and hate you shook off; yet there was a certain something you just couldn’t shake.

certain someone more so.

it killed you inside that a man of all things could cause you so much grief, so much internal conflict.

for some reason when it came to charles, you just couldn’t resist. putting your career first, which you’d done all your life, suddenly became difficult.

you didn’t show it, you also weren’t too hard on yourself. it was unfair to be in this position in the first place. to have to be so aware of your relation to the driver, any other drivers of that matter, was a circumstance only you found yourself in.

friendships and banters amongst any other pairings on the grid was adored; snatched up by social media and cameras.

your friendships caused headlines and unwanted press apparently.

it was something you picked up on quickly, the obsession of romance and the assumption that you wanted to sleep with every damn man you raced alongside.

you laughed at it, spoke down on such thing; then didn’t give it any of your time.

until suddenly the rumours were true; charles leclerc had somehow weaselled his way past every barrier and wall you put up.

it wasn’t something you accepted quickly. and once you caught wind of your stupid little heart and it’s fondness of the monegasque you were quick to try put the friendship and it’s entirety six feet under.

this worked, for a few months.

charles had been confused ━ under the assumption you two were at the bare minimum friends. as good as friends as two drivers could get at least. then suddenly you avoided him as if he was carrying the plague.

he couldn’t question it however; it’d be pathetic. to ask you why you refused to meet his eyes in press conferences and drivers briefings anymore.

why you avoided whatever side of the drivers parade truck he was on. why you couldn’t spare him more than a ‘hello’ in passing these days.

he interacted less with other drivers, and didn’t question them. so he couldn’t question you.

las vegas however, was your downfall.

drinking was unavoidable ━ daniel had made you promise to go out with him the moment you congratulated him on his return; and if it hadn’t been him, you knew someone would’ve of.

with daniel, there was max. that was fine; you got on well with max.

then there were talks lando would make it out, despite having gone to hospital; you knew a couple other drivers would also be in the same club you were. an entry fee so high, everyone around you was oozing importance and wealth.

it shouldn’t have surprised you when suddenly charles appeared at an already drunk daniel’s side; loud laughter and murmurs of a prior vegas trip giving you enough time to down your drink in preparation to be in his presence.

you couldn’t run, not when stood in a group of four; silver slip dress doing little to allow you to blend in with the crowd around you.

you felt his gaze on you before your eyes met his, almost as if it was causing heat on your skin ━ demanding you to look at him.

his eyes had met yours with a slight twinkle, slightly hooded and telling you that he too had enough alcohol running in his veins; and the lazy smile he flashed you had your own lips curving upwards with little resistance.

it was embarassing the way your cheeks went a tint of pink as you watched him weave around daniel who was now speaking to max, too engrossed in a story to care about the way charles moved him out of the way, to stand next to you.

immediately you were aware of his hand finding the small of your back as your body became aware of the closeness of him, breath getting caught in your throat as he leant down towards your ear.

“you look incredible,” the compliment was genuine; the smile accompanying his words rendering you unable to find room to complain.

suddenly it was too hot in here. you’d like to blame the alcohol, or the stuffy club. but the man to your left was the only reason you suddenly craved fresh air.

“thank you,” you hummed, not creating distance between the pair of you despite the idea crossing your mind. he was too close, you should step away. but his cologne smelt incredible. and his hand was still lingering on your back lightly.

his smile only grew at your response, having expected you to wiggle away and disappear into the crowd.

the conversation was harmless, it always had been; but speaking with charles was just a reminder that he was one of the good ones.

he’d only ever been kind to you; kind to everyone. one of the first to speak with you like any other driver, speak about racing and your careers without undermining you.

the more time you spent with him the more clear it became that he was flawless. and oh so tempting.

maybe you would’ve ended the conversation when daniel gave you an out, interrupting the pair of you. but it was with shots on a tray next to him.

three shots later and the four of you were all cringing, scrambling to find chasers; charles offering you a lime that you quickly took ━ managing to squirt lime juice everywhere but your mouth.

it had the pair of you erupting into giggles, your hands quickly landing on his shirt which was now speckled in droplets.

“i’m so sorry!” you exasperated, only now becoming aware of the way you were struggling to stand up straight. using his chest to balance you momentarily.

he wasn’t doing any better, telling you it was fine through his own laughter; his hand lifting to your face ━ thumb brushing a few droplets off your cheek as he too swayed side to side.

your eyes met, both drunken and amused ━ and suddenly all rational thoughts had left your body.

“we need another.” you declared, hand grasping around his forearm; watching as his lips parted to disagree. but he couldn’t. a good time too tempting to resist right now.

max and daniel were long forgotten as you weaved through the crowd to the bar to sought after shots of your own; unable to identify the moment your hands had taken grasp of each other.

it was a fun two hours; innocent as well, flirtatious maybe but his hand didn’t stoop lower than your back ━ drinks consistently being poured; drivers, personnel, sponsors and fans rotating through. but you didn’t leave charles side.

you weren’t on edge either, not thinking about the what ifs. about tomorrow or the next week. just enjoying the moment.

time had gone incredibly quickly. you lost track of how many hours had been spent at the bar, how many drinks you’d downed.

charles too, until you were leaning further and further into his side. his intake stopped the moment he realised you were now struggling to stand straight.

the thought entered his mind to find a member of your team, haas or personal, to help you get you to your room soon.

he was drunk, there was no doubt about it. but he was attempting to sober up in your presence.

when you spilt a drink over the bar however, he took responsibility and declared your night was over.

it was a struggle, as his hands clasped around your arms and attempted to push you towards the exit ━ quickly realising he too was struggling to walk straight.

he’d managed however, getting you into the back of his drivers car not as easy with you dropping your phone. then him his wallet, resulting in drunken giggles and mumbles as you finally got buckled in and situated.

most of the car ride was filled with you rambling, charles more than happy to let you speak. he’d missed hearing from you ━ even if he could barely make sense and keep up with your story.

it wasn’t until you were stumbling in the hotel, through the underground entrance thankfully, and into the elevator that there was moments of silence.

you leaned back against the wall, watching as charles pressed the buttons. admiring more so, head titled aside as you gazed over the ferarri driver.

only then did you realise you shouldn’t be in this position. because all you wanted to do was get your hands on him. admire him up close, the distance of the elevator a rude difference to how the night had been spent.

your arms reached upwards, practically beckoning him over; and with an amused smile he easily fell into place ━ approaching you as his hand pressed against the wall beside your head, eyebrows raising upwards in curiosity as he peered down at you.

your arms wrapped around his neck naturally, neither of you phased from the new closeness and comfortability ━ your eyes flickering over his face, lingering on his lips for a few moments too long.

“i want to kiss you,” the words escaped your lips without any thought; it was as if a weight was lifted off your chest. some form of confession quite relieving.

charles hummed at your words, smirking even as he let out a breathy chuckle.

“yeah?” he teased ━ his breath fanning your face, and you nodded without any hesitation. it’s not what you wanted that had you not making any movements.

“mhm,” you sighed, head falling back; charles having not expected the huff of disappointment. you missed the way his eyebrows furrowed for a split second. if he was sober maybe he’d pick up on your internal conflict.

“kiss me then,” charles chimed, hand finding the side of your head; cupping your cheek so delicately you could only lean into the embrace.

never had you called on such will power and mental strength, fighting every instinct and nerve in your body that was practically yearning for him. begging you to put yourself out of your misery for once and rid the distance between the pair of you.

but you hadn’t come so far for nothing. you could only make so many drunken decisions.

“i can’t,” the words were painful to say, even the slight numbness that alcohol brought; you felt every sting of the sentence.

you watched the way his lips only curved upwards, he hadn’t picked up on the seriousness of your words.

“why not?” the question was teasing, his thumb caressing your cheek making it difficult to stick to your guns.

you looked at him as if he should know; because you’d hope he’d have some sort of idea. maybe if you could see straight you would’ve realised that charles reality wasn’t the same of yours.

“people will talk.” it sounded pathetic when you said it out loud, the sentence sobering you up enough to realise such thing. you weren’t one to usually care what people thought, so the way his smile faltered made sense.

charles took a few moments to process your words ━ he would’ve stepped away if it weren’t for your arms around him.

he wanted to point out that you two were in fact alone, but he knew what you meant. no secret was kept secret for long in the world of f1.

“let them.” charles attempted to dismiss, a cheesy smile to match, one that had you smiling as well. but it wasn’t the grin you’d been carrying all night. it was a sympathetic one almost.

charles was putting some pieces together now, as much as he could at least. your avoidance of him was making more sense with the words currently leaving your lips.

“wouldn’t fair well for me,” you mumbled; the disappointment clear in your tone. the annoyance at the fact there was clearly something stopping you. your mood was falling, charles noticed that easily.

and while he himself wasn’t overjoyed with how the night was concluding, he wouldn’t let it be ruined.

“it’s okay,” charles reassured quickly, his lips pressing to your forehead delicately instead ━ you shouldn’t have to explain yourself, he didn’t want you to feel as if you needed too. “let’s get you to bed.” he grinned.

the affectionate action caught you off guard, left speechless as his hand grasped yours and began to directing you out of the elevator. it only having you feeling regret and self pity for letting the moment escape your fingertips.

which only piled on you tenfold when he left your hotel room barely after making it two steps inside.

climbing into the sheets alone had never been so painful.

painful. a good word to describe the next few interactions with charles.

abu dhabi had you on edge. you didn’t know how to face him.

it was typical, finding yourself sat next to him in the drivers press conference. feeling as if every journalist in the room would take note of the exchanging glances, the way your eyes would quickly find something else if his met yours. the way you listened to him speak a little too intently.

charles however had no worries. not a thought in his mind as he shamelessly admired you, listening to every answer you gave. watching as you reacted to the words of other drivers or questions that weren’t to do with you. he couldn’t look away.

you’d avoided him all morning and yesterday; having not caught you after vegas.

charles was used to such behaviour, except now, he knew why. and your reasoning wasn’t good enough to him.

you two could be friends; it didn’t need to be one extreme or the other. so he had no shame in putting in effort to deter yours.

it was frustrating, almost as if every corner you turned he was there. all weekend, if you were not in the haas hospitality or your motor home, charles was near.

it was no coincidence, leaving the press pen at the same time; passing him after any interview, stuck next to him at the drivers briefing.

you couldn’t avoid the conversation, every moment with him was just pushing you further to the edge ━ your self control was hanging by a very thin thread and you were almost ready to cut it every time those damn green eyes linger on yours.

when you arrived at your hotel after qualifying, it was easy to spot him waiting in the lobby. an odd sight considering the lurking fans.

it made sense however, when charles beelined towards the elevator the moment you did.

you had to hold your breath as you both got inside, biting down on the inside of your cheek to not allow your own frustration bubble over.

“what are you doing?” the question was asked through gritted teeth, and the confusion that masked charles face did little to convince you he was as clueless as he looked.

the twinkle of amusement in his eye revealed enough.

“what do you mean?” the question was almost a challenge, charles peering down at you inquisitively - as if he didn’t know the answer himself.

you took a breath, shaking your head ever so slightly.

to put it simply, you were annoyed. at the world for putting you in this position, at yourself for getting to this point, and him for making it more difficult than it had to be.

“you’re stalking me.” you accused; eyes narrowing into a glare; one that intensified as his own lips curved upwards, and if you weren’t so focused on being annoyed you would’ve swooned over the dimples that lined his cheeks in doing so.

“i am not stalking you,” charles mused, laughing at the accusation as he leant against the wall behind him.

you expected more of an explanation ━ your own eyes trained ahead of you at the elevator doors that remained shut. looking at him was too risky.

“you are. you’re everywhere.” you huffed; not pleased with how clear the frustration was in your tone.

charles wasn’t phased, not in the slightest ━ the grin hadn’t left his face; almost as if any conversation with you was more than enough. even if you were huffing and puffing.

he wasn’t sure how the infatuation had spiralled so quickly; maybe he just wanted what he couldn’t have. the man wasn’t too use to rejection, and last week definitely stumped him.

or maybe he just refused to let you run away from what you clearly both see. feel. there was a connection here, he was sure of it.

“are we not friends?” charles question had you drawing a deep breath, suddenly aware of how slow these elevators were. and recognising the first flaw with being blessed with a penthouse room.

“of course we’re friends.” you rolled your eyes, speaking with such certainty as if you needed to remind yourself. friends.

you two were friends at most, that’s all you’d allow the pair of you to be.

“then you shouldn’t actively avoid me.” charles hummed, no shame in calling out your obvious behaviour that he’d let go on for too long.

it was humorous, the way your jaw dropped in offence at the accusation you knew was true.

“i do not.” your voice went up an octave, not even you could believe your own lie ━ nor try to sell it, avoiding his eye now as your leg began to bounce impatiently. it was becoming suffocating, in an enclosed space with him.

“you do.” charles mocked your voice ever so slightly, but the smile that went along with it left you no room to complain as you glanced over at him; your own lips curving upwards for a mere second.

you had nothing to say. to you it was clear, he knew where you stood. but you weren’t budging. it’s not like you wanted to deprive yourself of him; but you refused to sacrifice your career for a man. call it paranoia; but you don’t want to find out the consequences of adding truth to rumours.

“you don’t trust yourself around me.” charles had you read, and he wanted you to know it.

you two could be, should be, able to be friends at least. the monegasque was unsure as to why he was so set on such thing; some of you, was better than none.

“don’t flatter yourself.” you mumbled, attempting to dismiss his words; he was right. hit the nail on the head actually, but you wouldn’t admit that.

“we can be friends.” charles huffed when he realised he was straying from his original intentions; he didn’t want to provoke or tempt you. just make it clear there can be a platonic relationship here. you shouldn’t be scared of that.

“we are.” you reminded, eyebrows raising as you looked up at him; finally holding eye contact with the driver for more than a few seconds.

“then stop avoiding me.” charles repeated; and he’d be ashamed of how desperate he sounded if he had any room to care. but you were more of a pressing issue.

if he hadn’t called you out on a whole range of fronts you would’ve commented on his desperation; the elevator ding beating you to it regardless as the doors slid open.

“fine. only because you care so much,” your reply was playful; attempting to sound amused and unbothered ━ maybe that would distract from the fact you were agreeing with him.

you only had another day of being around him, you could easily do a day with him. las vegas was an example of your strength and will.

but as his grin widened, dimples and all, green eyes still pouring into yours as he backed out of the elevator; you knew it was never going to be easy.

the sticks and stones they throw froze mid-air

everyone wants him, that was my crime

the wrong place at the right time

of course it wasn’t easy.

you’d kept true to your word, he’d called you out so you finally relented.

the only solace you found in allowing yourself to get closer to charles was the fact you were right.

every moment spent with him felt like a ticking time bomb. you were cracking, you knew it. deep down you knew it was only a matter of time until you shattered and he’d be there to pick up every piece.

at first you’d coincidentally ran into him at your favourite cafe in monaco. not the first time you’d seen him there; but the first time he signalled you to sit down.

it was harmless at first, a quick catch up. one you’d have with any other colleague you’d bump into in public during winter break.

but there was something about seeing him in such casual attire, hoodie and sweats portraying him in a new light you couldn’t help but take a liking too.

what should’ve been five minutes of small talk was two hours of conversation; two hours of mind numbing tension, pretending to not notice the way his eyes would linger on your lips every now and then. or acting oblivious to the way you laughed at every second word that left his lips.

he parted with an offer to go on a run together sometime, and you accepted with the assumption it would be an empty gesture. a plan that never gets put in place.

but then he texted you a few days later; and suddenly you were struggling to find excuses to reject the offer. struggling to find the want too.

a run wasn’t dangerous. you’d both be pre-occupied.

and you were, until you were standing there puffed; exhausted and puffed; and struggling to not grow further flustered of the sight of a sweaty charles.

muscles flexing against the tight shirt, hair messier than usual; cheeks slightly flushed.

inviting him up to your place for a drink wasn’t your intention, but your mouth was a step ahead of your brain.

uncharted territory had now been crossed. messages were swapped regularly, weekly runs together was almost routine. then hours of conversation at either your apartment or his.

if you hadn’t fallen for him before, you definitely had now. it was beyond physical attraction. and it was mutual.

it was the way you found yourself always ensuring you had the biscuits he’d practically raided the first time he was over, always in an unopened packet awaiting him.

the way he found himself buying the lime flavoured water you preferred to drink after exercising; knowing your odd quirk of not being keen on regular water.

the way he came over with your coffee order and a chocolate croissant from your shared favourite cafe when you bailed on your run, apologising to him because you’d become run down with a cold.

“you didn’t have to do that,” you’d sniffled, heart fluttering at the kind gesture.

“what else are friends for,” charles had practically cheesed.

you’d like to convince yourself he was still at a safe distance, it made it easier to ignore the fact this wouldn’t last forever.

the limbo state was not ideal to neither of you, but it was much better than doing what you felt was inevitable. avoiding him again.

except that would just be much harder this time. before it was a crush; now you were swoon. you counted down the days to see him. awaited his name to appear on your phone.

there’d been close calls; moments where you thought one of you would crack.

like the time you struggled to grab a glass out of his cupboard, tippy toes and all it was out of reach.

you felt him behind you before seeing him, hand finding your hip as his other arm simply reached over you to grab a glass; quick to turn on your feet you hadn’t expected him so close.

“thanks,” you had mumbled, clearly flustered as you looked up at him ━ trapped between his frame and the counter; eyes finding his lips immediately.

silence fell over the pair of you, awaiting one of you to make a move.

you were glad charles had cleared his throat and stepped aside, returning to a safe distance ━ because you didn’t think you’d be capable of such thing in that moment.

charles questioned how he managed to do such thing, each and every time you got close to him he doubted how long he could resist being selfish.

he’d failed to realise back in abu dhabi that he neither could trust himself around you. he’d put in so much effort to prove to you that friends was possible, so naive to the fact it may be worse than before.

while he loved your company, it was a cruel reminder that you had ruled out the possibility of this going further. any dreams or fantasies of more would always stay that way; dreams. not reality.

it frustrated him beyond belief, not that he showed it. the way you gazed up at him through your pretty eyes; as if you’d do anything he asked. the way you always leant towards him when you laughed; how easily he could make you laugh.

and he couldn’t do anything about it. because he wasn’t selfish, you feared the consequences of being with him so he would not push you to face them.

deep down however, the pair of you knew it could only be a matter of time.

yet it still stung how easily it could’ve been avoided.

you weren’t meant to go out tonight, it had been a last minute and spontaneous decision; pressured by your friends who insisted, claiming you missed too many girls nights as it is. that winter break was there time to make up for all you miss while away during the season.

you got kicked out of the first bar you found yourself in, all because one of your friends picked a fight with the bartender; but that didn’t bother you in the moment.

on to the next.

it took a whole eight minutes being at the club, one you had subtlety name dropped to get yourself and your friends into, to spot charles in the crowd.

your friends eyes had found him first; your own merely following theirs in curiosity, and you were grateful that all four of you were preoccupied looking at the driver so they would fail to realise your own longing.

“i have not seen him in ages,” your friend stella spoke first; clueless to the developed friendship between the pair of you. you hadn’t really told anyone, call it trust issues.

“we should go say hi,” stella continued; looking at you all with hopefulness; eyes having lit up and appearing incredibly eager.

you couldn’t think of a worse idea. alcohol and charles almost ruined you once; and that was a few months ago. you didn’t think you had that much self control left.

“we have our own driver right here,” your friend had joked, rejecting the idea as she nudged your arm; purely because she wanted a girls night. and you laughed at the stupidity, ready to play along for your own selfish interests.

“unfortunately y/n, you’re not one stella can sleep with again,” your other friend joked through a smirk, alcohol causing word vomit, because by the way stella quickly slapped her arm told you that information she didn’t want shared.

the revelation had your face falling flat, not able to hide such thing as you pursed your lips in thought.

“you and charles?” the words escaped your lips with too much interest but you couldn’t stop yourself. suddenly needing to know more.

stella had let out an exasperated sigh.

you were grateful to know your friend beside you who rejected the idea of speaking to him was as shocked as you.

“ages ago.” stella tried to downplay, waving the idea off. although then she peered over her shoulder to look at the driver again, an innocent smile spreading across her face.

you nodded slightly, trying to muster a fake smile. you couldn’t be mad; it wouldn’t be rational to be mad. even in the slightest.

