#we’re a lot more alike than you think | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seongclb · 1 year ago

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LIKE A MAGNET ! sim jaeyun

“you’ve called me a lot of things, sim jaeyun, but never have you called me a magnet.”

“not like that! i just meant, we’re not as alike as we think. kinda like a magnet..”

SYNOPSIS. whereby your academic rival, jake sim, returns after spending a year in australia to come back and restore his place: as top physics student but also your (hopefully) boyfriend.

PAIRING. academic rivals to lovers, slight enemies to lovers, flirty!jake x fmr

GENRE. fluff, light angst.

WARNINGS. cursing, jake being flirty, kissing but not making out.

WORD COUNT. 7512 words

N. finally out yelp i think this is not as good as i wanted it to be but i have to post as promised so pls make sure to give feedback and stuff !! special thanks to mari for beta reading :) i love u pooks

TAGLIST. @sjyuns <3… @dollkis @taejaysmain @dear-hoon @oldjws @jjakey02 @luvistqrzzz @yizhoutv @mrchweeee @darly6n @hoonieluv @ghostiiess @jaeyunsonlyone @en-happiness @loumin908 @tasnim10 @rikisly @samyu01 @ashrocker123 @enhastolemyheart @enhaz1 @viagumi @articxari @vnsux @mersmoon @jungwonderz

Kicking your shoes off, you step into your house as your mother frantically scours the house for her expensive china plates.

“Mum, what’s going on?” You wonder, looking around at the house and noticing how all your awards and family photos are out. You groaned, this only meant one thing - guests were coming today.

Great, you thought. After a tiring day with your best friends driving you mentally and physically insane, you now had to entertain guests in your own house when all you wanted to do was lay in the comforts of your bed.

“The Sims are back from Australia,” your Mum announces while pushing you up the stairs.

You pause as your heart plummets down your stomach, “What do you mean?”

Your mum chuckles, “The Sims! Don’t tell me you forgot about them already. It’s only been a year.”

“Mother, this has been the best year of my life. Why are they back? Wasn’t Mr Sim, like, settled in his new job? Why are they coming here of all places, too?”

Your mum narrows her eyes at you as your father steps into the room, struggling with his tie, “Ah, Y/n you’re home! You’d better go up and get dressed. The Sims are arriving soon.”

“So, I’ve heard,” you huff. “I know we’re family friends but shouldn’t they settle in their house first? Why are they coming here already?”

“Because,” your dad sighs. “Mr Sim and I have secured a business deal. We’re going to be partners in the firm soon, which is why they’re back. Of course, we have to welcome them with a nice meal.”

You groan and cross your arms, “Isn’t this something you discuss with your daughter first?”

Laughing, your dad pinches your cheek sweetly, “Now, why would this concern you? Go upstairs and get dressed, you must be hungry after practice today.”

It takes every fibre in your being to not stomp up the stairs in defiance. Sim Jaeyun, the cause of your distress throughout your entire school whole life was returning after a blissful year of peace. The mere thought of it made you want to rip every strand of hair out of your head.

Stepping into your room, your eyes immediately set on the expensive dress sitting on your bed that your mum laid out for you. Just as your parents requested, you hopped into the shower to prepare for the dreadful evening ahead. It’s not like you weren’t used to this; your parents worked in especially high fields and earned decent salaries. It was more than normal for them to have these important, yet over the top, dinners every few months meaning you had to dress up like this often. The only issue was him.

You could already hear his irritating giggles from your bedroom. Amazingly, they were the same as you had remembered.

Before you could even take a deep breath, there were soft knocks at your door, “Mum, I’m coming. Thirty seconds.”

There were the knocks again. Rolling your eyes, you swung your door open, ready to ask your mother why she couldn’t wait for thirty seconds, when you saw him leaning on the archway of the door. His lips were curled into that familiar smirk of his, yet Jake looked so different. His hair was much shorter, slicked back slightly but a strand of it falling onto his forehead.

It had only been a year, yet you were more than surprised to see Sim Jaeyun actually looking semi decent.

His eyes are playful as they rake over your figure, checking you out head to toe. The feeling of Jake’s eyes boring into you evoked a sense of insecurity to wash over. Since when did you care about him looking at you?

“Hurry up,” he ruffles your hair as he runs down the stairs. Forgetting about the annoying action he had just done, you pause for a moment; his words replaying in your mind. It seemed that Jake’s looks weren’t the only thing that was different but he had developed a strong Australian accent, too. It wasn’t attractive, though.

No, of course, not. That was impossible, being Jake Sim.

You fix your hair before following him into the living room where his parents are sitting on the couch in your living room.

Mrs Sim smiles at you as you greet her, “Y/n! You’ve grown so much.”

She engulfs you in a tight hug as you giggle, “No, I look the same. You look better than ever, of course.”

She shakes her head as she makes room for you on the couch, “Nonsense, you’ve gotten even prettier just like Jaeyun. He’s gotten so handsome now, right?”

You nod, sending an obvious fake smile towards his direction.

Jake clears his throat as he brings his glass of water to his lips, “Y/n, have you grown any taller since last year?”

You force a polite chuckle, despite wanting to throw your glass at the smile on his lips, “Maybe a few inches.”

Jake nods, pursing his lips to prevent a wider smile from breaking out, “I see.”

He sits opposite you at the dinner table, sending you winks every so often just to get a sneaky middle finger or a dirty look in return when no one was looking.

“Y/n, you’ll have to show Jaeyun around tomorrow,” Your dad says to you.

“I’m sure he knows where everythings been. It’s only been a year,” You smile.

Jake leans over, “I heard there were some changes. I’m afraid I might get late to some of my classes.”

You turn to Jake, “Oh, really? Who said that?”

“Sunghoon,” Jake smirks back at you.

You nod, of course he did. Sunghoon was the little provoker in your feud with Jake; always meddling to give Jake new ideas on how to annoy you. That was clearly one of his duties as Jake’s best friend since he had just given Jake another reason to irk you and follow you around tomorrow.

“So, why can’t he show you around?” You narrow your eyes.

Before Jake can answer, your dad interjects, “It’ll be better for you to do it, Y/n. I’m sure Sunghoon will have practice and other things tomorrow.”

The little shit was smiling way too hard, again. He just gets lucky too often.

The talk quickly turns into business amongst your parents, boring you completely so you use it as a perfect opportunity to excuse yourself to your room until your Mum says, “Why don’t you take Jaeyun to your room?”

Jake’s eyes grow as he smiles mischievously, “Yeah, you can show me what topics you have been covering in Physics. I don’t want to be behind.”

You take another deep breath, it got to the point where every breath now was slow and used to calm you down in order to stop you from lunging at the boy in front of you. He used every opportunity to get you to agree to yet another thing to help him with while your parents were around.

Jake followed you up to your room, standing at the doorway for a moment to look around your room at a different angle before stepping in and tracing his finger over all your trophies and pictures.

“Hey!” He calls, pointing at a particular picture of you with a trophy after winning the Science Fair competition. “We did this together, I’m in this photo. Did you crop me out?”

That day was quite fun, one of the only times that you and Jake had worked together rather than against one another, which was the usual dynamic. That occasion, your father had suggested for you two to work together. Even back then, it had created such dismay for you but you couldn’t deny that he was the reason why you two had won. You didn’t work well under pressured environments, so Jake had picked up the slack and presented most of it but you doubted that he did it for the sake of you. He definitely did it for the mere reason that he wanted to win.

You scoff at the pout on his lips as he picks up the frame, “Obviously. I’d get nightmares with a picture of you in my room.”

Jake touches the picture, a sigh of relief leaving his lips, “You didn’t cut it. You folded it.”

He dismantles the frame, unfolding the picture to reveal a younger version of him, “I was handsome back then, too. Keep it unfolded, you can use it for motivation.”

Fake gagging, you snatch the frame back from him and set it down, “I don’t need motivation. “So, how was Australia?”

Jake shrugs, playing with the Miffy plush that you cuddle to bed every night, “It was fun. Different from here. Better girls.”

You roll your eyes and respond sarcastically, “Sounds wonderful.”

“Jealous? Don’t worry, they didn’t compare to you,” Jake flirts.

“Ew!” Your face contorts in disgust. “Don’t make me throw you out of here, Jaeyun.”

He giggles and goes back to nosily touching all your things. You watch him in silence for a few more minutes, not minding Jake exploring your room. Jake’s parents call him from downstairs, initiating that it was time for him to finally leave.

“This new business deal means I’ll be seeing you more often than you’d like, angel.”

Your eyes flicker up to meet his briefly upon hearing the pet name before he leaves the room. He’s staring at you, searching for a response in your facial expressions but all you can focus on is the luring brown specks in his eyes. The Australian air must have done a number on him; this was not the SIm Jaeyun you knew. Of course, he still used to go out of his way to annoy you before, but the excessive winking and flirting was so unlike him. It was only until you heard him call you ‘angel’ that you realised how different Jake was, now.

You returned down the stairs to bid them goodbye.

“Y/n,” Jake’s father calls. “Jake and I will be here tomorrow morning to pick you up for school. We must repay the favour.”

“What favour?” You question.

Jake’s mother strokes your arm lovingly, and you wonder how a woman so kind can produce that devil staring at you by the door, “We’re so thankful that you’re tutoring Jake every weekend!”

You raise an eyebrow and look at your parents, who suspiciously are avoiding your eyes, “It’s no problem. Is this why Mr Sim is picking me up tomorrow?”

They nod and hug you goodbye, constantly reminding you of their appreciation.

With one last annoyed look towards your parents, you turn on your feet and head up to your room for the night to scream into your pillow about the return of Sim Jaeyun.

୨ৎ

The next morning, at the table while you wait for Jake and his father, you see your own come down the stairs to get ready for his own job.

“Y/n, you and Jake have to go to school alone. Mr Sim sends his apologies, he has a meeting,” Your dad informs you.

You groan softly at the light knocks on the door, knowing it was Sim Jaeyun. “That must be him,” your dad smiles as he opens the door. “Hi, Jaeyun.”

“Good morning, Mr Lee. Is Y/n ready?” Jake asks as he steps into the house and meets your annoyed eyes. Slinging your bag over your shoulder and walking towards Jake, you say bye to your father and leave the house with him.

“Why did your dad want us to go to school so early?” You huff. Jake smiles down at you, “So we could go get breakfast.”

He flicks his dads bank card in between his fingers, “Wanted me to thank you for that tutor thing. Did you know about that, by the way?”

You shake your head, “Mum and Dad probably knew I would refuse. Did you?”

You look up at him and see he shakes his head, with a proud grin on his face, “Mum and Dad probably knew I would refuse, too.”

You stop and cross your arms at him, “Why would you refuse? I’m the top of the class, you should be honoured.”

Jake snickers, “You’re top of the class because I was in Australia for a year.”

He ruffles your hair before walking off, leaving you to curse at him under your breath.

With a croissant and a coffee in each of your hands, you walk through the school gates with Jake. As expected, all eyes are on him. Everyone knew him; you remembered the way everyone was heartbroken when he announced that he was leaving last year. Apart from you. You were busy bouncing off the walls to celebrate his departure as now, there was no debate about who the top physics student was. You knew it sounded condescending and extremely nerdy, but you worked hard for your grades; the title was deserved.

“I have to go to the principal's office,” Jake tells you.

“Go then,” You shrug. Jake tuts and drags you to the principal's office with him.

You fight off his grip on you, “I thought you didn’t know where anything was.”

Jake rolls his eyes, “Shut up and wait here. We have class together next, anyway.”

Just as you’re about to argue back, you realise that you do in fact have Physics next. Of course, he was in your class.

You sit and eat the breakfast that he bought you while you wait. Not long after, he exits the principal's office with a few books in his fingers.

“What are those?” You ask as you try to reach over and read them, only to have them held over your head and out of your reach.

“Don’t be so nosy,” Jake tuts. “Let’s go, we’re going to be late.”

You frown and follow him swiftly.

Jake opens the class door, and all eyes are set on him once again. Your Physics teacher calls him to the front while you rush to your seat at the back, away from all the gazes fixed on him.

Thanking God that your first lesson after the dreadful weekend was Physics was a waste since Jake was momentarily ordered to sit beside you.

“Is there a problem, Y/n?” Your teacher asks following your noises of protest.

You shake your head, not that it mattered to Jake who was already sitting in the seat beside you.

“Thankfully, I got placed next to my tutor. What would I do without you?” Jake drawls with a soft smile on his lips.

“Shut it, Sim,” you groan, snatching your things to your side of the table. “My side. Your side.”

Jake watches you pull out a thin ribbon and place it in the middle of the table.

Towards the end of the lesson, you’re assigned individual worksheet tasks that Jake gets done with smoothly. Unlike you, who is struggling slightly.

It’s not that the work is difficult to understand, but you’ve never been that close to Jake to see his hands. Despite your many attempts to focus on your work, your gaze is teared away from the Physics equations on your sheet and replaced with the sight of Jake’s hands only inches away from your own. In order to control your impulsive thoughts, you have to focus your full attention towards not touching his hands which is driving you absolutely insane.

Jake looks over his shoulder at your sheet, eyes widening slightly, “How are you still on the first question?”

Jolting slightly, you scramble to pick up your pen and mumble sometimes about getting distracted.

Jake bites his lip to prevent a giggle from escaping, “If you need help, you can ask me.”

“I don’t need your help,” You respond and commence with the work.

The bells to announce the end of the lesson go off soon after and you sigh in relief, packing your things instantly in order to get away from that nightmare sitting beside you.

Jake watches you pack up as if he was waiting to say something until Park Sunghoon and Jay Park run into the classroom.

“Jake!” Sunghoon smiles widely, Jay following shortly.

Jake grins, “I didn’t see you two this morning.”

“We had to meet up with the football (soccer) team before school. Join us after school today?” Jay asks.

Jake shakes his head, “Can’t. I have to study with my tutor.”

You dart your eyes over to him, “Not today.”

Sunghoon and Jay break out into fits of laughter.“No way, Y/n has to tutor you. That’s so unfortunate, Y/n,” Jay says to you, and you nod with a frown.

Jake furrows his eyebrows, “What’s so bad about tutoring me?”

“Dude, you don’t even need a tutor. Y/n, I’ve been asking you to tutor me for months now,” Sunghoon follows you around your desk.

“I didn’t have a choice!” You remark. “Our parents arranged it behind our backs.”

Sunghoon smiles, “What? Like an arranged marriage?”

“Ew!” You both said in unison.

Clearing your throat, you look at Jake again, “I’m not tutoring you today. They said weekends. “

You grab your bag and leave the room, rushing to find your best friends. Minji and Jieun are sitting at the usual bench near the football field, snacks laid in their laps as they discuss the precious lesson when you rush towards them.

Their attention immediately turns to you and Minji asks, “Y/n, is it true that Jake’s back?”

You huff and nod, “You’ll never believe it.” And, with that, you start filling them in on all the events that have occurred in far little time that you’d like.

They listen intently as you tell them every single detail since yesterday.

Jieun gasps, “How has this all happened in less than 24 hours?”

You shrug and steal a biscuit from her lap, “Honestly, I’m wondering the same thing. I didn’t even know he would be back 24 hours ago.”

Minji leans forward, “Shit, don’t look. Shit, shit, shit.”

Despite Minji’s request, Jieun turns her head with a car and gasps, too.

“What?” You ask, impatiently, wanting nothing more than to see what they were so intrigued about.

“Jake’s in a football shirt,” Jieun claps her hands together and you roll your eyes, although you turn your head ever so slightly to get a look. You don’t see Jake anywhere.

“Where?” You ask, now looking more closely.

Jieun and Minji giggle beside you and you close your eyes in anger after sudden realisation, “He’s not there, is he?”

“Nope,” Minji chuckles. You lightly shove her with your arm as she continues, “So, Y/n. A crush on Jake, huh?”

“Impossible!” you argue. “I was just looking because you guys were so shocked.”

You cross your arms and stuff your mouth with snacks as your friends stare at you in disbelief, “I do not like Sim Jaeyun.”

୨ৎ

Taking tests were usually anxiety inducing, but with your rival back, it was even worse than usual. Jake helped you separate the table into individual seats for the test, watching the way your fingers drummed on the table; a habit to get rid of the nerves.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take it easy on you, angel,” He whispers, leaning so close to your ear that you can feel his breath fanning onto your cheek.

“Ugh,” You shove him away. “Are you trying to make me vomit before the test so I can miss it and fail?”

Jake sneers, “As if I need to do something like that. I’ll get higher than you regardless.

“We’ll see about that Aussie boy.”

Jake's eyebrows raise upon the new nickname, his eyes gleaming as he watches you take the test paper into your hand and write your name before starting it. Jake leans back in his chair, twirling his pencil in his fingers before he too starts the test.

The school bells go off, signalling both the end of the school day and the test.

Jake stands behind you as you hand in your paper and exit the classroom.

He taps your shoulder, “Did you finish all the questions?”

You nod, “Yeah, did you?”

“Yeah, but I don't think I did that well. I guess it's good that I’ve got myself a tutor, huh?” Jake giggles beside you.

You almost laugh, instead concealing it with a roll of your eyes, “Lucky you.”

“Be ready for one, tomorrow,” Jake ruffles your hair, earning a smack on the arm from you, which he fake winces at. “You coming to the football game next Monday?”

“No,” You guffaw and watch Jake slip his hands into his pockets.

“Hm, I thought you were. A little birdie told me you were,” Jake shoves his phone into your face, revealing messages from your mother telling him that you would go.

Angrily, you twist Jake’s ear and he yelps, “Ow??? What was that for?”

“Many reasons,” You cross your arms. “You messaged my mum to get me to go to your stupid football game! Why do you even have my mothers number?”

Jake rubs his now pink ear, “She told me to take it for the tutoring sessions since you said no to giving yours. Plus, is it so bad that you’re coming? Your friends are there every day.”

“Yeah, to see the boys they like,” You shrug.

“There’s no one you want to watch play?” Jake asks, slipping his hands back into his pockets.

“I have no interest in watching anyone play.”

Jake hums again, turning his face to the side before clearing his throat, “That’s because no one wants you to watch them.”

You glare at him, “Then, why did you ask my mother to force me to go?”

Scorning, Jake responds, “I didn’t force her. I just mentioned it and she said to make sure you go. Why would I want you there?”

At his words, you feel your heart gain a few bruises but you play it off, “I’m not going.”

“Shut up, Lee. I’ll pick you up at 5 on Monday. Games at 6,” With that, Jake walks off to join his friends. You grab your phone and message your group chat with your friends.

You: It looks like I'm attending my first school football game next week.

Minji: You wanna tell me this isn't because of the Sim boy?

Jieun: LMFAO FR.

You: Dude messaged my mother to get me to go.

Jieun: No fucking way

Minji: Yeah, so when's the wedding?

You: shut up, we don’t like each other.

Minji: 🙄

Jieun: keep telling yourself that. Want us to pick you up?

You: no… he’s picking me up

Minji: act surprised!

Jieun: Suit yourself, I am surprised!

Usually, the weekends are more than enjoyable; being that you can sleep in bed for a few hours longer than usual without feeling like you're rotting away as you’re still up before noon which automatically means you're being productive. This weekend was different; just like every day has been since Jake has arrived back.

This was now yet another time that he’s randomly been in your house as if he lives there, and waiting for you to join him.

“You’re late,” He says, taking a bite of an apple.

“I forgot,” You respond and sit down at the table with your textbooks.

Jake sits beside you, smiling at your pyjamas, “Why are all of them so childish?”

You frown, “They’re not childish. Anyway, focus!”

Tutoring Jake reveals to be harder than you thought. He either gets distracted every few minutes with an odd would you rather question that he needs to hear your response to or he’s bragging about how he doesn’t need these tutoring sessions, and could easily beat you in the upcoming exam.

Two hours fly by ever so slowly, and you’re silently thanking God that it’s over when the time comes.

Slamming your books shut, you spring to your feet with a wide smile plastered over your lips “Well, it’s been lovely but, that’s me done. Goodbye!”

Jake snickers as he watches you disappear up the stairs in a hurry, “See you on Monday!”

Monday flies by faster than you realise, you think as you sit in Physics next to Jake with your head resting in your palm. Monday was always such a mission to get through, but it didn’t help that you had a particularly late night.

“Tired?” Jake asks, sliding over your favourite bottled coffee. Your eyes light up upon seeing it as you accept it with a slightly enthusiastic nod.

“Extremely, staying up watching ‘Criminal Minds' is not a good idea,” You advise before taking a happy swig of the coffee.

Jake laughs, “Thanks for the warning. You’re coming to the game, by the way.”

You roll your eyes, “Is that why you got me a drink?”

Jake hums, “Why else would I do something nice for you?”

You scowl and hand him the coffee back, only for it to be slided back towards you with a disgusted expression on his, “I don’t want it! You already put your mouth on it.”

You sigh, and put it back in your bag, “Asshole.”

“Idiot,” He remarks.

You flick your eyes up and notice the teacher handing out the test papers from the last lesson, “We’ll see who the idiot is.”

The teacher places both yours and Jake's papers down with a smile.

You read the 97 on your paper, tilting it nervously to reveal to him as you wait for his mark.

“96,” He huffs, setting the paper down with a disappointed frown.

You clap your hands together with a wide grin, “I knew it! Sim Jaeyun, you fell off!”

You tease him consistently, singing celebrations in his ear as he places the paper in his bag, smiling at the 98 written on his sheet that he would much rather keep hidden for the sake of you singing gleefully beside him.

Jake swears he’s never seen you so happy; it's almost impossible to keep his smile under control as he watches you in slight fear that the adoration he has for you is emanating more than he would like.

୨ৎ

Your exciting plans to nap immediately after school were destroyed when you heard knocks on the door at exactly four minutes to five pm.

You answer softly, “Come in.”

Expecting one of your parents to walk in, you don’t bother to try and fix your hair or anything so when Jake walks in, you hurry to cover your snoopy pyjamas with your blanket, but judging by the way he snickers, you can tell he’s already seen it.

Jake stands in front of your wardrobe, “Say, Michael B Jordan came into your room and opened your wardrobe. Would there be anything you’d be too shy to show him?”

“No,” You reply, confused. Jake swinging your wardrobe doors open and grabbing a sweater before throwing it at you and walking out of the room was the last thing you had expected. Not to mention that he compared himself to Michael B Jordan, as if you’d care if he had seen your undergarments. Jake, however…

“Ten minutes!” He calls out before closing the door.

You sit in disbelief for a few moments before complying with his demands.

A few moments later, you walk out of the room and hear Jake and your father watching the football game.

“You’re here watching the game when you’re about to play anyway…” You stare at the two, dumfounded.

Jake tilts his head up at you as he gets up, “The game’s too good. Let’s go!”

He says goodbye to your parents and walks you to his car, “We’re kind of early, so you wanna eat something or eat after the game?”

“After the game?” You repeat slowly.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning to run home as soon as the game begins,” Jake runs a hand through his hair.

You stifle a laugh, “I doubt I'd make it before half time.”

Jake laughs, “Alright, let's get going.”

Along the way, Jake plays some songs and you can't help but enjoy the atmosphere. Jake glances her eyes towards you from time to time, fighting the smile that creeps his way onto his face in response to yours.

He can't help but think of how beautiful you look, when you’re not even doing anything remotely significant.

“We’re here,” You say.

“Thanks, Sherlock,” Jake rolls his eyes and gets out of the car. As soon as you open the car door, he pushes you back inside and shuts it. You furrow your eyebrows at him standing by the passenger door.

Jake swiftly opens the car door for you, looking around as you leave the car although it's a struggle to move after a zoo of butterflies started swarming in your stomach from his actions.

“Thanks,” You rub at the nape of your neck as he mutters an ‘its alright’ to you.

The pair of you make your way across the football pitch, Jake greets people as he walks past them while you dodge dirty stares from jealous students. It almost makes you want to laugh; if only they knew how it really was.

To be quite honest, you weren’t sure if you knew either now that you thought about it.

Brushing your thoughts away, you sat down on one of the benches, “I’ll watch from here.”

Jake nods and slings his bag to put next to you, “You’ll watch this, right?”

“Yes,” You huff. “Anything else, kind sir?”

Jake throws his head back as he laughs, “No, madam.”

Before you can look away, Jake removes his top and replaces it with a football jersey. You know you shouldn't, but you can't help it - his abs were literally staring at you in plain sight, so you had to look back at them.

Of course, he notices you staring and tuts, “Didn’t strike me as a pervert, Y/n.”

You gasp, stammering, “You.. You didn't even warn me!”

“Relax, angel. I don’t mind,” He jogs backwards, sending you a few winks before printing off to the rest of his football members.

Just before the game starts, Minji and Jieun run over and join you, already screaming the names of whichever boy they were infatuated with at that current time.

The game proves to be far more interesting as expected and you end up not regretting letting yourself be dragged out of bed by Jake.

You watch intently as Jake dribbles the ball and shoots it directly in the goal. Your adrenaline must have taken over you, since the next thing you know, you’re jumping up and cheering. In the midst of Jake’s celebration around the pitch, he looks over at you with the widest smile he’s ever fathomed. Jieun and Minji share smirks from the side.