“i’m gonna go talk to him.” stella announced, and you could only swallow intently as your friend whined about it being girls night, watching as stella promised she’d be back before weaving through the crowd.

you were staring, but you didn’t care.

left to watch as stella made her presence known. watch as charles face lit up at the familiar face, embrace her quickly and introduce her to those he was stood with.

you could tell he was slightly tipsy, the way he was swaying side to side; even with his arm now draped around stella’s shoulders.

the sight made you sick. jealousy was an ugly trait but you’d never embraced it like you were now.

jealous of the fact your friend didn’t have to worry in going after what she wanted. jealous that she could quite happily cling to charles without worrying who saw.

your mood had plummeted, there was no hiding it. your friends definitely noticing but not questioning as they too glanced over at stella to note her progress.

it wasn’t until charles’ eyes found yours across the room that you looked away.

not in shame, you didn’t care that he knew you were watching; but more so to not make it clear how annoyed you were from the sight alone.

charles tensed up the moment he saw you ━ he hadn’t known you were here. and now that he did, the company he was with suddenly wasn’t good enough.

he’d picked up on your cold stare though; the way you failed to offer him your usual sweet smile.

suddenly he felt guilty, quick to remind himself he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

the driver distracted himself momentarily, tuning back into the conversation that was going on around him. but his mind was now elsewhere. you were consuming his thoughts now.

intentions to keep his distance were thrown out the window when he noticed you in his peripheral; standing at the bar alone.

he shouldn’t approach you; but the idea of letting you sit there and think he would rather spend his time with the blonde on his arm than you didn’t sit well with him either.

so he found himself excusing himself, heading to the bar where you stood.

you’d grabbed your drink, and the moment you turned around to head back to your seat and continue your moping, you’d spotted charles headed straight towards you.

a creature of habit; avoid him was your first thought. so you attempted to pretend to not see him, a sudden sense of urgency as you headed back to the booth your two friends were still sat at.

charles picked up on such thing however, his own urgency increasing as he managed to get ahead of you; practically cutting you off.

you’d been so desperate in your attempts to avoid him and his eyes that you collided, your drink taking the brunt of the hit as it fell to the ground; pouring ice and liquid on the floor, thankfully missing the pair of you.

you were quick to glare up at him, made to watch as he put his hands up in innocence and let out a quick and not too meaningful ‘sorry.’

you didn’t want to speak to him. he was an easy target for your current anger, so stepping around him was easy; you’d go without your drink for now, wanting to return to the safety of your booth.

but charles didn’t think that was fair.

he’d grabbed your arm before you made it two steps away; your name falling from his lips almost in warning.

“you don’t get to be mad at me.” charles huffed, it wasn’t fair. you told him that friends was the only possibility, so you had no reason to be glaring daggers and avoiding him as if he’d done something wrong.

he was right, you knew he was right. you weren’t even mad at him. but you were mad; fed up with the constant deprival you had to put yourself through, at how much you cared about what people would say ━ that you couldn’t put you and him out of your shared misery.

but unfortunately you had nothing else to aim your anger at; it was just you and charles in this position, meaning he fell into your firing line.

“i think you care too much about what i think of you.” you tried to dismiss his comment; not wanting to admit he was right, calling out his constant efforts of chasing you.

you watched as his jaw tensed, the breath he let out and his eyes drifting aside as he tried to rationalise his thoughts before he said something he’d regret.

“i didn’t know you knew stella.” charles huffed; deciding on what could be a civil approach. he didn’t need to explain himself, but that would be easier than playing into your game and letting you try create a rift between the pair of you.

you wanted to throw the words back at his face; but you stopped yourself. neither he nor stella owed you any loyalty when it came to one another; definitely not back then, so you couldn’t use it against him.

“it doesn’t matter.” you tried to sound calm, remove yourself from the animosity you held. if you could just get away from him, go home, and pretend this never happened.

“it clearly does.” charles didn’t miss a beat; it would have been easier to blindly believe you but how was that possible when you were refusing to meet his eyes and running away from him.

you shook your head, not knowing what to say because you couldn’t disagree there. he was right; like usual, surprise, surprise. truths were harder to ignore when it was coming from his mouth.

“it shouldn’t.” you spoke simply, before turning on your heel and heading towards the bathroom now; anywhere to get away. the thread was getting thinner, you didn’t trust yourself around him.

he’d debated on following you for a couple seconds, knowing what he should do. return to his friends. to stella; there was no complications there.

but yet he found himself just a few steps behind you, refusing to let you get the last word. to let you fall back into your old habits of avoiding him.

a part of you knew he was following you, or maybe that’s what you wanted to believe. your want to get away from him was just a product of self preservation, not true desire.

so you weren’t surprised to hear your name once you were about to reach the bathroom. turning around to face him with a sigh. you should’ve pretended to not hear him.

“what are you doing?” you huffed; looking at him with lost eyes because you were running out of things to say or do, unsure where to go from here.

“what do you want?” charles question caught you off guard, alongside the fact he took maybe one or two steps too many when catching up to you ━ so close and you couldn’t find the strength to create any distance.

you pursed your lips, shaking your head ever so slightly.

the lack of an answer spoke for itself, you knew what you wanted. him. but admitting such thing would be dangerous.

“you know we can’t━” you started to say, needing to remind yourself that as tempting as he was right now it wasn’t possible.

he cut you off however. charles knew what you thought; what you presumed others would think.

“i don’t care about anyone else. what do you want?” charles repeated, speaking with such intent it would’ve been intimidating if your mind wasn’t a scramble of thoughts.

he was practically begging you to spell it out for him; to face the truth of the matter. if you could look him in the eye and tell him you were happy with what you both had right now, he’d walk away.

but you were never going to do that. you could only bend so far.

you finally snapped.

connecting your lips with his was the easiest option, and the moment you did it was as if nothing else mattered. relief washing over the pair of you, as if a giant weight was suddenly lifted.

there’d been the slightest amount of hesitant in the action, but that was forgotten immediately.

it was rushed and messy at first, months worth of tension bubbling to the surface as your hands both pawed at one another eagerly; grabbing whatever you could.

having your hands on him wasn’t something you’d take for granted; gripping his shirt; moving to his biceps before wrapping around his neck.

his intentions were similar to yours, his large hands sprawling amongst the sides of your waist ━ not bothered by the way it caused your dress to bunch ever so slightly. he tugged you closer too, as if he was scared you’d leave his grasp.

he managed to back you into the bathroom without disconnecting your lips; hand only leaving your waist to fiddle blindly with the lock.

the kiss was still messy, eager and heated; gasping into his mouth when your back suddenly hit the wall. charles body enclosing you immediately, your legs suddenly feeling week as his hips pressed forward against yours.

it was not surprising that it didn’t stop their, neither of you were stopping now that the ice had been broken.

the night concluding with your hands spread on the wall ahead of you as charles pounded you from behind, dress bunched around your waist and panties pulled aside.

“gotta be quiet mon amour,” he’d whispered into your ear after your moans continued to grow in volume ━ his hand then moving to your jaw, sliding two fingers past your lips to shut you up.

you would’ve died happily in that moment, moments away from the best orgasm of your life.

no matter what happened, you wouldn’t be regretting it.

and I break down, then he's pullin' me in

in a world of boys, he's a gentleman

you hadn’t seen charles since that night in monaco.

he’d left for maranello not too long after, then you spent the rest of break in america; the season approaching relatively quickly.

messages were swapped, but nothing more.

testing was hectic, you didn’t get to see him or spend time with him even if you wanted too.

you weren’t sure you wanted to however. you missed him, that had been mutually expressed over text. but both you and he were scared; unsure how to navigate what happens now.

because unfortunately the circumstances hadn’t changed, you’d just gotten a taste of one another.

by the time it was raceday at bahrain, all excitement for the start of the season had left your body.

thursday set the tone; all your hard work, months of avoidance and deprival ━ it suddenly meant nothing.

you first caught wind of such in the press conference, sat alongside max, lewis, lando, carlos and alex.

when you finally got asked a question, your breath got stuck in your throat.

“did you enjoy your winter break? a new trainer in charles it seems?”

the question was posed so innocently, you knew the tone. the cheery and amused light heartedness to mask the undertones; it was accusing. you knew it was; any girl would get it.

you knew photos were circulating of you and charles running around monaco, but that wasn’t an issue. there were photos of you and daniel out for lunch as well. ones of you and toto exchanging hello’s.

what a headline; you got along with people you worked with.

“uh yeah,” you laughed off; biting your tongue, like usual. you knew when to pick your battles. “i’m no good at padel so, stuck to running.” you hummed, left to watch as the journalist nodded almost unconvinced.

it was a sinking feeling; they knew, everyone knew. it’d somehow got out. that you’d slept together. paranoia; you had to remind yourself. they couldn’t know.

“is it difficult to have relations off track with competitors?” he was looking you dead in the eye as he posed another question to you, and it hit a nerve.

you shifted ever so slightly in your seat. you hadn’t faced these sort of questions since your rookie year, when journalists didn’t realise what they should and shouldn’t imply.

you had to hold back a scoff; biting down on the inside of your cheek.

“is that a question for all of us or just me?” you practically challenged, and the awkwardness that fell over the room only had the pit in your stomach growing.

it was as if they all knew something you didn’t.

that was all you were asked, all you could think about as you sat on the couch, itching to get out of this damn room.

but that was just the start.

entering the haas hospitality your gut feeling made sense when you were faced with the entirety of the press team awaiting you.

granted, the press team was only four people. but you only ever really dealt with your own press officer if it was without warning.

the whole conversation was a blur, you felt sick the moment it begun.

‘we need to have a meeting,’

‘there’s photos of you and leclerc,’

‘damming to your reputation. our reputation,’

‘unacceptable behaviour and a breach of contract,’

‘negotiating to not let mainstream media run with it,’

‘we’re opening our own private investigation.’

you were being spoken at, no room to reply, no ounce of sympathy. you could feel the disgust as they spoke. as if you’d actually done something wrong.

“investigation?” you repeated in confusion, bewildered as you glanced between the lot of them.

you didn’t know what to say. or do.

deny? beg them to cover it up? apologise?

you felt like that 13 year old girl again, that anything you said wouldn’t matter. keeping your mouth shut as they broke out in chatter again.

short. blunt. your own press officer not even sticking around as they the dispersed, even mentioning that gene would probably be calling later.

you felt like you were going to throw up the moment you got into the privacy of your drivers room, it only taking a few seconds to find the photos flooding your timeline.

monaco. it was undeniable. it was definitely him, definitely you, kissing.

you held back your tears, determined to not let the comments ruin you. your press teams words lingering, but you pushed them back.

the day dragged, you were on edge; one wrong move and an on pour of tears would arise to the surface. just needed to wait till you were in the privacy of your hotel room.

these people would not see you cry.

you hadn’t expected the cold shoulder from your own team. but it was your manager that was the tip of the iceberg.

you hadn’t seen him all day, a close friend you’d consider him, he’d been with you since f3.

“where have you been?” you breathed as you climbed into the car, more than relieved to be leaving the track. and hopefully every conversation that was had.

“cleaning your mess.” he’d muttered in annoyance, and you couldn’t help but shake your head as your jaw clenched.

“not you too,” it was an attempt of a joke, head resting against the window. “don’t know why people are acting like i shared the teams 3 year plan with the enemy,” you huffed.

but you were only met with silence, causing your eyes to glance to your manager who was focused on his laptop in his lap.

“i mean it jason. the way i was treated today was━” you began to speak up at his silence, anger was easier than the self pity.

“what did you expect?” his question was venomous, shutting you up quickly as you stared at him with a slack jaw. it took a few moments to process, how he was on side with them.

or more importantly, not on your side. the guy who you pay to be on your side.

“for my personal life to remain personal.” you spoke like it was obvious.

you had feared this, yes, but that didn’t mean it was right. maybe you held onto hope your lack of faith in the world was misplaced. but everyone was proving you right.

he shook his head simply, so disappointingly you had to laugh, eyes gazing back out the window as you rapidly approached the hotel.

“i thought you didn’t want to be known for this.” his comment was a throw away one, but it cut you deep. his insinuation one he knew would sting, so you didn’t hide the fact it did.

“known for what?” you spoke through gritted teeth; if he wanted to insult you he better not half ass it.

there was moment of silence, hesitance; but not long enough.

“sleeping around.” he shrugged, still typing away on his computer. “great way to halt contract talks. i mean come on y/n,” he groaned.

you weren’t sure if he was right, you’d like to think your talent would over shine paddock gossip. but if he was right, the problem should lie with teams misogyny. not your sex life.

you highly doubt ferarri will hesitate resigning charles because of the matter.

you didn’t say another word, not trusting your voice; it was too much. felt like you were being attacked from every angle. ambushed even.

you’d slammed the door the moment you got out the car, urgently getting inside the hotel; managing to find the elevator through blurry eyes, tears threatening to spill.

almost there.

the elevator ride was testing, the silence made your short breaths and sniffles hard to ignore as you tiptoed on the line of breaking.

the final straw however, was charles himself leaving his hotel room as you navigated your way to yours.

your name had never sounded so delicate coming from his lips, as if he knew that you were fragile, sympathetic eyes as he took a few steps towards you.

“don’t━” you breathed out, voice breaking on you before you could say his name. your hand raising to tell him to stay where he was.

the first tear fell, silently.

“i’m so sorry,” he breathed out; cautiously stepping forwards despite your action. it broke him, the sight of you. he’d never seen you so upset.

overjoyed, pissed off, ecstatic, confused, riled up; he’d seen it all. but never had he seen you cry.

“you’re the last person i want to see right now.” you managed to get out.

lie.

complete lie, but unfortunately once more he was an easy target. the face of today’s events and the reason for fractures in practically every professional relationship you’d formed over the years.

charles didn’t take your words to heart, watching as you fumbled to find your room key; your shaky hands had him frowning, behind you now as he grabbed your arm when you took a step inside.

“please,” charles sighed; desperate for you to let him help. let him comfort you. he felt responsible, but it wasn’t guilt that was pushing him towards you.

just the need to ensure you were okay.

he’d barely received a slap on the wrist. told by his press team to ‘be more careful next time.’ and reminded issues would arise if talks of strategy and racing came to light.

that was that. his day went on. he almost got ahead of himself, optimistic the day could end with him showing up at your door to tell you that you never had anything to worry about.

but word spread quickly in the paddock, and charles caught onto the double standards incredibly quickly with how you were being spoken about in comparison to him.

you didn’t trust your voice once more, simply shaking your head ‘no’ as you got inside, attempting to shake his grasp.

he didn’t let you however, which was almost a relief.

the door shut behind the pair of you, charles tugging you towards his chest immediately.

you had no more strength, no fight left; simply letting him do so as the tears poured.

your head met his chest, arms clinging to his shirt as his arms went around you; holding you close as he mumbled encouraging words.

he felt like a safe place, allowing you to be weak and vulnerable with no fear for the first time in a long time.

quiet sobs and sniffles escaped you as you shook in his hold. it wasn’t just a days worth of torment, no, but all the other shit you put up with from the start of your career.

charles wasn’t sure what to say, just that it’d be okay. let it out. i’ve got you.

his hand was running through your hair delicately, and you somehow register the multiple kisses he pressed to the top of your head; such subtle actions that managed to slow your heart rate.

“i’m so sorry,” charles words were whispered, it was what brought you out of your own head; teary eyed peering up at him as you shook your head.

this wasn’t his fault.

“not your fault,” you spoke through a deep breath, starting to gain your composure. still timid, but you’d gotten the tears out.

“it’s not yours either.” charles spoke in certainty, sounding pissed off. because he was. and it made your stomach flip.

it was the bare minimum, but hearing someone be in your corner was exactly what you needed. the fact it was charles was just a bonus.

“i mean it’s more my fault than yours. i didn’t leave you alone, putain, i am sorry,” he began to ramble. the guilt was eating him alive. you’d tried to avoid this ━ he couldn’t help but feel as if he threw you into the lions den.

you disagreed however. deep down, this all felt inevitable. like it was a matter of when, not if. you were so scared of this happening because apart of you knew there was no avoiding it.

“i don’t regret it.” you told him in certainty, hand moving to cup his cheek; offering a sad smile. “it’s just━ not fair.” you mumbled.

his smile mirrored yours, lacking the usual brightness it held as thumb lifted to your cheeks; brushing away the tears staining your skin.

“it’s gonna be okay. i’ll fix this.” charles promised, but it wasn’t a promise he could keep. you knew that, your head tilting aside as you sighed.

his intentions were pure, held your best interest at heart.

“m’ just gonna have to let it blow over.” you told him, taking a sharp inhale. that didn’t answer the question that lingered between the pair of you.

what this was. what you two were.

he nodded ever so slightly, frustration growing at the fact he couldn’t fix it himself. he wanted to help. to rid you both of the outside noise and judgmental opinions.

“but i think━” you’d cut yourself off, you didn’t want to say it.

he knew however, by the way your grip had tightened on his shirt. the way your eyes held sympathy and sorrow. he knew what you were going to say.

“i know,” charles sighed; nodding in reassurance.

this needed to stop. whatever this was, it couldn’t go further. not for now at least; charles knew that.

rumours won’t die down if there is still truth to them.

your bottom lip quivered slightly at the sight of the sad smile he showed you; the way he was so willing to comply.

you hated the fact you both had to suffer, all for what?

“i’ll stay away, i promise,” charles hummed; biting down on the inside of his cheek as he ran his fingers through your hair once more.

you still had no words, because it was the last thing you wanted. yet somehow was what you needed.

you’d like to say to hell with it, to tell him you didn’t care. that you could be together, and figure out the latter.

but today had been hell; you weren’t sure it was something you could get used too.

“thank you,” you whispered out; charles only response was pulling you close once more, knowing when he let you go, it would be for good.

he had to let you go.

but if I'm all dressed up, they might as well be looking at us

if they call me a slut, you know it might be worth it for once

charles stayed true to his word.

it was obvious, the way you two steered clear of each other.

talk of you and him died down, the paddock found something else to focus on within a couple weeks; and it was just another story for the history books that would be brought up every now and then.

their was awkwardness in the team however.

their investigation closed with no findings, something you laughed at.

a motivator; to get the fuck out of there.

it paid off, comfortably beating your teammate. dragging the car into the points most weeks.

talks with mercedes was going well, progressing nicely ━ you wanted to emphasise to your manager that charles hadn’t been mentioned once from them either.

but you weren’t going to dwell on the past.

not audibly at least.

charles was a sacrifice you hated making, and it was mutual.

it was cruel, the way you were too scared to meet his eye if cameras were around. scared one wrong move and you’d be jumped on by prying eyes and gossipers.

charles too shared your fear; he didn’t want to put you in a compromising position. and while it was physically painful to cut you off completely, he managed.

none was easier than some, it seemed.

it was laughable, how the pair of you actually believed the avoidance would stick this time. that it would actually work.

couldn’t even make it to summer break, a few months apart was bound to be all you could endure.

monaco, a race you’ll never forget.

your signing with mercedes was announced on the thursday; a milestone in your career, a highlight.

you were ecstatic, nay-sayers and doubters did little to dull your mood ━ nothing would ruin such an achievement.

but it motivated you.

you heard it all before, when you signed with haas. how it was a PR move, not on merit. for the money you would bring in. the commercial value.

it was the same thing, and the need to prove people wrong was always a blessing when you got in the car.

it’d been a wet qualifying, playing into your favour. putting the car into p3 meant everything would’ve had fallen into place. and it did.

you were overjoyed, the smile had not been wiped off your face. you were proving that contract was yours based off your talent.

you went on to hold onto p3 in the race and secure a podium, you were high off adrenaline and excitement the moment you got out of the car.

you’d handled the pressure, failed to make a mistake; blessed to have had your best qualifying at the hardest place to overtake.

the other headline of the weekend?

charles had finally won his home race.

he wasn’t on your mind, not as you shared the podium. or as you faced the media together afterwards.

you cared deeply for charles, but this was your childhood dream. years worth of hard-work had finally paid off. being near him wasn’t hard, for once, because you had way too many things to currently be happy about.

it was civi and casual, friendly; in the cool down room, on the podium; in the interview.

it wasn’t until later that night, on a random super-yacht, surrounded by drunken socialites and f1 personalities that temptation reached you once more.

you’d barely had a drink, being pulled in every way and direction; talking to many that you didn’t have time to sip the half full glass in your hand.

charles knew this; he’d been watching you all night.

his dream had come true, winning in monaco; in front of his home fans.

call him greedy for wanting more as he stood on the yacht, surrounded by his friends as his eyes settled on you.

he couldn’t help but think of the only way to make this night perfect; you.

the praise and congratulations from everyone else was nice, but he was dying to hear it from you.

to congratulate you as well. on your podium. on your contract.

he thought he was over it, the unfairness of it all. but this was a new challenge.

watching as you stood there, hugging everyone. beaming and laughing, as you should.

would it be so wrong for him to congratulate you as well? to steal a couple minutes of your time? he’d promised to stay away, but this had to be an exception.

right?

so charles went against his word, weaving through the crowd the moment you caught a break in conversations.

uncharacteristically dismissing those who tried to speak to him as he set on his way towards you, nothing would stop him.