By half time, he separates from the rest of his team and runs directly to you.

You hand him a water bottle as he sits beside you, sweat droplets making his skin glow an extra bit.

“I didn’t expect you to cheer for me,” Jake says, smugly.

“I didn’t cheer for you. I cheered for the team,” You correct.

“I didn’t see you get up and cheer like that when Sunghoon scored,” Jake mutters under his breath.

You dart your eyes at him, “You’re lucky I didn’t hear that.”

Jake sits beside you, regaining his strength in the fifteen minute break while you look around at the other members, eyes fixated on one familiar member.

“Oh shit,” You turn around to Jieun and Minji, whose eyes follow your previous gaze and soon replicate your own shocked expression. Jake turns to the three of you, attempting to eavesdrop.

“Is that-”

“Don’t say the name,” You gesture to Jake sitting beside you.

“Woah, woah,” Jake stands up. “Whose name?”

“None of your business,” You snap. “Shouldn’t you go and, like, discuss team plays?”

Jake shakes his head, “Nah, this isn’t a serious game. It’s just a friendly. Who’s the guy?”

Jake nods his head at the guy you were looking at, fury slowly bubbling in his insides.

“He's a relative,” You lie.

“Bullshit,” Jake huffs. “I’ll find out after the game, anyway.”

The guy was Lee Minseok, and he was your first kiss at a party several months earlier. Being a kiss at a party, you don’t even remember it but your friends had informed you of it. He, too, had wanted to reconnect by messaging you on each and every one of your social media accounts for weeks after despite you saying you weren't looking for anything. You’d felt bad, but it was better to leave it as a drunken mistake than leading him on completely. It had also been a shame that he was your first ever kiss, but you were glad you didn’t remember it.

You look at Jieun and Minji again before sitting back down next to Jake, who doesn’t say another word. After a few minutes, he walks off to his members without saying anything. You feel slightly disappointed that he didn’t say one of his flirty remarks, but you don’t pay too much mind.

You continue watching the game, silently cheering whenever Jake scores or does anything remotely notable and you notice how his eyes always turn to you upon doing something well, but again, you don’t think much of it.

It’s only when you notice Minseok slytackling Jake, leading to Jake falling on his back. Soft gasps erupt from the crowd, a way of everyone agreeing that it was far too harsh of a movement. Minseok holds his hand out to apologise, only to be rejected by Jake smacking his hand away and pushing him by the shoulders. It becomes a small brawl, Jay and Sunghoon having to pull Jake away and to the changing rooms. You watch Jake strut over to the changing rooms, a look of rage crossed over his face.

The next thirty minutes of the game go by painfully slow; all you wanted was to know if Jake was alright.

Despite Jieun and Minji’s attempts at trying to get you to go home with them, you wait for Jake, just to find out if he's okay.

It gets dark when you spot Jake walking on the other side of the football field and you call him over, “Jake!”

He turns around and looks at you with a slightly bewildered expression, but waits for you nonetheless.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“I’m fine,” He mumbles. “Did you ask Minseok if he was, too?”

It was your turn to look at him bewilderedly, “No, I couldn’t care less if he was injured.”

Jake’s lips almost curl into a smile. Almost, if he didn’t hear Sunghoons words replaying in his head. Minseok was your first kiss - he stole your first kiss. The feeling of rage bubbled in Jake’s insides again.

“Anyway, I waited because you promised to get me food,” You grin.

Jake looks away, “I can’t. Dad needs help at home.”

“Oh,” You whisper. “Okay, but you owe me another day.”

Jake nods in agreement, and you wait for that familiar smile to return on his face, but it doesn’t.

“I’m going to get going,” You say.

Again, you wait for him to say something, like offer to drop you off home. But, nothing.

You feel like a fool as you walk away from him, his figure growing smaller and smaller behind you with every step.

The next few days are all similar, there are times where you expect Jake to say something to you around the halls or in Physics, but he doesn’t. You don’t even see him around the house anymore, despite his family being there and them saying that he was busy catching up with schoolwork. That was definitely a lie, you knew him.

Mr Sim calls you to sit with them, smiling at you politely.

“Thank you for tutoring Jaeyun. His grades slipped a bit in Australia but, thanks to you, they’re back to normal,” He grins. “I hope there’s no hard feelings, though.”

“Of course, not. Why would there be?” You return his politeness.

Mr Sim sighs in ease, “Oh, I thought you would be since Jaeyun got 98 on the recent test. Although, it was only a marks difference. You’re seriously wonderful-”

The rest of his words tune out, the only thing you hear is that Jake got higher than you in the test but he lied. Why did he lie?

୨ৎ

Deciding to head over to his house with the lie that you needed to give him some school work was merely impulsive, it was far too late when you realised at his doorstep. You’d spent the last few days laying in the darkness of your room, wondering why he has suddenly switched off his typically playful manner to a foreign, nonchalant version of himself. You even cried to Jieun and Minji about it, who cursed him repeatedly.

Jake opens the door in Spongebob pyjamas to which you cock an eyebrow at, “And you called mine childish.”

“What are you doing here?” Jake asks, helping you into his house. “Do you want something to drink or eat?”

You shake your head and he leans on the wall in front of you as you take a seat.

“So,” Jake stares at you. “What are you doing here?”

You take a long and slow breath, “Why did you lie about your mark in the recent exam?”

Jake steps forward slightly, “How did you-”

You shake your head, “It doesn’t matter. Why did you lie?”

Jake exhales, “I knew it would make you happy.”

You scoff, getting to your feet, “Why on earth do you care if I’m happy?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jake grits his teeth.

“You hate me. You’ve been avoiding me for days, now,” You breathe out.

Jake stares at you blankly, before breaking out into a fit of laughter, “Hate you?”

He inches closer to you until hes standing directly in front of you, “Y/n, I came back here for you.”

“What are you talking about?” You chuckle. “You came back because our parents-”

“No,” Jake interjects. “You think I didn’t beg my father to take that deal? You think my dad doesn’t know how in love with you I am? Y/n, everyone knows but you!”

You shake your head, “This isn’t true.”

“Look, if you don’t like me back, just say so. But, don’t come here and start spewing nonsense. I’ve liked you since that day that we won the Science Fair together. I’ve been in love with you since I left for Australia.”

You look up at him, “No way.”

Jake rolls his eyes and takes your hand, pulling you to his bedroom. He sits you down in his bed while he reaches into a drawer and pulls out a large box.

Jake removes the lid and brings out multiple items that you recognise and some that you don’t.

“This is my Y/n box,” he places it onto your lap. “Have a look.”

Jake holds a few items in his hand, “This is the bracelet I won at a Physics competition in Australia at the beginning. I planned to give it to you. This is a teddy I won at some amusement park. And, this is a letter I wrote on the plane when I realised that I was in love with you. Well, am in love with you.”

Jake continues, “Even my grades, Y/n. They were nothing without you. It’s like you were my only source of motivation, my grades were average towards the end of the year in Australia. My parents and my teachers all blamed it on the move, but I knew. I knew it was because you weren’t there.”

You’re speechless, he kept everything remotely linked to you since you were thirteen. He thought of you in every little thing he did.

“You love me?” You question.

“Yes, Y/n. I’ve been in love with you.”

“But,” You breathe out. “I’m hard to love.”

Your voice is strained, and isn’t far from a whisper. There’s so many things you want to say yet so little words to conform them to the perfect boy sitting in front of you.

He almost guffaws at your words - Jake might have if he didn’t realise just how serious you were. He didn’t understand; what on earth was so hard about loving you? There was nothing.

If only you could see just how effortless it had been, straight from the beginning. The minute he laid eyes on you standing by a handmade rocket, scribbling ideas down on a piece of paper, it was as if the atoms in the universe had created an inseparable bond that tied you two together. It was as if the poles in the universe had drawn together, creating a magnetic field of attraction.

Jake’s eyes twinkle as he leans closer to you, “There is nothing hard about loving you. Loving you is like breathing out oxygen, so if loving you is hard then breathing is, too.”

You flick your eyes up at him again, now only centimetres away from those pink plush lips of his until you close the gap, pulling him into a soft kiss.

“I love you, too, “ You breathe out.

“Really?” Jake gasps. “You’re not just saying that?”

You shake your head, intertwining your fingers, “No, seriously. I do, I didn’t know I did but now.. Now, I know. I came here because you were avoiding me the whole week and I couldn’t bear it.”

Jake giggles, “That’s because I didn’t think you liked me back after that whole situation with Minseok at the football game. I thought it would be better to just leave you alone.”

Jake gently intertwines his fingers with you, a casual action albeit causing your heart to race a million miles per hour.

“So,” he beams, “if you get higher than me in the next Physics exam, I’ll take you out on a date.”

You cock an eyebrow at him, a grin paired on your lips, “And, what if I don’t?”

Jake looks away, thinking for a moment, “Then, you take me on a date.”

“Well, can I give you a kiss first?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at him as if he’s ever going to decline that offer

“You don’t need to ask twice,” Jake breathes out, before meeting your lips with a wide grin plastered on his face.

୨ৎ

Seeing Jake knock on your window from outside your house was quite a shock for you, being it was a Sunday evening and you were sorting out your school bag for the next day.

You open your window to let him in with a befuddled expression worn on your face, “What are you doing here? It’s almost 6:30.”

A soft smile is on his lips as he looks at you, and climbs through your window, “I had to see you. Its been so long.”

Rolling your eyes playfully, “I saw you on Friday.”

“That’s far too long, angel.”

You smile as he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you in for a warm embrace, he hums as he closes his eyes and rocks your body with his from side to side.

“Why didn’t you use the front door?” You ask him.

Jake nervously rubs the back of his neck, “I’m scared of your father.”

You laugh at his words, “You’ve known the man for years! What’s there to be afraid of?”

He sits down on your bed, playing with your teddy bears, “Well, he’s different with me now that I’m.. dating his daughter.”

“He’s a bit shocked but he’ll get used to it. You can’t expect him to like you if he finds out you’ve been sneaking in through my window, though,” You pinch Jake’s cheek softly.

Jake nods, “I know.” Jake sighs and leans into your touch against his cheek.

“Why don’t you try going back through the front door? You can ask my parents for permission to grab dinner outside, today,” You suggest, pulling his hands up.

You watch Jake’s eyes glint in excitement as he heads back out of the window. Yet, he doesn’t forget to turn around to press a quick kiss on your cheek before he leaves, only to return to be in your house in less than a minute.

Hearing the doorbell ring, you make your way downstairs while fighting the urge to grin upon knowing exactly who was at your door.

You watch your father open the door, seeing Jake, “Hi Jake, what brings you here?”

Jake stammers, “Hello, sir. I mean, Mr Lee… I came to see Y/n.”

You stand beside your father, “Dad, you haven’t even let him in.”

Pulling Jake inside, you frown at your Dad as your Mum joins the three of you.

“Honey, why are you so awkward around Jaeyun now? Weren’t you the one who always wanted him as a son?” Your mum chuckles.

“I didn’t think he would become a son like.. this,” Your dad darts his eyes towards you and Jake. “So, is the relationship going well?”

You struggle to not break out into a fit of laughter, “Yes, Dad. Thanks for your concern. Jake and I are going to get some ice cream.”

Your Mum nods happily while your father sighs and sits back. Jake bows his head politely and leaves with you.

“I hate the awkwardness,” Jake whines and you laugh, intertwining your fingers with his.

“He’ll get used to it!” You boop Jake’s nose sweetly.

Walking alongside Jake with your fingers wrapped tightly in his own, the crisp autumn air hitting against your cheeks and the streetlights illuminating the sky; you can’t help but feel a sense of longing towards the moment. It just felt right.

“I’ve been thinking,” Jake breaks the silence, tilting his head towards you. “Actually.. No, no. You’re going to make fun of me.”

Jake hides his face in his hoodie, but you can still see the redness in his cheeks.

“What?” You laugh, prying his face out of his hoodie. “Tell me!”

Jake sighs, “I used to think we were alike but I don’t think we are. So, I guess we’re kinda like magnets.”

“You’ve called me a lot of things, Sim Jaeyun, but never have you called me a magnet.”

Jake sighs with a smile on his face, “Not like that! I just meant, we’re not as alike as we think. Kinda like a magnet, but they work out fine. If anything, there’s literal forces of attraction pulling them together. Isn’t that so cool?”

You chortle, “Yes, Jake. That’s very cool. I love being your magnet.”

Jake presses a kiss to your lips, “Stop making fun of me.”

“Stop being a nerd,” You retort.

“Says the one who got 100% in the last quiz!”“Don’t be jealous, Sim. You’ll get on my level someday.”

1K notes · View notes

light-yaers · 3 months ago

Text

Take Care: Chapter Fourteen

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.

A/N: YEEE FUCKING HAW WE'RE BACK AND LONGER THAN EVER. FEAST, MY PRETTIES.

Word count: 10k+

Chapter Fourteen:

Well, Arlo. It seems the Greyhounds have actually… done something right?

I know, Chris. If you’d told me they’d be in this position, not even in the Premier League, yet through to the FA Cup final, then well! I’d have eaten my hat!

But Arlo, you don’t own any hats.

There’s lots that you don’t know about me, Chris.

Oh. Well, I’d like to find out more one day, Arlo.

Maybe one day, Chris. Maybe one day… But, moving forward– it seems AFC Richmond’s new coach, badboy Roy Kent, has well and truly shared the fabled ‘Roy Kent Effect’ once more.

That’s certainly true, Arlo! Kent and his teammates have never worked so well, even when he was on the pitch next to them. I think this is the start of a blossoming season for the Greyhounds.

I agree, Chris. So, you heard it here, folks. AFC Richmond are off to Wembley!

A few weeks after Roy’s return, you found yourself feeling the love. When you came to, you were screaming your head off. Everything was a giant blur of those familiar reds and blues, so you knew you were home. The locker room still looked the same as always, but the players within were so drastically separate from how they were a week ago that you could hardly fucking believe it.

AFC Richmond were going to Wembley for the FA Cup final. The only downside– they were against Manchester fucking City. You weren’t about to dampen their joy, though. You suspected they all knew exactly what was at stake, but they deserved this. They deserved to feel like winners.

Sam bound over to you as soon as he could. His embrace brought you back down to earth, and you hugged him back so tightly that it was a miracle neither of you passed out. “God, I am so proud of you,” you whispered into his shoulder.

He reciprocated by squeezing you once more, before you tugged apart. “You still bring us good luck. You are part of the reason we have come this far.” He spoke so earnestly that you couldn’t stop your throat from drying up.

You swallowed painfully, utterly overwhelmed. Sam went one step further, however, when he stepped onto one of the benches. “Hey, guys! Guys!” he yelled, bringing the sound in the room right down. Every player, and coach alike, turned to him and listened intently. “We wouldn’t have gotten to this position without the help of every single person in this room.” Sam looked down at you then, smiling like the golden sun. “Thank you, everyone! We’re Richmond till we die!”

The room erupted into roars that no jungle could replicate. You soaked up their cheers, their happiness, their togetherness, and as you did you sensed someone close by: Roy.

He stood in the doorway of the manager’s office, wearing a tracksuit that donned Richmond’s logo. He’d fallen into his coach position as if he’d always been here– assertively, strongly, respectfully. When you glanced around the room and saw him, you had to stop just for a moment to take him in. You smiled at him, even though he wasn’t looking at you. When he eventually caught your eye, you quickly looked beyond him, acting as if you hadn’t been eyeing him up for the better half of a minute.

Roy liked it when you looked like this– happy, content, in the middle of a bustling and buzzing room yet perfectly fine with just existing and not speaking. You were good like that, good at listening and observing. You were also good at talking when you got to it, but Roy’s initial annoyance whenever you opened your mouth had quickly disappeared after a few weeks into your placement at the club. That sentiment had only grown over the past year and a half.

Jesus– eighteen months. It’d really gone fast, hadn’t it? Eighteen months, and you’d grown into your talent and only increased your work ethic (even if you secretly hated your current position). Eighteen months, and Roy had played his last game of football ever, but coached his first professional game since.

Roy leaned on the doorframe of the manager’s office and crossed his arms. Dani had his hands wrapped around your neck lovingly from behind. The two of you swayed back and forth as the team continued rejoicing. Slowly, you latched your fingers onto Dani’s forearms and held them tightly. Roy knew what that felt like, having you close. He’d been there with you once, when it was impossible to keep your hands off each other in a crowded room like this.

There was another thing that hadn’t happened in eighteen months. You and Roy. Roy and you. In truth, you’d thought about things more than he had. This was amongst one of the first times he’d allowed himself to think of you together, properly, and what it could have been like.

He thought back to November, almost six months ago now, when he’d told you that he had no intention of fucking things up. To do that, you and Roy couldn’t happen– wouldn’t happen.

Roy frowned when he thought about how awful he’d been, not even during that conversation, but afterwards. He hadn’t put up any boundaries, had continued acting the same as he always was around you. It wasn’t kind; he knew that as soon as he’d seen your face on Boxing Day, practically scrambling to get the fuck out of his house.

The bad thing was, however, that Roy didn’t want to stop. Sure, he’d said things would never happen, and you’d graciously accepted that fate and tried to move forward over these past few months like any respectful and decent person would. But, he hadn’t. He’d said the words, but not followed them.

Roy huffed to himself, only now realising– he was a fucking idiot.

This was Roy’s more prominent disease, it seemed: delayed on-set realisation of selfishness. DOROS for short. Maybe he’d always known, but had pushed it all away in favour of keeping you close. Maybe he’d always known, but innately knew that he had never wanted to cut things off with you, so simply acted like he’d never fucking said a thing.

Mentally, Roy added a new to-do box to his list.

Fix things with you.

He would. Oh, he would.

“Roy!” Ted’s familiar accent called from behind him. Roy turned around and looked down at his fellow coach, sat before him with his feet on his desk. Beard was the same, and the two of them looked like peas in a pod. “How’re your first few weeks going?”

Roy balled his fists instinctually. “Good. I think.”

“Well, you gosh darn thunk correctly!” Ted burst, jumping out of his chair in excitement. “And now, I need your help once again. This match next week, the big one.” He stopped directly in front of Roy, chin to chin. “How do we keep the guys like this?”

This meaning the ruckus behind him. Joyful, strong, ready to fight with all they’ve got even if the outcome isn’t in their favour. Roy knew that feeling well, having felt it too many times to count.

He sighed. “It’ll be tough. Come tomorrow, they’ll all start to spiral.”

“How so?”

Roy shrugged. “It’s the hope that kills you.”

Ted’s face soured immediately. “I don’t like your sayings over here.”

“Yeah, well…” Roy turned around to look at the guys. “It’s easier than being fucking disappointed.”

“Screw that!” Ted suddenly exploded. He grabbed Roy’s shoulders and urged him to look in his eyes. “We’re stopping that today. What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you look at those guys right there, acting like that?” Ted asked.

Roy swivelled his head back around to look at them. “I… I dunno?” he said.

Ted squeezed his shoulders abruptly. “Yes, you do! Say it. Say it!”

“All-fucking-right!” Roy yelled. “Her!” He pointed at you without hesitating.

As if on cue, you laughed. You scrunched your eyes shut in happiness, giggling as Dani placed his chin atop your head. He squeezed you tighter, and you giggled even harder, gripping his arms stronger than before. Sam and Colin laughed opposite them, still overcome with the buzzing adrenaline of the win. They all were. You perpetuated that feeling, made the guys want it even more so you could join them at times like this.

Ted moved next to Roy, looking at the same scene. “Well, I’ll be damned,” Ted whispered. “You’ve never been more right in your life.”

You had to suck in a deep breath as your laughter dissipated. Your lungs were empty of all reserves, but you’d never felt better about it. Dani gently removed himself from you to head towards Richard and Zoreaux. As he did, the most unexpected thing happened.

Someone tapped you on the shoulder, and when you turned to greet them with a glowing smile, you stopped short. Jamie Tartt stood before you. “Hey,” he said.

You kept things light as you perked your brow at him quizzically. “Hi.” You smiled. “Congratulations.”

Jamie laughed awkwardly, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. Thanks very much.” You’d never tire of his accent, secretly. You were fond of Mancunian. “Listen, can I talk to you for a moment?”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Oh– sure.”

“Privately,” he added.

You glanced around the locker room quickly, before nodding once. Jamie led you out to the corridor and beyond. He opened the door to the kit room and held it for you as you entered, then followed you inside and shut the door behind him.

You didn’t know where to place yourself. Stood in the centre of the room, overwhelmed by the scent of soggy feet, you turned to the striker and waited. Jamie stood opposite you with the same feeling of being utterly out of place.

“What can I do for you, Jamie?” you started, getting the ball rolling.

“I know we’re not really… er, close.” He clutched his hands together awkwardly, almost unable to meet your eye. “But I know how much you mean to the club and that.”

You huffed amusedly. “Sure,” you agreed.

“Which is why I know you won’t laugh at me when I ask you this.” Tartt finally met your eye, and you were taken aback. Whatever was on his mind you now knew was a big deal. I mean, it had to be for him to approach you like this, surely?

“Okay,” you said sturdily. “Lay it on me.”

“It’s Roy.” You held your breath as he said it. Never in your wildest dreams did you think that Jamie would come to you about a Roy problem, yet here he was. “He won’t coach me. Not like the others, you know. I know I was a dick in the past, for lack of a better word, and that Roy was on the receiving end sometimes–”

“All the time,” you said, matter of factly. Jamie subtly exploded.

“Okay, fine– all the fucking time– but I’m back now, and I need a fucking coach. I want him to teach me the same way he teaches Sam and Isaac and the rest.”

“But, you don’t know how to ask him,” you said your thoughts out loud.

Jamie nodded quickly, agreeing with you tenfold. “I know he’d tell me to fuck off.”

“Well, of course he’s going to do that.” You almost chuckled from how right he was in saying so. “But, I see where you’re coming from.” Your mind spiralled down different routes, unknowing of where you came into this equation. You could tell Jamie what to say, but you knew what Roy would reply simply because it was Tartt, not you. “Why come to me, though?”

Jamie’s face squished questioningly, like he couldn’t understand why you hadn’t put two and two together just yet. “Roy fucking listens to you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh now. “Oh, please. Yeah, he listens. But whether or not he decides to do what I say is a completely different ball game.”

Jamie reached out to you suddenly and gripped your shoulders in desperation. “Please. I know I’m making up for lost time and bad behaviour and whatever else I did to the guys, or Lasso, or Roy, but I need to be useful here. I want to be useful here.”

You regarded him thoughtfully then. It was hard not to take him into account when he was like this, bearing his soul to a person who had never connected with him beforehand. Reaching out to you was a shot in the dark for him, but he’d done it anyway because he wanted to succeed. It was commendable, when you put it all into perspective.

You decided upon a middle ground. “I’ll plant the seed in his head to let you in, alright?”

Jamie let out a clear sigh of relief when you agreed. “Well, fuck– thank you.”

“But!” you continued. “You need to go to him yourself. You need to apologise, and tell him exactly what you said to me. It’s Roy, so he’ll make it a fucking nightmare and will probably be childish and petty and whatever fucking else that grown man is capable of…” As you rambled, the cogs in Jamie’s brain finally understood the whole story– you liked him, didn’t you? “...but he’ll do it eventually. He has to. He’s a coach now, and if you’re here, you deserve to be coached properly.”

Jamie squealed and smiled at the same time, his eyes ablaze with boyish resemblance. He squeezed your shoulders affectionately. “I knew coming to you would work out. I just knew it.”

You scoffed in amusement. “Don’t make it a regular thing,” you joked. “There are only so many strings I can pull with Roy.”

Jamie raised his brows assumptively. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“What do you mean by that?” All your amusement reluctantly trailed off alongside your words.

“Well,” Jamie started. His grin dropped instantly. “I mean– don’t make me fucking say it. You already know, don’t you?”

“Know what?” you pressed.

“That Roy, y’know. That Roy–” Jamie flailed his arms around like a flapping seagull. “He– y’know…”

You squinted at him. “Are you speaking some kind of secret footballer language that common people like me don’t fucking understand?”

“He likes you!” Jamie finally let out.

“Oh.” You stepped back. Jamie’s arms dropped to his sides. “Stop fucking talking now.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t see it?” Jamie looked you dead in the eye, but all you were capable of doing was looking away from embarrassment. “Well, you’re more stupid than I fucking took you for.”

“Hey!” you exclaimed. “There’s no need for that shit when I’m digging you out of the mess you fucking made last season.”

He raised his arms up in understanding. “Alright, alright. Sorry, my bad.” You let out your own sigh of relief when you realised the conversation was over.

You and Jamie headed back to the locker room soon after. As he made his way towards the guys, you stuck to the outer limits of the cinder block walls. Roy was still in the manager's office, his back turned as he spoke to Ted and Beard. You didn’t want to intrude, so you made the decision to cut back into the corridor once more; not to leave, but to wait until the guys were ready for a pint.

You slowly trudged down the familiar corridor that you used to traverse every fucking day. Past the locker room, you approached the gym. Beyond that, your old office still sat. Keeley had recently upgraded to a larger room deeper underneath the Dogtrack, however, so the usual array of pink pillows and her cheetah statue were nowhere to be seen.