“hey,” charles made his presence known; capturing your attention; and the way your eyes lit up and lips curved upwards, he wanted to kill whoever had deprived him of such sight for however many months.

“hi!” you couldn’t help but sound surprised, pleasantly surprised.

you’d been wanting to talk to him; which wasn’t anything new. needing to talk to him however, just unsure how to navigate such thing.

“congratulations. sure you’ve heard it all, but you deserve this.” charles words were genuine; smiling down at you proudly, and while you had heard it all the past couple hours; it meant more coming from him. “the contract as well. huge news,” he added.

your nose scrunched up slightly, grinning ━ pure happiness present because you really were oh so happy.

“thank you,” you smiled; nodding appreciatively. “i should say the same to you. i know how much this win means to you,” you spoke; and charles could only smile at the way you sounded so sincere.

“thank you,” his turn to offer thanks, a silence falling over the pair of you.

that was all you should say, all you were sure was excusable.

it was clear, the way you both had so much on the tip of your tongue; too scared to let it out. neither wanting to be the one to crack. to undone all the hard work.

charles so desperately wanted to rant his heart out, remind both you and himself that the past few months had been undeserved torture. and he was convinced he was going to for a moment.

but he couldn’t. he wouldn’t be selfish with you.

“well i’ll see you━” charles had cleared his throat, ready to do the right thing. to walk away, like he promised he would.

but you cut him off. scared if you didn’t tell him now, you never would.

“wait.” you interrupted, pursing your lips; and he was happy to shut up. he didn’t need any convincing to stay put.

“i uh, with my mercedes contract…” you trailed off; biting your lip. “i made it clear, what expectations would be of me. on and off track, obviously. like anyone would,” you rambled slightly; nervously even.

charles wasn’t sure he’d ever seen you nervous.

you were nervous because of what you were implying.

you’d made it clear you didn’t want to be held to any individual expectations off track, that your relations with others wouldn’t concern the team if it didn’t jeopardise the team.

you were grateful, how understanding mercedes were. a breath of fresh air really. so much you’d basically outright told them that you didn’t want you and charles to be an issue, if anything were to arise between the pair of you.

you’d figured if you had a team that backed you, handling outside noise and assumptions would be made a lot easier.

“me and you, it wouldn’t be an issue.” you summed up; practically spitting it out. it felt weird, suddenly lacking confidence as you referenced a ‘you and him.’ worried that ship had sailed.

you watched as his eyebrows raised, lips parting in surprise.

he hadn’t expected you to say such thing, the one thing he’d dreamt of you saying one too many times.

“if that uh, you know. ever happens, i don’t know,” you added on; feeling the need to back pedal, not wanting to come off headstrong. it was the reason for your hesitance. you and charles had never discussed what you were, because it never seemed possible.

charles wasn’t sure what to say. his first instinct was to kiss you; because it seemed as if this was the best night of his life, with all his hopes and dreams coming true.

but his care for you trumped all.

“people will still talk,” he couldn’t help but remind softly. not to argue against you, but to ensure you knew exactly what you were implying. he knew the rush you were feeling, first podium. fresh off multiple highs, he didn’t want you to come crashing down tomorrow and regret these words tonight.

he didn’t know you’d already assessed all your options, weighed up the two cons. your mind had been made up, you just needed to bite the bullet.

you’d already been through it, called every name in the book. may as well make it all for something.

“let them.” you breathed out, a shy smile following suit, mischievous almost, quoting him from that night in vegas. you’d said it with confidence, such conviction he knew you meant it.

his smile was bright, practically beaming at you as he nodded. unsure what to do next, but he didn’t care. he liked the way things were looking.

he hadn’t expected you to kiss him, in the middle of the crowded floor, but god he wasn’t complaining ━ hands finding the small of your back as yours wrapped around his neck.

you’d pulled away shortly afterwards, not creating any distance as your foreheads touched.

“if you still want this of course,” you spoke; just above a whisper, realising you hadn’t really let him confirm he still wanted this.

he’d laughed, at the idea alone he didn’t. shaking his head at the thought as he brought his hand up to cup your face.

“all i could think about tonight, was that the only thing that would make today truely perfect, would be sharing it with you.” charles confessed; taking in the way you lit up at his words, watching as any last doubts or fears vanished from your frame.

you were relaxed, happy and carefree; not one bit of energy spent on anyone around you. who saw, who cared; it meant nothing to you.

you giggled as you pressed your lips to his again, passionately this time; charles leaning over you as he held your body close to his, smiling against your pink lips.

it felt incredibly cliche, as if you were the only two people on the yacht in the moment.

he’d murmured something about getting out of here only moments later, you being quick to agree.

patience was something you’d both demonstrated incredibly well over the last year; safe to say you both had none left to spare.

navigating the crowd hand in hand almost felt like a rush, relieving to not care as you followed him off the yacht; giddy like teenagers as you climbed into the back of a car.

he’d barely gotten his address out before you were on him again, lips pressed against his as you gripped his shirt.

charles hand tangled in your hair, revelling in the way your lips felt against his. he’d spent many nights recounting your night together; attempting to cling to the feeling and pleasure it brought. this was ten times better than what his imagination could produce.

the only time you kept your hands off him was the short walk from the car to the elevator of his apartment complex, the moment the doors slid shut you found yourself pressed against the wall ━ his hands gripping your hips and lips attacking your neck.

you became breathless quickly, satisfied hums escaping you; head tilting back to give him as much access as he wanted.

“have i ever told you how beautiful you are mon ange,” charles sighed against your skin; only lifting his head when he heard the doors ring open.

you smiled at him stupidly, taking in the sight. his pretty green eyes, slightly swollen lips and tussled hair. more beautiful than anything you’d ever seen before.

“come on,” you mused with a blush, urging him to head to his room; in quick pursuit.

you’d barley gotten your heels off once inside when charles was snaking his hands under your thighs, hoisting you up as your legs wrapped around his waist.

it didn’t feel really; finally able to have you like this.

“gonna make you feel so good,” charles murmured against your lips as he navigated his way through the apartment, hands squeezing your ass which granted a gasp from you. “deserve so much more than a quickie in the bathroom,” he commented.

while your first time together was more than satisfying, it was rushed. muffled moans and chasing release desperately with fear the moment could’ve been ruined in any moment.

tonight you were all his. no need to keep you quiet, no limit to the positions he could put you in.

he sat at the end of his bed; you not taking long to get comfortable in his lap as your lips moved roughly against his; hips grinding as you did so.

“you won,” you breathed out as you shifted your attention up his jaw, teeth catching his ear momentarily as you kissed at the skin of his neck. “let me make you feel good,” you whispered; charles head tilting back as he audibly groaned. “you deserve it,”

charles always loved praise, his ego thrived on it. but god, hearing it from you? his pants were feeling way too tight.

he couldn’t say no to you, not that’d he’d ever want too.

you didn’t give him any time to reply regardless, climbing off his lap and standing between his legs momentarily, hands holding onto his knees as you pressed one lingering kiss to his lips.

sinking to your knees, you were incredibly eager. a scenario you’d play out too many times as your hands got to work in freeing his cock.

charles lips parted as he rested back on his hands, head tilted downwards as he watched you intently ━ biting down on the inside of his cheek at the sight alone.

his breaths only got heavier as you spat in your hand and jacked him off a couple times, hissing as your thumb rolled over his tip.

the sight was better than you could imagine, as you took him in your mouth and watched his head fall back. his clenched jaw, neck muscles and arms flexing as he groaned.

it had your thighs clenching together, not wasting time in bobbing your head; taking as much of him as you could; hitting the back of your throat each time but it did little to deter you.

“putain,” charles grunted under his breath ━ forcing himself to tilt his head back down to watch you work, hand gathering your hair in a makeshift pony tail. and the way his lips curved into a smirk when your eyes met his had your thighs clenching once more.

“there you go pretty girl, taking me so well,” charles huffed ━ noting the way you gagged around him every now and then, yet showed no signs of slowing down. “mouth is fucking heaven,”

his praise only encouraged you further, doe eyes staring up at him through your lashes; tears welling in your eyes.

your hand was holding his thigh for support, watchinf as he busied himself momentarily by ridding himself of his shirt ━ revealing his toned torso flexing with each sharp breath he took.

“pull your dress down,” his words were direct, a clear demand and with him staring down at you like he was ready to ruin you, you didn’t need to be told twice. tugging your dress down to free your breasts.

his admiring eyes raked your body shamelessly, pleasure only increasing from the sight. you were fucking perfect, and he couldn’t believe this was real.

it was as if you caught on to the moment, reading him perfectly as your efforts picked up ━ keen to make him cum.

and by the way he was starting to tug on your hair, you knew he was close.

he came in your mouth moments later with little warning, and you were practically squirming in your place as you licked him clean.

“you’re perfect,” charles breathed after catching his breath, which happened incredibly quickly; signalling you to climb back into his lap.

you giggled as you did so, grinning as you pressed your lips to his once more; straddling him with ease as your hands spread across his toned chest ━ happy to touch him now that he was back in reach.

his hand moved up your leg, pushing your panties aside and cupping your cunt with little warning; causing you to moan into his mouth.

“you’re fucking soaked,” charles spoke, pulling back to watch your face contort in pleasure; watch as you became putty in his hold. “barely touched you yet baby,” he cooed ━ you couldn’t help but whine, hips bucking against his hand as he circled your clit.

he took in every feature on your pretty face, able to live in the moment and not be rushed like last time. make you feel everything he wanted you too.

“who would’ve guessed you were such a slut,” charles mused; practically toying with you. he couldn’t help himself, not when you looked so pretty panting and whimpering in his lap.

“for you.” you whimpered, hand gripping his bicep tightly as your hips moved against his hand; yearning for more.

he grinned widely at that, rewarding your words as a finger pushed past your folds unexpectedly.

“all for me.” charles hummed in agreement, words still slightly breathless himself as his other hand moved to cup the side of your face, making avoiding his eyes impossible. “all mine.”

the statement had your stomach flipping, words you could used to. something you’d know a long time, but hearing it out loud was so refreshing.

you were his. he was yours.

“please charles,” you whined out impatiently, his toying with your cunt felt good; but you need more, your thighs a painted mess along with his hand by now.

your plea had him hardening again, words sounding so alluring coming from your lips.

“what do you want mon amour?” charles spoke through a breath, eyes gazing over you as if you were the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. because you were. “tell me, i’ll give it to you,” he promised; thumb grazing your cheek; such a delicate action that didn’t correlate with his thumb teasing your clit expertly.

you whimpered again, cheeks a tint of pink as your eyes fluttered shut momentarily, but they found charles gaze once more.

“all of you,” you spoke. “wanna feel you,” you sighed; his cock was pressing against your inner thigh ━ not helping with the urge to feel him inside you.

his lips curved upwards, pleased with your answer; and unable to deny himself any longer either. you’d both been through enough torture, he wouldn’t be delaying this any longer.

“want me to fuck you yeah?” charles paraphrased for you, hand leaving your cunt to find your waist; lifting you off his lap with ease and laying you beside him.

he was hovering over you within seconds, leaving you to nod eagerly below him. your hands found the hem of your dress, tugging it up and over your head as if that would help entice him.

but he didn’t need any help; he doesn’t think he’d last another second without being inside you.

he slid inside you without another word, your gasps intertwining as your own head fell back against his pillow; eyes fluttering shut at the stretch.

he gave you a moment to adjust, his head falling into the crook of your neck; light kisses peppered on your skin, a contrast to the way he was about to fuck you.

your hands tugging on his hair told him you wanted more; thrusting into you slowly and deeply at first, your mouth fell agape at the angle it hit ━ moans beginning to fall from your lips.

“charles, fuck,” you mumbled ━ fingers moving down his back, sure to leave marks as he gradually picked up the pace.

his thrusts got quicker, but not softer; fucking you into the mattress, all you could do was whimper and moan ━ eyes rolling back at the pleasuring sensation.

“so perfect for me,” charles grunted; the way you were squeezing him was better than he remembered, keeping his focus on your own pleasure because if not, he’d probably cum within moments.

“oh my god,” you all but practically squealed when he moved your leg over his shoulder, feeling as if he was splitting you open; you bit down on your lip to try shut up the now constant sounds.

charles wasn’t having a bar of it however.

“ah, ah,” charles breathed; hand moving to tap your cheek. “wanna hear you gorgeous girl. every fucking sound,” charles told you; eyes pouring into yours which made it clear he wasn’t joking.

you nodded weakly, on cue charles delivering a harsher thrust that had you choking out a moan once more.

it didn’t take long, for you to get brought to the edge; stomach growing tight as your eyes rolled back once more. cumming without warning, unable to process the pleasure you were feeling.

a moment of weakness for charles, watching as you shook beneath him and screamed his name; squeezing him suddenly, he almost came too. he didn’t though thankfully, because his focus was still you.

you weren’t prepared for him to not relent, instead feeling his hand snake between your bodies and find your clit, eyes flying open.

“o-oh,” you gasped, the onslaught of pleasure hard to cope with as your hands gripped onto his back tightly, nails digging into his skin as he smirked down at you.

“take it baby,” charles grunted; eyebrows raising momentarily. “too much?” his question was teasing, and he couldn’t help the breathy chuckle when you shook your head; scared he’d stop. you didn’t want him to stop.

you weren’t sure you could take it, but you were going to try. you’d do anything for him when he was touching you like this.

“so good,” you moaned; tears welling in your eyes quickly from the overstimulation, body jolting with every thrust which hadn’t relented.

his stamina impressive, having not slowed down nor gotten sloppy as he pounded into you.

you were struggling to keep your eyes open now, lost in the pleasure. but charles wanted to watch you, and wanted you to watch him as you pushed you over the edge once more.

“look at me baby,” charles grunted; pinching your clit lightly which had your eyes flying open, meeting his. “gonna watch me as you cum again yeah?” charles told you, his own breaths heavier now as he struggled to not let himself revel in the feeling of you.

you nodded, again, like a broken record; all your effort focused on watching him as your face contorted in pleasure. maybe even a tear or two fell, the familiar feeling washing over you again suddenly as he delivered another harsh thrust. and another. and suddenly it was as if he found new energy somewhere.

you all but screamed his name as you came again suddenly, coming undone on his cock. he was close behind, unable to resist with the way your walls squeezed him again.

your heavy breaths filled the room as charles helped you both ride out your highs, before sliding out of you, he remained above you regardless.

he was looking at you in awe, hand pushing some of your hair away that had gotten stuck to your forehead, earning a lazy smile from you in return.

“i could get used to that,” your words broke the silence; eyes flickering to his lips which gave charles the hint to place a kiss on your lips, a delicate one unlike those shared earlier.

he’d chuckled at your words afterwards, humming in agreement as his hand ran up and down your side comfortingly.

“me too,” charles agreed with a grin; pressing yet another kiss to your lips, a longer one this time; passionate and slow. enjoying the moment. the peace of it all.

when you pulled away moments later, you practically beamed as you urged him off of you; moving to straddle him instead.

you had a lot of time to make up for.

━━━━━

a/n: oh she’s bACK BACK CHARLES FIC YAY

hope u liked, still rusty lol i don’t rlly like the smut but i did enjoy writing the angst hehe

unedited sorry i’ll get to that later like usual oOps

as always feedback is always greatly encouraged and appreciated, means the world to me so pls share ur thoughts 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

luv u all !!!!!!!

[miedei]

plots and plans

the team's gotten to know spencer's gf very well... but now there's a new face in the bau (aka emily gets initiated into the team... by meeting mystery girl!)

a/n: this fic took an ungodly amount of time its been in my drafts for months but <333 mystery girl <333 (this is fr just a bau team fic at this point)

(look at '#mystery girl!au' on my blog to see more musings about them <3)

cw: alcohol consumption, reader referred to as a woman, reader is around spencer’s age in s1/s2 (23-24), the team plotting, use of y/n eugghhhhh

wc: 3.4k

part one | part two | mlist

(reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

SSA Emily Prentiss is perfectly wonderful. Garcia thinks so, and so does Morgan. Sure, they miss Elle, and they miss working with her, but leaving the BAU was something she’d needed. Besides, Penelope wasn’t letting Elle out of the team’s outings anyway. 

So, the two of them really have nothing against Prentiss. She’s kind, good at her job, and fits into the dynamic of the team well. However, at the end of her third case with the team, something of interest happens that makes them start to plot against her. Lovingly.

Morgan’s on the phone with Garcia, letting her know that the unsub was in custody, when Emily comes up to him, tapping his shoulder. Without hanging up, he draws the phone away from his ear, turning to her questioningly.

“Morgan. Can I ask you something? About Reid?” At his sound of agreement, she plows on.

“Does he… He’s so young. Do you think he’s had the social experiences he needs?” She shakes her head slowly. “He’s so sweet that it makes me worry. I mean, a kid going to university at 14, that’s got to make you miss out on a lot of things, right?” She gestures to Spencer, and Morgan turns to see him. 

Spencer is fiending off the officers mobbing him with thanks and congratulations for his breakthrough on the case. A smile creeps up on Morgan’s face, watching him fiddle with his hands and bow his head nervously, trying to find a way out of the group.

“I mean, yeah, Reid’s a little clueless in some ways, but I don’t think it really affects him too much. He’s learned to adapt quickly.”

Emily frowns, still looking at Spencer. “I feel like there are things everyone deserves to experience, you know? He hasn’t been able to do so many things because he’s achieved so much. I mean, he’s never even dated someone, has he? Did you see the way he handled that witness?”

Morgan bites back the urge to laugh uncontrollably. Earlier in the case, Spencer was interrogating a witness, Morgan, Emily and Gideon watching through the one-way mirror. He recalls the way the woman grabbed hold of Spencer’s patterned tie, twisting the fabric in her fingers with a sly smile. Spencer, the sweetheart he is, had recognised the flirting, but did his best not to mention it, pulling his tie out of her grip multiple times as he stuttered through his questions, until Gideon came in to save him. 

Morgan recognised that for what it was, Spencer’s incredulity that anyone other than you, the person he’s so obsessed with, would ever try something with him. 

But Emily, poor, sweet, Emily, had assumed the same thing the rest of the team had, years ago. That Spencer was nothing more than an inexperienced nervous wreck, that had never even kissed a girl. Morgan shamefully remembers the time he’d been proven wrong of this same assumption.

Emily’s face is so earnest, that Morgan almost doesn’t want to pop the bubble, disturb her impression of Reid. Instead, he just pats her shoulder with the hand not holding his phone.

“Trust me, Prentiss. Reid’s missed a few things, but he’s fine.”

Walking away from her, he remembers that he didn’t hang up the phone, bringing it up to his ear to hear Garcia speaking rapidly, clearly having heard his exchange with Emily.

“-and she doesn’t know! Oh my god, you hunk, wouldn’t that be so good? She’d experience what we did back then and-” Morgan cuts her off. 

“Babygirl, what? I didn’t catch that first bit, who’s going to experience what?”

Garcia takes a deep breath, and Morgan can picture her smile. “Okay, I know you're always thinking, ‘what is the wonderful thing about having the most beautiful and brilliant woman you’ve ever seen in your life?’, and, sweetheart I’ll tell you. It’s that I have a wonderful, wonderful brain, and I have a plan we have to set in motion.”