You entered through the half open door and walked straight into darkness. The walls were the same, just pinker. The desk was the same, just empty. Whenever you visited this office space after time away you felt the same pull to return. You didn’t care if it had no windows; you’d managed to make it home for nearly a year without any hiccups.

God, you wanted to be back here. Everyone knew it, even Rebecca, but you daren’t take favours. You would never.

A small knock sounded from the door, and you turned back quickly. “Ready to g–? Oh!” you exclaimed. You’d been expecting Sam or Roy, but were met with the still slightly unfamiliar face of Nate. “Sorry, Nate. I thought you were someone else.”

“That’s alright,” he said, smiling. “May I come in?”

“Oh,” you spluttered. “Yes, of course. This isn’t my office anymore.”

He stepped inside. “No, no, it’s not, is it?” he said, and the tone of his voice was erring on patronising. You opted to ignore it, knowing that he wouldn’t have meant it that way. Surely?

The silent pause that flittered between you was very awkward, there was no denying it. It wasn’t that you’d meant to not really know him, but your circle at the club had seemed to travel in one certain direction that you hadn’t been able to control. The guys, Ted, Roy, Rebecca. Not Beard, not Nate. You didn’t mean anything by it innately.

If anything, you were happy that Nate was making himself known to you. You’d love to get to know him more– or more than what you barely knew of him from your time at the club.

“What a great game today, wasn’t it?” you started.

“Oh yes, fantastic game,” said Nate.

“And that thing–” You mimed what had happened on the pitch earlier, which happened to be a middle finger of all things. “That all four of you did to Jamie. Classic, really fucking brilliant.”

“Oh yes, the good old middle finger.” Nate copied you in miming what he’d done less than an hour ago. All four coaches had signalled to Tartt what needed to be done, and that signal happened to be swearing at him full-frontally. Four middle fingers had stood up on end, and Tottenham didn’t know what had hit them when Tartt managed to make a goal from just beyond the halfway line.

“You were all absolutely brilliant!” you exclaimed. “I’ve been seeing you in the paper as well, you know? The whole Wonderkid thing.”

Nate smiled forcefully. “I definitely said Wunderkind.”

“Either way, it’s fantastic you’re getting that recognition.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Nate said, taking your compliment graciously; or so you thought. “So, here’s the thing.” He plunged right into his words like he’d had them on standby the entire time.

“Go on,” you urged him happily.

“You can’t come to Wembley.”

“What?” you asked, not fully absorbing his words.

Nate stopped smiling. He looked at you sternly, or like you were akin to dirt on his shoe, or whatever else. Your smile turned to a frown instantly.

“You can’t come to Wembley,” Nate repeated.

Those five words hit you like a tonne of bricks. You didn’t understand what he was saying, or what he meant. For a second, you thought he’d got his words mixed up, maybe, but even if they were un-muddled they wouldn’t make sense at all.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” you said smally, feeling multiple degrees of hurt even though you had no explanation.

“Okay,” Nate replied. “I’ll spell it out for you.” He raised his chin and sucked in a deep and confident breath, “You cannot come to Wembley for the FA Cup final.”

You still didn’t understand, but you understood Nate’s words fully. Why he was saying them, though, you had no idea. Perhaps you hadn’t misinterpreted his patronising tone upon entering the room, but had picked it up perfectly. You didn’t know Nate enough to get mad– properly mad– but your blood boiled as you looked at him.

“Why not?” you asked, swallowing sullenly to try and keep the butterflies in your gut at bay.

Nate smiled. You hated that he smiled. It felt grimy and wrong. “Roy, Ted and Beard seem to think that you keep the team happy, and maybe you do. But, this is the fucking FA Cup final. They can’t afford any distractions, and you.” He looked you up and down like a blight. You’d never been looked at like that before in your life. “You are a distraction. You may think you’re helping, but the guys need clear minds and ready heads. You’re a distraction towards all of that.”

You laughed abruptly, at a loss for words. Nate’s smile turned to something much more condescending. Gently, he reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder. You froze on the spot.

“It’s just better if you sit this one out, alright? Don’t worry, the guys won’t miss you too much.”

You opened your mouth as if to speak, but all that came out was air. Your lungs collapsed beneath your chest, your heart pumped blood uncomfortably and incredibly fast into your limbs, your organs, your gut. It hurt. It really hurt.

Nate squeezed your shoulder. You stiffened further. “Good talk. Let’s catch up after the final.” He removed his hand from you and left promptly, leaving you in the darkned seclusion of your old office.

Realisation hit you like a double-decker bus. Nate had always been like this a bit, hadn’t he? Not before he became a coach, but afterwards, certainly. A shift had cemented within him as soon as he’d donned the Richmond jacket and owned a desk spot next to Ted and Beard. The whistle around his neck clung to him like a trophy of his authority.

Nathan Shelley was not a nice coach. Good, smart, intelligent, but not nice.

You wondered if Ted knew. You wondered if Beard knew. You wondered if Roy knew. If they did, you knew they’d do something about it, so perhaps not. Innately, despite the weak way your chest scraped air through your crippled lungs, you hoped it was just you that he had gripes with. You hoped he wasn’t like this to any of the guys themselves. Just the thought alone made you angry beyond belief.

No one on the team deserved to be treated the way that Nate had just treated you.

You sucked in a sharp breath quickly, feeling the beginnings and endings of tears behind your eyes. You wouldn’t cry, not for this. If you twisted this entire ordeal on its head then it was borderline comical. Not to toot your own horn, but you knew that if any of the guys in the locker room next door found out about this, then they’d take your side.

That was exactly why you couldn’t tell them. You weren’t about to be the reason that AFC Richmond’s managerial team broke apart. They’d come so far already after relegation. You couldn’t– wouldn’t– fuck that all up.

Quietly, you swallowed away your pride and your feelings and left your old office. Silently, you headed back to the locker room and entered timidly.

“There she is,” Roy muttered to Sam as you entered. As you approached him, you realised he’d picked up your bag and slung it over his shoulder to save you holding it yourself. “Ready to go?” he asked, face to face.

Your eyes hit his. You struggled to keep everything at bay, but brushed it off as best as you possibly could. “Yeah,” you breathed. “Here.” You gestured to your bag on his shoulder, but Roy twisted himself away from you.

“I’ve got it.” Roy frowned slowly, a sour feeling sprouted in his gut. “You alright?”

You waved him off. “I’m fine. I just don’t feel all that good, if I’m being honest.”

“Hm.” He reached out confidently and laid his knuckles against your forehead. Roy had done this to you many times. You were used to it, but still allowed yourself to silently indulge in his touch. Besides, you needed this. He didn’t know, but you needed him right now. “You do feel a bit hot, actually,” he said lowly. “Wanna skip the pub and go home?”

Gently, you nodded. Roy’s hand dropped to your shoulder, the same one that Nate had held just minutes before. Quickly, you placed your hand over his. “Yes, please.”

Roy stayed still. Something was wrong, he knew it. There was this look in your eye that coincided with you not feeling well, but that wasn’t all. The way you were standing; slumped, arms wrapped around yourself, as if you were desperately trying to make yourself smaller, invisible. The hand that rested atop his own didn’t feel strong. This wasn’t you, the real you.

Roy nodded at you in understanding. “Okay,” he whispered. Roy turned to the rest of the room and addressed the team. “You’ll have to catch us next week for drinks, boys.”

The collective groan that descended across the room made you feel awful, but there was nothing you could do about it.

Roy sensed your unease. “Hey!” he yelled. “That’s fucking enough of that. Get some sleep after your well-deserved booze break, and I’ll see you all bright and early for practice on Monday!”

“Yes, coach!”

You and Roy drove home in silence. Not the uncomfortable kind, but Roy could tell something was on your mind. It was rare that either of you evaded the weird sixth sense you had about the other now. Roy could read you as clear as he’d read your article about him.

He stopped his Jeep outside your apartment building and killed the engine. You gathered your belongings and shot him a quick smile. “Thanks.” You went to leave.

“Wait.” In one click, Roy had locked your door from the driver’s side door. “Tell me what’s wrong or I’m not letting you out.”

You huffed, slumping back into your chair in acceptance. “Really?”

“Really,” Roy repeated.

“This is childish, Roy.”

“I don’t fucking care. One moment you were happy as a daisy, and the next you look like you’ve landed on death’s fucking door.”

You sighed in exasperation. “Oh, for fucks sake.”

Roy twisted himself to face you more head on. He crossed his arms and waited patiently. “Go on.”

You rolled your eyes, wishing this to be over. “I’m on my period.”

Roy pointed at you quickly. “Don’t try and catch me out with a feminine problem that you assume men don’t want to hear about. I have a fucking sister, and I know all about how crazy her cycle made her. This isn’t that.”

“Fuck!” you exclaimed, raising your voice slightly. Your stress levels had grown exponentionally in the last minute and a half. You could feel your rapid heartbeat beneath your chest. “It doesn’t fucking matter, alright. If I wanted to talk about it then I would have told you by now.”

Roy perked his brow at you. “Is this about something football related, or something life related?”

“God!” you exploded finally. You wouldn’t mention Nate, but Roy’s incessant poking meant you had to say something real. Maybe this really was something you should have told him a while ago. “You really wanna know?” You turned towards him, eyes crazy and breathing erratic. “I hate my fucking job, okay. And everytime I go to the stadium for a game I’m reminded of everything I left behind and everything I continue to leave behind. The guys, Ted, Beard, you.”

For the first tme since the car stopped, Roy shut his mouth and listened.

“I– I wonder how much longer I can fucking do it. The commute every morning, the staleness of my work colleagues, the giant stack of papers and assignments that are always waiting on my desk to get done because no one else will fucking touch them. I don’t sleep at night properly, and I can’t even cook meals anymore. I feel like–” You sucked in a deep breath and finally looked Roy in the eye. “I feel like, even despite all of you including me in everything, I’m running on the spot behind you and will never be able to catch up. Like I’ll never be part of that world anymore. And it’s, it’s– breaking me.”

Roy leant towards you instinctually.

“Rebecca and Keeley know I hate it, but every time Rebecca talks about getting me a position at the club I freeze. It makes me feel sick that she’d so easily and without question hand me something because I don’t feel like I deserve it. And–!” Roy flicked his eyes over your face, at a loss of what to say. You laughed from a lack of what else to fucking do. “The game last weekend, when you showed up and finally realised your worth as a coach, I almost missed it because I couldn’t take being back there without thinking how much I fucking miss it all. I’m pathetic–”

“No, you’re not,” Roy interjected hoarsely.

You laughed again, on the brink of tears. “Yes, I am. Who does that? Who cries before a fucking game because they can’t handle being there? Me. I do that now, apparently.”

Silence descended inside the Jeep. You finally took a breath, and when you did you realised what you’d done. You leaned back in your seat and faced the windshield, utterly embarrassed that you’d burst at the seams.

“So,” you said smally. “That’s that.” You turned towards Roy again. “Is that what you wanted me to say?”

Roy stayed as quiet as a mouse. That wasn’t his style. Glued to his spot, Roy kept his gaze on you thoughtfully. He regarded the look on your face and noticed the subtle embarrassment on your brow; you hadn’t expected to cave so easily when questioned about what was wrong.

He looked down at your hands in your lap. Your fingers shook subtly as they brushed across your knuckles in worry. Roy hated that you were worrying after being honest about something in your life. It was only him, he thought. Surely you should know that you could tell him anything and he’d listen.

“Sorry,” you blurted out.

Roy huffed, speechless. “What the fuck are you sorry for?”

“I don’t know.”

“Fucking–” Roy moved closer to you. “Come here.”

His arms were around you in no time. You stayed stuck in place, stunned, for just a second, until you found yourself hugging him back so fiercely that you couldn’t have thougth of anything you needed more. It was funny. You could count on one hand how many times you and Roy had hugged, and none of them had been like this.

You’d been close before, sure, in proximity and in more. You were close even now, despite counting the conversation you’d both had in November. Everyone on the outside seemed to think of Roy as someone who wasn’t hands-on. He liked his space, he didn’t like to pry or poke, yet here you were– the air being squeezed from your lungs because he’d made you open up for your own good– because he couldn’t think of anything better to show that he cared than to embrace you.

Roy Kent cared so much that it was a wonder he had energy to do anything else.

When the two of you parted, you couldn’t help but laugh. You stayed close, foreheads almost touching. Roy smiled at you genuinely, fully, thoughtfully.

“No wonder you’re going mental,” he said lowly. “That’s a lot to hold onto without letting it out.”

That’s not even the half of it. You wanted to say, but you didn’t.

“You’re not running in place behind us,” Roy continued. “You’re what keeps us all together. You’re the reason I went back to Richmond.” You didn’t say anything, just took in his words. “I didn’t go back just for the game, or the guys– I went back because I knew you’d be in the box, looking down at me on the pitch again.”

Your throat closed slightly, as the urge to cry hit you. You swallowed it away, not wanting to burst again in such a short amount of time. “Well,” you whispered. “I’m glad.”

For a fraction of a second, Roy’s eyes dropped to your lips.

You’d been here before, you thought. You’d been here with him like this so many times that you couldn’t even count them off the top of your head. If you had time, a few minutes maybe, you’d be able to pinpoint every occasion where the word almost screeched within your mind.

Almost there. Almost on you.

Perhaps you’d never get beyond the proverbial almost, but this time felt different. Something had shifted recently. You felt it. Roy’s stares lingered for just a tad too long. Electricity buzzed between you even when you weren’t touching. The joy you’d felt when he’d arrived at the Dogtrack and finally caved in had been second to none. In hindsight, maybe jumping the wall of the home box and running down the steps in the stands to him had been too much.

Roy didn’t think so. He’d relished you being close. His stomach had somersaulted as soon as you’d yelled his name. Secretly, he’d hoped you’d react the exact way you did. He’d done it for you, had he not? He’d come back to Richmond for you.

Without realising, you and Roy had inched closer to each other so much that you both hovered over the centre console of his Jeep. Foreheads almost touching. Hearts almost caving.

You’d been here before so many times.

Roy swallowed without moving a muscle, ready to speak. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Instantly, you crashed back down to earth. You sucked in a deep breath and straightened yourself, leaning back towards the passenger side window. You thought the worst. Was this an ‘I’m sorry, I can’t do this’? It had to be, surely.

“Oh,” you let out, flustered. “Don’t apologise, don’t wo–”

“No,” Roy cut you off strongly, unexpectedly leaning closer. “I’m sorry for being a fucking idiot.”

Time stilled. That word– that almost– lingered in the air like dust in the desert. Heavy, dry, suffocatingly warm.

Roy’s expression grew to frustration as quickly as you’d both fallen to silence. “I thought I was doing the right fucking thing, stopping–” He gestured between you both, not able to find words. “I thought it would be better for you, to not get you mixed up in all my shit.”

The penny dropped. You squished your face into a hurt smile involuntarily. “It’s okay, Roy,” you said softly.

“And worse yet,” he continued. “I’ve been a… a fucking arse. Not changing how I acted around you, or what I said, or what I did. I must have made everything ten times fucking worse for you.”

You shook your head immediately. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Roy replied instantly. “It does matter. I never wanted to play with your fucking feelings or make what I did more difficult for you, but that’s exactly what I did.”

“It’s okay,” you said. “It’s okay,” you repeated, just for good measure.

Roy fell silent for a pause, taking in your words as if he really needed to hear them. In fact, you thought he really did need to hear them, straight from your mouth and no one elses.

“You’re sure?” he asked, checked, wanted to make extra fucking sure.

You nodded quickly. “I’m sure.” You smiled, trying desperately not to let the cropped up hurt on your face show through. That wasn’t on him; he hadn’t intended to damage you this way.

“Okay.” Roy breathed out deeply, leaning back into the driver’s seat like the weight of the world had just been taken off his shoulders. “Thank fuck,” he whispered, before meeting your eye again. He smiled, accepting the silliness that one felt after being so vulnerable with someone else. “I really fucking need you, you know?”

You laughed first, wanting to say so do I. Instead, you differed your response. “Of course, you fucking do. Who else is going to tell you what to do with your life?”

Roy’s smile lit up all over his face. You remembered a time where you used to count how many times he looked at you like this; honest. Now, it was everyday.

“Exactly,” he said. Gently, he stuck his hand out and laid it upon your cheek. “Fucking exactly.” His thumb swiped across your face warmly. You shivered immensely, but tried desperately to hide it.

You glanced at the radio clock. Time ticked by, and you knew you had to leave this conversation soon. Innately, Roy knew it, too.

“My mum’s coming to Richmond tomorrow morning,” you said softly. Roy’s hand stayed put. You didn’t mind. “I need to go and clean my flat, or she’ll start washing up mugs against my will.”

Roy’s eyes flicked between your own. Affection seeped from within them, so far removed from when you’d first met. Slowly, he removed his hand from your cheek. His fingers skimmed your skin on the way back to his lap. “Okay,” he whispered; acceptance.

Almost would stay the same. Almost had gone the furthest it had ever been.

You slung your bag over your shoulder. Roy unlocked the passenger side door with one button click. You gripped the handle strongly, but paused before you left for good.

“Thank you for listening to me,” you said simply. “I mean– really listening to me.”

Roy stayed still, not leaving your gaze for a second. “Always,” he said lowly.

When the door to your building shut behind you, Roy was still reluctant to drive away. He watched as the light turned on from the window of your ground floor flat, saw your silhouette enter the living room– the room where he’d stood before a few times– and drop your bag to the floor in exhaustion.

Roy drove away when your silhouette disappeared, the feeling of you still present on his fingertips.

You didn’t tell anyone about Nate. You didn’t tell anyone that he’d warded you off or spoke ill of you supporting the team. Instead, you went to work. You encompassed yourself in your job, taking on extra responsibilities despite that being the one reason you felt spread thin.

By Thursday, you were ready to crash. Your bed had been calling you every day, as soon as you disembarked from the train at Richmond tube station. Intentionally, you ignored texts from Rebecca and Keeley about times to rendezvous at Wembley Stadium. If they ever asked, you’d blame it on having too much of a heavy work week. That would be your out.

Logically, you knew you wouldn’t be able to completely miss Richmond playing at Wembley. People would be expecting you there. The guys would be expecting you there. But, despite their cries and pleads for you to be present, you were prepared to keep them at arms length– for Nate’s sake.

When Saturday came, you knew it would be hard for you to avoid everyone at the club. By ten o’clock in the morning, Keeley had already called you twice. By half past the hour, Rebecca had called you three times.

On the fourth time she rang, you knew you had to pick up.

“Darling,” she said quickly. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry,” you said (you lied), secluded in your flat. “This week has been insane. I haven’t been able to focus on anything that isn’t Pluto Press related.”

Rebecca made a guttural sound in her throat. “Bollocks!” she exclaimed. “I’ll send a car. It can be there in twenty minutes if need be.”

“It’s okay. I can get the tube. Don’t worry–”

“Oh,” Rebecca cut you off. Her tone switched instantly. “Actually, don’t worry about a car. I think someone is waiting for you out front.”

As if on cue, the horn from Roy’s Jeep sounded from your living room window.

Quickly, you ran to the window. Between your sheer curtains, Roy’s obsidian black Jeep was stationed on the road by your front door. You couldn’t curse on your call with Rebecca, but by God– you wanted to.

“Is that the cavalry coming for me?” you said down the phone, peeved.

“Yes, it is,” Rebecca said smugly. “See you in an hour, darling.” She hung up the phone fast, so quick that you couldn’t give any excuse to get out of this match.

Quickly, you gathered a bag of belongings and left your flat. Reluctantly, you descended the steps of your building and pulled the handle of the passenger side door of Roy’s Jeep. You settled quickly, without fuss, but words dangled in the air as soon as silence descended within the car.

“Ready to go?” Roy said from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah,” you breathed out. Roy didn’t push you, but he did push upon the accelerator and toward Wembley Stadium.

Roy parked in the car park beneath the stadium, only for players or coaches, and killed the engine.

You grabbed your bag quickly and left his Jeep, knowing what happens when you’re trapped inside with nowhere to go. The two of you made your way through the back entrance of the stadium. It was a miracle that Roy hadn’t asked what was wrong– you were being quiet and subdued, that was enough of a trigger for him to know something was up.

You wondered if Nate had eyes on you. You wondered if he was watching you traverse the inner sections of Wembley, if he saw you freak out when going past the locker room, if he saw you retreat into yourself past the press rooms.

Roy didn’t wonder. He kept his eyes on you through it all.

Silence hung in the air uncomfortably as you passed office after office. These were the inner workings of a stadium; a world that you knew well, but nothing like that of the Dogtrack.

You finally broke the air. “I should really get to Rebecca and Keeley,” you said.

“And you will,” Roy said. “There’s just one stop we have to take first.”

Your heart stilled as soon as he turned to the right, entering into the final office on the long corridor you’d traversed. You were hit with the nervous gazes of Ted and Beard immediately, but you didn’t care for the way their expressions faltered softly—

You cared for the way Nate’s eyes bored into you with no remorse. At the back of the room, he glared at you ten times worse than he’d done the week before at the Dogtrack.

“Writer!” Ted exclaimed, filling the tension in the air with his enthusiasm. “Oh, thank God,” he added in a whisper.

“Hi,” you said smally, accepting a hug from him suddenly.

You hated this. As you removed yourself from Ted’s grasp, you could feel the steely eyes of one Nathan Shelley staring you down, like a child did to an ant before he crushed it with his shoe.

After you left Ted’s embrace, you stepped back so quickly that you almost tripped over Roy’s feet. He steadied you instantly, keeping his hand at your lower back.

“Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Ted said, gaining some colour back on his face.

You laughed nervously. “I should really go and find Rebecca and Keeley. I shouldn’t be here.”

“Poppycock!” Ted exclaimed. “You’re exactly what we needed. The guys are in the locker room just down there, why don’t you go and say—,”

“No!” you burst suddenly.

The room went quiet instantly. Beard looked at Ted quizzically. You could feel Roy’s stare on the back of your neck.

“They need to focus,” you stuttered. “I should just go and find my seat.”

Nate stepped forward a few paces, coming between Ted and Beard silently. “I think that’s a good idea. Let her go and find her girlfriends.”

You hated the way words fell from his mouth. You knew he had you exactly where he wanted you— uncomfortable, vulnerable, everything in between— but you were in no situation to open this can of worms with Ted, Beard and Roy.

You gripped your bag on your arm tightly and turned to Roy. “I’ll see you on the pitch,” you said timidly. Quickly, and without thinking, you pressed a chaste kiss on Roy’s cheek, and left promptly.

You had no idea where you were going, but knew that you couldn’t stop as you made your way down the inner corridors of Wembley.

All you knew was that you needed to be where Nate Shelley was not, as soon as humanly possible.

“Have a glass of wine,” Rebecca said sternly from the internal bar by the VIPs box.

“I’m okay,” you said, keeping yourself contained.

Her smile turned to a frown. Oh, she knew you far too well for you to get out of this one.

“Take the fucking wine glass, darling.”

“Okay.” You took the glass of wine instantly and downed one, two, three gulps. You breathed out. “Oh, that’s better.”

“Mhm,” she hummed, satisfied.

“Sorry,” you said between gulps and sips. “It’s just been a long week.”

“I can see that,” she said, looking you up and down. “Are you sure that’s all it is? Your job?”

Shit. She knew something else was up. They all fucking did, and it drove you insane. Innately, you cursed yourself out for being so well-known, so well-loved. You were surrounded by the people who knew you most in this world, but also by the people that didn’t want you around. It was a double-edged sword of inescapable proportions, and you were tired.

“That’s all it is,” you said, trying to adopt as much sincerity as you possibly could.

Rebecca’s frown stayed put as her eyes roamed your face. Gently, she reached out her hand and ran her expensively manicured nails through your hair softly.

“You’d let us know, wouldn’t you?” she said, and you froze with your wine glass to your lips. “You’d let us know if it was something else, too?”

Keeley shoved a mini sausage roll in her mouth and approached you both quickly. “It’s Roy, isn’t it.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not Roy,” you groaned.

“Then what is it!” Keeley exclaimed, launching pastry crumbs across the bar.

Before you could respond, applause broke out from the crowd immensely. You gulped down the rest of your wine quickly and dropped the empty glass on a side table by the door to the stands.

“That’s kick off,” you said, already on your way to take a seat.

The conversation went unfinished, as Rebecca and Keeley followed you out of the door towards the pitch. They didn’t attempt to pry during the game, too caught up in the song and dance of yelling chants for Richmond, of being present, of supporting.

You knew you’d dodged a bullet, as you screamed your lungs out from the stands. But, you knew your silence was on a time limit. If anyone would get something out of you, it was Rebecca and Keeley.

And you knew it would only be a matter of time before they broke your silence (for the better).

When the full-time whistle blew, you felt helpless. You could only imagine how the guys were feeling, knowing that they’d lost so spectacularly against none other than Manchester City.

The person who your heart went out to the most, however, was not normal. It wasn’t Roy, it wasn’t Ted, it wasn’t even Sam or Isaac or Colin— it was Jamie Tartt.

You knew he’d be hurting the most from this immense defeat. His old team, his past life, and at Wembley fucking stadium no less. He’d be in bits.