Derek sighs, but he knows he’s all in before she even says the word. “Alright, princess. Hit me with it.”

Garcia insists that the plan must be unfolded in three stages. Three stages, in order to make sure that Emily’s introduction to you will be just as bewildering as it was to them.

Stage 1: Confirmation. 

Emily’s assumption of Spencer’s inexperience had to be nurtured, demonstrated to her, to lull her into a false sense of security, the way the team had for far too long. 

Morgan and Garcia begin just one week after the case, a paperwork day where the team is confined to the bullpen for hours. Emily is sat at her desk, across the aisle from Morgan’s, when Garcia walks by, a phony excuse for her presence spilling out of her mouth. 

“Just got to drop these files off to Gideon!” She speaks too loudly, to no one in particular, and Morgan groans internally at her unsubtlety. Emily quirks an eyebrow at him, but he doesn’t say anything, even when Garcia taps her nose in a very exaggerated manner. 

No time to cover up for her, Morgan’s got work to do, and a time limit to boot.

“So, Prentiss. You’ve had three cases here so far, you’ve gotten to know the team. I wanna know, what are your impressions of all of us?” Emily narrows her eyes at him, but swivels her chair so she’s facing him. Bingo. 

He grins as she leans forward, speaking lightly. “My impressions? What, you want me to profile you guys?” 

He holds up a finger. “Ah ah ah. I’m a profiler too, don’t act like you haven’t been doing that to us since the day we met. Now, tell me. Why don’t you start with, say, Reid?” He winces internally, hearing the eagerness in his voice. Despite that, Emily replies readily.

“Well, I’m probably just going to tell you things you already know. He’s brilliant, insecure, anxious about not only himself but us, worries about his mother all the time. Socially unsure of himself, especially in non-professional settings.” As she speaks, Spencer walks into the bullpen from Gideon’s office, accompanied by Garcia, whose eyes are filled with poorly-contained mischief.

“...and, my good doctor, she was flirting with you! Didn’t you see the way she tried to give you coffee for free?” An expression of puzzlement flits across Spencer’s face, looking at Garcia as he grips the file in his hand. 

“Garcia, why are we talking about this again? That happened weeks ago, and I still don’t think she was doing anything more than-” She cuts him off with a palm facing him, barreling forward with her rant, eyeing Prentiss blatantly as she speaks.

“You never think they’re doing anything more until they’re the ones gripping those little ties of yours. Spencer, you don’t think anyone is ever flirting with you!” Prentiss nods at Morgan, speaking under her breath with a smirk.

“Uncomfortable in non-professional settings, especially romantic ones.” She sits back in her desk chair, swivelling away as Garcia ushers Spencer to his desk, ignoring all of his questions. 

Spencer sits with a huff, confused. He pulls out his phone surreptitiously. 

SPENCE <3: They’re being weird. Again.

Garcia has filled JJ in, and she is ecstatic. She still remembers the horrifying embarrassment that she hadn’t realised something so huge about her best friend. It might be a little juvenile, but it will definitely bring her a little comfort if Emily, profiler extraordinaire, makes the same mistake. 

It’s five days later, and they’ve moved onto the second phase of the plan.

Step 2: Doubt.

Garcia has decided that sowing seeds of confusion, the way the team had been confronted that one time at the bar, was the way to make sure Emily has the full experience of being one-upped by that infuriating man, according to her.

JJ’s role is the whisperer, making sure that Emily witnesses suspicious activity. She’s taking this immensely seriously, Garcia having impressed upon her the responsibility of this guise. 

Walking past Spencer’s desk, she shoots a glance at Emily, confirming her distraction, before speaking into the room, “Everyone had a good day off yesterday? Spence, went to that exhibit at the Living Museum?” 

A dreamy smile flashes over Spencer’s face, before he makes sure to school his features, allowing only a small grin to remain. “Um, yeah. We went to go see the aviary, they’ve got some new Southeast Asian birds in.” Yes. JJ resists the urge to smirk, but her hopes are quickly dashed when Spencer moves on without a word. “I think Gideon would really enjoy it actually, I’ve been meaning to…” She groans internally, tuning out of his meandering ramble about bird migration patterns. There’s no way Emily clocked that tiny ‘we’. 

JJ isn’t one to give up easily, though. Any good plan requires patience, so she waits another day before attempting again.

The team is on the jet on the way to a case, and JJ is sitting strategically at the table with Emily, Derek, Spencer, and Garcia on the grainy laptop screen. Garcia’s hands fly around animatedly as she finishes describing the state of the case. 

Hotch raises his head from the case file, proceeding to assign everyone preliminary tasks, when JJ nods at Garcia subtly, and watches as she begins to rush around her office in a whirl, finally snatching up her cell phone. It’s a wonder that no one else notices the rush of movement on the screen, leaving JJ holding her breath, hoping that Emily or Spencer don’t catch wind. 

Finally, two minutes later, Garcia sits back down at her desk, feigning nonchalance. 

“Yep! Okay, sounds like you guys all have it under control, so— I’m going to go, do my techy things in my techy room. Okay? Garcia out!” 

The image of her disappears from the screen, and JJ grips her mug tightly, fearing that Garcia gave it away. Gideon chuckles, but other than that, it seems that everyone has written it off as a regular Garcia-ism. Thank god. Hotch continues his spiel.

A few seconds later, Spencer’s cell phone rings, the ringtone different from the one everyone is used to hearing when he’s called by one of the team members, but JJ recognizes the 8-bit rendition of Vivaldi’s Summer that you helped him set up for your number.

She can see Emily tilt her head from next to her, but JJ resists the urge to look up, keeping her eyes trained on the case file in her hands, and nodding along with Hotch’s words. 

The sound of Spencer rustling around for his phone meets her ears, and the subtle sigh of happiness that he lets out when he sees the caller ID. The beep of him accepting the call and standing to walk to the kitchenette float through the cabin, and the whispered ‘excuse me’ when he walks into the curtained room.

JJ can almost hear the confusion radiating from Emily, knowing that the newer agent’s utterly baffled at the sight of Spencer missing out on the discussion currently happening.

She can only pat herself on the back for having maneuvered Emily into the seat closest to the kitchenette, too, because the way she stiffens when hearing Spencer’s saccharine-sweet voice say ‘hey, angel’ is just the cherry on top.

JJ whips out her cell phone, texting Garcia discreetly that the plan was a success, receiving a flurry of emojis in return. Unseen, Gideon looks over her shoulder.

In the kitchenette, Spencer furrows his brows, confused. 

“Wait, Garcia told you I needed to talk?” 

Your tinny voice flows through the phone and into his ear. 

“Yeah! She texted and said you asked for me but wouldn’t call for some reason? I don’t know, it was strange. You know I don’t call you when you’re on a case, but I thought it was an emergency or something.” 

He sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. 

“I told you, they’re being weird! I asked Morgan what was going on and he just laughed.”

Your matching sigh rings out. “If they’re not going to tell you, I think there’s nothing to do but let it happen until it comes out. They always tell in the end, anyway.”

His shoulders slump in annoyance, but he begins to nod. 

“I guess you’re right. It’s still annoying.”

The case wraps up four long days later, and the team pile into a booth at O’ Keefe’s all in similar states of sleep-deprived delirium. Spencer would much rather be at home right now, but Garcia was persuasive as usual, crooning on about how ‘your ladylove gets you every day, can’t you give us one evening?’. 

Despite his love for the team, their increased strangeness hasn’t abated over the days they were working. 

Even now, JJ, Derek and Penelope sit across from Spencer in the booth, huddled around each other and whispering behind cupped hands. Granted, they weren’t this obvious over the last few days, but their drinks have only weakened their resolve to not let Spencer and Emily in on whatever they’re doing, not broken it. 

Making up his mind to ignore them, Spencer has resorted to leaning into the other end of the booth, chatting idly with Gideon, Hotch and Emily. Hotch is smilier than usual, three beers deep and showing them a seemingly endless amount of baby pictures of Jack from his wallet. 

He can’t help but smile at the grainy photos of the chubby baby, grinning to himself at the memory of the last time he saw Jack. 

He’d been leaving the office to meet you, and ran into Hotch and Haley in the elevator, stroller in tow. The image of you excitedly waving at little Jack, holding out your hand and letting him grip on to your index finger is burned into his brain. He’ll probably never forget it, eidetic memory or not. 

The multiple drinks he’s had allow a lovestruck look to settle on his face as he half-listens to Hotch’s tales. They also make sure that he doesn’t notice the puzzled look that Emily flashes at him, same as the ones she’s been sneaking for days now. 

However, no amount of drinks can let him ignore the strange way that Gideon is acting. The stately profiler is normally rather talkative on nights like these, subtly teasing the team or devolving into long tangents about an old far-fetched story. 

Tonight, however, he’s silent, merely nodding along to Hotch’s words. 

Spencer can’t help but be weirded out, especially when he catches Gideon looking over at him with an expression of repressed mirth, as if he knows something Spencer doesn’t. It’s slightly infuriating, the way it feels as though everyone is keeping things from him these days. 

He knows it’s not exactly the smartest thing to do, but he offers to go to the bar for another round of drinks. If they’re going to be weird, he might as well have something to help tide him over. 

You’re at home when Gideon calls, informing you that Spencer’s gotten more drunk than usual, and it’s probably a good idea that you come get him. 

As you pull on your coat, you can hear Spencer ranting loudly about Rachmaninoff in the background, laughing to yourself when Gideon assures you that he’s fine. 

(Curiously, you hear an unfamiliar voice question Gideon, ‘Who’re you calling?’ before he hangs up.)

Arriving at the dimly lit bar, you crane your neck to try and glimpse Spencer and his coworkers, coming up blank. 

You’re just about to call Gideon again when a suspiciously swaying, lanky individual catches your eye. Sure enough, Spencer is standing by a wall, gripping a glass in both hands and staring into the middle distance, seemingly alone. 

Pocketing your cell phone, you make your way over to him, feeling a familiar infatuated smile start to bloom on your face. 

“Hey, handsome. You here alone?” He blinks rapidly before focusing on you, eyes widening dramatically. 

“You’re here! How are you here, I thought-” He hiccups, the action causing his entire body to wobble, your hand shooting out to steady him. 

“I thought you were at home!” He takes the hand you have on his waist, tugging you closer until he can drape himself against your side, tall frame hunched over you. 

You have to giggle, widening your stance so you can support the two of you as you look around the bar, hoping to find any of his coworkers. 

Unfortunately, you come up blank, assuming they're in the booths towards the back that you can’t see. Sighing, your hand comes up to rub at the nape of his neck, causing Spencer to sigh happily, bending even further so that his face is buried in your hair. 

“Spence, where’s the team? We’ve gotta say goodbye before we go,” You murmur softly, feeling him relax further and further. His voice is higher than normal, muffled due to his refusing to raise his head from yours. 

“I dunno, they’re sitting… somewhere, and Emily said she’d come find me after I came here. Did you know, she listens to Eric Carmen? I was telling her about the lawsuit Rachmaninoff’s estate filed against him, and…” 

He must keep talking, you can feel the vibrations against the crown of your head, but he’s shifted his face to where his mouth is pressed against your scalp, taking with it any hope of understanding his words.

You’re waiting patiently for him to finish, when a dark-haired woman catches your eye. She stands a few feet away from you, peering at you curiously, as if trying to suss something out. Her face is obscured due to the shadowy lights, but she looks vaguely familiar. 

Stopping your ministrations on Spencer’s neck, you entreat him to look up. 

“Hey, do you know who that is?” He raises his head with a heaving sigh, as if it’s taking all his energy. He nods once, before returning his face to your hair, snatching your hand and placing it on the back of his neck again. 

“Yeah, it’s Prentiss.” He falls silent after that, but at least he gave you something. 

You’ve heard a lot about Emily Prentiss from him, although you haven’t had the chance to meet her yet. Waving her over, you smile brightly. 

“Hi! You’re Emily?”

She walks over to you, expression wary, until she catches a proper glimpse of Spencer’s face, at least, what’s visible of it. 

“Reid? It is you…” Her face is bewildered, confused, looking at you. 

“Sorry, who are you?” You stick out the hand that Spencer isn’t holding hostage, shaking hers.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, his girlfriend. It’s really nice to meet you, I’ve heard great things from Spencer and the others.” She looks more stunned, if that’s possible, but stutters out a greeting. 

It reminds you of the time you met the rest of the team, the way they’d stared incredulously at you when Spencer introduced you. Thinking back to Penelope’s multiple texts confirming that you weren’t coming tonight, it seems you’ve figured out why they’ve been acting weird.

You can’t help but smile pityingly at her, knowing how she’s feeling. Gesturing at the man clinging on to you, you give her an out from the conversation.

“I think I should be taking him home. Would you mind telling the rest where we went? I don’t want them to worry.”

She nods wordlessly, watching after you as you slowly lead Spencer out of the bar and into the night. 

SSA Emily Prentiss is a profiler. A spy. She’s accustomed to learning everything there is to know about an individual within a few days of knowing them. It’s for these reasons that she stands, dumbstruck, in the middle of O’ Keefe’s. 

Spencer Reid has a girlfriend. And she didn’t figure it out??

She resolves to go back through the profiling notes she’d taken in her time at the academy. Maybe twice. 

Shuffling back to the booth, she’s stuck in her head, eyes wide and thoughts flickering at ten times their normal speed. It’s clearly noticeable, Derek looking concerned when she slides into her seat once more. 

“Prentiss? Are you okay?”

She reaches out to snag her beer, turning the glass in her hand. Her voice is low, still confused as to how she missed it. 

“Spencer’s girlfriend came to take him home.”

Her words incite identically incredulous squawks from JJ, Morgan and Garcia, all of them incensed. 

“You met her? She wasn’t going to come tonight, we had a plan!” Penelope exclaims in frustration, looking around the table. 

Gideon merely shrugs, his amused half-smile finally emerging. 

“Plan took too long. Took it into my own hands.”

Morgan has to hold Penelope back from lunging at him.

[writingangst]

Friendly Fire

Summary: The aftermath of Simon Riley's paranoia has left the reader with an inner battle of holding onto her anger or making room for forgiveness.

Simon Ghost Riley x Reader

Warnings: mentions of violence and torture, angst, cursing, hurt/no comfort.

Words: 1.3K

Part One

I wasn't planning on posting on this account except for that one off, but since a lot of people liked it, I'm down to give you guys more angst. So, enjoy. (Also, if you want to request anything be sure to message me.)

Whispers and lingering stares were a part of your day to day since you and Ghost got back from the extraction mission. The barracks were filled with theories, the team making assumptions to make sense of the bruising you wore like a collar around your neck. As if you were some damn dog, beaten into submission. You hated every second of being on display and serving as a symbol of what they thought had to have been insubordination.

She must’ve mouthed off to the Lieutenant.

Poor girl was probably put in her place. 

Because Simon Ghost Riley couldn’t do any wrong. Surely the woman must’ve misbehaved to deserve being put in a life-or-death situation by someone she trusted. You couldn’t calm the anger that stubbornly sat in your chest. You wanted to scream. You wanted him in the same position you were in. You wanted the fucking bruising to go away so everyone could stop talking about it, reducing you into a fucking victim.

You were a Goddamn soldier.

Ghost on the other hand had been quiet. Even more so than usual. You would catch his eyes roaming the patches of dark purple and blue he painted on your skin from time to time, turning away when he noticed you looking back at him, your expression stoic. You could sense the tension. The regret. The nasty gut feeling assumed to be guilt swallowing him whole. 

He’d never felt that way before.

It wasn’t a part of your lives. You got jobs done that would make any normal person weep for years. Trauma so consuming, veteran suicide rates were in increase and violent crimes committed by them going up as well. You had no room for guilt or regret. You were machines. It was in the job description, under the fine print. There wasn’t an option to dwell on things, it was either keep pushing or people could die in your line of work. 

Yet Ghost was stuck on that feeling.

And it was becoming harder to ignore. You saw the way his fingers twitched when you flinched from any sudden movement. The quietness that overtook the space when you stepped into any room he was in, like everything suddenly became too heavy to bear. You wanted to laugh from the bitterness of it all. This was the same man that had threatened your life. And for once, it seemed like the monster that made him who he was couldn’t hide behind the skull mask.

You couldn't decide which one was worse though. The silence or the moments you caught him struggling with himself and what he did. But the worst part. The thing that kept you up at night, tossing and turning in a bed that felt more like a grave… Was that you had started feeling sorry for him. For the way his dark eyes would catch yours when you least expected it, as if they were silently begging for forgiveness you didn’t know if you could offer him.

Maybe that was the worst part. There being a chance to be able to forgive, but never forget. Missing his touch and dreading it all the same. The way he tainted something both of you needed. Severing a conection both physical and emotional. Needing him and hating him. It was the same fight within yourself and it made you angry, until you began yearning again. Your own personal hell, a cage he viciously hand crafted to fit you.

I hate you, Ghost. 

It was a mantra. Maybe soon you would start to believe it.

But as night fell on the fourth night, the repetition wouldn’t preserve your sanity. The common area was eerily quiet, devoid of any operative in your wing. The faint hum of the overhead light was the only sound as you sat on the worn couch, eyes scanning the documents in your hands. They were sending you out again. A covert operation. Then, the bitter taste of reality hit you again as you saw his name typed out on the call sheet under personnel.

I hate you.

“I’m sorry.”

You jumped instictivley at the sound of his voice, your head jerking in his direction, slightly to your left, standing within the door frame. His words were clumsy, raw, but there was hesitation in his tone. Like he was scared. Scared of what he did, scared of what you thought of him now. The silence between you both stretched like a taut wire, brittle and poised to snap.

For a fleeting moment, something in your chest softened—a crack in the icy wall you’d built between the both of you. But it was brief. So brief. The softness evaporated almost as quickly as it came, replaced by the old familiar coil of tension in your gut. You straightened, pulling your walls back up.

“So, he speaks.”

“I didn’t want to push you,” he said, his gruff accent thick with something unspoken—uncertainty, regret? You weren’t sure anymore.

You laughed bitterly. “But choking me out is fine.”

Your words were sharp and unforgiving. A hard accusation that was meant to hit him in the chest. The tension was unbearable now, like the moment might snap any second. He didn’t move though, didn’t back down. But you saw it—his jaw tightening, his fists clenching at his sides, the way his eyes flickered to the ground. The frustration was there, the guilt too, but he couldn’t seem to find the words. He was struggling, you could see it.

He hesitated. “I fucked up.”

Raw. Unpolished.

But you weren’t so forgiving.

“You think?” You spat back, your voice filled with sarcasm, every word laced with the bitterness you couldn’t shake.

He cleared his throat. “I don’t want to excuse any of it. I was a paranoid motherfucker and I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

His words landed heavier than you expected. You almost wanted to let you anger slip. To take the edge off, to relax into the moment, maybe even believe him. But you couldn’t. You’d betrayed yourself by awarding him with your forgiveness. Your nostrils flared at the turmoil you felt in your chest, your fingers digging into the documents in your hands with a fierce grip as you attempted to counterfocus the tightness.

“I don’t know what to do to make this right,” he confessed, knowing his words weren’t right. And they never could be. They didn’t carry the weight of what he had done. “I rarely ever apologize. If ever.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “So that should make me feel special?”

“Hardly,” he stated, wincing at your sarcasm, the impact of your words sinking into him like a punch. “I’ve made an even bigger mess of this. I can’t fix it. I know I can’t. I just—” 

—miss you.

You could almost hear it in the rawness of his voice, in the way he faltered. The silence was heavier with the words he didn’t dare utter hanging there. And that just made the anger swell in your chest. The more he held back, the more it stung, the more it fed your fury. The air felt thick around you. Heavy. Your breath shallow, your chest tight, and every beat of your pulse was a reminder of everything he had done. Everything he hadn’t done.

“Yeah?” You locked your gaze with him, the intensity in your eyes unflinching, your voice colder than you thought you could manage. It was steady, but laced with an undeniable edge. “Well, I fucking hate you, Ghost.”

The words slipped out, more venomous than you intended, but they felt good to say. They felt earned. You could see it in his eyes—the flicker of hurt, the way his shoulders slumped a fraction, as though your words physically struck him. But he didn’t say anything. Didn’t try to defend himself. He couldn’t. Not anymore.

The silence stretched, thick and unbearable, but it was better than what had come before. At least now there was nothing left to say.

Nothing left to break.

[blondedmuse]

BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE (BEAUTIFUL PROBLEMS)

synopsis. ꩜ how felix comforts you.

author’s note. ∿ i wanted to write something (kind of) short and angsty so here’s this

When Felix woke up his skin was cold, lacking the warmth your body gave him in the night, his arms holding onto the ghost of you. He lifted his body from his bed, his eyes in search of his room for any trace you you. He couldn’t find anything. He checked the room you were assigned when you first arrived at Saltburn and you weren’t there either—not that you used it anyways. So, he walked downstairs to the dining room assuming you were at the table eating breakfast. While everyone ate at approximately at the same time it was in Felix’s nature to be a little fashionably late.

His assumptions were correct as you sat for the meal, looking down at your food. It was when you looked up at him he noticed something innately wrong, unable to ignore how your eyes were tainted red as they flit around the room, unable to hold his gaze. You hadn’t said much other than please and thank you the entire time, ultimately excusing yourself early, the sound of your feet resounding throughout the house as you walked back upstairs.

“Is she okay?” Venetia subtly whispered to Felix and he shook his head with a shrug. “I don’t know,” He responded seriously. Elsbeth gave her son a look of concern, the green light that it was acceptable to excuse himself.

“If I may, I’m going to excuse myself to check on her.” His parents nodded and he followed the same way you went. He eventually traced you back to the bathroom that separated your two rooms, peeking in the door when he heard your figure slosh in the water of the bathtub.

“Can I come in?” He asked quietly and you nodded. Your knees were to your chest as you held a cigarette in your hand. Felix kneeled beside you, replacing the cig with his hand, putting it out on the ash tray beside the bath it seemed you brought with you. His thumb massaged your hand in silence as if it would magically ease whatever was devastating you—it didn’t, but it calmed the both of you to know that it helped.

“Do you want me to join you?” He mouthed, quieter than the previous question as you looked at him again. Still you didn’t say anything, only nodding as he reluctantly released your hand to remove the clothing from his body. You moved from your position momentarily to make room for him in the bath, sitting in his lap once he was submerged with you.

He didn’t push you to talk but there was something so concerning, persuasive about the look in his eyes you almost felt guilty for staying quiet. Felix would never intend to make you feel that way, there was just something about him that made you want to open your heart to him knowing that he’d keep it safe.

The thought alone made your eyes water like they had earlier that morning, the reason why you left him in bed alone. You rested your head on his chest as you cried, Felix’s arms around you, rubbing at your back as you did so. His head rested atop yours, cringing to himself each time he felt it shake from a sob.

“I’m right here, okay?” He mumbled into your hair. His statement made it seem like he was a few doors down or right next to you, but in truth his body was wrapped around yours, protecting you like a shield from anything that threatened to hurt you. He knew he couldn’t, but right now it was the best he could do.

[strawberryvanillafrosting]

success life story ♡

heyy i'm here to share about my success story, the beginning is only before i started manifesting and about when i just started, all my success are on the very end of the blog, so feel free to skip directly at it if you're not interest by all the rambling !

have a good read ☆

michiko is so pretty, i've literally been told so many times i looked liker <3

the old story that i don’t live in anymore

okay so before i didn’t hate my life, at all, but i just found very dull and so poor of entertaining like it was just too fucking regular and repetitive.also a bit depressing. i thought of myself of such an unlucky girl before and i was like affirming all the fucking time that i was unlucky and guess what? everything really used to go the way i didn’t want it to go every single damn time and i’d be like i knew it im so unlucky boo-hoo.

same for the money i would just go every single fucking day rambling to my friends how poor i was and how i wanted money so bad and the same story every single fucking for days, weeks, months.

i really wanted a new appartement and my own room cause i used to share same room as my sister and it really was getting on my nerves, i had no privacy and place for myself. the apartment was small, my mum always kept complaining about it and then she would argue about my dad about it but the reason why we couldn’t move out despite trying for several months was cause my dad had whole lotta debts and my mom had a really low paying and hard job she was exhausted and, it was quiet hard to see them being this unhappy and they still tried their hardest to make us happy so i really wanted to get back at them.

about social life i had very few friends and barely went out, i'd say probably one time a month. and i really wanted to get that life of the party, and those big ass friends group and also i was crazy desperate about having black friends cause i am black and literally the only black out here without none of black friends and i felt pretty left out like wtf am i the only black girl with no black friends cause all of them (that's so dumb tho.. ) were friends and gets invited to the most fun hangouts and i was embarrassingly jealous of that and also complained a lot about it…and kept asking tf was wrong with me.

STRONGLY on this one : i wanted a relationship so bad and i kept hating and being sad to those couple on tiktok’s. one time i actually cried cuz i wanted a boys’s love so bad like i was craving it so bad. i was in such despair state before..cringy ahh ☠️

i used to be rlly insecure about my looks too even tho at some moments i felt more confident, i kept comparing myself and waisting dozens of minutes enumerating my "flaws ". i knew about manifestation but not really about law of assumption , for me manifesting was really all about listening to subliminals, method and scripting. we all once knew that phase yeah? i used to manifest from time to time but then would just give up again,since i was not seeing results and so on. so useful wow.and then there’s the others things like mediocre grades, poor family health, just constant tiredness and fatigue feeling,

tw : mention of being depressed,sh,ed, : felt empty like life had absolutely no meaning, suicidal thoughts, tried to end by over-consumption of medication, self-harm and bulimia, constant complaining and NEGATIVE ONLY mindset.

but now, NOW i tell you ever single thing i’ve just listed changed completely like every single damn thing i’ve just listed is no more, it’s out of the date, dead, buried and no longer existing !

it clicked

then at some point at my life i was just like. yk what? fuck i just wanna change it all. then i really like really  got into it all over again and for good. no more 1 week i try then giving up cause i ain’t seeing no « results ».

i watched hours and hours of ppl talking about loa (i’m not saying you should do this at all it’s just that i was very under-informed and wanted to know everything about loa)on youtube, shoutout to rita kaminski and hyler who really put me into it and informed me. then i started reading neville’s pdf books, and tumblr blogs, kinda overconsuming but i liked getting myself informed.

and then that’s where everything started and that i got aware of all the power i actually hold. all the things i actually can do just cause of my mind. i wrote down all my wishes in present tense ,like every single aspect i wanted to change/have in my life. and i started fully living in the end like really got myself into and at first of course, wavering from time to time in the beginning. it was pretty easy for me since i was used to manifestation.but what i didn’t do before is persist no matter what and that’s what was really tricky for me in the beginning to persist no matter what and not just give up to bullshit 3D. but when i kept moving forward no matter the 3D and made it facts the only my 4D matters and everything has already happened, ALL and every single wish down to the last one flowed into my life. ONE by ONE every single hour of the day i would get my manifestations down to the last letter i wrote in my notes.every single thing

success storyy

in a matter of few weeks like really 3 week-ish like- 1 month max.

starting off LUCK i’m extremely lucky now every single time i play gambling activities i win. i’ve won insane amounts at scratch cards i think i’ve won in total more than 5’000$. JUST FROM SCRATCH CARDS.and before i started i NEVER EVER WON. now whenever i play there’s not one time that i’ll win absolutely nothing even just a small prize

won huge lottery prize (from 200 to 12k the biggest i’ve won yet)

winning a gambling games, either online or dice rolling luck,bets, bingos etc.. its literally insane every one keep telling that i literally has got god’s blessing (i’m the god guys🥰)

financially freedom, my parents upgraded jobs and i’ve got lots of incomes + the money my parents give me 

all the debts my dad had, he got rid of ALL of them and when i tell you mf had a lot of em☠️

move out in a new huge ass condo which is a duplex (like really like i wrote it it’s actually scary how powerful we are..) I’VE FINALLY GOT MY OWN ROOM and we’re getting my desired furnitures and decorating the house i’m so grateful

friends and popularity i think biggest shock for me is really this. like my social life has gone from very paisible to completely fully booked and passioning life. like seriously i’ve been to more parties, concerts, birthdays, and hangouts during the last 2 weeks holidays than in my entire life

got lot of new friends, healthy relationships and quality time passed on lots of fun activities and sm memories

black groups friend. WITH AN S.so thankful to myself to be this good a manifestation i litteraly got into a black friend group of girls and i’ve never felt more at my place and understood this much. and these girls know the black group boys (when i tell you that 2y ago they were the person that i wanted to be close with so bad..also they’re really hot and funny lol)so we hung out with them and i was literally so highlighted and became pretty much friends with all of them !! 

my man. HELLO I LITERALLY MANIFESTED MY DREAM RELATIONSHIP? when i met him i didn’t actually realize right on the spot that he was exactly how i wanted him to be and reading back to when i scripted out all the things i wanted at the beginning, everything matched. he’s literally physically and mentally the man of my dream LIKE REALLY. we’re no bf and gf YET cause it’s just a little soon but we see each others super often and we have the best relationship ever i swear it’s giving wattpad. the flirting is crazyyy.

dream bod.from head to toe my desired body. heavy on the lower body all for that azz and wide hips.ive got smooth and clear skin and smell good all the time!! litteraly flawless face + got my braces which suits so much and dimples

plenty of vacations (went to ibiza, usa and dubai )

lenient parents they use to be so strict before i swear its crazy they let me go so easily now, i can hangout without asking 3 days ,like they accept even if i've gotta go in the next hour or if wanna go on trip that's in another country. i can come back home so much later too

attractive & magnetic aura + being really charismatic (everyone i met keep telling me i’ve got this thing that really makes them want me, get closer to me)

good grades without doing much

perfect self-concept - as i kept living 24/7 in the state of wish fulfilled, my self concept only got better making me really know what i’m worth and never wavering/ going back to the old story

whole ass pc set up

all of my desired skincare/makeups/shoes/clothes

and so much more...

outro

i hope y'all liked my blog and that it motivated some of you to NEVER GIVE UP cause y'all are reallyy some powerful mfs and y'all already got all of yours desires !!

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ honey kisses, shayama

[grapejuice32]

rafe x reader based off of your loosing me by ts. where maybe they’ve been together forever but like they’re not married and they’re getting distand. And one day Reader is talking to her friend and says like the lyric “i wouldn’t marry me either” and he heard and his heart totally breaks

You're Losing Me

masterlist here Rafe x reader Word Count: 1.5k

Notes: I fear I took some creative license on this one but I hope this is sort of what you wanted anon <3

You and Rafe had been together for five years, he doted on you to say the least, it was clear to the entire island just how much Rafe adored you. He’d asked you to move in with him a year into dating and of course you said yes, you would consider him your first love, your first proper love, and you were also sure that he’d be your last. Yet it had come to a point where your friends were getting engaged or were already married, and obviously there was no reason for you to rush into it, you knew Rafe loved you, you didn’t need a diamond ring to know that but there was a part of you that felt hurt, that sometimes let thoughts creep into your mind that made you think otherwise, that made you doubt him. 

It was yet another warm day in Kildare when Rafe had gone out to the club with Topper, you weren’t expecting him back until later, so you had asked your friend to come over. To be honest, that was what most of your days were like now, and you knew that you were mostly at fault for that. The thoughts of Rafe not wanting to marry you had been plaguing you, causing you to doubt how he felt for you and push him away. You’d grown distant with each other, he was barley home anymore and when he invited you out with him, you would decline until him asking you to accompany him had become a rare occurrence as now he was always under the assumption that you just didn’t want to be around him and his friends. 

It was about 3pm, you and your friend had opened a couple of beers and had fallen into the conversation topic that seemed to always frequent in your time together. She knew of your recent struggles with Rafe, she was all for you trying to him about it, constantly reminding you that it wouldn’t get better if you didn’t communicate. She also was always telling you that you needed to voice what you wanted in the relationship and not just settle for whatever Rafe wanted, but you couldn’t help it, it was common knowledge that you were a pathological people pleaser. 

“I don’t know,” you sighed, “maybe there’s something wrong with me, maybe I’m too over bearing or too messy or-“ you cut yourself off, shaking your head and taking a sip of your beer, tears lining your eyes. You couldn’t help but let the tears slip as your mind wandered, pointing out all the things that you thought were wrong with yourself and might be preventing Rafe from asking the big question. Your friend was too busy trying to console you, her voice in your ears leaving the both of you unaware to the sound of the front door opening, neither of you taking notice of the sound of Rafe’s heavy footsteps making their way through the hallway, stopping in the doorway of the living room that you were in, a frown on his face at the sight of you crying.

“I’m sure it’s none of that, babe. Maybe he’s scared, it’s a big deal.” Your friend, ever the mediator, spoke calmly, trying to soothe you.

But you only sniffled and shook your head, not even attempting to wipe the tears away, “It’s Rafe, he doesn’t get scared.” Your words only deepened the frown on Rafe’s face, he couldn’t for the life of him decipher what the two of you were talking about and why it had you in tears. “It’s whatever,” you mumbled, the words coming out slightly bitter, “I wouldn’t want to marry me either.” You were encompassed by the warmth of your friend’s arms as she pulled you into a hug, not knowing how else to respond to what you’d said. The both of you remained oblivious to Rafe whose face had fallen at your words, how could you possibly think that?

He'd lingered in the doorway silently for a few minutes as he watched your friend comfort you before he made his presence known. Calling out your name as he stated that he was back, acting as though he’d only just come in. You hurriedly wiped the tears away and looked up at him with a forced smile, your eyelashes wet and eyes slightly red, “You’re home early.”

He shrugged and leant against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest, “Wanted t’see my girl.” And despite the extensive time the two of you had been together, you couldn’t help the small blush that lined your cheeks. Your friend glanced between the two of you and rose from the couch, stating that she was going to leave and that she’d see you soon. 

It left you and Rafe alone; you weren’t sure what to say and just sat there soft of awkwardly. He sighed and pushed off of the doorframe to sit beside you on the couch, the cushion sinking with his added weight. The silence of the room felt heavy, causing Rafe to rub his eyes with one hand, something he did when he was stressed.

He let out a long breath and turned to face you, placing a hand on your knee, “Baby I um-“

“What did you hear?” You mumbled, avoiding eye contact, knowing that he must have overheard some of your earlier conversation with your friend for him to be so hesitant in all of his actions.

He cleared his throat, “Why do y’think I don’t want t’marry you?”

You let out a teary laugh, “Seriously?” You asked, somewhat in disbelief, “I mean we’ve been together five years Rafe, all of our friends are committed.”

“And we’re not? We’re not committed?” He asked incredulously, his grip on your knee tightening.

“That’s not what I meant I-“

“Sure as hell sounds like that’s what y’meant t’me? I mean shit, baby! I haven’t asked cause we’ve never talked about it, I thought maybe it wasn’t something y’wanted to do.”

“Doesn’t give you an excuse not to ask me.” You huffed, turning away from him, his hand slipping off of your knee.

“Hey,” he tutted, his hand that was previously on your thigh grabbing your chin lightly so you were facing him, “I couldn’t ask, and hey! Let me finish,” his voice raised ever so slightly, sending a look your way as you opened your mouth to interrupt, “I couldn’t ask because if I were t’propose, y’would say yes whether y’wanted to get married or not, because that’s who y’are an’ y’care more about how I’m feelin’ than how you’re feelin’.”

You hated that he was right, “Well, you still could have brought the topic up.”

“Yes, I could have, I won’t deny it.” He nodded, his hand left your chin to cup your cheek, his thumb running along your cheekbone, “But I was scared, scared that if I brought it up, you’d feel pressured to get married. An’ all this ‘I wouldn’t marry me either’ shit, I don’t wanna hear it, yeah? Don’ wanna hear my girl beatin’ herself up, y’understand?” 

You nodded, still feeling somewhat upset about the whole thing but you knew you couldn’t blame him, you’d never voiced any interest in the idea of getting married and you’d never brought up the conversation. “So you do want to get married?”

He chuckled and placed a kiss to your forehead, “Course I do, sweet girl. An’ you’re not ready till we’re 50, then I’ll wait till then. Jus’ want y’to be happy, an’ you’ve not been happy these past couple of weeks, hm?”

“You noticed?” You asked stupidly, you knew the answer, but you needed to hear it from him, to bring yourself some sort of comfort. 

He hummed, “Course I noticed, ‘s my job t’notice. Jus’ didn’t say anythin’ cause I thought I’d done somethin’ t’piss you off again an’ was waitin’ f’you to yell at me ‘bout it like y’normally do.”

“I am ready.” You told him, your voice coming out louder than it had been for the span of the conversation.

“Hm?” He asked, gazing down at you lovingly, his searching your face as though trying to document every detail. 

You bit your lip and lent into the touch of his warm hand on your cheek, “To get married, I’m ready. So, I’m going to be preparing myself for some big gestures.”

He chuckled, his face lighting up as he spoke with a softness reserved only for you, “Damn right, gonna have t’be on your guard, never know when it could happen.”

“Can I go get my nails done?” You asked sweetly, to which he nodded, “And can I ge-“

“Yes, sweetheart. Y’know damn well I’ll say yes in the end t’whatever it is. My wallets on the counter.” 

You grinned and leant forwards to press a kiss to his cheek, “Thank you, Rafey.”

“Mhm,” he hummed in acknowledgement, shaking his head at your antics and preparing himself for you to come home with yet another obscure object for your home as you jumped up from the couch to go do whatever it was that you had planned. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Squeak Clean 2

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You start work as a maid but you’re not prepared for the mess your client brings with him. (maid AU – plus!reader)

Note: yeah…

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You’re about done. You just need to take the trash out to the bin and pack up the last of your things. As you wind the cord around your vacuum, a throat clears and draws your head around. You crane to see Steve watching you from the doorway to the kitchen. 

“Oh, just finishing up,” you say as you hook the cord to secure it and stand. 

“No problem. I was actually gonna ask if you wanted a snack,” he says, lifting his arm to lean his elbow on the doorway. You stop yourself from frame your hips, letting that knot in your lower back linger. 

A snack? You hesitate. You’re not bothered by your size or the assumptions people make about it. Still, you can’t help but be reminded of the extra cushion. You’re sure he didn’t mean it that way but it’s not really necessary for him to feed you. You bring your hands forward to fold them against your stomach. 

His eyes follow the movement and he blanches. His cheeks tinge pink and he blinks furiously, “wait, I only—I'm just being... nice. Sarah Rogers raised me right, you know? Not right to have someone in the house and not offer.” 

“It’s fine. I’m not a guest. I’m a cleaner,” you assure him and turn to grab the vacuum, dragging the wheels lightly off the carpet. 

“Sorry, if--” 

“No need. I’m not offended. Not hungry either.” You roll the vacuum to the front doorway and cross the room again. You approach him and slow, waiting for him to get out of the way, signalling with your eyes that you need to get past. “Excuse me.” 

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he drops his arm but brings it back up to comb his golden hair. “How about water?” 

“I keep a bottle in my kit.” You assure him as you search out the bucket.  

He stands awkwardly by the door as you heave it up and carry it through to the front room. You put it with the vacuum and return one last time to the kitchen. You open the bin with the pedal but before you can uncurl the edges of the liner, Steve is right there. 

“Here, it’s pretty full. I’ll take care of it.” 

You back up if only to get space. You don’t like how easily he crowds you. You can’t tell if he underestimates his own size or yours. 

“That’s what you hire me to do,” you say. 

“Sure, but it’s one thing,” he lifts the bag out and ties it. 

“Right,” you agree. “I suppose then, I’m done for the day.” 

He lowers the bag to hang from his hand. He smiles at you. “You did a great job.” 

You arch a brow, “thanks.” You’re not sure if it’s normal. Zuli said you wouldn’t have to deal with small talk, well, she was wrong. Figures she’d lie. She never really stops talking. Maybe she should take this one. “I’m going to go.” 

He nods, almost as if he’s disappointed. “I’ll walk you out.” 

“Sure,” you shrug. 

You spin and stride away. You haul up the bucket and latch onto the vacuum. He comes closer again and before you can dodge him, he has a hold of your kit. You want so badly to rip it away. Didn’t he pay for a cleaner? Why is he trying to do everything himself? 

You don’t react. You push it all down and head for the door. You put your shoes on and grab your sweater. You head outside and he follows you. You have to keep from running to your car. The weight of the vacuum helps slow you. 