“Well,” Rebecca said, standing up and wrapping her scarf around her neck. “That’s that, then.”

“The guys will be crushed,” Keeley said sadly.

“Jamie will be crushed.” The pair of them looked at you as you spoke. Their sombre faces were enough for you to know that they agreed wholeheartedly.

“Come on.” Rebecca passed you and stepped out of the stands. “Let’s go and commiserate with them.”

You tensed instantly, watching silently as Keeley stood up and followed Rebecca. The two of them waited for you at the end of the row.

“I should really head home,” you said finally, trying to keep your expression neutral.

“What?” Keeley.

“Why on Earth do you need to leave now?” Rebecca.

“It’s just— I don’t want to crowd them, you know?” The pitch of your voice had risen. You sounded like a mouse, a lying, cheating mouse.

The two of them stared at you like you were mental. Neither said anything, their expressions spoke a thousand words for them— what the hell is up with you?

You faltered first. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Oh no, we absolutely will look at you like this,” Rebecca said threateningly. “What’s got your knickers in a twist? You look like a labrador that’s shit all over the carpet!”

“I really hope you haven’t shat on someone’s carpet, but if you have, you can tell us.” Keeley leaned down and laid a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I haven’t shat on a fucking carpet!”

“Then come on!” Rebecca exclaimed. “Your team needs you.” Her words stung you internally. “They need you.”

Rebecca’s commanding nature jumped out tenfold. You were stuck at an impasse, between a rock and a hard place, whatever other metaphor you could use for being trapped. One side of your brain projected a sad picture of the guys in the locker room, begging for a friendly face to come and lift them up; and the other— Nate was glaring at you like you’d just done something terribly wrong.

God, you hated this. No one knew the way he’d talked to you, or what he’d said. And the worst part was that you couldn’t tell them— wouldn’t— from how much drama it would create.

Football was supposed to be your safe space. Watching matches with your girls, cheering or crying in the locker room with the guys, urging Ted, Beard and Roy on whenever you could.

Nate had taken that all away after one simple conversation.

You didn’t know how to tell them no. If it was up to you, you would have sprung out of your seat and ran down to the locker rooms without any hesitation.

But, it wasn’t up to you. Nate’s words rattled around your mind like beads in a maraca.

Rebecca sucked in a deep breath. She leant down and grabbed your hand swiftly, warmly. “We’re here with you. Whatever you need, we’re always here. But, those boys need us the most right now. You know them better than I do—,”

“And me! You know them better than me, too!” Keeley joined in supportively.

“They don’t want us without you, and that’s a fact.”

You let out a shaking breath, then nodded quickly. Nate would have to move to the fucking side.

“Okay.” You nodded again, strongly. “Okay— let’s go see our boys.” You stood up quickly, not letting go of Rebecca’s hand.

“Your boys,” Rebecca said sternly. “They’re all yours.”

Navigating the lower levels of Wembley was nerve wracking, you couldn’t lie. Scenarios raced through your head of things going terribly wrong; Nate stopping you in the corridor; Nate forbidding you from entering the locker room; Nate this, Nate that.

Fuck this shit.

Rebecca was right. They were your boys, your team. You knew them on levels that didn’t revolve around football, you knew them as people. And by God, they needed that. This time, they needed someone to make them feel something other than defeated.

The corridors were clear when the three of you turned the corner to the locker rooms. Only a security guard stood at the door of Richmond, and he very easily let you all in when you approached.

You held your breath when you finally entered. The guys sat in their respective cubby holes sullenly, elbows on knees, heads in their hands.

You’d seen this before at Roy’s last game. Silence even deeper than when you both sat in the Dogtrack locker room alone littered the air at Wembley. You could only imagine what the guys were feeling, like history was repeating itself on so many levels for the team.

You caught eyes with Jamie first. He looked broken.

Rebecca and Keeley headed towards the coaches, but you felt stuck in place by the door, frozen by the sad atmosphere in the room.

Roy saw you before you saw him. He strolled over slowly and reached out to grab your forearm. “Hey,” he said softly.

You flashed back to reality and gazed up at him. “Hey.” Quickly, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders tightly. He clutched you back strongly, and you knew that he’d been needing a hug with the same fervour as yours.

You didn’t need to say you were sorry. He’d probably heard it enough already. He knew you felt the sting of a loss this big just as much as he did.

When you went to pull away, he squeezed you tighter. Evidently, he wasn’t done just yet.

“Well, guys,�� Ted said to the room. Roy finally tugged away, but he kept a firm grasp around your waist as the two of you turned to listen to Ted’s address. “We lost. You don’t need me or anyone else to say it, because the look on your faces says it all.” Ted’s southern drawl felt like therapy. Within seconds, the team felt acknowledged, and that was all that mattered. “We all knew this was going to be tough, and for just a moment I want you all to forget the score, forget the goals and whatever else, and just think of how you all played like a proper team.”

Ted had a way with words that you knew was the main reason his career was so vast. You didn’t know a thing about American football, but you knew that Ted was a stellar coach whether it was football or soccer in his eyes.

“You played as a team today,” Ted continued. “And sure, you’re allowed to be sad about the outcome, I’m not about to tell you you can’t feel that sting, but—.” Roy squeezed your waist. You wondered if he was doing it subconsciously. “But you all need to know that you were a unit today. One that has got us up through these ranks and back on the radar of the Premier League, even if the FA Cup wasn’t ours this time around.”

His words settled over the room and brought back a sense of self to all the players. Next to you, Roy breathed out softly and in understanding. You could feel the tension within him dissipate ever so slightly.

And then, that all went away.

“Knock knock!” a voice sounded from the door to the locker room. A second later, a face you didn’t recognise turned the corner and into the room. “Awh no, sorry for the loss, lads,” he said, as your eyes darted quickly around the room, trying to find any semblance of familiarity. You found it in Jamie’s eyes instantly. “Though, not fully sorry. Because Man City fuckin’ won!” His Mancunian accent reverberated throughout the room.

You understood immediately, as you watched Jamie’s hands ball into fists. The rest of the team stayed back, as if glued to their cubbies. This was Jamie’s father. It had to be.

Jamie’s dad pottered further into the room, towards his son. Jamie stood up as he did, sucking a deep breath into his tired lungs. “My boy, my boy. You bottled it didn’t ya?”

Your entire body tensed as everyone observed, not saying a word. Jamie’s dad only kept coming, not paying any mind to the other players in the room. Roy’s grip on your waist tightened suddenly, as if he could feel your anxiety rising. You could feel the same from him; every muscle in his body tried desperately to hold back.

Jamie’s father lunged towards his son’s face, so close that Jamie couldn’t look anywhere else. “You hear me, boy? You fuckin’ bottled it, didn’t ya?” he repeated.

“Don’t speak to me that way,” Jamie said quickly, seething.

“Wha?” his father faked not hearing him, getting even closer.

“Do not speak to me that way,” Jamie repeated. His father looked up to his face, catching his eye lethally.

Your gut lurched as his father kept going, kept repeating wha?, kept getting closer and closer to his boy’s face. This was vile, and you could hardly believe no one was doing anything.

“Wanna say that to me again, boy?”

Jamie stood his ground, puffing out his chest to be bigger, straightening out his spine to be taller, and better, and whatever else he hadn’t learned from his shit-bag of a father.

“Huh?” he said again, louder. “Huh!” he exclaimed. Alongside his voice, his hands bombarded into Jamie’s chest– hard.

Something within you snapped. Your chest compressed, your intestines warped, and your legs started moving. Roy’s grip disappeared from around your waist as you rushed forward, not giving a shit about the audience, or about the guys, or about Nate. Nate, who was standing behind Ted and Beard, saying and doing nothing.

Inside, you stopped caring. You didn’t give a fuck if he hated you being around, you didn’t give a fuck if you’d get in trouble from this outburst, but you had to do something– anything. Jamie Tartt was being publicly abused by his father in front of your eyes, and you couldn’t fucking stand it.

Maybe this is what Roy meant. You were the glue. You kept everyone together, you brought Roy back to the team. Maybe this is what you’d always been meant to do– protect these boys from whatever you fucking could, when they weren’t able to for themselves.

As Jamie recovered, ready to strike, you were already one step ahead. In a fraction of a second, you were already beside his father, fist raised. When your knuckles hit his skin, you finally came back into the room. There were two crashes; one from the impact of your fist on his father’s cheekbone; the second from him hitting the floor unceremoniously.

Quickly, Beard approached you and hoisted Jamie’s dad up by his armpits. The two of them backed out of the door, clambering over stray shoes and shirts and whatever else that lay on the floor. Without any warning, two large arms wrapped around you from behind and pulled you off the ground. You knew it was Roy as soon as you smelled his cologne. You smiled inappropriately, and then you chuckled to yourself deviously.

You’d just punched Jamie’s piece of shit dad in the fucking face.

And it felt fantastic.

Clatters sounded from the outside corridor. Beard breathed heavily as he made his way back into the locker room, and the door slammed loudly behind him. The air felt heavy as eyes darted around the room. The guys looked at each other, then to Beard, then to you. Roy still held you tightly, dangling you above the ground as you tried your damned hardest not to burst into laughter.

You couldn’t feel your hand. Your knuckles were red when you dropped your gaze to look. Your hand shook, finger bones stuck in place as they contemplated what their owner had just done– thrown a punch for the first time in her fucking life, and very haphazardly at that.

When Jamie looked over to you, Roy finally dropped you to the floor. He leaned in close to your face, surveying your eyes suddenly. This was a look you’d never seen from him; fear. Roy Kent wasn’t one to be afraid, but the way his eyes poured into your own had your chest crumpling beneath your skin. He was worried– he was frightened– for you.

“You ok?” he whispered.

You nodded quickly. “I’m not the one you need to be asking that to.” Your gaze moved over to Jamie in a heartbeat.

Roy stood up straight once more, puffing out his chest as he inhaled a deep, shuddering breath. He started walking without warning, fists balled, towards the Richmond striker. Everyone held their breath, knowing that him and Jamie together were not a good combination. You, however, smiled to yourself without question.

When Roy reached Jamie, he wrapped his arms around him immediately. Coach and player hugged in silence, as the gravity of what Jamie’s father had just done stuck to every wall in the room. He needed this– hands on help, a real show of love and affection.

You were happy that Roy was the one to breach contact. That’s exactly what Jamie had needed.

“You ok?” Roy asked him, pulling away from the embrace.

Jamie breathed out slowly. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“It’s not me you should be thanking,” Roy muttered.

Both men turned back to face you. You held your wrist with care, not wanting to jolt your now fucked up hand. You smiled at the two of them knowingly, as everything settled back into place.

Behind you, Nathan Shelley grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. On the way out of the locker room, he rushed past you harshly. You yelped to yourself as he pushed into you, jolting your wrist painfully. He stopped before you for just a second; he smiled. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Watch yourself there,” he said, in some kind of fake honey-toned pitch. Then, he turned on his heels and left the locker room as fast as he’d bumped into you.

Another threat. What a fucking joke.

Your face soured immediately, you couldn’t help it. Inside your head, you imagined a world where you’d told Roy all that Nate had put you through recently. You could see it clearly– his whole body would tense, his fists would ball, his nostrils would flare, and he’d yell I’ll show that little fucker!

Deeper within the indulgent part of your mind, he kissed you passionately before he went to confront Nate on your behalf. You swallowed quickly, trying to pat away those thoughts from the unexplored crevices of your mind. It was futile. Besides, you knew you still couldn’t tell Roy about Nate’s behaviour, for the sake of the team.

One day, rest assured, you would. When Nate left Richmond, or something else happened to change things around here, that’s when you’d lay it all out for him.

You were counting down the days.

“Hey,” Roy said, alerting you back into the room once more. Stood before you, he looked down at your hand. His brows furrowed. “Hm,” he growled gently.

“It’s fine,” you lied.

Softly, Roy laid his fingers atop your red knuckles. A sharp pain bombarded through your flesh instantly, forcing you to suck in a gasp. The pain spread to the rest of your hand, down your fingers, and twinged into your wrist. You couldn’t help it– you had to scream. “Motherfucker!”

“Just as I thought,” Roy said. “You’ve fractured the shit out of your hand.”

You squirmed on the spot, trying desperately to alleviate the pain you felt. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you rattled off, purely as a way to expel what you felt.

“Come on.” Roy bent down to the floor and picked up your bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “Let’s go to the physio.” You hardly heard him, too focused on your hand. Roy gently wrapped his arm around your shoulders, leading you out of the room. “See you in a bit, lads!” he exclaimed to the room.

The two of you turned into the empty corridor ay Wembley, walking slowly as you tried to hold onto the last of your composure.

“God,” you hissed. “Why the fuck did I punch Jamie’s dad?”

“Because someone had to,” Roy replied. “And besides.” He glanced at you unknowingly, as you remained preoccupied on your self-inflicted injury. “It was fucking hot.”

You groaned immensely, dropping your head onto Roy’s shoulder. “It doesn’t fucking feel like it,” you whined. Roy couldn’t help but smile.

“Oh, believe me,” he said lowly, indulging in you being this close to him. “It was.”

Roy held you all the way to the physio. Secretly, he’d never been happier that you’d decided to be so reckless. Perhaps, he thought, he was rubbing off on you just as much as you’d changed him for the better.

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fangirl-dot-com · 11 months ago

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Chapter 12 - So This Is Christmas (WAR IS OVER)

Guys I finally did it! This fic is officially over 10k words and this is my Christmas gift to you all! So please, sit back - relax - and enjoy this Christmas Special!

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are appreciated! Love you all <3

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

You looked around the paddock as everyone packed away the motor homes. You had only been in this Formula 1 life for less than a month, but you wouldn’t change it for the world. A sigh escaped your lips as you peered into the Red Bull garage. Mechanics, engineers, and strategists alike were all celebrating a season well done. You guessed that after this they were all ready to head back to their homes to see their families and get ready for the winter break.

You really wondered what that was going to be like: to go home and have someone waiting for you. Your hands gripped your backpack a little tighter as you thought about your empty and small apartment back in Nice. It would probably greet you with that damp air that seemed to cling to the walls and another drippy faucet. Your heart ached at the thought.

You slowly walked back inside, trying to find Max so that you could say goodbye until you’d see him again at pre-season testing. Your eyes found him and Kelly quietly talking in the back. Not wanting to interrupt them, you quickly averted your gaze to someone else. Mitch’s brown eyes caught your attention and you made your way over to her.

“Hi Mitch,” you smiled, hands still gripping your backpack straps.

Her eyebrows raised in confusion, “I thought you left already?”

You looked down, almost in embarrassment. “I think I just don’t want to leave without saying goodbye.” Your hand gestured to the couple in the corner, who were now joined by Christian.

“Ah, well I would have been sad if you didn’t say goodbye to me.”

Your face lit up at the sight of her open arms. As you stepped in, the tenseness in your body practically melted away. You sighed as Mitch squeezed you a little tighter.

“Do you have any fun plans for the break?” she mumbled into your hair before stepping away. You grimaced at the thought of having no plans.

“Uh, I think I’m going to finish this show I’ve been binging,” you said, cringing at your own uncertainty. Because in reality, you really had no clue what you were going to do.

Mitch’s eyebrows pinched. She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Christian, Max, and Kelly joining your little group. The corners of your mouth tilted up by their arrival.

Christian had an amused look on his face.

Mitch turned to the boss. “What has you so jolly?”

He let out a laugh before speaking, “Gerri and I are taking a cruise for Christmas to get out of the colder weather that is about to hit.” He shivered dramatically, making you laugh.

“Ah,” she turned to Max and Kelly. “Do you two have anything fun planned for the break?”

Kelly spoke up first, “We’re going to be spending it with Max in Monaco. Penelope really likes the area and I think it would be nice to have everyone there.”

Max followed, “My sister and mom are planning to come over for Christmas evening. Her kids are super cute.”

“I think P is just happy to celebrate Christmas and find a tree as soon as possible. I’m glad she’s not scared of Santa like she was last year,” Kelly confessed.

As you listened, you heart squeezed just a bit more. What you would give to decorate a tree for the first time ever or stay up late trying to catch the big man in the red suit. Kelly then turned to Mitch.

“What do you have planned?”

Mitch shot you a glance before responding, “I’m going up to my parents to spend it with my family. Lots of cute nieces and nephews to run around and keep me busy.”

Christian seemed to finally take notice of you. “And what about you kid?”

All eyes were now on you. You gulped, honestly not wanting to share your less than mediocre plans for the break.

“Uh, there was this show I was planning to finish?” Your shoulders raised as the pitch raised in your voice as well, trying to hide your nervousness.

Kelly’s head cocked to the side, “Anything else?”

Your eyes widened. Oh how you wished that they would just let it go. You shifted your balance from foot to foot.

You sighed before confessing, “Nope. That’s it.”

If you could live in one TikTok sound at this moment, it would be the frantic lyrics from Taylor Swift, “Horrified looks from everyone in the room.” Your cheeks heated at the impending embarrassment that you had found yourself in.

Wanting to get out of there swiftly (pun-intended), your lips poured out, “So I need to catch a flight and I think my Uber is here. I will see all of you for pre-season testing.”

You turned to leave, but not without forgetting to also say, “And I hope you all have a good Christmas.” Your feet took you far and quickly away from the four, who were now looking at you with sad eyes.

Max’s eyes longing gazed at your fleeing figure. He really thought that you two were getting close enough for you to share what you were thinking, and not having to lie about things. Kelly’s hand found the lower area of his back to share some comfort.

Mitch was the first one to speak up, “I think she’s spending the break alone.”

“Surely not. Must have private family plans with her parents,” Max quipped, not liking the thought of you being alone.

Christian had a guilty look on his face, before his hand ran down it. “Vito didn’t want us to tell you,” he trailed off.

Max’s face spun toward the older Brit.

“Tell me what?” he almost demanded.

Mitch shared a look to Christian before spilling, “Y/n’s parents disowned her in the beginning 2019. She’s been living alone since that season of F3 finished later that year.” Her eyes focused on the cold, concrete flooring of the garage.

A long sigh escaped Max’s lips at the revelation. His fists tightened at his sides. He did the math in his head. Four years.

You had been alone, by yourself, on your own, for four years. You hadn’t talked about your godfather, so Max didn’t even know if he was still in the picture. You could talk to him about that when you were ready.

He whispered, “She was fifteen right? Her birthday is later in the year.”

“Yeah,” Mitch matched his tone.

Max found Kelly’s eyes, silently communicating all of his thoughts and emotions. He was never good about verbal communications, but eyes are the window to the soul, right?

A slight nod of her head gave everything that Max needed.

Mitch broke the silence once again, “I think Arthur has been asking her to join his family for Christmas evening. I’ll send him or Charles a text describing the situation so that they can really try to convince her.”

Christian nodded and spoke, “That sounds like a good plan. Max, I’m guessing you have a plan?”

Max nodded before stepping away from the group, heading in the direction where you took off. Kelly stayed behind, bringing out her phone with the intent of making a few calls.

“We’ll take care of her,” she assured the strategist and team principal.

Mitch smiled in the direction that Max had stomped towards. “I wouldn’t doubt it.”

You, who had missed everything, were currently waiting at the entrance for your Uber. Your eyes glanced around, looking for the correct car. Your body bounced with anxiety as your knuckles hand now turned white with how hard they were gripping the straps.

“Kid!” a familiar voice called out, causing you to whip around and bump right into the source. Big hands caught you from falling off the kerb. Your head lifted and was met with the worried face of one Max Verstappen.

“Uh, hi?” you questioned.

Max, probably planning for this to be said differently but didn’t want to beat around the bush, blurted out, “Spend the break and Christmas with me.”

Your eyes looked for malice in his, but came up empty. However, you were shocked.

“What?” you breathed out, very confused.

Max inhaled and exhaled rather sharply. Keeping his hands on your shoulders, he positioned you back up on the sidewalk, away from the parking area. In your head, you were only thinking of how you might miss your Uber and flight if Max kept you here.

“Y/n,” uh-oh, he used your legal name, “Kelly and I would love it if you spent the first bit of break with us and Christmas.”

Your ears must have been deceiving you, or you needed hearing aids after being around the formula cars for the majority of your life, because there was no way that Max had just asked you to spend the first bit of break, let alone Christmas, with him and Kelly.

You scoffed before looking away and muttering, “Very funny Max. I get that you have an amazing family to do nice things with, but some of us don’t have that luxury. Now if you’ll excuse me,” you all but ripped yourself out of his grasp, “I have an Uber to get into and a flight back to Nice.”

You stepped away, but were stopped by someone’s hand grabbing your backpack. You sighed rather harshly, arms dropping to your sides, before speaking, “Max, let go of my backpack.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about geitje.” If you had looked behind you, you would have seen a smirk on his face.

“You know I finally looked up that word, and I don’t think that’s the correct word for kid.”

Max let out a playful scoff. “Yes it is. It’s my language after all.”

You rolled your eyes, “You are literally calling me a baby goat.” Your arms crossed your chest. You were still annoyed but weren’t trying to get away as you had been. Max pulled you backward and into a hug. His hand was placed on the top of your head, lightly ruffling your hair.

His chest vibrated as he hummed. “I know exactly what I am doing. Stubborn and cute like one.”

You let yourself melt into his hold for just a minute as you thought over the offer. Honestly, by now it was a no-brainer. Spend the break alone and cold, or get over yourself and spend it in a warm house surrounded by people who seemed to love you regardless of your past.

Max felt the moment that you had accepted, since your body went lax in his hold. His smile grew larger at the thought of you giving in. However, you mind was still mulling over one fact. A large sigh escaped your lips.

“What’s wrong?”

Your cheeks heated once again before turning to bury your face in Max’s chest as to hide from the Dutchman.

“I don’t know how.”

Max was getting confused. “How do to what Kleintje?”

“How to celebrate Christmas. Never done it before,” you stumbled over your words.

Max was quick with a solution. “P turned four this year, and I think she can actually grasp what Christmas really is. You can learn right along with her, nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“And I don’t have any presents or anything to give.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. Christmas isn’t all about giving gifts.”

You huffed. “But I want to.” Your eyes were suddenly welling up with tears, making Max panic a bit.

He quickly spoke, “Then we can go shopping. Maybe Lando can join. If it’s important to you, then we can do whatever you’d like.”

You looked up into blue eyes. “We can stay up for Santa?”

Gosh, you were truly melting this man’s heart. His eyes softened as he looked back into yours. His head dipped in a small nod.

“Yes Kid. We can stay up for Santa. Now let’s go, AirMax awaits.”

Your Uber was long forgotten as you sat in the nice plush seat of Max’s private jet. Your eyes sparkled with a child-like wonder as you stared around. Kelly and Max just enjoyed watching you look around with wide and tired eyes.

You may be 20, but that doesn’t mean that you’re done maturing in life. Max definitely was still trying to heal his inner-child at 26, but he had a whole support system behind him. Yes, his dad wasn’t the best, but he couldn’t image growing up without him. Jos may have been an asshole, but he helped shape Max into what he was today.

From what he and Kelly now knew, you had had no one. You had offhandedly told Max that you rarely had friends growing up. He and Christian really thought you may have been joking. But after tonight, Max swore to never joke about that again. He knew that you were going to be good friends with some of the grid. Secretly he was hoping that Lando would be one of them.

He was a good kid in Max’s eyes. And it was a plus that he also lived in Monaco as well. People need friends and family to thrive and flourish, and you had done your waiting.

Max also knew that if your parents ever showed up to anything, now that you had made it to Formula 1, he would personally cuss them out and then have them banned from every single paddock for the rest of their lives.

His eyes found you, desperately fighting off sleep. His lips curled up into a smile as you finally gave in and closed your eyes. You were all curled up in with your Dior blanket that you carried everywhere with you - the same one you had in Vegas.

Max turned his head to see that Kelly was also looking at you with a warm smile on her face, eyes full of love.

Kelly’s head leaned near his as they both watched you cuddle your beloved blanket a bit more.

“She looks much younger,” Kelly whispered, not wanting to wake you up.

Max leaned over as well, “Yeah, makes you realized why everyone calls her kid.”

A soft laugh came out of Kelly’s lips.

Max continued, “Thank you for being fine with her coming. I know this wasn’t in our plans.”

Kelly quickly hushed him, her eyes glancing at him before looking back on your sleeping figure, “I think it was a wonderful idea for her to join. We should have asked sooner.” A sad smile crept on her face.

He nodded as Kelly made a small home under his arm and against his side. She hummed as she closed her own eyes, wanting to sleep a bit before landing in Monaco.

Max, however, was preoccupied with texting a group chat that he had made a few minutes before getting on a plane.

Tax Evaders Max has added Trophy Breaker, Emotional Support Rival, and Kid’s Leclerc to the chat

Mad Max: I bet you all are wondering why I have gathered you here

Trophy Breaker: Um, yes And what is with the chat name mate?

Emotional Support Rival I think he means to imply since Monaco does not make us pay taxes And yes, Max why are we here? Miss us already?

Kid’s Leclerc I’m just wondering who these numbers are other than Charles?