You open the trunk and lift in the vacuum. Not quick enough. He puts the trash bag on the curb and comes up to place the kit in the trunk first. He then lifts the vacuum and angles it into the car. You suck in a sigh. 

It must be something programmed into him. He is a hero, after all. He can’t just sit back and let others do the dirty work. Even to a lowly cleaner, he needs to be a saviour. 

“Thanks,” you mutter again. 

“No, thank you,” he takes a step back and searches around, “uh, drive safe.” 

“Mhm,” you nod again. “I’ll try.” 

You turn and walk up the driver’s side. You feel him watching you. You’re not the most socially graceful creature on earth. Graceful in fact is not a trait you possess in any manner. Blunt would be a better descriptor. 

You get in the car and shut the door. It doesn’t help cool the heat on the nape of your neck. You buckle your seat belt and glance in the rearview mirror. He’s still there behind you. Watching.  

You want to assume there’s some logic behind his strange behaviour. He must not be used to having people in his space. If it was you, you’d rather just clean your own place than let someone else poke around. You’re sure you have a lot less to hide than Captain America. 

You turn the engine. The rumble seems to jolt him into action. He moves away and grabs the trash bag. You flip your signal on and check your blind spot. You try to see around the cars behind you. 

You peek over again as Steve nears the bins against the brick of the townhouse. He pauses as he drops it inside and waves at you with another grin. You wonder if he rehearses that suburban hero act. It can’t be real. 

You pull out and shake your head. A job isn’t supposed to be enjoyable and rarely is it easy. You can tell already that while the work itself isn’t complicated, dealing with your client will be anything but simple. 

[solvisun]

121924. ❀ ₊˚⊹ HERSHEY’S KISSES

haikyuu 𝜗𝜚 tsukishima kei x fem!reader

you’ve had your fair share of experiences when it comes to relationships. yet for some reason, the one you have now, with a certain blonde who gives you love that’s tangible enough to feel its warmth flowing your skin— makes all your hair from your nape rise in an indescribable feeling. it’s a mix of apprehension, excitement, and an overwhelming desire to do something you have never done before.

or: 4 times you felt the urge to kiss him, and 1 time he acted upon it.

❀ MASTERLIST. PREV. II. KEEP IT COOL. NEXT

content 𝜗𝜚 rain + (un)expected cuddles and borrowed sweaters. failed study sesh. tsukishima's teasing yet tender presence makes it impossible to stay annoyed—or concentrated. reader drinks black coffee LOOK AWAY i am inserting myself. this turned softer than i expected.

this is why you hate joint study sessions.

all of them—except your boyfriend—are sprawled out on the floor, trying to fuse themselves into the floor mat like they’ve decided to hibernate there.

hinata and kageyama are the most tragic victims of this self-imposed slumber, faces vandalized with doodles of squiggly eyebrows and mustashes courtesy of tsukishima, who’s trying to hide the marker somewhere in your bag. his smirk is borderline smug as you catch him in the act. yamaguchi seemed to be a few blinks away before joining the passed out duo in merging with the ground.

yachi helps you drape them with extra blankets. your face twisted in a deadpan look, not surprising that things turn out the way it is.

your initial assumption of the weather being cloudy and perfect was proven wrong when you glance again towards your windows, a gray, grumbling sky looming overhead. threatens the rain that refuses to fall.

you refuse to accept any of it. like the sky, you refuse to fall apart like this.

“yachi please you can’t leave me with those two-” it’s the third time you’ve pleaded with her, pulling the biggest pout you can muster, but as it is, she remains resolute. shaking her head vigorously.

“but you have your boyfriend to help-”

“he’s not going to help and you know that-”

“he will if you ask nicely”

“i don’t want to-”

“why not?”

“because-!”

you hate joint study sessions. but you especially hate it because tsukishima kei is a deadly distraction to your poor heart.

she held both of your hand, calls you by your name. her smile’s so apologetic it leaves a bad taste on your tongue.

she doesn’t have an umbrella, and her house is the farthest from everyone else. she has to go home early.

you think that all your energy slipped along with your friend as the door clicks shut behind her.

yeah, this is punishment. probably for all your procrastination lately.

you glance back at the group, the sleeping chaos of hinata and kageyama reminds you that none of you have been particularly productive today. you didn’t even manage to study anything meaningful yourself, and it’s a pain in the ass, especially now with the gloomy weather that’s forcing lethargy to creep into your bones. it just feels impossible to start now.

yamaguchi supresses a yawn, mutters something unintelligible before folding his arms across the low coffee table as he rests his head against them. outside, the sky mirrors your internal cry, grumbling louder than the last.

and now it’s just you. you and him.

great. fantastic. wonderful.

“i’m gonna have to pull an all nighter later,” you tell yourself as you drag your feet towards the kitchen. sluggish. you opt for some coffee over your typical energy drink, and you do this with a purpose of avoiding your boyfriend, like the mere presence of coffee repels him from you. you nearly laugh at the thought of it, treating caffeine as your personal tsukki repellent.

“what’s taking you so long?”

fuck. it’s not taking effect today for some reason.

you pause mid-stir, and you hadn’t realized you’ve been stirring too fast that you almost spilled yourself. his unhurried footsteps should sound soothing but it does the actual opposite. he steps in your space, blonde poking on your peripherals. his eyes flicker to your coffee, and you immediately catch the grimace pulling at his lips.

he’s never understood why you drink it, even if rarely. and hell, with almost little to no quantity of sugar? he always says it’s proof you’re lost in the head.

maybe he’s right. you want to throw the coffee at his face for it.

you find that fiddling with the spoon can be your favourite past-time now. your half-formed thoughts swirling together in the coffee.

this isn’t going anywhere. you need his help. maybe just a few back-and-forth questions on history? or you could let him shuffle your flashcards. something—anything—to kickstart your focus.

ugh. you can’t even look at him in the eye.

“seriously,” his voice cuts through the mess you’ve dug yourself into. “are you going to stand there all day?” and when you finally glance up, you think—oh.

you’re done for.

he tilts his head to the side, glasses slowly inching down from the bridge of his nose, his brows arch in a sharp but patient question. the way he leans in with relaxed shoulders and a placid look feels a bit unfair when you’re here trying not to shove him off in embarrassment.

you suck a breath, with it, the scent of coffee diffuses within your lungs, but you also catch a whiff of floral hints from a particular cologne you only bought for a particular someone.

(oh, he still wears it?)

you hold your mug firmly, not minding the heat burning against your palms. you say, quietly, “i uh, need help,”

“with what?”

“studying.” you fire weakly, now staring back at your mug, your reflection distorted by the ripples.

you expect his infuriating teasings, a bark of a laugh, or the slow drag of a hum as he pretends to think about it but ultimately pop a nope just to rile you up. you expect to roll your eyes and dismiss him afterwards. you expect him to be a little shit about it.

but instead, he chuckles—this might kill you one day for sure, and you’d prefer anything else other than that echoing the shell of your ear. it’s bound to haunt you later if the universe decides to torment you further.

it’s the most affectionate, yet smug sound you’ve ever heard. but it’s rare, as you take in the crinkle of his eyes and the lift of his cheekbones, you don’t want to believe the pink adorning his features is because he’s blushing. no, he’s enjoying himself too much.

“wow. you really must be desperate if you’re asking me for help. have you been possessed?”

(you wonder about that too.)

“please,” you groan, shooting him a half-hearted glare.

“with a please? this is music to my ears.”

“you know what? nevermind.”

“aw, you can’t just do that and-”

“actually i can-”

“now if you say please one more time i’ll consider it.”

“i’d rather die.”

you give him a nasty side eye as he bursts into a fit of quiet laughter. scoffing as you take a sip of your drink and halt once you did. oops, it’s a little strong than you anticipated. you might need to eat something sweet to balance it out. you set your mug down and rummage through your fridge, laughter dwindling into suppressed chuckles and a sigh of satisfaction.

when you found none. you think your mood couldn’t get any sour. he sees your frown somehow, as he calls out to you. and you can’t miss the way his smirk blurs into a line of a genuine smile. affectionate, almost loving.

“relax,” he says after a while, “what do you need help with?”

you notice there’s something that’s growing warm over the softness of everything. it’s definitely not your coffee. or the incoming rain outside. two of which that are unable to touch or be touched by love.

…it’s definitely not your face, not your ears, and not your half glossed eyes, that feel warm.

“history. just…ask me questions, or something.”

“okay.” he pushes himself off the counter to follow you back on the table. the others still asleep, as tsukishima sits beside you, his knee rests atop of yours.

it’s annoyingly comforting. the bitterness of the coffee, the sound of the rain finally pattering faintly against your roof, muffled and meek. his fresh and floral cologne wafting your nose, his hushed voice as he asks you small and basic questions.

soon enough, history shifts into biology, and you’re not sure when he stopped from playing with your flashcards to his hands preoccupied combing your hair. right as you try to simplify and explain several metabolic processes, head on his lap.

this is another reason why you hate joint study sessions. it's simply a cuddle session in a thinly veiled disguise.

“i know how calvin cycle works, generally, but..”

“i have notes.” he speaks even more softly than before, which you thought wasn’t possible. quit it, you want to reply. you’re already lying down on one of the most comfortable cushion you’ve ever set unto and it’s making you yawn unceremoniously. you’re right. tsukishima’s the best and worst distraction of all time.

“can you—” another yawn surfaces, “just explain it to me?”

“and see you sleep soundly like i’m telling a bedtime story?”

“promise i won’t honk shoo mimimi on you.”

he’s pretty when he grins like this.

“..say please?”

you’re already lost in the head as you comply, “please.”

a breathless chuckle escapes him, “i think you might need your beauty rest now.”

you’ve read an excerpt one time, source unknown. scent shelters memory best. you don’t recall when or where you saw it, but it holds the weight of truth. especially now.

so when he guides you to your sofa, says he’ll get you a blanket real quick. you don’t let him as you tug on his sweater, asking,

“can i wear them instead?”

tsukishima raises an eyebrow, staring at you with mock incredulity. “this? you’re serious?”

you nod, still clutching the edge of his sweater, your fingers brushing against the worn fabric. “it’s cold.”

“right.” he snorts but relents, pulling it over his head in one swift motion. the static ruffles his hair, making a few strands stick up awkwardly. you suppress a laugh as he tosses the sweater toward you.

“happy now?” he mutters, shaking his head lightly to fix his hair.

sliding into the oversized sweater, the warmth envelopes you instantly. it smells faintly of detergent, fresh linen, and that familiar floral cologne. you pause, tugging the collar closer to your nose, the scent grounding you in a strange, comforting way.

“you’re still wearing it,” you say after a short pause.

“what?”

“the cologne.”

he shrugs.

“why wouldn’t i?”

you huff. “i just didn’t think you liked it that much. when i gave it to you, i thought you’d hate it—too floral, too... not you.”

he looks away, “it’s fine. i liked it enough to keep using it.”

what you don’t say is how the memory of that first time still lingers in your mind. how you’d seen it nearly empty within a month, thinking he’d tossed it, only to learn he’d worn it so often it hadn’t lasted. how he’d started buying it himself after that and, without a word, began reserving it for his favorite clothes—the ones he wore on days he liked best. like this sweater.

you realize then that it’s not just the sweater or the cologne you find yourself drawn to—it’s everything wrapped up in him. the way his mouth moves, the subtle quirk of it when he’s amused, the way it softens when he isn’t teasing you.

you don’t respond, you let your thoughts blur into the comfort of his warmth, the patter of rain, and the scent that shelters this memory best.

and before you’re swept into slumber, you wonder if he could taste the bitterness on your lips if you had the guts to kiss him right now. maybe he’d hate you for it. maybe you'd freaked yourself out the first time the urge sprung up so suddenly. maybe you couldn't do it after all.

…does he even want to kiss you? the same way you desire to?

(you’ll seek the truth for another time.)

taglist (open!) — @stellar-haikyuu @kokokoula @luvether @yoru-exe @reirain @hwanghyunjinismybae @astolary @albakugo @zarisluvr @kazucee @23soong @anqelkoz @starstrikeer @liliesofdawnnn

just wanted to overshare: idk how anyone goes about relationships, but this is based off of my own experience haha. this chp was supposed to be posted last night but i hated how the tone of the story shifted drastically, so i rewrote it until i was satisfied hhauhasuhs

© SOLVIA 2024. HERSHEY’S KISSES. do not alter/repost !

[nathaslosthershit]

First Impressions and Poorly Made Assumptions (FC43)

Summary: Franco fell hard and fast for a girl that is actively trying to keep her distance, but she knows she has already lost that battle.

Not many people can say they signed with Williams to join their drivers academy, a contract that would secure a future in F1, and met the love of their life in the same business meeting. But Franco was happy to tell you about it till he was blue in the face.

That is, if he was allowed to tell anyone about it, but alas, no one was to know that Franco had fallen hard and fast for the eldest daughter of Williams legend, Jenson Button. Not even the girl he had fallen for.

Miss. Button wasn’t one for the spotlight. She used to love the attention, but it never managed to be good attention she attracted. 

Her knack for being at the wrong place at the wrong time when it came to reporters and paparazzi finding her far from her best moments had also given her a public image not unlike Jenson ‘playboy’ Button had in the early stages of his career. 

The only difference is that many of those instances made him a bachelor just enjoying his youth and good looks, while they just made her a ‘whore’.

It didn’t help that enough of the bad press caused her to purposefully hide from the spotlight. They only ever saw the bad she didn’t want them to see.

But that had been when she was a teenager. At 21 years old, the public had not gotten more than a small glimpse of her in the background in a while, not since she was accused of sleeping around with the then Williams Academy driver, Logan Sargeant. 

Her and Logan had never done such things. Had there ever been feelings between them, which there had not, being her father’s unofficial mentee meant she wouldn’t have taken a risk in ruining that dynamic for any of them. Her dad loved her more than anything, but he really liked Logan and wouldn’t have been too pleased to have to pick a side. 

The bad press had ruined their friendship, unable to not let the public views of them get in the way, plus with Logan about to secure a spot in the second Williams seat, neither could afford for gossip and rumors to ruin his career so early on. 

Despite how bad Williams publicly handled situations, they did not like any bad press. 

Which is why she handles any work related relationships with care, keeping it completely professional. Unfortunately, keeping it completely professional meant she grew a reputation for being a stuck up bitch. 

She could never win.

The lack of personal relationships at work hadn’t impacted her job before, working in the academy’s media coordination meant she planned things, set them up, and made sure everyone got where they needed to be, but that's all she had to do and she was damn good at it. Even if some of her coworkers were afraid of her, it usually made them easier to work with. But a need for more led her to finding a new position, one that complicated this attitude she had towards her colleges. It would be hard to be a driver relations coordinator when not allowing yourself to develop more than an acquaintance with the drivers. But she was determined to not let it change her ways. 

So when she sat a seat away from the newest academy driver, one that was her age, she tried not to think about how she would be the person in charge of advocating for him, fighting for him, knowing what he was getting and what he needed. She tried not to think about how her job required her to care for his well being. She tried not to think about how the minute she heard him speak in that meeting, her stomach did somersaults. She tried not to think about his brown curls and what it would be like to-

“Um… Miss.Button?” James Vowles said.

“I’m sorry, yes?” she was totally not listening.

“I just thought you would like to introduce yourself to Mr.Colapinto here, as you too will be working closely together during his time at the academy.” 

Before she could begin to make her introduction, the newest academy driver spoke up, “It is very nice to meet you. I was very excited when I heard you would be a part of my team.” 

She wanted to roll her eyes at that. He probably saw what the public saw about her and thought she would be an easy lay. The realization seemed to hurt more than usual for some reason. 

“Yes, well, I would appreciate it if you didn’t make my job harder.”

The room seemed to laugh at this, but she was not joking. 

As everyone packed up after the meeting, as all her colleagues talked about their day and made plans after work, she pretended to busy herself on her computer so as to not draw attention to the fact that no one would talk to her, focusing on maintaining a cool and uncaring demeanor. 

When she finally left the room, a few minutes after the last person cleared, she was startled by a curly haired argentinian on the other side of the door. 

Unfortunately, she was unable to remain cool and uncaring when she screamed, embarrassingly loud.

“Shhh I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Franco said as he waved off the people down the hallway that all peaked out of their rooms to see who was seemingly being murdered in cold blood. “Wow, I did not think you would react like that.”

Unable to stop herself, she angrily asked, “Why the fuck would you wait behind a door to scare a girl you had just met? One, may I add, that has the power to make sure you have a terrible time at the academy.” A great first impression they were making.

“I wasn’t trying to scare you!” She didn’t buy it. “Okay, maybe a bit, but if I knew it would upset you so much, I wouldn’t have. This isn’t how I wanted the conversation to go.”

“Well it is how it's going, and I don’t care to continue it, so it was nice meeting you, Franco.” She snipped at him as she began to walk away, ignoring his calls from behind her. As she got farther, she hurt a groan in defeat and smiled realizing he had given up, quickly looking back to see that he had in fact left. 

She had calmed down from the interaction by the time she approached her office, in fact she actually felt a bit bad for yelling at him.

That was until she opened the door and the man she had thought she lost popped up from behind the door. Again.

This time, she didn’t yell. She just glared at him.

Franco, now frightened and a little turned on, wished she had just screamed. 

Silently, she walked over to her desk and sat down, turning on her computer and beginning to do work, ignoring the man in the room, or trying to.

She was actually just typing nonsense, hoping he wouldn’t notice he was distracting her too much to do work. 

After a few minutes of silence, she heard a familiar groan and saw him sit down in front of her.

Neither spoke, neither wanted to bite first.

Luckily the driver didn’t have the patience the coordinator did. “Come on, we won’t be able to work together if you don’t talk to me.”

“We can work just fine this way.” She said, not looking away from her computer.

“I don’t want to work that way, I want to get along. I want to be friends.”

“Why, Franco? You don’t know me! You are basing your entire perception of me off of what the public thinks. You are here because you think I will be someone easy to get with.”

“Huh? No, I’m not.” “Yes! There are two versions of me the motorsport world knows. Either some irresponsible teenager who was constantly getting into scandals, or some stuck up bitch who works for Williams and had an affair with our rookie F1 driver”

“What! No! That isn’t why I said I was excited to meet you. God, you know you are also making false accusations about me.”

“No, I’m not.” “Yes! You think I am some desperate man who is here to seduce you the second I meet you. When I said I was excited when I heard I was working with you, it's because I know Sargeant and he said you were a good friend of his. That I'd be lucky to work with you.”

Of course Logan said that. Even if their friendship didn’t work through the gossip, they had been close for a while and he was one of the sweetest men she had met in this god awful sport. And as she looked at Franco, she could tell he was being genuine.

Guilt and a bit of embarrassment shot through her, “Fuck, I’m sorry, Franco. I made assumptions about you and got mad when I thought you were doing the same thing.”

He smiled, and damn that smile gave her butterflies, even if she had been mad at him seconds before. “You are forgiven, if you agree to be nice to me from now on.” “I wasn’t being mean, you did start off our first impressions of each other by scaring the shit out of me.”

He groaned, “I thought I was forgiven, can’t we just jump to being friends now?” 

She would have laughed at such a request, she didn’t make friends at work, or out of work really, but something about the way he looked at her had the refusal dying in her mouth.

He smiled when he realized the same, she already couldn’t say no to his charms.

She was fucked, but she wasnt as upset about that as she should have been.

“Fine, we can work towards a friendlier relationship, but I won’t be your friend.”

“I can work with that. Don’t worry you will love me in no time!” He said as he walked out of the room. 

Lord knows he already loved her.

[81pastrys]

Their Mechanic

Part 2 / 10

Summary— Lando’s been sending his friends for her to service; her only issue with the most recent one is he’s testing her patience.

Warnings— Oscar being a bit misogynistic. Lowkey bitchy attitude on her part.

A/N— Oscar doesn’t stay like this dw. (I like Oscar too much to make him a bad guy)

Series List

I meet with Gasly, Ricciardo, Verstappen, and Leclerc within the next few weeks. Today, I got another one, but it seemed he had no clue what he was asking for with his car.

“What needs to be done?” My dad asked the boy.

“My friend told me something about a ‘Trouble’ here, and I wanted them to look at my car.” He said, hesitant about my nickname.