Mad Max: This is Max Verstappen The other one is Lando

Trophy Breaker: Way to give my number away to a total stranger ass-hat Who the heck is Kid’s Leclerc

Kid’s Leclerc: This is Arthur

Trophy Breaker: Oh that makes more sense

Emotional Support Rival Seriously Emotional Support Rival? Max I thought we were more than this

Trophy Breaker: Yeah – you said you let the whole trophy thing go

Mad Max: All of you be quiet

Kid’s Leclerc: I never said anything

Mad Max: As I was saying… I’m guessing maybe Arthur knew But Y/n had planned to spend Christmas alone

Trophy Breaker: Her parents out of town or something?

Emotional Support Rival: About that…

Kid’s Leclerc: Y/n’s parents aren’t in the picture anymore

Trophy Breaker: THEY DIED?!

Mad Max: NO But I’ll make them wish they were They disowned her when she was 15

Trophy Breaker: … I second your statement

Mad Max: Back to what I was going to say Y/n is spending the first part of break with me, Kelly, and P Arthur, I need you to up your begging game to get her to join you for the last half Charles you too

Kid’s Leclerc: Sir yes sir

Emotional Support Rival: On it If it will help any

Trophy Breaker: What am I supposed to do?

Mad Max: She really wants to get presents and other things I’m not comfortable letting her walk the outdoor shops by herself somewhere she’s never been too I was hoping that you’d join us when we go?

Trophy Breaker: For sure It’s the Monaco Center right? Where you can drive the cars through?

Mad Max: That’s the one Kelly has been talking about going for a while to take P Might as well do the shopping then

Trophy Breaker: Sounds good I’ll let you know when I’m back from Italy

Kid’s Leclerc: I will start the begging when we get back

Emotional Support Rival: Same here

Mad Max: Thanks guys I’m hoping she’ll have a good time First real Christmas and all

Trophy Breaker: Awe, Max does have a heart

Emotional Support Rival: He really said Grinch? Never heard of him I’m Max Verstappen

Kid’s Leclerc: I do not group myself with them sir

Emotional Support Rival: Thur is just trying to get on his good side

Trophy Breaker: And why would that be?

Kid’s Leclerc: No comment

Mad Max: Plane is about to land and I have to wake Miss Whiny up from her nap

Kid’s Leclerc: Just lightly nudge her shoulder Works wonders and she shouldn’t complain too terrible

Trophy Breaker: Oooohhhh I get it now Little Leclerc is smooth

Kid’s Leclerc: Goodbye

Max let out a chuckle before taking his arm from around Kelly, who had actually fallen asleep as well. He stood up and lifted his arms above his head to stretch. It only took him three steps to reach you, since the main cabin wasn’t big to begin with.

Heeding Arthur’s advice, he gently nudged your shoulder a few times. You blinked, multiple times, trying to get the fuzziness to go away.

Like Arthur had said, there was no whining that joined your waking up. Your hands came up to rub your face and eyes, trying to rid the evidence of sleep.

“How long was I out for?” you questioned, voice deeper and quieter.

Max’s hand found your shoulder and gently rubbed it. “We’re actually about to land.” Your eyes widened as you quickly looked out the plane window to view the Monégasque land below.

By now, Kelly had woken up and was now fondly looking at her boyfriend and, well, his kid. She knew that Max wanted to try to be more of a big brother to her, but he honestly couldn’t help it. Deep down, he was trying to fulfill a role that he wished he had had when he was growing up. She quietly raised her phone and took a quick picture to maybe upload later. But for now, she’d let them bask in the excitement of being home.

Unboarding went much easier than regular flights. The private exits were your favorite since you didn’t have to be stopped by fans or anyone else. By the time the three of you got back to Max’s house, or giant mansion since it was so huge, the sun was just rising: which meant that you were in desperate need of a nap. As far as you knew, Penelope was still with the sitter and Kelly wouldn’t go get her until later that day, to give you three some time to rest and recuperate from the long racing weekend.

Max led you to one of the apparently multiple guest bedrooms for you to put your stuff in. He explained that you could stay here for the time being unless you found one of the other rooms much better.

You only laughed and told him that it was enough. Max, in your opinion, looked too nervous for someone who had a multi-million dollar home.

“Max it’s fine I swear,” you reassured him.

“I just want you to be comfortable.” He shrugged, looking around at the room, eyes glancing from one corner to the other, trying to find something to change.

“Max, you could give me an air mattress on the floor and I’d be happy. Besides, this bed is much better than the single bed I have back in Nice,” you muttered the last bit.

Max seemed to take that as good enough, and left you to your own devices. You quickly sent a text to Arthur, who had begged for you to let him know when you got in safely. You rolled his eyes at his mother hen antics and let out a big yawn.

You could definitely unpack after you took a quick nap. The moment your head hit the nice pillow, you were out like a light. The sound of laughter woke you up a couple of hours later. You groggily walked out of the more than adequate room, rubbing your eyes to rid them of sleep. Max thankfully invested in a house with a large first floor so that you didn’t have to walk down any stairs.

Max was the first one to spot you standing a bit awkwardly in the opening frame to the living room. Max stood up from where he was sitting with Kelly and Penelope. Walking over, he brought you into a side hug to lead you to the middle of the room.

He crouched next to his almost actual kid and gestured to you.

“P, this is Y/n. She’s going to be staying with us until Christmas.”

You awkwardly looked at the toddler, not knowing what to do. Penelope leaned closer to Max.

“Does she like dollies?”

You let out a little laugh at the question. Max and Kelly smiled at the child and then glanced back at you.

“Why don’t you ask her?” Kelly gently pushed P towards you. She was clutching a small Barbie to her chest as she got closer to you.

Her neck bent backwards, looking up at you. She held out her doll for you to take, which you did: not wanting to offend her.

With a shy smile, Penelope questioned, “Do you want to play dolls with me?”

“Sure!” You tried to make your voice seem as though you were over the moon to play. “Although, I honestly don’t know how. So, why don’t you show me?”

Penelope quickly took hold of your hand and all but dragged you down to the floor, where multiple other Barbies lay, waiting to be played with. The toddler quickly started to talk in animated gibberish, trying to explain that your Barbie was trying to take over her Barbie land. You only nodded at the very detailed and elaborate plot that she had come up with.

Max and Kelly giggled at your wide eyes as you tried to keep up with the small doll in your hands. However, it seemed as though you finally caught on to what was happening as Penelope had gotten more excited as you continued to play. The two adults watch the both of you fondly as your Barbie was finally overtaken by one of P’s bigger dolls that she had. Giggles escaped the toddler’s lips as you dramatically fell over, laying on the ground defeated. Penelope had squirmed over, trying to get you to get back up.

“P, I think I’m done for.” You put a hand over your eyes, laughing as P tried to tickle you “back to life.”

“No,” she dragged out the vowel.

You continued, “It’s a very nice rug. I think I’ll just sleep here tonight.”

She apparently did not like that as she draped her body over yours. You let out a grunt at the unexpected weight on your chest. You retaliated by tickling her as you sat up from the ground. Her squeals echoed the room.

Max and Kelly thought it was good to leave the two of you alone for a moment. They made their way to the kitchen to start dinner. As Kelly was getting the ingredients out, Max suddenly remembered something.

“Hey kid?”

“Yeah?” you perked up from around P’s head, since she was now sitting in your lap.

Max looked down at the box of pasta in his hands. “Do you have any food allergies or any dislikes?”

You thought for a moment before responding, “None that I know of. I’ll pretty much eat anything.”

“All right.”

Your attention was once again turned to the little girl that was showing you her multiple toys. You wanted to laugh when you spotted one of the scale models of Max’s car. You quickly held it in your hands to look it over.

“You race with Maxie?” Penelope asked as she took the car out of your hand. You didn’t mind: since it was her toy to begin with.

You softly smiled. “Yep, going to be the fastest on the track.”

Your hands started to softly stroke her hair and part it into three strands. You felt the mini car go up and down your leg. Soft “vrooms” left P’s lips as she trailed the car over your thighs. Your hands overlapped and formed a braid in the thin strands that you held.

An amazing smell started to waft through the air as dinner was close to being done.

“You staying, right?” P’s big eyes locked with yours.

“I’ll be staying until Christmas.”

Kelly and Max were listening to your conversation while everything simmered for a bit. With drinks in their hands, they leaned against each other to watch the two of you interact. It was crazy how fit you looked together. Honestly, there was a weird resemblance between the two of you, and Max would bet that if the four of you went out and about, people would really question if you were truly just a friend and not family.

“We wait for Santa together?”

You looked fondly down at her as you tied the braid off. “We’ll wait for Santa and make cookies and do whatever you want.”

P took that to heart and nodded multiple times in excitement.

It wasn’t long until dinner was ready. The meal was truly a simple dish: some type of chicken and pasta. Something plain enough that P would eat, but flavorful enough that the other three could enjoy it as well.

The table was filled with laughter and engaging conversation. There seemed to be an unspoken rule about not talking of Formula 1 conversation at the dinner table, and you were thankful for that. Your mind wanted to run back to memories of a time where you found yourself at your own dining table, alone. Most of the time, the food was long cold and not very good.

But, the happiness that you found yourself in right now deterred any thoughts of those times. The conversation of the plan for the next day was brought up by Kelly.

“I was thinking that we could take a trip to the shopping centers tomorrow,” Kelly mentioned before taking a sip from her wine glass. You, of course, had a plain water in front of you.

Max nodded, “I think that’s a good idea.”

You stayed silent, mulling it over. You cut into your chicken to take another bite, before realizing that the two adults were waiting for an answer from you. Your cheeks heated as you put your fork down.

“I’m good with anything honestly. It sounds fun.”

“I feel like there’s a but coming,” Max pointed out, smirking when Penelope laughed at the second to last word. You couldn’t help but join in with the young girl.

You shifted in your chair. “I’ve just never been before I guess.”

Max sent you a soft smile. “I thought of that. What do you think of Lando joining to walk around with you?”

Your eyes widened at the offer. You…go shopping…alone…with Lando Norris?

“I think I ran him over in an elevator one time.”

Max almost choked on his drink at your confession while Kelly could only laugh.

“Kid, I don’t think he remembers that. It’ll be good for you so that next season, you can start off with a familiar face and friend.”

Your heart soared at the thought of that and you quickly accepted.

“Great, I’ll text Lando that we’ll see him in the morning. But knowing him, he’s going to want to start shopping in the afternoon.”

And Max was correct as Lando practically whined about the idea of shopping in the morning while he was on call. Reluctantly though, the two came to a shared decision of shopping in the early afternoon around 1 pm.

You were nervous in the car, but Penelope in her car seat was a good distraction. This time, she told you that your Barbie was secretly a mermaid and needed a prince to save her. Sadly, all the Babies she had was the one you were holding, and another female with bright pink hair. You quickly noted to maybe find a prince doll for her while you were out shopping.

Your mind also raced with questions of what to get Max and Kelly, since they had taken you into their home and treated you as one of their own. Maybe you could ask Lando.

But what do you get two people who seem to be happy and content with what they have?

You were brought out of your thoughts at the lack of motion from the car. By now, you finally noticed that Max and Kelly had gotten out of the car, the latter now unbuckling P’s car seat. You quickly leaned over to unbuckle your own seat belt.

“Almost thought I had to unbuckle you myself,” Max joked as you finally got out of the car, stretching your limbs.

“Yeah, yeah.” You waved him off while you looked around at the shopping center. Lights, wreaths, and trees were everywhere. Your eyes really sparkled with the reflections of the all the lights. What you didn’t realize is that one Lando Norris had finally joined the group. You only noticed when he decided that it was a good idea to place both hands on your shoulders and yell really loudly.

What he didn’t know was that you had taken a few self-defense classes in your past. And his face was met with the knuckles of your hand. At least it wasn’t a very hard hit as your hand was covered in a very soft glove.

Your eyes widened as you let out a gasp as Lando cupped a hand to his nose.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to,” you frantically looked around, trying to see who had seen the altercation. Thankfully, no one had seemed to notice. However, Max could not stop laughing. You thought that any moment he would fall on the concrete from his wheezing. Kelly just held P with a look of concern.

Lando waved his hands, “I will not be doing that again.”

“I truly am sorry.” You grimaced at the sight of a red mark growing on his face.

“I thought that was hilarious.” Max could only offer, still laughing. Lando only squinted his eyes at him in mock offence.

“Lanno!” Penelope yelled from her jail of her mom’s arms. Kelly let her down and she bolted to the Brit. Lando caught her and held her.

“Hey P,” he greeted. P’s head found sanctuary in the crease of his neck. “At least one Verstappen likes me.”

“She’s not a Verstappen, yet.”

“I do like you.”

“I’m not even remotely related.”

Lando just shook his head. “Max needs to hurry up; you laugh at my pain; you are Max’s kid, so a Verstappen by proxy.”

You just looked confused and lost at the revelation from Lando. Max let out a nervous giggle as he glanced at Kelly.

“Are we ready to start shopping?” Max clapped his hands.

“Y/n, you’re coming with me?” Lando questioned as he put the toddler back down.

Your hand scratched the back of your head nervously. “I guess so?” You had tried to make it not seem like a question, but you couldn’t help it.

Max was the one to pick up Penelope this time. “Just text us when you’re done. We will meet up back here.” And with that, he, Kelly, and P turned to leave. Which left you with Lando, who was looking at you with waiting eyes.

“Uh, lead the way?”

Lando cocked his head. “You’ve never been? Surely Arthur has taken you.”

You only shook your head as the two of you turned in the opposite direction. “I’ve only visited Monaco a few times and they were most for promotions or dinners with higher ups. Didn’t have a lot of time to go exploring.”

“Fair enough. Well, you just tell me when you see a store that you want to visit.”

“About that, do you have any ideas of what to maybe get Max or Kelly? I know what I want to get for P, but they’re a bit harder to think of gifts for,” you confessed as you walked down the sidewalk.

Lando hummed as he thought. “I know Max had talked about needing a new steering wheel for his sim. Something about the buttons being sticky from spilling a drink.”

“It was probably a Red Bull, if we’re being honest here.” That earned you a laugh from the older driver.

“True. Now Kelly, I really don’t know. Maybe you should text Max?”

“I’ll think of something, hopefully.”

And think of something you did. You had barely passed a jewelry store when something caught your eye.

“Lando, I’m going to go in here for a moment. I need to by a few things.” The Brit nodded and followed you in. You shot him a confused look.

“Might as well find a present for my mom and sister while we’re here.”

Thankfully, the two of you went in opposite directions of the store. Your eyes glanced over the glass cases full of valuables. You knew your bank account couldn’t quite handle some of the pieces, but you hoped that the item you were thinking of didn’t cost much.

As you hovered over the necklaces, a sales rep had come over and asked if you had needed anything.

“Can I see the locket, please?”

“Why certainly.”

The man unlocked the glass case and pulled out the beautiful chain with a heart-shaped pendent on it. The front was plain, probably because many would want to personalize it. You gently took it in your hands to give it a look over.

“I could customize the front and give you a picture to put it in right?”

The man quickly told you all the different things that you could do with the small item. To your surprise, the upcharges weren’t much to get it custom.

You requested for Penelope’s and Max’s birth flowers to be etched into the front. You quickly scrolled through Pinterest and Instagram to find a nice picture each of Max and P. Satisfied with both, you sent them in to the store and was told that you could pick it up in around 2 hours.

You thanked the man for his swiftness before requesting to look at another bracelet and a watch. You had made a mental note that you had finally accepted the offer from Arthur to join him, Charles, and their mom for Christmas night.

You, again, asked for a special inscription to be put on the nice watch. By the time everything would be ready, you and Lando should be headed back to the car. You told the man that you’d like to pick up the second necklace at that time too, even though you didn’t need anything custom on Charles’ present.

You found Lando waiting for you at the front of the store, hands holding two small bags. He looked up from his phone when his eyes caught you walking closer.

“Find anything?” he asked, glancing at your empty hands.

“I actually did. But I have to come back to get them when they’re done.”

Lando let out a ‘ah’ before turning around to leave the nice store.

“Are you good if we stop by the gaming place?” Lando questioned, looking over his shoulder as you tried to keep up.

“Only if you show me what wheel to buy Max. Then I need to go to the toy shop that’s across the way.”

Lando nodded and took your hand, almost dragging you along – which you didn’t mind, since people have said that you tend to get lost easily. As you approached the shop, you saw Lando’s eyes light up at the sight of all the gaming equipment. You wanted to laugh, but you knew you’d look the same way if you had stepped into a mechanic shop or a Porsche dealership.

Lando quickly walked you over to the wall of wheels, pointing out which ones would be compatible with Max’s sim. Your bank account wanted to cry at the amount of zeros before the decimal point, but your heart was set on getting it for Max. He had given you what you always wanted, so you could at least get him something nice for Christmas.

You ended up picking the one with the middle price, not the most expensive but not the “cheapest” one either. Your hands grabbed the box and held onto it tightly, not wanting to break it. The girl at the cashier register turned out to be a fan and asked for a picture.

“As long as you don’t say what I’m buying. Gotta keep the present a surprise.”

The girl nodded eagerly as she took a selfie with you.

As she rang you up, she started to talk, “I know it’s not Formula 1, but I do E-Racing and you have been nothing short of an inspiration to me. It wasn’t easy being the only girl on my team, but you gave me the strength to keep going.”

Wow. It was not on your agenda to cry today, but you couldn’t help the tears that formed in your eyes. You leaned over the counter to give her a quick hug and tell her how much those words meant to you.

You hadn’t noticed that you were holding up the line until Lando yelled something from the back of it. Saying goodbye, you stalked back to where he was, hands full of gaming equipment.

You raised an eyebrow. “All for you?”

He only smirked in response. “Most of it is for my friend Max.”

You cocked your head and heart dropped at the sight of the same steering wheel that you currently had in your bad. Did Lando plan to up-one you in gift giving. You held up the bag that held the wheel.

“I thought I was getting the wheel for Max?”

Lando had a look of confusion before his eyes showed an understanding. “You are not the only one with a best friend named Max.”

You pouted. “Max is not my best friend.”

“Oh yeah,” Lando tilted his head, “then who is?”

The two of you stepped forward in the line. You hesitated before a deeper pout formed on your lips.

You only grumbled, “Max.”

Lando through his head back in laughter as you finally made it to the front of the line. Lando quickly payed for his things with a tap of his card. Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head when you saw the grand total for his purchases. Boy, oh boy, you couldn’t wait to drive for real and get that bank.

You definitely had some money from over the years. Winnings, your godfather’s will (where everything went to you), and then the bonus you got for signing with Red Bull in the first place. But you had been planning to look into getting an apartment in Monaco and one in London along with a vehicle to be in both places so you didn’t waste money on rentals.

Speaking of apartments, you phone buzzed with a notification from the agent that you hired to find you a suitable one. Your smile grew as you saw that she had told you that you had been approved for one about a ten minute walk from Max and that you could start moving in after Christmas. You quickly sent a text back where you profuse your thanks for her.

“What’s got you all smiley, Bug?” Lando tried to peer over your shoulder to look at your phone.

Your once smile turned into a scrunched face as you looked up at him.

“Bug?” You tried out the name on your own tongue.

Lando just shrugged. “Well, everyone calls you Kid. You’re not that much younger than me, so it doesn’t work the same. But you are shorter.” You hit his arm. “What?! It’s true. So Bug it is.”

“I guess that’s fine.”

“Now, do you want to tell me what message you got? Secret boyfriend? Arthur? Meme from Max?”

You tried to bite back your grin, but you were just so happy. “I, uh, got approved for an apartment here, in Monaco. It’s about 10 minutes away from Max’s house.”

“Well congratulations!” Lando brought you into a side hug, bags swinging.

“Thank you, Lanno.” You were now the one dishing out nicknames. Lando’s smile only grew, but he didn’t mention anything about the name. Somehow that was good enough for you to infer that he liked it and didn’t think it was stupid.

From there, the two of you stopped in a toy store while you quickly grabbed a few toys for Penelope: one being a prince doll, another a toy version of the RB19, and then a couple of stuffies that you hoped the girl would like. Lando also pitched in for a couple of extras.

You also went back into the jewelry store to grab Kelly’s necklace, Arthur’s watch, and Charles’ bracelet. All had been exactly what you wanted and the engravings were beautiful. The McLaren driver also had good things to say about them as well.

You asked for them to also be all packaged up, ready to go right under the tree that Kelly and Max had already put out, but not decorated. He had given that task to the ladies of the house. You had giggled when Kelly told you that he had absolutely no decorating skills.

There weren’t any stores left for you and Lando to visit, and before you knew it, goodbyes were being exchanged with the promises of hanging out another time.

y/n.89 posted

christmas shopping with kevin mccallister tagged: landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, and 104,284 others

landonorris the slander is just wrong - where is your christmas spirit

y/n.89 I have plenty, just not for you logansargeant any for me? y/n.89 plenty mr. american

Christa72 thank you again for the picture!

y/n.89 it was so lovely to meet you!

box_box_official love seeing y/n become friends with the drivers outside the races

y/n-lover our Christmas queen

oscarpiastri you are right, he is giving kevin

landonorris oscaaaahhhhhh y/n.89 ahahahahahah get wrecked landonorris I think I heard a bug around here

Funny enough, you and P both fell asleep in the car on the way back. You were only woken up by Max lightly shaking you, something he remembered from the plane. With sleepy eyes and hands full of bags, you walked to your “room” and flopped on the bed. As Max passed with an armful of toddler, he chuckled at your form. He’d leave you for a bit until dinner was ready.

He carefully put Penelope in her small bed, covering her lightly with a small blanket. As he turned to get up, a small hand reached out and pulled on his. His eyes widened a tad as he looked back at the sleepy girl.

His big hand cupped her head and brushed her hair out of her eyes. “Hey P, you sleepy or do you want to stay up with Maxie and Mommy?”

Penelope rubbed her eyes as she sat up. “Is KiKi gonna be there?”

Max cocked his head. “Who?”

“KiKi.”

Max thought for a moment. “Y/n?”

The toddler just nodded holding her arms out, waiting to be picked up. Max quickly scooped her back up. Knowing that she’d want to see you, he brought her to your room, where you hadn’t moved an inch. He gently placed the toddler in your bed. To his surprise, in your sleep, you unconsciously moved to make room for P and put your arm around her bringing her closer.

Max’s heart melted as he took out his phone to quickly text Kelly to come to your room. She was quick since she stood next to him in under a minute. He brought her close as they watch the two of you snuggle. They both heard a content hum escape your lips as your arm tightened around the girl. Tears made their way to Max’s lash line, but he managed to keep them at bay.

“Let’s go make dinner,” Kelly whispered.

Around an hour later, Max woke the two of you up for dinner. Once again, the meal was delicious. Your heart swelled at the soft smiles exchanged around the table.

This is basically how the first part of the break went. Movies were watched, tears were shed (you definitely didn’t cry while watching the Polar Express), cookies were made and decorated (after many failed attempts), snow men were built, standing proudly in front of the house, and snowballs were thrown (Max apparently lost a snowball fight for the first time in 20 years).

Before you knew it, Christmas Eve was finally here. You had woken up early, wanting to prepare for everything. Max definitely laughed when he saw you sitting by the chimney looking up at the sooty dark hole.

“But how does he fit through there?” Your eyebrows were scrunched as you pondered over this with a bowl of cereal.

Max sipped his coffee. “Magic.”

“That makes zero sense.” You bit your spoon, eating the cereal that was there. Sadly, that was the last of your breakfast. Max ruffled your hair, making it messier than it was.

All day long, you waited and waited and waited. You finally had something to do after dinner while the four of you decorated the tree. Somehow, Penelope had climbed on your back to reach the upper branches.

“Higher Kiki! Higher!” She giggled as you hoisted her higher on your back.

“Any higher and you’ll be in the ceiling.” You laughed along with her, Max and Kelly watching the two of you with fond smiles as well as taking pictures from time to time. Max was practically vibrating in his seat. He thought that last year with just him, Kelly, and P was the best that life could be. But seeing you with his “almost daughter” and seeing his “almost wife” look at you like you were her own: it was such a different feeling.

He was brought out of his thoughts with your voice.

“I think we’re done!”

You and P held out your arms as to display your decorating jobs. The two adults clapped lightly. The toddler and you took a dramatic bow, before rushing to the kitchen. Giggles and laughs echoed through the warmly lit house. The two of you returned with a full glass of milk – carried by Penelope with two hands (like you reminded her) and you held two plates – one with cookies decorated with colorful icings and one with carrots (for the reindeer – of course).

With a kiss on your head and one on P’s, the two of you were left to sleep by the Christmas tree. You, however, couldn’t stop wriggling: you were too excited about Santa. You had just gotten sleepy when you heard a noise, come from deeper in the house. Your once wiggly body quickly froze. If Santa was supposed to come down the chimney, which was at your feet, then why was there noise coming from the kitchen.

You slowly sat up and grabbed the closest thing near you – funny enough it was “How to Build a Car” by Adrian Newey that Max used as a table topper. You slightly shook as you stood from the couch. You were thinking to yourself – was Santa just a home invader to come steal your things?

Well, Max had invited you to his house and you were not about to let some fat man come rob him. You were an athlete, with real sweat – athlete sweat: you could take him.

Gingerly you stepped around where P was sleeping and made your way farther into the house. Your eyes caught something red, and you froze once again when your eyes landed on another figure.

What was Kelly doing with the burglar?

Had he threatened her? Did he have a gun? Where was Max? Was he knocked unconscious and tied up in their bedroom, alone, possibly bleeding? Or even worse – dead?

Tears welled in your eyes at the thought. Max couldn’t possibly be dead. Your sleepy mind was getting the best of you. You peered around the corner once more and your blood boiled.

Santa was now leaning in – FOR A KISS?? That did it.

You stepped out from behind the corner, book clenched in your hands in front of your chest. If he had a gun and shot, the book would save you – hopefully.

Kelly finally saw you and her eyes widened at your shaking figure. She quickly tapped Santa (well, Max in a Santa suit) and gestured to you. With wide eyes, Max turned around and froze when he saw you as well.

You were not supposed to be up.

He stood up straighter and took his hands off his girlfriend. Trying to dissolve the situation carefully, he wanted to be the first one to talk, but you always had the upper hand.

“Where is Max?” You voice wobbled.

Max wanted to cry when he heard the shakiness in your tone.

He cleared his throat before speaking with a deep tone. “He’s still asleep.”

You glared at the fake robber-wanna-be. “Oh so you decide to come rob our house and threaten Kelly while Max is asleep?” By now, the book was slowly rising above your head.

Max wanted to sigh, this was not going according to plan.

“Kid, Kelly just need to show me something about the, uh.” Max looked at Kelly, trying to speak with his eyes.

“The cookies sweetie,” Kelly came up with the excuse on the spot.

Your book was slowly coming down. “What about the cookies?” Now your voice sounded worried. Had you screwed up Santa’s cookies and was this the real Santa? And you were threatening him?

“Nothing’s wrong with them Kid. I got a little lost in this big house,” his gloved hands gestured to the giant ceilings, “and I couldn’t find the cookies, milk, or carrots for the reindeer.” Max was able to come up with the second lie, but he could tell it was working. His eyes watched as you finally lowered the book.

You exhaled sharply and yawned. Max and Kelly’s hearts melted at your sleepiness. Your head nodded as you tried to make sense of everything.

Well, it would make sense for Santa to get lost in a home that he’d never visited before. And you and P didn’t put the cookies, milk, and carrots on the actual fireplace because you two were nervous he would step on them. Honestly, you were falling asleep where you were standing.

Max cautiously stepped closer and put a hand on your back to lead you back to the couch. With eyes closed you let him guide you. He finally exhaled once you were tucked in.

Kelly and he shared a glance at each other and disappeared around the corner and back to their room. Quiet laughs echoed through the bedroom as Max almost tripped on the red pants as he tried to get out of them. They quickly fell asleep when their heads hit their pillows. They could laugh at that for years to come.

They felt as though they hadn’t gotten any sleep by the time Penelope came screaming through their room.

“SANTA CAME! SANTA CAME!” The toddler’s arms were up in the air before she used to them lift herself onto the giant bed. Max groaned when she found a spot right on his stomach to park herself.

Max picked her up as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Present time?”

Penelope sat silent for a moment before the words really hit here before squeals left her lips. Once again, she darted out of the room to rush back to the main room.

You had been in the kitchen making coffee.

Honestly, you don’t even remember what happened. (And that’s probably for the best.) Before long, Max and Kelly waddled into the kitchen, barely awake. They were met with warm mugs in their hands and the smell of coffee in the kitchen.

With smiles, they thanked you and headed into the living room where P was practically vibrating in her spot, yet was waiting for everyone.

Max had been designated as “Santa” this year to pass and hand out the presents. He and Kelly shared a knowing look and a wink that you picked up on and flashed a confused face, but you let it go. It was probably some inside joke that didn’t involve you. Right.

You were thankful for the first present that Max passed you, but where surprised when the second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth present also made their way into your lap. You again had a confused look on your face, but the comforting smile on Kelly’s face helped you realize that these were all on purpose.

Max and Kelly were also surprised when they also got a gift from you as well. You sheepishly smiled at them and went to speak, but the sound of paper ripping interrupted you.

Well, there went Penelope. Laughs were shared as the young girl ripped and tore through the previously carefully wrapped present.

When she got to yours, she stared at the prince doll and the stuffies. She felt each one and traced the dolls face. She quickly got up and wrapped her arms around your neck.

“Thanks Kiki!” She had the largest smile on her face.

You rubbed her back and hugged her tightly. “You’re very welcome.”

She immediately sat back down and started to play. Possibly this time the story line would go much better as the prince could now save the princess.

You guessed it was your turn now. You were about to open the first present, but Max stopped you.

“Open this one first.” He gave you the smallest one first.

You opened the small package and a gasp left your lips.

Inside, was a small circular ornament. It was decorated with a family of four – two girls with a man and woman – with lettering underneath them. You read the words out loud.

“First Christmas as a Family of Four. Max, Kelly, Penelope, and Y/n.” You looked up from the ornament to the two adults who looked at you with such love.

Max broke the silence. “Uh, we just wanted to get you something meaningful. No matter what happens you’ll always find yourself in our home and intermingled in our lives.”

Kelly leaned in closer to Max. “We always want you here honey. You’re family now.” She intertwined her fingers with Max.

You ducked your head with a small smile. “Can I put it on the tree?”

With quick and eager nods, you stood up and tiptoed over the piles of papers that littered the floor. You found a nice branch right in the front of the tree and made sure it stayed. You walked back to your place and sat back down.

“Your turn now.”

The Dutch adults took their presents that you had bought them a few weeks ago. Kelly may have shed a tear or two when she noticed that the flowers were Max and P’s birth flowers. Yet, she promised that she’d take it to get your put there as well. That’s when you had started to cry.

Max was shocked by how you had possibly known what steering wheel he had needed. You sheepishly said that you had received some help from Lando.

“Kid, this is too expensive.”

You crossed your arms.

“I’m not poor.”

Max rolled his eyes. “I know you aren’t but…”

“No buts. I wanted to so you have to accept it.”

Max finally sighed as he looked down at the wheel. “Fine.”

You did a little wiggle dance at the small victory.

“Yeah, yeah. Now would you please open the rest of your presents?”

The next ones that you opened were a paddle kit (because you had once told Max that it would be good to bond over another sport), new shoes (yours were falling apart), small mini versions of Lightning McQueen and Sally (you promised to put it on your dash when you bought a car), some jewelry that Kelly picked out (she also promised that she’d help you renew your closet when you found a permanent place to stay), and then finally a Lecia Q2 camera (something Lando told Max that you might enjoy to have a separate hobby and one that he could help you out with).

When every present had been unwrapped and played with for just a bit, you quietly stood up and cleared your voice. All three pairs of eyes were now on you.

“I uh, just wanted to say thank you. I’ve never had something like this before, and you have definitely shown what I’ve been missing. But, I wouldn’t want to spend Christmas like this with anyone else – past or present. I’m glad that I have people like the three of you that love me and welcome me with open arms.” You took a deep breath.

“I also wanted to say that I am happy here and really never want to call another place home like I’ve started to call this place home.” You reached for your phone.

“Kid,” Max started to say. He wanted you to stay, but knew he would have to talk to Kelly about letting you stay here permanently.

Except you had other plans. You sat in between them so that they could look at your screen.

“Like I said, I would never want to leave now that I have finally found a place where I feel like I belong. So a couple of weeks ago, I hired an agent to find me a small apartment in a radius around her. And I got approved when we went shopping. It’s about a ten minute walk from here but it’s private enough where people really won’t think to look for me.”

Max looked at you with a bright smile as he brought you into a hug. Kelly also leaned over to hug you as well. Penelope, who didn’t want to be left out, jumped into your lap. But, as your eyes glazed over the walls, you let out a gasp.

Thinking that something was wrong, Max pulled away quickly, eyes glancing over you, trying to see what was wrong. Yet, you pointed at the window.

“Snow.”

Three heads whipped in that direction to also look at the white fluffy stuff that was falling from the sky. You quickly stood up and rushed to change into something warmer. Kelly, Max, and P followed suit. Once the four of you were bundled, you all walked outside to stand under the fresh snow.

This wasn’t the first time you saw snow, but this would be your first white Christmas. You stood at the side as you watched Max and Kelly kneel near Penelope and start to build a snowman. You laughed as you watched Kelly put snow down Max’s jacket and Max desperately try to get the snow out. It looked as if he was break dancing as the snow slid down his back. Penelope just watched and laughed as Max wiggled.

Max finally glanced at your and beckoned you over to join them. You shook your head as your own laugh started to sound in the stark white world that you were in. You stalked over and started to help them build the snowman. You could worry about other things at a later point. Here, this is where you belonged.

With your family.

So, this is Christmas.

maxverstappen1 posted

my christmas girls tagged: kellypiquet and y/n.89

liked by y/n.89, landonorris, and 1,109,837 others

max-max-super the caption just destroyed me

emotional_support_rivals drivers during christmas are my favorite

y/n.89 love you maxie <3 thanks for loving me

maxverstappen1 anytime kid, anytime charles_leclerc like I said, max does have a heart maxverstappen1 watch it leclerc or I won't let her go over later arthur_leclerc Charles shut up please

iamred-iamyellow I'm not crying, you're crying

kellypiquet all my love for you, P, and y/n

y/n-updates the way he called y/n one of "his girls" - goodbye

landonorris Arthur wants to call her that as well *comment has been deleted* change_ur_f-car DID ANYONE ELSE SEE THAT?! landonorris close your eyes

y/n.89 has posted

I have everything I ever wished for right here - Merry Christmas tagged: maxverstappen1 and kellypiquet

liked by arthur_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 130,274 others

lastlaplando the verstappen household woke up and chose christmas caption VIOLENCE

maxiel-lover I know right, both had me bawlin formula1fan my favorite version of max is "soft for y/n" max

y/n's_version our christmas girl

redbullracing who won the snowball fight and snowman contest?

y/n.89 me maxverstappen1 me y/n.89 wanna think about your answer again???? maxverstappen1 y/n did

y/n.89 the last picture was pre-snow, max just got too cold to stand still for a winter family photo

landonorris typical max, always ruining lives somehow maxverstappen1 eXcUSe mE?!

emotional_support_rivals live, laugh, love y/n verstappen

y/n.89 no, we're taking Kelly's last name maxverstappen1 when did we talk about this? kellypiquet you were asleep

author MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

y/n.89 what are you doing here? author breaking the fourth wall? y/n.89 continue

For the full Christmas Day experience, read this chapter of Besties for the Resties!

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne @leilanixx @angsthology @topguncultleader @landosgirlxoxo @gods-menace @itsjustkhaos @thefandomswhre @alwaysboredsworld @vellicora @bintuabbas @sam-is-lost @empress-kimiko @assholeinatrenchcoat @kagatinkita @glitterquadricorn @zyonsay @tsukishimawhore @ashy-kit @agent-curt-mega @julesbabey @lydialawrence @stopeatread @claudia5912 @nichmeddar @blueberry64857959 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @leptitlu @alessioayla @badassturtle13 @kaaale @wcnorris @cool-ultra-nerd @hockeyboysarehot @agent-curt-mega @myxticmoon @cmleitora @sam-is-lost @misartymis @boiohboii @alexander-hamilhoe @jayda12 @indesicivelyconfuzzled @fangirl125reader @itscrzy @xcharlottemikaelsonx @fionaschicken @torchbearerkyle @ineedafictionalman @loaksmuntxa @classiclitfreak @sarcasm-ismy-onlydefense @luisie @jayda12 @comfortzonequeen @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @inejghafawifesblog @treehouse-mouse

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earlysunshines · 8 months ago

Text

i get misty the moment you’re near

kindergarden teacher!sana x fem!reader (remastered) ; part one ; fluff

summary: it’s normal to get all bittersweet watching the girl you’ve helped raise step into her first day of kindergarten, but is it normal to find her teacher so captivating at first sight? is it normal for her teacher to find you just as cute?

wc: 2.8k

warnings: none!

a/n: rewrite of the series that started it all :P, enjoy!!!

opening the door, you watch your little one unbuckle her seatbelt. the smile on her face is everything to you and more, shining even brighter than the sun even with that missing canine of hers.

she slips herself out of the car and onto the concrete of the parking lot, eager to get out there and into the world (it's a bittersweet moment, watching her grow up before your eyes, tumbling away from your grasp so soon at the ripe age of five). yet, her small gesture of grabbing your pointer and middle finger instead of holding your hand in the traditional way brings a smile to your face. it's a unique quirk of hers, a subtle reminder that she’s still your little girl no matter what.

as you and your niece hana make your way into her elementary school, she’s much better at navigating this foreign territory than you are, leading the way confidently and pulling you with every step. you follow closely behind, admiring her determination and poise, the smile on your face growing with each hall you pass.

as you approach her classroom, you notice parents bidding their goodbyes and waving to their children inside the cheery, chat-filled room. it's a heartwarming scene, filled with families sending their little ones off to the place that’ll start it all.

when you look down at hana, it seems as if her excitement had been erased in a matter of seconds. she stands there, peering into the classroom door nervously, looking hesitant to even enter.

you crease your brows, looking at her with concern. “is everything okay?”

“y/n,” she begins, almost frowning. “what if no one wants to be my friend?”

her words catch you off guard, and a look of surprise crosses your face. she avoids your gaze, her eyes fixated on her beige velcro sneakers. you squat down to her eye level, sensing her discomfort.

your features soften. “hana… why would you think that?”

“i don’t know… i’m just scared, i don’t want to be the only one alone.” she says, her frown deepening.

“hana, sweetheart,” you start, holding both her hands in between your palms. “trust me, at least one person will talk to you. even if it isn’t today, someone amazing like you will make a friend, i mean, who wouldn’t want to be your friend? i made a lot of friends when i was your age.” you pause, putting your hands on her shoulders as you make eye contact.

she looks at you with a slight pout, your heart cracks a bit.

“you and i, we’re alike, your dad and grandma think so too.” you begin, hands moving over to fix the white shirt under her denim overalls. “and be glad that we’re alike.” a mischievous smirk tugs at your lips. “your dad isn’t as cool as me, as us – trust me. be glad you got some of your auntie’s genes, you’ll be the coolest in the room since you’re like me.”

“you sure?”

“of course i am. one hundred percent, no questions asked.” you assure her, standing up. “now, come on, let’s go inside, your dad said your teacher was nice!” you beam, smiling at the little girl. “now , you lead me, to be honest i’m starting to get a little scared… i might get lost– i mean, this isn’t my classroom.”

hana’s worried expression is replaced by a grin after hearing your last remark, and then she teases you with that cheeky, high-pitched voice of hers, “you’re so silly y/n, you’re old and scared? i thought you said you were the coolest!”

“hey! i am the coolest! and i'm not old! you should see your dad! so many wrinkles on his head when he snores…”

hana's laughter rings out, her newfound confidence sparked by the playful banter between the two of you. without hesitation, she seizes your hand and practically pulls you into the classroom, her excitement palpable as if she were alice venturing into wonderland.

(they grow up too fast)

as you step into the classroom, a pleasant aroma envelops you, carrying hints of vanilla intermingled with subtle undertones of peaches and pears. the scent isn’t overpowering, you think it’s perfect and adds to the ambiance of the slightly chaotic yet meticulously arranged classroom. in an oddly comforting way, it reminds you of the cozy atmosphere of the café where you work.

as you scan the classroom, you observe children engrossed in various activities—some coloring at their desks, others darting around with more energy than you have after four shots of espresso, and a few kids posing for pictures taken by their parents.

hana excitedly tugs at your hand, leading you to the vibrant cubbies where students store their completed work and lunchboxes. with a proud grin, she points out the sticker adorning her cubby: a little shark sticker, hammerhead. the sight of the sticker brings a warm smile to your face, knowing how much hana and her dad adore these creatures.

"hana, sweetie, stand next to your cubby. i want to take a picture to show your dad," you suggest, gesturing towards the spot where you'd like her to pose. hana eagerly complies, flashing a wide smile that lights up her face and reveals her adorable gums. her infectious grin brings a smile to your own lips as you swiftly capture the moment with a quick snapshot. without hesitation, you send the picture to the group chat shared with your brother, mom, and dad before taking a little selfie with her yourself.

as you and hana make your way towards the area where the backpacks are hung, your gaze runs wanders around the room, taking in the environment. amidst the flurry of activity, your attention is drawn to a striking woman across the room, her warm smile immediately catching your attention.

you watch as she interacts with another parent, her friendly demeanor evident as she crouches down to the level of a young boy, pointing to – which you assume – his seat before returning to her full height. a moment later, her eyes meet yours, catching you off guard.

she’s unreal, she’s so unbelievably beautiful.

her flowing dark brown hair cascades gracefully around her, framing her face elegantly. you're struck by the perfection of her nose, it’s perfect. its gentle angle and graceful slope draws your admiration and it surprises you how much you appreciate such a seemingly small detail, but there's an undeniable allure to it, how could a nose be so perfect? was it weird to think that?

your gaze then drifts downward, drawn to her peach-colored lips, which appear soft and lush and inviting, and wow, impossibly alluring; in fact, they look really kissable and–

you stop your thoughts there because this is a woman you’ve just seen for the first time, you shouldn’t be thinking this – you can’t be (one part of your brain is telling you to stop, the other continues to daydream in the back of your mind).

her outfit is almost as cute and pretty as she is. the beige cardigan and loose white skirt she has on compliment her slender figure beautifully, emanating effortless grace. the delicate silver necklace sitting on her fair skin catches your eye a little more than small bracelet adorning her wrist and the tiny gold earrings that glint softly in the light.

hana feels your hand loosen up around hers, and then she looks up at you to see you staring across the room at the familiar woman she had met a week ago, ears tinted a shade of light pink. feeling hana's gentle tug on your sleeve, you snap out of your trance and return your attention to her with a soft smile.

“that’s my teacher, she’s really nice,” hana says, smiling, “last time, she gave me an extra sticker! dad says she reminds him of you.”

“me?”

“he says that she’s… warm like you? no, something about you and her having the same warmth or something,” hana explains, trying to recollect her memory. “i don’t know how people can be warm in the same way, i think dad is just saying things. that doesn’t make any sense, same warmth– oh! he also said the way she talks to me reminds him of you.” hana adds.

without warning, your niece walks you over to the woman and she smiles at your niece. you try to regain your composure during those few steps taken.

“this is ms. minatozaki.” hana introduces her to you shyly, tugging at your hand.

"hello, hana. it’s lovely to see you again." the woman greets, gently patting her head. her voice is sweet like honey, soft like a breeze, and the way she speaks is welcoming, easing you immediately. it even makes your cheeks warm up a bit.

her smile nearly knocks you off balance, as if you were a sturdy tree getting hit by a sudden gust of wind. the genuine joy reflected in the curve of her lips as she greeted your niece made your knees go weak. meeting her gaze, you find yourself captivated by her eyes—those big, beautiful, brown eyes. she's a few inches shorter, so her head tilts up ever so slightly, and you struggle to resist falling into another trance as you take in her alluring features up close.

you try to compose yourself as you put your hand out to greet the beautiful woman.

“hello ms, i’m y/n.”

with that voice, gosh, her wonderful voice, she responds, “it’s nice to meet you, y/n.”

sana is stunned by the woman in front of her, taking a moment to take in your presence. your face is almost intimidating with its sharp features, but there’s those subtle similarities – dimples, faint beauty mark in the corner of your eyes, and akin smile – that you have with hana. she's trying not to swoon over you in the moment, especially since you're in the middle of introducing yourselves, and it would be a bit (very) unprofessional to do that in front of the kids’ mother.

her smaller hand fits perfectly in yours as she shakes it. the world seems to pause for a moment as you realize this beautiful woman is shaking your hand – yours. it feels like you're in a romance drama of some sort with everything seeming to slow down around you. she puts another hand on the outside of yours, welcoming you into her precious workplace with both hands.

hana looks between the two women, a small smile tugging at her lips. she senses the spark that forms from the small interaction, and observes how her aunt's usually stoic and confident facade disappears in that moment.

so much for having the “cool” genes, you seem like putty in hana’s eyes.

you notice that your hands are still connected, her soft skin still touching, ms. minatozaki is still holding your hand.

in an attempt to hide your nerves, to conceal the fact that you’re still thinking of her smooth skin on yours – you pull away to run a hand through your hair.

(hana sees right through you.)

“well,” you begin, shifting your gaze to your niece as you squat down to meet her eye level. a loose strand of hair that escaped her braided locks is gently tucked behind her ear with your slender finger. placing a thumb on her cheek, you rub it lightly. "i'll let you be off on your own now. go have fun and be good, okay? i'll be here in the afternoon."

the corners of sana's lips curl upwards as she witnesses the tender interaction between you and hana, her smile growing wider at the evident care and love in your voice.

“okay!” hana gives you a toothy grin. you laugh out softly and give her an almost identical grin back, squishing one of her cheeks in between two knuckles.

in your heart, a faint trace of worry lingers, subtly etching a furrow in your brow despite your smile. you genuinely hope for the best for your niece; she's your only niece, and your deepest desire is for her to simply be happy.

“if ms. minatozaki says you were being good today, we can go to the cafe and i can make you your favorite hot chocolate, how about that? ms. dahyun also said she made a special croissant for you~”

“please! please! i’ll be good, i promise.” hana almost shouts, practically jumping up and down.

laughing at her enthusiasm, you then respond, “alright, be good to ms. minatozaki lovely, i’ll see you later.”

the two of you exchange a nice, warm hug, your head burying in the small of her neck and staying there for a few seconds more. after you pull away, you push away her bangs and press one last kiss to her forehead, lingering for a little longer.

“you’re growing up too fast for me, i don’t know how i’ll catch up.” you mutter under your breath, quiet enough for only you to hear.

you stand back up and watch the little girl run off on her own to an empty desk, so eager to get out there and pick up some coloring pages – she’s already aching to get to work.

“she’s very enthusiastic,” sana begins. you turn her head back to meet her gaze, humming in agreement. “she’s a wonderful little girl from what i’ve observed so far. she’s seriously adorable!”

“yeah, she’s a curious little girl – very bright.” you agree, “i just hope she doesn’t too much trouble. she’s pretty shy with new people, but she’s very energetic when she warms up and, well- you know how kids are.”

ms. minatozaki giggles and the little scrunch of her nose catches you off guard, prompting a spontaneous laugh to escape your own lips. your neck tingles and there’s a flutter in your stomach, the moment overwhelms you, and you find yourself smiling and giggling along with her, your ears undoubtedly turning a shade of pink that you don't even bother to acknowledge in the moment.

there’s really nothing else you can acknowledge other than the wonderful woman in front of you, all attention deserves to be on her, especially when she’s so lovely to the eyes and her voice is like a gentle melody with each word uttered.

“i’ll be going now ms-”

“it’s sana, you can call me sana.” she cuts you off, “i mean, you’re not my student.” she adds, giggling again.

"definitely not," you quip, savoring the opportunity to keep the banter light and the laughter flowing. the thought of stalling this moment, making her smile and witnessing the way her face lights up with each shared joke makes your heart warm. you want to joke and joke forever if it means hearing and seeing her like this.

sana watches you adjust your dark brown jacket, a little cue that you have to depart soon (much to her dismay).

a hue of pink dusts her cheeks as you flash that charming smile of yours, she probably won’t get over the sight or the feeling she gets when you do so – ever.

you seem entirely unaware of the effect you have on her, she mentally punches herself for feeling a flutter in her chest over – who she assumes is – her student's mother. the young teacher wonders how she'll manage to get through the year if she finds herself encountering you more often.

“well,” you check your watch, “ i have to get going now. please let me know if anything happens with hana.”

sana nods. “of course, i’ll make sure hana has a great day.”

as you and sana exchange sweet smiles once more, a familiar warmth spreads through the two of you as you say your last goodbyes.

before heading out the door, you wave to your niece again, both of you grinning sweetly at each other. you also sneak one last glance at your niece's beautiful teacher before you head out and navigate your way back to the car.

leaving the building, the sun seemed to shine a little brighter, and there was a new warmth in your chest knowing that hana is in the caring hands of such a beautiful, sweet, and charming teacher: ms. minatozaki.

as you get into the car, you lean back into the seat and sigh, closing your eyes like a stupid idiot in love (that’s what you are, honestly).

you were definitely going to convince your brother to let you take hana to school more often, and even pick her up regularly too. it works pretty well with your schedule anyway, considering how flexible it is.

and little did you know, sana would secretly hope to see you more often as well. the image of you, your captivating smile, and the memory of your sweet tone of voice would linger in her mind throughout the entire school day.

#sana x reader #miinatozakiii #twice x reader #kpop x reader #twice imagines #sana twice #minatozaki sana #twice sana #minatozaki sana x reader

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waitimcomingtoo · 1 year ago

Text

SLUT!

chapter three: you and me would be a big conversation

series masterlist

The next few weeks of your relationship involved a lot of sneaking around.

You didn’t want your reputation to get any worse than it already was and being seen with a guy was definitely not going to do you any favors. To avoid the public scrutiny for at least a little while, you kept your dates to places far from campus or Peters favorite, his dorm room.