I walk by, and my dad stops me and hands me the clipboard. “He’s yours.” He said. “Little flirt.” He mumbled as I smiled at the man in front of me.

“What kind of car do you have love?” I ask. He stuttered at the nickname and pointed to a Lime Green Artura. I admire the car before setting the clipboard down and leaning on a toolbox behind me. “Uh-huh. Start it for me.”

He starts the car, and it sounds heavenly. I hear a few tweaks to make, but nothing too serious. “I don’t think anything is wrong, but Lando insisted you check it out.”

“He does that, huh?” I lick my lips. He pops the hood, and I lean in and look. I go to point out something and accidentally touch a hot spot. I yank my hand back and shake it. “Damn, McLarens,” I mumble under my breath. I hear the man chuckle.

“Did I make a mistake?” He asked, taking me for a joke. “I guess that’s what I get for listening to Lando.” He mumbled.

I scoff and throw the keys at him. “Tune it yourself then.” I walk back into the garage, leaving him stunned. My dad notices and stops me.

“Did you just refuse a McLaren service?” He asked. I usually am happy to service expensive cars, but if the driver takes me for granted, I’ll refuse.

“He’s taking me for a joke,” I respond. “Because I touched a hot spot near the engine.” My dad knows cars in and out. He taught me everything I know.

“Damn McLarens.” My dad repeated. “Go back and see what he wants.” He never took my attitude seriously, knowing he could influence my decisions.

I roll my eyes and go back to the McLaren. “Lando doesn’t usually have issues with his 765LT, so I don’t know what you want me to do,” I admit. I’ve worked on it once, but it hasn’t returned to my garage.

“Oh, so you’ve never worked on a McLaren?” He smiled, making his assumptions accurate.

“I never said that; I said Lando’s McLaren doesn’t usually have issues,” I repeat myself, which I hate doing. “Usually, as in: I’ve touched it once and haven’t seen it since.” I throw at him with a cocky smirk.

“Like you touched mine and burned your pretty little fingers?” He threw back. I lick the inside of my cheek and glance at my dad working on a car. He’d be pissed if I walked away again. This is good business.

“Is he busy?” I ask, playing along with his persona of me. “We can call him and ask.” Lando doesn’t bad-mouth me, especially about my mechanicalwork.

“Sure will.” He said, grabbing his phone and calling the driver. “Hey, mate! Who’s the mechanic you said to ask for?”

I hear only his end of the conversation and see his face contort as he turns his phone to speaker. “Super pretty girl. She is the best mechanic there,” I hear on the phone and turn away from the man, blushing at the compliments.

“What do I even ask for?” The man said. He genuinely didn’t know why he was even here.

“A standard check-in for your car, Osc.” I’ve gained a new nickname for this one. He thanks Lando, and the line disconnects. He hands me the keys.

“Thanks, Osc. She’ll be ready in about an hour.” I say quirky and cute. “There are drinks in the lounge while you wait.” My voice returns to its cocky state as I walk off to the garage.

“Yeah, whatever.” He sighed. My dad walks up and fist-bumps me. I pull the McLaren into my garage spot and tweak the car based on what I noticed earlier.

“Why are McLarens so intricate?” I ask myself, confused. I groan at the new burn, forming a blister on my hand. I patch up my hand and return the keys to the man. “Just a few tweaks and shouldn’t need any more for about a year, I’d say.”

“What did you tighten? Nuts in it or something I could’ve done?” He asked. I'm still toying with the persona he created for me.

“I would tell you, but you’d be confused by the adult talk,” I say, handing my mom the clipboard. “Standard check-in for a McLaren, Ma.”

I walk out and back to the garage. A familiar car pulls up. I lean against my pink toolbox and see Lando leave his vehicle.

No extra notes 🤷‍♀️

[navybrat817]

Wish, Hope, Dream

Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You thought a night would be long enough to clear your head, but a bit of doubt lingers in your mind. Word Count: Over 2.6k Warnings: Slight angst, insecurities, longing, Natasha and Sharon being both good friends and devil's advocates, ongoing AU, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) Previous Part of AU: We Don't Talk Anymore A/N: More Dreamboat and Butterfly from my Reconnect AU! Sorry again in advance, lovelies. ❤️ Beta read by the wonderful @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You thought having answers would give you peace and allow you to rest before facing Bucky in the morning. Oh, how wrong you were. The tussle between your mind and heart didn’t stop, giving you one of the worst nights of sleep that you could remember in a long time. At least your pillow had dried from your tears.

And what was it that you were crying for? Relief that Bucky had feelings for you or were you mourning the lost time you could’ve had together had you two talked sooner? Perhaps both.

“Just get up,” you mumbled, willing yourself to get out of bed and lay out a random sundress to wear.

You wondered if anyone else was awake as you showered and brushed your teeth. Guilt crept in for skipping out on game night. Whatever transpired between you and Bucky, you couldn't let any of those feelings bleed into the rest of the time with your friends. You had to suck it up no matter the outcome.

Glancing down the hall as you left your room, your gaze lingered on Bucky’s door before your footsteps moved in that direction. You raised your hand to knock, wanting to check on him and make sure he got enough sleep. Part of you was tempted to sneak in and crawl into bed with him. Not even completely for sex, which you did not need to think about, but to have him hold you close and assure you that everything would be okay.

And to stop torturing yourself.

But you let your hand fall. You didn't want to assume that he wanted to see you first thing upon waking up. Assumptions and not communicating were what led you on this path to begin with. But you didn't want to smother him.

We can still figure it out together.

You crept downstairs, spotting a few empty bottles from the night before. The main floor was dark, minus the sunlight coming in through the windows and the kitchen. You stayed quiet when you saw Natasha and Sharon huddled together in a hushed conversation by the counter.

Which stopped the moment you walked into the room.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that they were talking about you. Not with the concerned look in Sharon’s eyes. Natasha, on the other hand, stared back at you in contemplation. At least it wasn't pity. You couldn't take that.

Did Bucky tell them? Or did they figure it out?

“Hey. Sorry for skipping game night,” you said, shifting on your feet as your gaze flickered between them. “Guess Steve and Sam aren't up yet?” You asked, purposely not mentioning Bucky.

“Don’t need to apologize,” Sharon said, concern continuing to show in her eyes. “I think they’re getting a run in.”

“Oh. Gotcha,” you said. Looking between them again, you hoped things wouldn't be this awkward for the rest of the week. “Am I interrupting? I can just grab breakfast when you two are done.”

“Not interrupting. Go sit in the living room,” Natasha urged, nodding toward the direction of the couch. “Look like you could use a pick-me-up.”

“Smoothie?” You guessed, glancing around at the array of fruit ready for blending.

“Oh, yeah. Better than coffee,” the redhead teased as she threw a few pieces into the blender with some ice, bringing a small smile to your face as you went back to the living room. She was a good friend.

All of them were.

“You okay?” Sharon asked, sitting beside you on the couch.

You hesitated for a moment. You adored them and always would. But when it came to Bucky, you feared everyone would always side with him over you. Your chest tightened at the thought that if things went south you’d get left behind.

And hadn't you been left behind once before?

“Yes and no,” you answered, not wanting to expand completely yet as Natasha walked in and handed you a glass, your hands gripping it tight. They didn't need to deal with your issues, did they? “Did Bucky talk to everyone? I’m guessing he said something since you two are looking at me like I'm going to break.”

“We don’t think you’re going to break, but you look on edge,” Natasha answered, taking a seat when you didn't disagree. “The guys talked to him a little bit. He wouldn't give them all the details, but we know you two had a long overdue chat.”

“And the way you bolted upstairs last night and how he looked like a kicked puppy, we guessed it didn't go well,” Sharon added, raising an eyebrow. “I think Nat wanted to kick his ass.”

“He looked like he kicked his own ass. Would've just been rubbing salt in an open wound if I did anything else,” she said with no trace of humor. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It may help,” Sharon said.

Maybe.

With a deep breath, you told the girls what had happened. How you and Bucky admitted that you had feelings for each other, which neither of them appeared surprised by in the least, but that you walked away from him once the talk was over. How you wished you would’ve given him a chance then and there, but didn’t. It helped and hurt to tell them about it.

You hung your head by the time you finished, your throat tight. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, swallowing a little. “This is supposed to be a fun trip and I’m messing it up with my issues.”

Sharon rubbed your back as you took a sip of your smoothie. “Hey. You’re our friend. You didn't do anything wrong or mess anything up, okay? We all love Bucky, but he's an idiot.”

“Huge idiot. Don't know what you see in him,” Natasha winked as you scoffed. You would always try to see the good in him, even when you were upset. “But I have to say, I’m glad you two finally told each other how you feel.”

“Took you long enough,” the blonde teased halfheartedly. “Kind of hoped you would've said something before we showed up.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. The gang ran late to the beach house on purpose. Of course, they did. The girls were perceptive. Always had been. “So, you knew.”

“Everyone knew, except for the two of you. What’s that trope?” Natasha questioned, her gaze directed at Sharon. “Idiots in love?”

“Oh, yeah,” she smiled. “You two are a walking romance novel, torturing yourselves for no good reason.”

“So, I'm an idiot then?” you said, narrowing your eyes when they both opened their mouths. “You know what? Don’t answer that.”

You beat yourself up enough.

“Like I said, I’m glad you told him and now you finally have confirmation that he feels the same way,” Natasha said, cocking an eyebrow. “What's the problem then?”

“What do you mean?” You replied.

“You said you took the night to think, but you don't exactly look like you're ready to move forward.”

“Because I don't know if I am,” you admitted.

You were overthinking the situation. You wanted to be with Bucky, but some of your wall was still up and you didn't know how to tear the rest of it down. Why was it so hard?

“Look, I'm not excusing what Bucky did because he's an idiot for going out with Dot instead of talking to you, but you know how he feels now,” Natasha began, diplomatic and level-headed like always. “Do you plan to keep him at a distance as a way to protect yourself? Or are you maybe punishing him just a little bit for seemingly abandoning you?”

Leave it to her to ask the tough questions.

“I'm not trying to punish him,” you promised. Both of you had punished yourselves enough. “I just don't want him to hurt me. I mean, I spent two years thinking he'd never want me, but he just didn't want to fight for me,” you said, tears brimming your eyes.

“Or maybe he thought he never stood a chance and settled,” Sharon said. “Which, again, he’s an idiot. Most guys are.”

“So, what are you saying? That I should just pretend the last two years didn't happen?” You asked.

“No,” they said in sync.

You huffed. Why were girls both direct and cryptic? “Then what are you saying?”

Natasha grabbed a tissue and handed it over when a tear slid down your cheek. “We’re saying that we think Bucky is genuinely sorry for his stupid assumption and wants you to be his girl. Start slow if you have to and set the ground rules. If it means him apologizing every day with his words and actions, he will. And we know if you gave him your heart, it would be the last thing he'd break. Don’t you owe it to yourself to be happy?”

“Yeah. Maybe just start with a date,” Sharon said, tilting her head when you didn’t say anything. They were only trying to help, but why did it feel like pressure of sorts? Did they fully understand your apprehension? “You really don't see how he looks at you, do you?”

“Why would I when I convinced myself he'd never want me?” You whispered.

Bucky had convinced himself of the same thing. Maybe the two of you were idiots. How long would you continue to torture yourself? They had a point. Why not start with one date and see where it led?

What would be the harm in that, besides risking your whole heart?

“Well, we see how he looks at you,” Sharon said, her eyebrows shooting up. “Wait. I have it.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “Have what?” She asked. You wondered the same thing.

The front door opened before you got your answer, your heart skipping a beat when Bucky stopped in the doorway with a beach bag in hand. You realized after a moment that he was still in the same clothes he wore the day before, his eyes bloodshot as he looked your way. His hair was disheveled, too. He didn’t look like he slept well, if at all.

It broke your heart.

“Hey, Butterfly,” he croaked when you got to your feet, clearing his throat with a tired smile. “You look beautiful.”

“It’s just a sundress, Dreamboat,” you said, the compliment making your stomach flip before you took a step toward him. “Are you okay?”

His eyes lit up. “You’re still calling me that?”

“Of course, I am.” you smiled softly. He’d always be your Dreamboat. “Did you get any sleep?” You added, sighing when he confirmed your suspicion with a shake of his head. Had you been on his mind? “Why not?”

He gripped the bag handle like a lifeline. “I needed to find a way to say I’m sorry. Tried writing a letter and it wasn't enough.”

Your heart swelled, glancing back at the girls as they both gave you an encouraging smile. “Look. Before you do anything, why don’t you take a nap?” You suggested. “It’s still early and I’m not going anywhere.”

“A nap sounds like a good idea before volleyball,” Natasha said, leveling Bucky with a look. “In fact, why don’t you get him to bed?”

“Nat,” you hissed. Of course, she’d suggest you take him upstairs.

“Yeah, we’ll catch up with you two in a bit,” Sharon said.

The hopeful look in Bucky’s eyes was irresistible. “Come on,” you said, taking his arm once he kicked his shoes off. You felt his gaze on you as you took him up the stairs. It amazed you that he didn’t trip over his own feet since he kept his eyes on you. “I can tell you’re staring at me.”

“I half expected you to be gone this morning,” he said, opening his door. “I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

Your stomach dropped. “You think I’d bolt after the conversation we had?” You asked. Did he think little of you now?

He chuckled under his breath. “I said half expected,” he teased.

Instead of releasing your arm, he pulled you into his room before you could protest. It wasn’t a good idea to be there, yet there you were. Not fighting it as he pulled you toward the bed.

His large, inviting bed.

“So, what’s in the bag?” You asked curiously to distract yourself as he set it down and stretched out on the bed, pulling you down with him. He gave you plenty of room so you wouldn’t have to cuddle close. He also left the door cracked open.

He was giving you an out.

“I can’t show you yet because I have to put it together,” he yawned, giving you an apologetic smile. “It’ll spoil the surprise otherwise.”

A giddy smile appeared on your face. He was actually going to make you something. “I’ll be patient,” you said, letting him keep your hand in his.

“Haven’t we been patient long enough?” He asked, his hair falling in his eyes as he gazed at you. Even exhausted, he was breathtaking. “I know you needed the night to think it over.”

The smile fell from your face, silence stretching in the room before you squeezed his hand. “Bucky, you need to get some sleep.”

He couldn’t mask the dejected look on his face. It wasn’t an outright rejection, but you hadn’t exactly declared that you should move forward. “I couldn’t sleep,” he said, his voice thick. “All I could see were the tears in your eyes and knowing I caused them.”

“It’s okay,” you told him. It was an assurance for yourself, too. You were okay and he hadn't tried to hurt you.

“It’s not okay,” he argued, the familiar determination back in his eyes. “And I don’t want to sleep. I want to make you smile. I want to win you a stuffed animal at the carnival.”

“You promised me that at dinner yesterday,” you teased.

“I want to take you dancing,” he added, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

You could easily picture him smiling as he twirled you around and moved to the beat. Maybe that could be your first actual date. “As long as you don’t step on my feet.”

“I want to take you to bed,” he whispered,

You inhaled, your heart pounding at the implication. “Bucky…”

“I want to hear about your day. The little things, even the details that you think are mundane,” he said, scooting a bit closer. “I want to be the one you talk to and depend on again.”

Each declaration worked its way into your heart. Why couldn’t you just take the leap of faith? “We can’t just-”

“I want you to be my girl,” he said, his face inches from yours. “I want to give you everything.”

Your heart screamed at you to comfort him, kiss him, to tell him the same. “Bucky, you’re not giving me anything until you get some sleep,” you whispered, resting a hand on his cheek. He needed rest. “Please, for me?”

“I’m afraid if I close my eyes, I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone,” he whispered, fighting to keep his eyes open. “I can't lose you again.”

You didn't want to lose him either. “You won't lose me because I’m not going anywhere. I said we’d figure this out together and I meant that,” you promised, needing to give him hope. “Close your eyes. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He finally shut them as he breathed out, “Butterfly, I lo…”

You gasped as Bucky trailed off, smiling to yourself as your eyes misted over. You weren’t going to run. Not from him. Not when you owed it to yourself to be happy.

You told yourself that as his phone rang.

Even as Dot’s name showed on the screen.

It's fine, lovelies! 😭 Things will look up. Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[nana-au]

JJK Men React to Finding Out You Like Them

G.Satoru, G.Suguru, I.Yuji, F.Megumi

(I got carried away with Gojo's.. mb)

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

G.Satoru: You could not stand him and his stupid, annoying, ugly (undeniably pretty) face.

Shoko and Geto swore you two bickered like an old married couple. The two of you would scoff, sometimes even pushing each other’s shoulders just to remind the other one who was stronger. It was down right childish the way you both interacted with each other. Pinching and hair pulling. Arguing over who was right and wrong, sometimes even arguing against obvious facts just to piss the other one off. You couldn’t stand his pompous attitude and he couldn’t stand the fact you weren’t in awe of him like he believed you should be. He made every hair on your body stand straight just by his voice or the way his figure loomed over you as he teased you. 

“What’s this for?” He mocked, pinching your cheek you dusted with blush. 

“None of your business,” you assured him, attempting to punch him in the gut. He would swiftly dodge it, continuing to mock you. 

“Surely it isn’t for a boyfriend. I feel bad for any guy dumb enough to be interested in you,” his glasses would slide down his nose as he looked over your figure. You didn’t hesitant to tell him to suck a dick, and it didn’t even cross his mind to not tell you that you wished you could suck his. “I’d never let you though,” he assured you and you would huff out a ‘thank God!’. You would attempt to storm off, but he kept body blocking you, and you were adamant on not making bodily contact with the guy. “Where are you going?” he quizzed and you begged him to drop it - that it was none of his business. You were getting really worked up, more so than usual. His assumption wasn’t necessarily wrong, you were trying to leave for your date with a barista from the coffee shop you frequented in Tokyo. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll have to let Sensei know. Can’t have you up to no good.” 

“Then go tell him!” you huffed. You were going to be running late if the asshole in front of you wouldn’t move. “God Gojo, you are so childish,” he only stuck his tongue out at you. You were about to start shaking with anger and against your better judgment you confessed to him. “Fine! It’s a date, make fun of me all you want when I get back,” your chest was heaving and your blood was hot. To your sudden shock, Gojo stepped out of your way wordlessly and watched as you took off out the doors. 

The next few days felt like the Twilight Zone. You did your makeup again and Gojo didn’t even bother to flick your cheeks. When you mentioned to Shoko how nice the weather was, he didn’t argue that it was ‘Just alright’. While Suguru, Gojo, and you were taking turns sparring, he didn’t hide the defeat in his face when you kicked dirt onto him after knocking him on his ass. To you, that was really the last straw. You started to feel evil for continuing your usual antics while he just took it. A few more days went by of you both ignoring each other until one afternoon you were eating lunch with Shoko talking about your date. Geto and Gojo took their usual seats across from you as you both discussed what transpired. “Maybe he doesn’t want to sound needy,” she said when you mentioned he hadn’t texted you back still. 

“He probably thinks you're ugly,” Gojo said nonchalantly. It was the first sentence he had spoken to you in days and you had to keep your jaw from dropping to the floor. You weren’t even sure if he really spoke or if you imagined it. Perhaps your brain was filling in the words you wanted to hear from him. Not that you wanted him to call you ugly per se, but the silence from him was worse than the insults. 

“So he talks.” His eyes rolled cartoonishly at your words. He stuck a spoonful of rice in his mouth before talking,

“Giv-up,” he mumbled, some rice spilling out of his mouth. Your face contorted with disgust. He swallowed, continuing, “You're unlikeable”.

“Yeah ‘cause you’re so likable yourself,” you scoff. He continued eating and the table dropped it, all choosing to change the topic. 

Honestly, you were sure that would be your last conversation with Gojo. You went about your days without his obnoxious presence. You went on another date and were getting fairly close with your favorite barista, even inviting him to meet Shoko. You all agreed to meet up at his cafe and you were awed as he described to you the drinks he made you two. You sipped them and listened as he rambled on about the ristretto shots and the milk foam. Shoko grew bored quickly, but she was happy you were happy. 

The bell attached to the door chimed, and the blood in your face drained, leaving you sickly pale. Gojo waved to you, pointing out to Geto where the three of you sat and dragged him along. “What is he doing here?” you frantically asked Shoko. She covered her face to hide her amusement, she had to give it to him, he was about to make this deathly boring conversation into an incredibly entertaining one. 