“I’m knocking on the door.” Ned said loudly from the other side of the door as he knocked repeatedly. Peter stopped kissing you and picked his head up to look at the door.

“We can hear you, Ned.” He sighed as you slid out from under him to sit up on the bed.

“I am opening the door.” Ned announced and then proceeded to fumbled with his room key for the next few minutes as you and Peter sat in silence.

“We know.” You said through a laugh. Ned finally got the door open but had both hands over his eyes and his room key in his mouth.

“Is everyone decent?” Ned asked.

“Yes.” Peter groaned. “Take your hands away from your eyes.”

Ned slowly lowered his hands and sighed in relief when he saw that everyone was fully clothed. You waved at Ned and he smiled as if just realizing you were in the room.

“Hello Y/n.” He said politely.

“Hi Ned. How was Spanish?” You asked him.

“Muy bueno. Gracias. How was fornicating with my childhood best friend?” Ned asked casually.

“What’s fornicating?” You asked Peter as he burned bright red.

“It means sex. And that’s not what was happening.” Peter said and gave Ned a look that told him to stop.

“Oh, really? Tell that to the hickie on your neck.” Ned snorted. Peter covered his forming hickie and looked at you sheepishly.

“Sorry.” You laughed shyly. “I’m a biter.”

“So I’ve heard.” Ned said as he plopped down at his desk. Your smile immediately dropped and Peter was quick to notice.

“I should go.” You faked a smile and hoped off Peters bed.

“Way to go, Ned.” Peter whispered harshly as you left the room. Peter followed you down the hallway and tugged you by the back of your shirt.

“Wait up.” He said as you turned around. You smiled tightly and folded your arms before looking at him.

“What’s up?”

“I’m sorry about him. He didn’t mean that maliciously. He’s just a little dumb.” Peter explained.

“It’s okay. Everyone says it. Why can’t he?” You shrugged it off but Peter could tell you were still upset. He pulled you in and hugged you as he pressed a few kisses to the side of your head.

“I wish we had more privacy. Not that it isn’t exciting to make out until we heard the dulcent sounds of Ned fumbling for his room key.” Peter joked. You smiled as an idea came to you and pulled away from Peter a little to look at him.

“I want to take you somewhere tonight.”

“Oh?” Peter raised his eyebrows in amusement.

“Do you have swim trunks?”

“I think so. Why?”

“Meet me at the old brick building at 7. Don’t be late.” You booped his nose and started to walk away.

“What are we doing?” He called after you.

“You’ll see!” You called back.

At 6:51 that night, Peter stood outside the brick building in his swim trucks and a T shirt. He was freezing since it was mid November now but his anticipation kept him warm. You came around the building in an oversized shirt and smiled when you saw Peter.

“You’re early.” You grinned and hugged him.

“So are you.”

“I am. We’re so alike.”

“We’re nothing alike.” Peter laughed as he rubbed his hand up and down on your back.

“Oh, right. Maybe that’s why I like you so much.” You shrugged and pulled him inside the building. You took the elevator to the basement and led Peter by the hand to an indoor pool. Moonlight was spilling in through tiny windows all along the walls, making the pool light up a pretty shade of aquamarine.

“Woah!” Peter gasped. “This school has a pool?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you see this on your tour?” You asked as you pulled off your t shirt.

“I never toured. They were the only other school to give me full ride so this is where I came.”

“Remind me to show you around. After we go for a swim.” You chuckled and jumped into the water. Peter pulled his shirt off but stood nervously at the edge of the pool.

“Come in! It’s not cold.” You said as you emerged from the water. Peter took a deep breath and jumped in, immediately feeling the chill.

“That’s really cold. You liar!” Peter said through chattering teeth.

“I know. I just wanted you in.” You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck. You pulled him into a long kiss that warmed Peter right up.

“Ignore my blue lips, please.” He said once he pulled away.

“It’s okay. You’ll warm up soon. Especially if you keep close to me.” You smirked and wrapped your legs around his waist.

“I can do that.” He replied and wrapped his arms around you. You floated around the pool for a while and engaged in a race or two. After a while, Peter noticed a pensive look on your face and swam over to you.

“What’s on your mind?” He wondered.

“I have to admit something.” You said sheepishly.

“Oh? Spill.”

“When we first started hanging out, I was worried you only liked me because you heard I was easy.” You admitted with a certain sadness in your eyes. Peter made a face that you were crazy which made you feel better.

“No. I had no idea. I just thought you were nice. That’s why I liked you.” He told you.

“It’s been a really long time since someone has called me “nice”.” You smiled and didn’t realize how much it would mean to you to be called something other than a slut.

“You are nice. The people on campus don’t you. But I do.” Peter assured you.

“I know you do. It feels good to be known for me and not for some stupid rumors that people made up.” You told him. You stared at each for a moment of quiet understanding. Neither of you had felt truly seen by another person until meeting the other.

“I feel like I’ve waited my whole life for you.” You said quietly.

“I feel that way too.” Peter smiled softly and pulled you through the water to hold you.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” You said before pulling him into a kiss. Peter wrapped one arm around your waist and used his free hand to wrap your legs around him. He then slipped his hand behind your head to deepen the kiss. He didn’t know where this confidence was coming but he was going with it.

“Wait.” You said suddenly and pushed him back.

“Sorry. I’m moving too fast.” Peter apologized and put his hands behind his head to keep them off you.

“No, it’s not that. I just think if we get caught making out in this pool we’re not supposed to be in then you’d probably lose your scholarship.” You laughed, making Peter relax.

“Right.” He smiled. “Because I’m poor and smart.”

“We should probably go.” You said and pointed to the ladder to get out.

“Oh. Yeah.” Peter agreed and tried to hide his disappointment that the night was over.

“Together, though.” You added, drawing a smile out of Peter. You dried off with the towels in the locker room before throwing your clothes back on. Once you were dressed, you brought Peter back to your dorm room.

“My roommate went home for the weekend.” You told him as you flipped the light switch on. Peter had never been in your room before so he took his time looking around at all the little things you used to decorate. He noticed your posters and pictures of your friends from high school taped up above your stuffed animals.

“Woah. I’ve never been in the girls dorm before.” Peter smiled as he picked up a plush dog off your bed.

“It’s not that exciting.” You chuckled and snatched the dog from him.

“I promise, I feel very excited right now.” He replied as he sat down on your bed. Girls rooms always smelled so much better than boys and he could sniff out the faint smell of peppermint in the air. You smirked at him and opened the mini fridge to take out a can of ginger ale. You poured it into two little cups and handed him one.

“Clink, clink.” You said and hit your cup against his. In the lighting of your room, Peter was finally able to notice that you weren’t wearing any makeup from the trip to the pool.

“You look pretty with no makeup.” Peter said as it was his first time seeing you undone like this. You laughed as if that was ridiculous and covered your face a little with your hand, which Peter then moved. You looked at him and stopped trying to hide as you no longer felt you had to.

“So do you.” You gently teased him as you leaned in. Peter put his cup down on a nearby dresser and used his recently freed hand to pull you into his lap. He slid his hands up and down your back as you tangled your fingers in his chlorine dampened curls. Something gave you the nerve to push him back into your bed and you both fell back without breaking the kiss. Peter kept his hands in a respectful placement on your hips like the gentleman he was. You pulled away only to catch your breath but ended up getting distracted by Peters pretty face. You traced your fingernail in circles on his cheek and felt him blush under your touch.

“I got pool water on your pillow.” Peter said in a soft voice. You smiled and leaned down to rub your nose against his.

“It’s okay. I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you.”

“I can wash them for you if you want so that you don’t have to sleep on dirty sheets.” Peter offered, giving you an idea.

“I mean, if they’re already dirty, we might as well put them to go use.” You said and leaned down to kiss him again. This kiss was slower and sent butterflies flying into your stomach. Peter picked up on what you were trying to say and felt excitement building up inside him in anticipation of your first time together. You’d never gone further than making out and he was eager to take your relationship to the next level. You could feel Peter pushing your hips down into him and quickly pulled away.

“Sorry.” You said at the same time. Peter could sense you were hesitant to continue so he propped himself up on his elbows to give you some space. You sat up in your elbows as well and gave him a sheepish smile.

“I’m sorry.” You repeated. “I know I’m the one that started that but I think I changed my mind. I don’t know if I’m ready to go all the way yet. I’m sorry if I lead you on.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Peter assured you. “You can change your mind anytime you want at any moment you need to. And I don’t know if I was ready for it either. I just got excited.”

“No, I was too. I just don’t want us to move too fast if that’s okay? I don’t want to mess things up by rushing into anything because I really like you and I want us to last.”

“Of course that’s okay. You can always tell me what pace you feel comfortable with. And I really like you too. We can take our time together, okay?” Peter smiled softly at you as he took your hand. You looked at your intertwined hands and realized this was the first time you felt completely safe around a boy.

“You know, Peter, in a world of boys, you really are a gentleman.” You said through a tired laugh.

“Can you tell that to my aunt when you meet her? Because she’s convinced I’m a delinquent since I stopped wearing a belt.”

“I’ll tell her.” You laughed and laid down on your bed. Peter laid beside you and rested his head on your heart. You immediately tangled your hands on his hair and played with it the way he liked.

“She’ll like you. I know she will. I gotta get my two girls together one day.” Peter said in a soft voice.

“I hope she likes me. You were primarily raised by her, right?”

“For the last few years, yeah. She’s the best.”

“I bet she it.” You replied. “It would explain why you turned out the way you did.”

“What do you mean?”’ Peter chuckled and looked up at you.

“I mean you’re so sensitive and caring of others around you. I mean, look at us. You met me on your first day here and decided to tutor me just because you saw a stranger was struggling. And I see the way you take care of Ned. Remember that night he was homesick so you made us all watch that weird movie with the sexy horse from when you guys were kids?”

“Hey, Spirit is not a weird movie.” Peter playfully defended. “It’s an underrated classic with a phenomenal soundtrack.”

“Okay, whatever you say.” You chuckled. “All I’m saying is, she raised you right. In a world of boys, you’re a gentleman.”

“I try to be. You deserve a gentleman.” He said and picked his head up to stare at you. You smiled softly and brushed his hair off his forehead before taking his chin and brining his face closer to kiss him.

“Thanks for being gentle with me.” You whispered.

Peter returned the smiled and kissed you again before resting his head back down on your chest. You played with his hair until he fell asleep and then turned off the lights.

Tag List 💋

@breadglasses @hollandweather @cashtons-wife @scenesofobx @trumanbluee

@classygladiatortidalwave @miwagila @sarcasm-and-stiles @hitoshislut @misspascalpunk

@buckylovinglokivariant @betzabobababi

@eterjas @pleasingregulus @avatarjuno @dreamingofts18 @diorrgrl @anarchistsons

@crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @erule @justsomebodyweird @un06 @tom-hollands-wifey

@bellajg21 @madlyinlovewmattmurd0ck @secretly-a-cold-blooded-murderer

@ferrjulie @kitykatnumber @angelayse @cleosertoriooc @iamdedsthingz

@girls-and-guts @tomshufflepuff @lovely-blackinnon @matchafrappeidm

@xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @kneelforloki @xorderedkaosx @dory-98 @okayiamkassandra

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker college au #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x y/n #peter parker imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x y/n

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saerins · 9 months ago

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#001 SUDDENLY, COLORS 𖧧 NEXT: #002 PLAYING DOMINO ꒰ series masterlist ꒱

꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ — sae gets more than he bargained for when he decides to entertain you. and then suddenly, maybe he isn’t so indifferent to everything after all.

content: itoshi sae x female reader. bllk guys here are all pro players now. profanity, complicated relationships, reader is a working adult, implied ex-fwb situation with otoya, minorly questionable work ethics, mention of infidelity. word count: 3.8k.

༝༚༝༚ first chapter ! (bear with me because we’re gonna be in the early stages of sae & y/n getting to know each other) i hope you guys like this one as much as infy >_< the dynamic between yn & sae here is slightly different heh :) if you’re reading this: ily <3 + will add little mini extra facts at the end of each chapter ^_^

lights flashing, red carpets, familiar faces that feel so out of reach.

there’s an entire life out here that people like you, should you have been without connections, won’t get to experience in your lifetime. it’s eye-opening, and more than you bargained for. sure, when you heard that this is a party thrown by one of the japan’s national soccer team’s sponsors, you expected a lot of a-list names, but to think it’s this many.

beautiful, handsome people litter every corner of the destination, enough to fill anyone with a year’s worth of anxieties just simply looking at them. to think, this is the kind of life they live in the regular; photographed by everyone, welcomed and greeted like royalty by staff and strangers alike.

it’s nothing you can ever get used to. luckily, you don’t have to.

you stand at the top of the stairs in the venue, looking around as you try to spot your friend. on the ground floor, you see many people huddled in different groups, smiles plastered together as they catch up with one another. all you can hear are everyone’s voice and laughters muffled together and melding into one giant mess. many movie stars, models, athletes all gathered in one place, commanding the attention of everyone in the room as well as those who are watching the livestreams from home. that’s to be expected though, considering this is a party thrown by the top sports brand in japan—surely supporters and fans alike are tuning in from all over just to see their favourite celebrities.

you bet the chat is getting blown up with comments about how the captain of the soccer team looks absolutely handsome when he cleans up, or how the up and coming setter in the volleyball team is a quiet assassin if looks could kill.

there’s a vibration in your purse, snapping you out of your thoughts, and you fish your phone out to see that it’s from eita.

you slowly make your way down the stairs, carefully so that you don’t accidentally catch your heels against the bright red fabric under you. it’s not everyday you get invited to events like this, and it’s certainly not everyday you get to wear something this nice—you don’t want to end up falling face flat in front of all these important (and famous, or infamous) people.

you make a mental note to yourself to thank eita again for getting you this dress.

as you look around the floor, trying to spot whatever private booth eita’s in, your eyes flick across the top of someone’s head. somebody that could catch anyone’s attention. those alluring eyes and that tall frame. you catch your breath.

eita can wait. maybe you should take a detour first.

as you’re drawing closer to him, you can’t help but think how much more handsome he is in person; all you’d been able to see of him thus far is whatever you saw through the screen, or in paper from the photoshoots he’d been a part of. now that you’re looking at him in the flesh, you don’t think they do him justice. not by a long shot. he’s still handsome as hell in whichever form of media he’s in, but in real life, they have nothing on his actual person.

his lips look soft and pink right there in front of you, and his lashes frame his eyes just perfectly that you’re almost envious.

in all fairness, you’re not used to talking to mega huge celebrities like him. he’s a pro-athlete, but his popularity is in the millions, his talent for being japan’s best offensive midfielder skyrocketing him to fame at the young age of eighteen.

nearly ten years later and he’s somehow still topping the lists for most popular male athletes from japan.

opportunities like this don’t come easy, especially for people like you—you’re not stupid enough to not take it. with a deep breath, you put your game face on; he doesn’t know you, he doesn’t have to know the real you, just the you that you want to show him.

somehow, he manages to make your heart beat faster than anyone else in the room, and he hasn’t even looked your way. half of you is telling yourself you’re doing this for a friend, but the other half of you is selfish, it wants to see what this is all about.

“what are you having?”

the moment you set your purse down on the bar, choosing to stand beside him instead of being a normal person and settling in front of the bartender to get his attention for your drinks, sae finds himself perplexed.

there are many reasons people would want to talk to him for. if you’re from the sponsor’s team, then you’d want to run a collaboration idea by him. if you’re another celebrity, then you’d probably be asking for a picture. if you’re press, well, your occupation is an answer in and of itself.

for the first time, sae’s eyes land on you. on that smile, on your eyes.

dim lights, violets and pinks bouncing off the disco ball, and somehow you do look pretty in spite all that. he’s never seen you before, but then again, he doesn’t pay attention enough to anything in the media for him to be able to know all the celebrities in japan. you have to be one, right? he doesn’t see the press card around your neck.

your dress hugs your body nicely. it’s all black, and a one-shoulder. your thin gold necklace holds a feather charm at the end. the way you tuck your hair carefully behind your ear unveils your matching earrings. you’re pretty, very pretty. but he thinks you’re about to be a pain soon enough. and that probably cancels it out.

“water.”

maybe if he’s boring enough, you’ll leave him alone. maybe if he’s rude enough, he’ll drive you away. that’s the whole point of why he’s here anyway, to escape those pointless conversations with these media… acquaintances, and oliver and the others were being nuisances in the booth anyway. so much so that he needed a breather.

unless you’re offering an escape, he won’t entertain anything.

“do you have a game tomorrow?” you ask, setting your phone down on the tabletop. a measly excuse for a conversation starter but he supposes it wouldn’t hurt to see where you’re going with this.

is that why you think he’s drinking water? he shakes his head, “no.”

what do you want with him?

“don’t tell me you’re a lightweight,” you guess, smirking at him.

sae can’t figure you out; where other people are easy to guess, he can’t make heads or tails about you. why hasn’t he asked you to leave him alone yet? better yet, why hasn’t his own two feet walked away like he intended to before you came and smiled at him?

“just didn’t feel like drinking,” sae tells you. (you actually guessed right, but there’s no way he’s going to admit to that out of the blue.)

you hum in contemplation, your head resting against your balled fist as you look at him, pursing your lips like you’re thinking of something. he finds himself wondering exactly that: what the fuck are you thinking?

right now, you’re a mix between being interesting and annoying and he’s kind of leaning towards the latter.

all of a sudden, you fish a coin out of your purse, grinning.

“you look like you want me to leave you alone,” you tell him, sighing, though you’re probably not so much disappointed or affected as much as being playful, like one of those children that like to test the limits of their parents. you’re perceptive at least, he’ll give you that. “how about a deal? i’ll toss this coin, and if it lands on heads, you’ll do me a favour, no questions asked. if it lands on tails, i’ll do the same. then you can tell me to go away.”

to be fair, sae could just walk away and you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

“fine.”

so why? why is he agreeing to your terms?

you flick the coin into the air with your thumb, and sae watches your face as you anticipate the results. you’re staring so intently at such an inconsequential coin that he finds it both comical and troublesome. there’s something both alluring and childish about your presence.

“aha! heads!” you shout excitedly, and sae tries to keep his head down to avoid any unwanted attention. if you cause anyone to come over and pull him aside for some small talk he’s going to kill you. you look so blissfully ignorant of that fact, though. lucky for him, almost everyone around you seems too self-absorbed to care. “looks like you owe me something.”

sae sighs. “i have the feeling i’m gonna regret this,” he mumbles to himself, though you’re blatantly beaming at him, excited at your little win. you shouldn’t be; if it’s too troublesome sae would still shoot you down. he reminds himself that he doesn’t even have to follow through with the bet—who are you to him? “what do you want?”

“i’ll tell you later,” you answer, not missing a beat, ordering a shot of vodka and having it slid over to you. you down it in a second, looking even more invigorated.

does alcohol wake you up even more?

something tells sae that he’ll get nothing out of this conversation, so the gears are already turning in his head on how to slip out of this situation, make a break for the bathroom or something. “this sounds like a hassle, so i’m just gonna leave—”

“is soccer all you care about?”

“huh?”

yeah, you’re definitely leaning more towards annoying.

as he expected, you continue speaking without even listening to him. still, that’s not the kind of topic he thought you had in mind. soccer? you don’t seem like a fanatic.

“i mean, do you do anything else outside of soccer? like play games? or, i don’t know, have some secret hobby like sewing?”

sae deadpans at that last one. what do you want to know? his secrets? he’ll definitely stick with his plan of being boring. you’ll probably give up sooner or later. “no. just soccer.”

you press your lips into a firm line, like you know he’s full of it but you don’t immediately call him out. “no hobbies outside of soccer? okay.”

“yes, i have no life.”

he nearly smirks at the horrified pout that graces your lips. your scepticism nearly makes him laugh, but he holds it in. you’re probably messing with him, but he can do just the same.

“heard that your little brother scored the winning goal at the champion’s league game, how do you feel about that?” you down another shot.

sae snorts at your obvious discontent at his disinterest, though it goes over your head because maybe you’re a little lightweight too.

“yeah, i was there. i mean, i’m proud of him if that’s what you’re looking for,” he tells you—something so generic and so bland that you can probably form the answers in your head yourself.

your line of questioning continues despite sae’s half-assed participation. maybe he’s only entertaining you because he doesn’t feel like entertaining anyone else. and maybe because he probably won’t see you again so he wouldn’t feel the need to be cautiously polite around you (and so his manager won’t nag him about keeping up an image). from what he gathers, you’re probably not a celebrity—call it his gut instinct. you sure look like one, but you don’t act like them.

there��s the incessant vibrating of his phone in his pants pocket that he ignores. meanwhile you’re accepting his lacklustre answers left and right.

“actually i’m curious, itoshi sae, who’s your best friend? some say it’s ryusei shidou and others say it’s oliver aiku. what do you say?”

he leans an elbow against the table, staring you straight in the eye. you’re looking right back at him, a smugness in those irises.

“who are you, by the way?” he asks, because despite him entertaining you for—he checks his watch—nearly half an hour, he still doesn’t even know your name. and clearly, you know all about him. or at least, what the internet can provide.

you inch closer, grinning despite the scowl on his face. “let me change the question,” you propose, because you’re always so adept at switching subjects when it benefits you, pupils scanning your immediate surroundings briefly before you lean in to whisper in his ear. “people like to say you’re hard to get, is that true?”

(because that’s what it seems like—from press coverage to girls, it doesn’t look like it’s easy to garner his interest and thus consequently his effort. if there’s one thing everyone can agree on about itoshi sae is that he screams exclusivity.)

he clenches his jaw when he feels your breath hit his ear, and he hates himself for staying this long because the moment you see his ears go red, you’re smirking.

“is there anything wrong with not wanting to waste time with people who won’t matter in a matter of days?” and that’s probably the only completely honest answer he’s given you for the night—because he doesn’t waste time on people he doesn’t see making it into his future. he can’t say that for work purposes since it’s his team who manages everything, but as far as his personal life goes, that’s all you have to know.

that’s all he’s going to give you.

from the corner of his eye, he sees a familiar face, the light in their eyes going dark when they realise you’d been taking up his time.

“heading off already?” you ask, sensing his restlessness.

“yeah, well, i gave you a lot already, so…” he trails off, just hoping you’ll get the hint and leave him be.

you nod, taking your phone off the table, fishing something else out of your purse but sae’s too preoccupied looking at someone else to notice.

and just like earlier, you inch even closer, finally commanding his attention. sae catches a whiff of your perfume, a hint of sweet mixed with a little spice. you’re so close now that all he sees is you, and for some reason, he’s not moving.

you’re so close he can count the lashes on your eyes, can tell your lipstick’s not really pink but more mauve, can see up close that ever-growing smirk of yours when you catch him off-guard. and he expects you to stop, just like you did earlier, but you’re coming even closer and for some reason he can’t help but close his eyes, long lashes briefly brushing your face before he feels it go away.

when he opens his eyes, you’re not smirking anymore. that playful smirk is gone and replaced by—he can’t really tell—bashfulness? is he hallucinating the heat that built up to your cheeks?

“thanks for wasting some time on me,” you whisper, slipping something into his jacket pocket before walking away, a wave of your fingers all that you give.

and sae’s left wondering if he really was just about to let you kiss him if you didn’t move away.

he watches as you head off in the direction of the booths, a surprise washing over his face when he sees a familiar face taking your hand at the top of the first flight of stairs. that head of white with a hint of green—you know otoya?

sae takes out the piece of paper you slipped in his pocket—a name card. your name is y/n, apparently, and you work for a magazine. he scoffs, realising the intentions behind your earlier attempt to get him to talk. behind, you’d scribbled really quickly: the favour: approve this interview please? :D

you really are… something. by the way you questioned him, and your questions by itself, you must not have done this for very long. it’s a nice attempt though. still, sae has no reason to play along.

he can’t help but wonder, though—that last question: was it for the magazine, or your personal curiosity? his eyes linger on the phone number at the bottom of your card.

“hey, who was that?”

sae turns his attention to the girl he saw earlier, now in front of him, curious eyes following you as otoya walks you to their table. he quickly slips the name card back into his pocket. “dunno, she was just asking where otoya was.”

as the girl drags him away by the hand, he looks back, catching a glimpse of you staring at him before otoya guides you to the table, his hand on the small of your back, and then you fade out of view.

maybe, just for once, he’ll play along. again. because there’s something inexplicable about you, about your existence.

“look who made it back in one piece,” oliver exclaims as sae makes his way back to their table a couple of hours later, taking a seat next to the man himself. “what did bianca want you for this time?”

shidou puts down his glass of champagne to wince at sae, a pitiful glance thrown his way. “she's kinda territorial, bro. blink if you need help.”

snickers are heard around the table, most of them knowing how exasperated sae can get sometimes, even if he never actually says anything.

“you know if you guys are dating, you can just tell us right?” karasu teases, joining in the conversation.

sae rolls his eyes, ignoring them entirely. the topic about him and bianca had gone completely stale for him. honestly, if his manager didn’t convince him that he absolutely had to attend till the end, sae would’ve left halfway. maybe he wouldn’t have attended at all if he had a choice in his own schedule. then again, if he didn’t come tonight, he wouldn’t have met you.

is that a good thing?

speaking of, there’s a lack of your presence here that just mildly disappoints him. mildly.