“Since when do you drink coffee?” Gojo asked you, pulling up a chair and sitting next to you. “I thought caffeine made you sick?” he pouted at you, pulling away the latte. He wasn’t wrong, you did tend to feel unwell after having caffeine, but since when did he care? 

“I can handle myself, Gojo,” you spat. Gojo ignored you, taking two big gulps from the mug and finishing it then and there. 

“Wow you made this?” he asked the guy. He nodded, looking incredibly confused. “Tastes like shit.” With a quickness you were out of your chair and pulling Gojo by the collar of his button down. “Be right back,” he snickered to the barista as you dragged him out the door. 

“What is your problem?” You begged. He looked shocked, telling you him and Geto were just walking by when he saw you and Shoko. You were bewildered by the way he was acting, completely stumped as to what you should even say. His hand grabbed yours that was still gripping his collar. He pulled it off and pushed it against the wall, his hand caging yours as he leaned against your intertwined fingers. His eyes watched your lips as you kept opening them to speak, but closing them when you kept losing your words. 

“Is this not what you wanted?” His words were breathy and hard to hear. “I know you are doing this-” His free hand gesturing to your figure, “to get a reaction from me.”

“You’ve really lost it now, Gojo,” you couldn’t hide the blush though. He smiled at you regardless, and your legs began to feel weak. It hit you like a truck. His smile was cocky and genuine. It wasn’t coated with his usual delusional smirk, but an all-knowing, teeth-showing grin. It was then you grew nauseous with the knowledge Suguru snitched on your drunk confession. 

You hardly remembered that night - Geto had shared his bottle of Jack Daniel’s and you were too much of a lightweight to keep yourself from admitting to him that you enjoyed Gojo’s teasing. That you were infatuated with the white-haired sorcerer and you had really started to like him. That his cocky attitude was not a turn off like you tried to convince yourself and that when he stood over you, making you feel small, you weren’t mad at him but mad you enjoyed the feeling of being towered over by him. 

“I’m not dating just to make you jealous,” you tried to stand up for yourself. You really weren’t, the guy just asked you and you had nothing better to do. You got free drinks out of it too- really that was all it was. 

“How could I be jealous when I know you like me?”

In Suguru’s defense, when you called him a traitor he assured you it was an accident. He just wanted to get Satoru out of his funk. The day he caught you looking all dolled up, just to find out it was for another man, he couldn’t get out of his own head. He also didn’t understand why he couldn’t. He pestered his best friend for days over it and Suguru had to throw in the towel. You liked him because he heard it from you. And Satoru liked you because he knows his best friend more than anyone. 

It was all worth it in the end, because things went back to normal. (Except for the small detail that Satoru and you were now a couple). 

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

G.Suguru: The older boy’s reaction made you swoon.

You were a year below him at Jujutsu Tech and you were in awe of his cursed technique and if you were forced to be honest, in awe of him. You must’ve looked like a lost puppy following him around when you insisted on watching him train, joining him to find a snack at the convenience store, and insisting on learning about all the curses he had under his control. He was so kind about it too - always dismissing Gojo when he would groan about how insistent you were. “How can you put up with her? She doesn’t have her own life,” he would say, poking his tongue out.

 “She’s just curious, Satoru,” he would reply. He wouldn’t kid himself though, he found you absolutely adorable and didn’t mind having you under his arm all day. You weren’t much younger than him, but you felt as though he held infinite wisdom. Your eyes would twinkle up at him as he shared stories of his missions and his lips would tingle watching yours twitch with ‘oohs” and “ahhs”. He adored the way you would watch him as he ran around the track, shirtless and dripping with sweat. When you joined him he couldn’t help but keep your pace just so he could keep his attention on you. You didn’t know this when you finally confessed, but he was as infatuated with you as you were with him. He was obsessed with how obsessed you were with him. He was by no means struggling in attracting women, but to have you be so casually faithful to him, it was too hard to not take advantage of. 

The day you decided to dress up really pretty for your weekly Tuesday walk to Tokyo for lunch at his favorite place was the day you officially confessed. You wore the skirt the two of you saw one day while window shopping - the one he said reminded him of something you would wear. You even applied lip gloss even though you despise the fact your hair always gets stuck in it. “What’s got you looking all pretty?” he would muse. 

“Sugu, I like you,” you admitted, quick like pulling off a bandaid. You hadn’t even made it out of the school’s grounds when you confessed. He held out his arm to stop you and blocked the way with his tall figure. 

“I already knew that, little one,” he cooed. “Let’s go, we don’t want to be late,” he grabbed your small hand in his and continued forward. It wasn’t an official response, but you knew him so well that it was official enough for you.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

I.Yuji : You swear the boy must be dumb.

Your friends would definitely describe you as the shy type. You never talked out of turn or made your true feelings known so blatantly - but with Yuji - you were really trying. If Yuji said he was hungry, you would always be there to hand him his favorite candy. When his face was caked with dirt and sweat after a mission, you were there with a cloth to clean him up. If he so much as got a paper cut you would insist on applying a bandaid to his finger. You couldn’t tell if you liked helping him more than he liked being helped. He would always smile at you, warm and sincere. His eyes would hold yours, cheeks flushed a light pink. The way he would look at you, head angled down to get a good look at your face, the innocent scrunch of his eyebrows..

“You’re such an amazing friend,” he would say and you had to blink to keep your eyes from rolling back into your head. 

One day as he was happily sipping the ice cold tea you bought him, munching on the little pastry you went out of your way to get after he announced - very loudly - how starved he was, you decided enough was enough. 

“I like you,” You told him bluntly. He finished chewing his last bite before telling you he liked you too. 

“You’re a really good friend,” he smiled. You could feel your body begin to shake as you repeated what you said. 

“I like-like you, Yuji. Not friend-like. Like-Like.” Your hands went to grip the grass beneath you, desperately trying to ground yourself. His eyebrows scrunched, as if he was trying to process your confession. You couldn’t hold his eyes when he didn’t immediately respond. You turned your attention to Maki and Nobara who were training not far in front of you. Your eyes couldn’t focus on their figures as your body shouted at you to get up and bury yourself in bed for the day. His hand found your thigh, and you jumped slightly. When your eyes met him again, you swore you never saw him look so serious. His lips were in a thin line, eyes twinkling. 

“Maybe I like-like you too,” he spoke only above a whisper and you melted on the spot.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

F.Megumi: The boy was always in his own little world

That’s what you really liked about him. His ability to be quiet, observant, and at times lost in his own thoughts. All though, trying to get him to notice your crush on him would be harder than pulling all of your toenails off one by one. You would lay in Nobara’s bed as she admired the outfits she bought that day, trying her best to ignore your groans. 

“I should just give up now,” you whined. You had finished a long winded rant about Megumi, how he never reacted to your attention in the way you craved him to. 

“You should give up. I’m sick of hearing it,” Nobara lovingly teased. “Or you could just tell him,” You would gasp at the idea and bury your head into her pillow. 

You always found yourself to be the type of girl to read everyone’s feelings. People were like books to you, except for him. Before joining Jujutsu Tech, flirting was second nature to you. But when you saw his messy black hair and cold blue eyes your brain short circuited. You sure would try to flirt though. Giggling at his jokes he thought no one heard or playing with your hair in conversation. You would buy a new perfume and ask him to smell you, or ask if he liked the way you did your makeup that day. He would flush red and obey your asks. He would tell you that you smell great or that your eyelashes looked really pretty, but he would end it there. 

A couple days had passed since your rant to Nobara and the four of you were out in Tokyo. Yuji had insisted you all join him to the movies, and with nothing better to do you all obliged. At the theater you paid for your drink and popcorn and made your way to your movie when you noticed Nobara and Megumi weren’t following behind you. You shrugged it off and sat down with Yuji to watch the previews. The lights had already dimmed and the movie just started by the time Nobara came with Megumi in tow. “Sit,” she commanded him, referring to the spot next to you. You watched as Megumi - stiff as a board- took the seat beside you, and continued to shuffle around in his seat trying to get comfortable. 

“What happened?” you whispered to him, scared of what Nobara had done to make him act so odd. He didn’t respond and kept his eyes glued to the screen. It went on like that for a while, him still squirming awkwardly in his seat and when a jump scare came on screen and he didn’t react you turned to him again. “You act like you saw a ghost,” you joked to him. He replied dead serious.

“Just saw Nobara, that’s all.”

“What did she do?” You weren’t really sure you even wanted to know. After what seemed like hours of silence he asked if you really did like him. 

“Is it true what Nobara said?” Your mouth fell open and he was now completely facing you. You were all there for a screening of a horror movie and right now the main character was in a dark basement making it hard to see any light on Megumi’s face. From what you could see though, he looked flustered but maintained his eye contact with you. Thanks to Nobara it was now or never, and you meekly shook your head at him. He scratched the back of his neck and you could see his Adam's apple bob in his throat. Your face was hot watching him process your confession, not sure if you wanted to punch Nobara or thank her for finally putting you out of your misery. Even if it did mean Megumi no longer wanted to be near you. “I’ve just never had someone tell me that,” he finally spoke. ‘I don’t hate you, just give me time to process that,” he asked. You nodded and turned back to the screen, trying to focus on the protagonist dodging death. You had grown as stiff as him and noticing, he put his hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly as reassurance. You both were red in the face, eyes glued to the front of the theater but not actually watching what was on it, lost in your thoughts. The process wasn’t smooth for you two, but your confession made Megumi realize his own feelings. Why he felt nervous when you were in the room and why he doubted his words before speaking to you. You both worked on it together, and your confidence with each other grew. It wasn’t long before you two went to Tokyo alone or sat in each other’s room late at night just talking. Megumi was your boyfriend by the end of the year, and you felt as giddy around him as the day you first met him. 

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

moms best friend sevika x masc reader?

I know I took so much time writing this but I just wanted it to be perfect! Also, I know it’s short and I’m SOOOO sorry. I’ve been soooooo flipping busy :(

Masc4Masc

Sevika x Masc Female Reader

( Head cannons + Fluff and Slight Smut)

Cw: Mentions of sex (though not in detail).

MEN DO NOT INTERACT OR I WILL BE BLOCKING!

Proofread (finally) || Note: I hate it when those fuckers int w my page. like NO, men do NOT follow me. istg. i’ve blocked like 8 of them already.

Your mom was one of those people who talked to everyone. Who was friendly with everyone. And, she just happened to be close to Sevika. They were practically best friends, inseparable, two peas in a pod.

Your mom invited Sevika to every small gathering. Be it a family dinner, or even a family gathering, the tall woman would be there. And that’s what sparked her attraction for you.

One thing she didn’t expect, ever in her life, was to be into to someone half her age. You. Who she’d been eyeing ever since she’d first seen you.

It wasn’t only your face that had her utterly mesmerized, it was the way you carried confidence with you everywhere you went. The way you talked, smiled even. Her curiosity about your sense of style was skyrocketed when you’d worn one of your more.. masculine outfits at home. The woman would be lying if she said she didn’t find it hot.

Sevika had a staring problem. At first, you found it a bit.. intimidating. The way she’d narrow her eyes and smirk at your responses to your mother. The way she stood tall and assertive, it was a bit scary. But slowly, as the two of you bonded, she was actually just a like any other woman. You’d even found out, it was more of a hunch, that she was a lesbian.

Sevika was into a lot of things you were. Music. The thing the two of you most bonded over. Everytime Sevika was invited, you’d always come downstairs from your room and show her a new album your mom had bought you. She even gifted you one on Christmas, one that was expensive.

Something that made her sure you were just as into her as she was you was the way you looked at her. The way your eyes would stare into hers whenever she opened her mouth to talk. The way your eyes would travel down to her lips whenever you looked her way. And even the way your lashes lightly fluttered whenever she placed a hand on your shoulder. She was sure you were into her.

As easy as it would’ve been to make you hers, your mother was sure to freak out— to disapprove.

Sevika took her time. She waited. There was tension, intimacy, between the two of you, and you both knew that.

But, one thing that caught her off guard was the fact that you made the first move.

Your mom was on an anniversary dinner, and it just so happened that she told Sevika to “babysit” you. Bad idea.

It started off simple. Sitting next to her on the couch, thights brushing, and shoulders touching. It escalated to somthing much more complicated. You kissed her, let her know her assumptions were correct— that you wanted her.

And, of course, Sevika kisses you back with just as much passion as you.

Your relationship with her was a secret. And it was gradual. Sevika wouldn’t be scared to give you a few looks from across the room, and neither would you be. Your mom didn’t suspect a thing, not when she’d gently pat your back or lightly nudge you. What was so wrong about that?

You’d even make excuses just to see the woman. It went from doing your mom’s errands and dropping things off at her place to being able to go there for no reason at all.

Your mom trusted her, and when she was out of the house, you’d drive to Sevika’s place and crash there. Either relaxing or eating her out, enjoyed your visits— she did aswell.

As much as she tried to keep her “tough and rough” act, whenever you’d kiss her she’d completely melt. Ever so slightly, you could feel her hips squirm and her breath heavy, it was like she was begging for it. Maybe she was?

Top or bottom? How ‘bout both! Receiving and giving, Sevika was a switch. From stuffing your face into her dark cunt, whimpering your pretty little name, to strapping you down and making you beg for mercy. You enjoyed both sides of her.

There was a sense of thrill in your heart whenever the two of you were together. It was the fact that one wrong move could get you in trouble. It was risky, but so much more worth it.

And don’t forget to thank to your mother, you’d found the right woman to take care and love you because of her.

[soulstutters]

hi there!

woohoo I was wondering if you could write something with Okarun, maybe with a sunshine but quiet Reader? Like a caring and sweet reader who takes care of everyone including him...

Have a great day!

Candy Crush

pairing: Okarun x gn!Reader

a/n: i had to start completely over to get this to something i liked and i still dk if it's good enough blehhhhh. i had fun with it though, thanks for requesting!! i don't think i did a good job with the taking care of everyone thing :(

It was a beautiful day and Okarun could feel it all over. It was like the sun was beaming down on him and the wind was guiding him as he biked the way to the Ayase residence. He was headed to meet up with his friends for a nice lunch. He slowed down for just a moment to shove his right hand in his jacket pocket, making sure his treasures were still inside. Momo had teased him and called it all trash the other day, but you know the saying. Okarun knew these candy wrappers were deserving of far more than a landfill. There was nothing special about the wrappers themselves, crumpled and empty of their sweets. The only thing worth noting about the pile was that each and every one of them was yellow, whether they boasted the taste of tangy pineapple or creamy banana. A little more important than their color to Okarun was the person they were from. 

You. 

You were new to their little cryptid crew, and you were a great addition. You smiled and hung out with them and helped with every supernatural situation. And the candy. The candy was Okarun’s favorite part. Every time you saw him you’d pull out a handful of pieces, and every time Okarun received them with as much joy as the last time. They were gifts that came with mementos he could keep with him to remember your time together. But with all the time you did spend with him and the others, Okarun was a bit confused.

Don’t get him wrong, he was glad you hung around - he just wasn’t sure why. Okarun didn’t like to make assumptions, but their group didn’t really seem like your type. They all had such big personalities; confrontational Momo, delusional Aira, and…Jiji. Okarun could even admit that he himself tended to be a bit high-strung. You, on the other hand, were on the more quiet side. Instead of joining in, you mostly just laughed at their antics. 

Okarun never got the feeling you were uncomfortable. He just really, really didn’t want you to be. He liked having you around, and he was just starting to realize his feelings went beyond what he felt for the others. The next step for him was figuring out how to tell you how he felt. 

Okarun had this goal in mind as he slowed his bike to a stop as he reached the Ayase household. He wrapped his hands around your gifts to him inside his pocket for good luck. He then removed his hand and placed it around his glasses frame with a resolute expression. Like a man, Okarun thought to himself as he pushed his shoulders back and began the march to the front door.

His march and his bravery lasted right up until he reached the doorstep. Okarun withered slightly as he thought about what he’d say to you. He extended his arm out towards the door, but was startled when it suddenly opened. Before he could process anything, Momo, Aira, and Jiji came barreling out the passageway. He narrowly caught a rushed statement that Seiko was out doing errands as his three friends bolted past him. Okarun was just able to latch on to Momo’s hand, holding her back from escaping the property. 

“Miss Ayase! What’s going on? Is something wrong? Is Y/N okay?” Okarun bombarded Momo with questions, his concern growing as he noticed your absence. At his last inquiry, a smirk that should have been scary grew across Momo’s face. 

“No! They’re not okay!” Momo snickered as Okarun’s face burst into a panic. “They’re in danger,” she emphasized, placing her hands on Okarun’s shoulders.

“What happened? Where are they?” Okarun began firing off questions again. He looked over to Aira and Jiji who were peeking out from behind the torii to watch him. He balled up his fists and strode firmly towards them, ready to save you from whatever danger you had found yourself in. Before he could get very far, though, Momo yanked him backwards by his collar.

“Okarun! You have to listen so I can tell you what’s going on with them,” Momo stared him down seriously. Okarun nodded vigorously, ready to do whatever he could to help. “Y/N is in danger…of being alone.”

“What.” Okarun’s entire body slackened in confusion, his palms opening, head tilting, and spine slumping. 

“Be serious,” Momo demanded. “There is a whole gourmet meal in there, with dessert. They are in there, by themselves, and it would be an act of evil to have them eat alone.”

“Oh. Okay? Let’s go in and eat then. You guys were going to look for me?” Okarun blinked away the alarm in his eyes. He was a little confused, but Momo was usually like this. 

“No, Okarun,” Momo hung her head and shook it solemnly. She raised her head quickly, startling her friend. “Only you can do this!”

With that, she shoved Okarun through her front door and slid it closed behind him. He stood there for a moment, dumbfounded at what just happened. Through the door, he could hear Momo, Aira, and Jiji chittering as they darted off to who knows where. 

That was how Okarun ended up here, across from you, at the food-filled table. Momo wasn’t lying about that part, at least. She really hadn’t been lying about anything. There was food and you were alone. His presence hadn’t really changed anything, though. Neither of you were eating or talking. The not talking wasn’t strange for you, but Okarun was worried he was making you uncomfortable with his own silence.

Okarun fiddled with an old candy wrapper in his lap, trying to figure out what to say to you. He was starting to think that maybe Momo was right - maybe keeping these pieces of paper was stupid. But as he looked down at the wrapper screaming Pineapple Punch at him, he couldn’t help but feel like they meant something. And he wanted to tell you. 

He wanted to tell you how he had never really cared for the color yellow, or even any of its flavors. He wanted to tell you how you changed that. Yellow changed from the color of caution to a hopeful hue. Yellow became your color; bright and warm and happy and beautiful. It was as attention grabbing as before, except now you had all of his. Even as he continued twirling the candy wrapper between his fingers, Okarun was glancing up at you. One of his stares met with yours and his eyes widened as he noticed you had something to say.

“Do you want another one? I have more and I know you like the yellow ones,” you smiled at him. Okarun froze as he realized he’d listed his wrapper up into your view by accident. If only you knew how much he likes the yellow ones. He simply nodded at you and held out his hands when you gestured for him to. What happened next sent Okarun into a fit of laughter.

You had revealed a plentiful pile of candies, all yellow, from your pockets and dumped them into his waiting hands. A few of the treats plopped onto the table due to not being able to fit in his palms. Okarun curled his hands up around the candy, even more falling out, and giggled. He chuckled and chortled at the sheer amount of exclusively yellow candy you’d just given him. You did know how much he liked the yellow ones. Once he’d finished his giggle-fit, Okarun looked back up at you and grinned at your confused face.

Without saying a word, he pulled out the countless yellow candy wrappers from his pockets and spread them across the table. At this, your face broke out into a smile, too. Not wanting to miss his chance, Okarun spoke first.

“I’ve kept these,” he started, face hurting from smiling, “because they remind me of you.” 

“I keep these because they make me think of you,” you mirrored his sentiment. Okarun smiled - he had never stopped - and slid one of the unopened candies over to you. He watched you pick it up and unwrap it, popping it in your mouth. He followed your action, grabbing and eating one himself.

“What flavor did you get?” He leaned over the table to peek. You straightened out the wrapper and held it up to him.

“Lemony Love,” you gaze at him past the wrapper. “You?”

“Same.”