“where’s your friend?” sae asks otoya, who’s busy typing away at his phone.

his fingers stop, and he cocks a brow at sae’s question, more confused by the fact that sae is bothering to ask such a thing. “she had a thing so she left earlier,” he says, brushing it off. “why? did you need anything? saw her talking to you just now.”

it’s like they both can sense the sudden interest of everyone around the table.

sae shakes his head, leaning back against the chair. “nothing.”

sensing something amiss, oliver leans forward, looking the most interested he’s been all night. “oh? sae of all people asking about a girl? don’t see that often,” he mocks, and sae sighs internally, immediately regretting opening his mouth.

“gotta hand it to you, though,” karasu says, nudging otoya on the elbow. “she’s pretty.”

“isn’t she that girl you said that slapped you so hard back in high school that you cried?” yukimiya joins in, his statement making the guys burst into laughter.

otoya groans, shrinking in his seat. “shut the fuck up. she was being annoying.”

“nah, she was just keeping eita in check after she heard he cheated on his girlfriend,” karasu fills in the gaps for everyone.

sae listens quietly to them divulge bits and pieces of you that they got from otoya back when you were still there with them.

apparently, you’ve known otoya since middle school, and you’ve been friends all the way till university until you drifted apart for some reason (that otoya won’t share). sae thinks it probably has to do with that “we used to fool around” statement of his. at least, unlike any of the girls he fools around with, otoya never entertained lewd questions regarding you.

were you special to him?

“tell us more,” yukimiya taunts, fully enjoying the tinge of red he sees on otoya’s ears.

“she’s just a girl who likes to clear out my fridge all the time. annoying pest i can’t get rid of,” otoya says, though everyone knows that it’s just his sharp tongue at work. he looks like he’s close to malfunctioning, a sight that sae has never seen before, fully earning his intrigue.

thankfully for otoya, oliver shifts the attention (unfortunately) to sae. “no, what i wanna know is, how a girl like y/n managed to catch this guy’s interest,” he says, pointing to sae, a cocky grin on his face. “so spill, are you interested?”

that must mean that you and otoya have nothing going on then? not that he’s curious. and not that he would put it past oliver to suggest that he steal you from someone else.

he’s not even sure why all these thoughts are in his head in the first place. sae puts on his best poker face, raising his brows as if in silent denial. “i’m not.”

oliver’s grin mirrors that of the cheshire cat, and it’s all sae has to see to know that he’s about to suggest something that will earn a ripple in the timeline.

“otoya, phone,” oliver demands, and otoya nonchalantly slides his phone over. a quick few taps of his fingers and he finds your public profile before sliding otoya’s phone over to sae. “there, follow her then, if it’s nothing.”

despite seemingly doing this all for fun, oliver is betting on much more than that. if he gets to see what the whole big deal is, why not? on the one hand, otoya is refusing to say anything about his real feelings about you. on the other, sae is refusing as well to admit that maybe he’s a little bit charmed by you.

sure, asking sae to follow you is like sending a whole army of girls chasing after a baby with a very prized candy but oliver barely knows you, so it’s fair game where he stands. besides, he’s not forcing sae to do it. he just knows he will—sae never bothers showing interest in anything, let alone a woman. he’s not following any girls either apart from other celebrities, and that’s because they cornered him to it. if he does this, you’re the only comparatively normal girl he’ll follow. sae might not be aware of the implications and whatnot, but oliver sure does. it’ll take a while for it to show, but he’ll wait patiently.

the only reason otoya hasn’t been subjected to that same problem for following you is because his popularity doesn’t come close to sae’s. not even oliver’s comes close. neither are their fans as rabid as his.

and when sae scoffs and takes out his phone to do just what oliver expects him to, oliver’s eyes flick over to look at otoya, a certain unsettled look in his friend’s eyes. neither guys are ever straightforward with their feelings—he leans back and relaxes, waiting for a show.

whoever you are, y/n, whatever you have going on, good luck to you.

extras !

sae and bianca go way back, but so do y/n and eita! the latter more so than the former.

this is y/n’s first time ever attending an event like this in her x years of knowing eita.

sae’s group of friends consist of: oliver, otoya, shidou, karasu, yukimiya and sendou. (sendou has a conflicting schedule so he wasn’t there that night.)

taglist! @yuzurins @raphsimp @mxplesyrvp @lust4rin @saeskiss

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #sae x y/n #blue lock x you #itoshi sae #blue lock x y/n #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x y/n #sae x you #sae fluff #bllk fluff #bllk imagines #૪ aeri’s fics !

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sheenashifts1217 · 4 months ago

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Pick a Pile No.1

Welcome to my first Pick a Pile :)

This is a collective reading so it may resonate more for some than others. Take what helps you and leave what doesn’t. 💗

If you’d like a personal reading, I currently have a deal in my shop for a free five song channeled playlist with any purchase of an s/o reading. Check my pinned post for more details.😊

What Advice Will Aid Your Shifting Journey

Choose pile 1, 2, or 3

Take a breath and simply pick the one you feel most drawn to.

(Top left pile 1, top right pile 2, bottom pile 3)

Pile 1

Lyrics standing out:

“You b**** ain’t like me

Dance in the breeze

A man with the sleaze

Stop it, get another topic

I got the nerve

And I block it

You’re a brat

Cause I never repeat

Do what I say like Simon

I’m a VIP

Sorry I’m pretty and easy to hate”

Okay pile 1, I SEE YOU GUYS!!! 💅🏼 This pile is short and sweet because you all know what you need, self aware queens. You all know your power, and as you should. For those of you in this pile who really know your power, own it more, step into it, actually practice it.

It feels like you all know what you need to do and you know you can shift, you’re just being lazy. PUT THE WORK IN. But frl, it seems like you guys really just need to set some time aside to focus on shifting and your DR because you know what to do, you just feel too busy. It’s okay to take a breath. Some of you all in this pile may also be rushing yourself. Allow yourself to accept what your experiencing and just let it flow. It’s already yours, you already have all of your desires.

Overall, pile 1, you guys are baddies whether you know it or not. Step into that power, own it, and use it. Make time for yourself and slow down a little. You don’t have to experience everything at the same time, that’s why you have a life, spend it.

Confirmation: 222, 444, Aquarius, ford mustang, hot pink, purple number 4, Elmo?, Sesame Street, Disney, neon green nails

Pile 2

Lyrics standing out:

“Trying to cover up my face

Try and stay calm

Something missing

I think looks wrong

When pretty isn’t pretty enough

What do you do?

I could change up my body and change up my face

You can win the battle

Insecure

Try to ignore it

I don’t know why I even try (I see the starfish position)

Just feel like sh*** over and over again”

Hi pile 2! You guys are giving me 2020 shiftok vibes. A lot of you probably started to practice shifting around 2019/2020 and were fed a lot of misinformation and now you feel like that is stopping you, but it doesn’t have to, let that go. You are in charge of your own reality so take that misinformation and use it as a learning experience. Don’t be discouraged because it was false or didn’t work for you, that’s good because now you’re one step closer to knowing yourself and what does work for you!

You may be a person that is on social media a lot in general or just hyperaware of others lives and you’re comparing yourself to them. STOP IT. Everyone’s experience is their own. When you see someone else’s success or experience, you don’t know what went down before that. Focus on yourself and what is meant for you, will happen. Accept it and take charge of it. You may be one who relies on others success for your own motivation as well, this is your sign to rely on yourself. Connect with your higher self and trust your intuition.

Keep going pile 2! You guys have put in time and energy this far, what’s a little longer? Your efforts are not in vain. You’ve got this. Trust yourself!

Confirmation: tiktok, iPhone, 13, dodge, dodgers, football, Dallas cowboy cheerleaders, red white & blue, Olympics, gymnastics, toe nails, 12

Pile 3

Lyrics standing out:

“Light headed

For some reason I find myself lost in what you think of me

And too confused who I should be

In a big old world

We’re so alike

When I cross that line

It’s been a point of contention between myself and this body they stuck me in

Am I pretty enough to lie to you

Let me be the void you fill

I am quantum physics

My witness brings me to existence

So I can be your girlfriend boyfriend”

Hello my lovely pile 3! You all feel trapped either in your bodies or just to this reality in general. You have put shifting to your DR on a pedestal or even a part of you doesn’t want to accept that it’s real because you may not feel worthy. Remind yourself that you are constant, flowing energy.

Some of you have been so focused on “finding yourself”, that instead you have used the 3D to define who you are in the 4D. Make the two align.

Try to focus more on the “what” of shifting, instead of the “how”. Feel those connections and emotions you have in your DR. Maybe focus on one in particular that is important to you. Focus on one DR at a time. You have overwhelmed yourself with the thoughts of wanting to shift and being everywhere at once. Take your time and enjoy your CR as well. Shifting is an act and a journey, it’s real life, so make sure you’re still taking care of yourself.

In summary, you are more than your body. You are your thoughts and emotions and your actions, your love and energy you spread. Own that energy and use it for your benefit. Focus on who you are and what it is you want. Try to have a clear idea of that, then connect to it. Once you feel that connection, that’s it. Congratulations it’s now yours. Forget the 3D and just know it’s already yours.

Confirmation: red, Taylor Swift, (Taylor’s version), reputation, Niall Horan, train, Liam Payn, 2222, lock and key, hearts, stars, moon, “go piss girl”, dress to impress

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snapghoul · 3 months ago

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Renegade Rebel(s) with the pedal to the floor

In which the twins meet up again in Oklahoma and Bradley experiences first hand that the twins are more alike than he thought.

Notes: A sprinkle of hangster (or my attempt at it) also I love using songs and titles. The Glen Powell brain rot is real.

Warnings: foul language

“God, I fucking hate commercial flights,” Bradley groaned, stretching his back as they exited the sliding doors of the terminal. The cramped seats had him aching all over, worse than the confined cockpit of his jet.

“Well, you didn’t have to come,” Jake teased, grinning as he adjusted his duffel bag. “But I’d feel bad leaving you behind while Maverick’s off doing his thing.” At first, Rooster’s request to join Jake on this trip had surprised him. It wasn’t as if Rooster had family to visit, and Maverick was off with Penny.

The Dagger squad had been granted an extended leave due to a lull in missions, giving Jake the perfect opportunity to visit his brother and then take a road trip down to Texas.

“So where’s…”

Bradley’s question was abruptly cut off by the blaring horn of a truck that roared into the pickup zone, looking like something straight out of a Mad Max film.

“Never mind,” Bradley finished, shaking his head in disbelief. Jake’s smile, wide and radiant, was almost blinding. Seeing Jake so excited was a new experience for Bradley, and it stirred a strange, pleasant feeling in his chest—one he couldn’t quite place.

Tyler stepped out of the truck, his face lighting up as he saw Jake. “Welcome to Oklahoma!” he shouted, his enthusiasm matching Jake’s. He and Jake exchanged a quick, brotherly hug before Tyler turned his attention to Bradley.

“And you must be Rooster,” Tyler said, extending a hand. “Jake’s told me a lot about you. Thanks for coming along.”

Bradley shook Tyler’s hand, trying to ignore the flutter in his stomach. “Nice to meet you, Tyler. I’m sure Jake’s exaggerated everything I’ve done.”

Jake laughed. “Just the stupid shit and how you got your ass shot outta the sky.”

Bradley still felt a flutter in his chest, despite Jake’s attempt to mask it with a sarcastic remark. Out of everyone, he’d never have expected Jake to speak so positively about him. It was disorienting, yet oddly comforting.

“Look, you two showed up at just the right time,” Tyler said, practically bouncing with excitement as they loaded the truck. “We’ve got some impressive cells developing to the east. Kate—remember Kate?—thinks we might see a few EF1s and 2s today, and—”

Bradley’s eyes widened as Tyler’s words sunk in. Storm chasing. The idea was both exhilarating and intimidating. He watched as Jake and Tyler’s energy seemed to feed off each other, their enthusiasm almost palpable. It was a bit frightening, and he could only imagine what he’d gotten himself into.

“Wait—” Bradley leaned forward, trying to process this new information. “We’re storm chasing?”

Jake and Tyler turned to him with wicked grins. “Absolutely,” Jake said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You didn’t think we’d spend our time off just lounging around, did you?”

Bradley stared at them, still trying to wrap his head around the idea. “I thought we’d just be hanging out with your family, catching up.”

Tyler chuckled, shaking his head. “That was part of the plan, we’re hanging out right?And besides, who doesn’t want to experience a storm up close?”

Bradley swallowed hard, grappling with the realization that he was about to dive headfirst into something far outside his comfort zone. He could handle missiles and dogfights—things he could control to some degree—but Mother Nature was an entirely different beast.

“I wish you’d told me this before I bought my ticket,” Bradley said, casting a reproachful look at Jake.

Jake flashed him a confident smile. “You’ll be fine, Roo. Besides, I knew you’d chicken out if you knew in advance… no pun intended.”

Tyler snorted with laughter as they pulled out of the pickup zone, the rumble of the truck filling the silence. Bradley tried to suppress his nerves, focusing instead on the excitement radiating from the twins. Their enthusiasm was infectious, even if it did add to his own apprehension.

“You two are insane.”

“Yes sir!” “Damn straight.”

Bonus:

“Mav, help me, I’ve made a grave mistake. Well, multiple mistakes, but—actually, no, just one big Hangman-shaped one.” Bradley mumbled into his phone, watching from a far field as the red truck charged toward the funnel cloud. He’d bailed after getting swept up in the first tornado.

#twisters movie #top gun maverick #tyler owens #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #glen powell tyler owens #glen powell #twisters #the wranglers twisters #bradley rooster bradshaw #seresin twins

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tonysbed · 9 months ago

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bad idea, right?

Charles x Fem!ex!reader

Summary: Charles and you break up but just can’t stay away from each other.

A/n: Another Charles social media au 🤭

Also, I love Alex so no hate to my girl okay 😞😘

E!News

liked by f1fan, y/nbabe and 729.689 others

E!News After Break up with long term boyfriend, Y/n was spotted in Harry Styles car crying. Find out how the it couple broke up in the link in our bio!

user727 nooooo

userboo EXCUSE ME

Y/nbabe WHAT?WITH WHO? IM SORRY

leclercfan16 Broke up and hopped onto the next guy. What a whore

y/nmywife shut the fuck up.Y/n and harry were friends BEFORE she dated charles

user57 dude what

E!News

liked by f1fan, y/nbabe and 968.629 others

E!News Charles Leclerc was spotted with a new girl just 3 weeks after the break up with his long term girlfriend Y/n Y/l/n. Was this the reason for their sudden split? Click the link in our bio to find out!

y/niswifey the resemblance between y/n and his new girl💔

user46 He’s got a type..

user19 this hurts more than my own break up istg

Y/ncharlesendgame god lord

User59 I just wanna cry.

User70 who’s she?

User402 This hurts but the fire album we’re gonna get gives me hope for SOMETHING

user29 She’s gonna roast him😭

y/nmylove oh he’s so done lol

y/ny/l/n

liked by taylorswift, arthur_leclerc and 2,380,296 others

y/ny/l/n Burned.Out now on all streaming platforms

tagged harrystyles

taylorswift 🔥❤️

liked by y/ny/l/n

zendaya amazing ❤️

y/n/l/n love you 🐨

y/niswifey OH ITS GOING DOWN

user68 “Your new girl is my clone” MOTHER OMG

userlol she knew she ate

y/nbabe I mean they do look a lot alike.. But we haven’t seen them since like 4 months 👀

E!News

liked by f1fan, y/niswifey and 729.528 others

E!News Charles Leclerc and Y/n Y/l/n were spotted after one of his races, 11 months after their break up! Are we witnessing a comeback? Click the link in our bio for more!

y/niswifey pleaseeeeee omggg

f1.cl16 I want them back so baddddd

user89 Id sell my soul to know what they were talking about

y/n posted a story

y/ny/l/n

liked by taylorswift, charles_leclerc and 2,399,268 others

y/ny/l/n are you ready, nyc?

tagged charles_leclerc

comments are turned off

y/nupdates

liked by y/niswifey, cl16fan and 280.791 others

y/nupdates CHARLES AND CARLOS AT Y/N‘S SHOW TONIGHT OMGGGGG

y/niswifey are they back together now? Are they not?😭

user89 maybe we’ll find out tonight 😦

use.r29 His mom and arthur were also spotted there😭

y/niswifey Oh she be having a family reunion 👀

y/n

liked by charles_leclerc, taylorswift and 1.372.829 others

y/n love performing w ya 🩷

harrystyles me too👀🩷

user68 what’s happening? I know he is co writer but AHHEEJWVEJWFZ

user58 I like them but i need charles and y/n back istg

y/nupdates

liked by fifan, y/niswifey and 639.369 others

y/nupdates Y/n was spotted being super cozy with her co-writer and friend Harry Styles

user68 WHAT

y/nishot help, I'm still at the restaurant

user57 nonononono, MOTHER WHY

user29 I love harry but i just don't think he's a good fit for her

charles_leclerc

liked by carlossainz55, arthur_leclerc and 599.268 others

charles_leclerc Im no longer your muse 🛥️

arthur_leclerc 🔥

user18 why do I have a feeling the caption is directed 🌚

y/nbabe first it seems as if he and Y/n get back tg and then she gets w harry.Im so confused rn😭

f1fannnn she never said that they’re back together 🤷🏼‍♀️

y/nbabe still feels weird smh

Part 2 will be uploaded soon!

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc social media au #charles leclerc x reader

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enavstars · 10 months ago

Note

can u also give us fic recs? i wanna read your fic but it's long hdhwhsjs

wanna be in the right mindset

so do u have any?

Here are some fics that I really liked because I thought they were interesting. I loved the way the characters are written, most of them are Kai centered, angst (check the tags for any triggers) and short. Also these are some we used as reference for the characterization of the ninja in Eclipse.

(idk how many recs you wanted so I put a lot)

They turn the light on and it's burning up the sky by Sugarglider_s : very short and poetic Kai analisis angst fic. Absolutely love the way it's written and the interpretation of Kai's character.

Hello my old heart by Bemmiecake : this is a long unfinished fic centered around Kai in the timeskip between seasons 3 and 4. I had to add it because it is definitely one of my favourites, this fic has made me emotional multiple times. It's heartbreaking how Kai has to go through his awful coping mechanisms as the Red Shogun and how he ends up finding a sliver of hope in the process. It also features a well built oc!

What gets out comes around by fruitcasket : this one is Cole centric but explores some contradictions of his character mostly with his relationship with Kai, how despite being a kind soul he acts as a bully towards him quite often.

Too familiar by Maplebreeze : Oneshot about Kai realizing him and Lloyd had similar experiences. Basically RG brothers fluff with some hurt.

Alike, alone by fruitcasket : Morro possesses Kai fic but it’s focused on Kai and Morro’s interactions and similarities rather than actions. It does some character analisis and dives into their mentality.

All of the work, none of the money by ADHDplusCartonnmakesCHAOS : Fic about the ninja learning about Kai and Nya’s childhood. There are many fics exploring this theme but this one is my favourite so far, talking about the subtler things like how costly pads are when you're already short on money to eat.

Fight by Maplebreeze : It describes perfectly how Kai would lose himself to violence (as one of his awful coping mechanisms) again and again and again, to distract his heart from all of those close to him he couldn't save (up until Possessed)

Guilt by Cherry_dynamite : On this fic we finally get closure with Lloyd addressing the fact that he did not see Kai's survival guilt back in the slither pit.

Boiling Point by Salty_Pickle_Bones : It is about Kai and the team being wrecked by Nya's death. It shows just how lost Kai has become, how he's going down the alcoholic rabbit hole again.

Off the deep end by Kiss_The_Cook : Set in the first season when Lloyd is a kid living with the ninja. Kai refuses to get close to Lloyd, despite Lloyd admiring him, because he knows he and Lloyd will get attached to each other and Kai thinks it would be very bad for the kid to do so. Brothers fluff (and some angst), I love how Kai’s mentality is portrayed and of course little Lloyd.

Aftermath by Sugarglider_s : Fluff opposite oneshot. Not really related to the rest but I love it and made a comic about it -> link here.

Feel free to recommend any other fic you like. We are especially interested in those that analyze the characterization of the ninja in depth, more specifically any other character besides Kai (pls let us know, especially ones about Jay, we’re struggling with writing him).

Side note: I know there aren’t many Kai and Nya fics so recommend ones focused on them too pls.

#ninjago #fanfic #fanfic recommendation

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frogaroundandfindout · 5 months ago

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Tim: you’re really on your own here. I couldn’t handle that.

Dick: sure you could.

Tim: No, I couldn’t. We’re not the same kind of Robin.

Dick: what’s that mean?

Tim: you’re a natural athlete. I have to work at that. I mean it’s like you’re at home 10 stories over the street.

Dick: you’re more cerebral. You’re better at the computer stuff.

Tim: he’s got Oracle for that. And I’d trade my computer literacy for your street smarts in a hot minute. And I’m not half the detective you are.

Dick: funny. In a lot of ways, I think you’re the better partner for him. I was always a little impulsive; impatient. You complement him more.

Tim: yeah but that was later. after you’d been on your own a bit. You’re forgetting the early days. You guys were like—

Dick: “A well oiled machine”

Tim: yeah. Besides, all I ever wanted to be is his partner.

Dick: hey I volunteered for the “robin thing” too.

Tim: no, he invited you. I invited myself.

Dick: are you saying I didn’t want to be Robin as bad as you do?

Tim: you wanted to be a hero. I’m happy being Robin. You left the cave and became Nightwing.

Dick: so?

Tim: That’s not me. I don’t plan on taking over for him someday. I won’t be out there on the rooftops ten years from now. I do my shift as Robin and then go back to my “normal life.” That’s why there’s always friction between you two these days.

Dick: why?

Tim: you’re different. But you’re also way more alike than you’ll ever admit. Either of you.

Dick: Hmmm. got it all figured out, huh?

Nightwing Vol. 2 #6

#I’m so obsessed with them being brothers #Tim and dick #dick and Bruce #Tim and Bruce #dc #nightwing #dick grayson #nightwing comics

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light-yaers · 5 months ago

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tangerine. | part two [carmen berzatto x reader]

Fic Masterpost | AO3

Carmen shows up at your diner after five years, and everything comes flooding back like it was only yesterday.

Warnings: swearing, angst, mature themes [discussions about drugs, workplace abuse, family problems]

Word count: 6k+

PART TWO

You lit your cigarette before the back door even fully shut. You leaned against the wall as you inhaled, and exhaled slowly when you could feel the smoke in your lungs expand. It was a nasty habit, you knew, but it was the only time where you got an ounce of peace at the diner. Two minutes to yourself, not in the cold walk-in, but outside where no one could yell for you, or grab at you, or need you. When you were out here, the chefs and staff alike knew not to bother you. It was just for you.

Carmen knew that rule well, but that didn’t stop him from following you out the door. He burst through the back door like he was an employee under the diner roof, and found you immediately. You rolled your eyes and turned away from him, not wanting anything to start today.

You inhaled again, and let out the smoke quickly. “You know you’re not allowed back here–”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he boomed. Sydney’s words from before had completely dissipated in his mind.

You turned back to him, eyes wide, utterly gobsmacked. “With me? Are you fucking joking?”

“What, it’s been five years and not even a fucking hello or a how you doing?–”

“Oh, sorry, Carm,” you said sarcastically. You stepped towards him in anger. “I was under the impression you never wanted to fucking see me again, huh? Isn’t that what you said last time at USC, or did I just make that shit up or something?”

Carmen shut his mouth. You both breathed heavily as the silence descended over you, only broken up by him pulling a pack of cigs from his pocket and plucking a stick from the foil. He slotted the cigarette between his lips, and lit it without a word. As he inhaled, he leaned against the wall next to you. You smoked together, not making a sound, as smoke coiled around your heads and disappeared into the air without a trace.

You flicked ash on the floor. “What are you doing here, Carm?” you asked.

He sighed, trying to calm himself down. “Getting ideas.”

“Ideas for what?” you asked, and glanced at the side of his face for just a second. He still looked the same, just a bit older. He had more tattoos on his arms, and a stronger jaw, but he was definitely the same Carmen you’d known once.

“A restaurant. In Chicago.”

You finally met his eyes, awestruck. He looked down at you to his left, and all the years came flooding back. Behind your eyes, behind the pain and the shit he’d said last time, was someone who still cared about his endeavours. It was almost too much to bear.

“You found a place?” you asked.

Carmen nodded. “The Beef. My brother’s old place,” he said, and scratched his head almost painfully. “He, uh… died, and left it to me. We’re doing it up.”

“We?”

“Me and Syd,” he said, and pointed back at the door. Sydney was still inside, at the table alone. “And, uh, Nat and Richie.”

You exhaled a shaking breath, smoke free. Your fingers started to buzz. You were torn between wanting to congratulate him, and wanting to walk away. This was immense for him, and something you knew he’d been wanting from the very beginning. He’d done it, was doing it, but despite all the time you couldn’t help but think–

Weren’t we supposed to do this together?

It didn’t matter now. It had been too long and you’d missed each other, passed by, lost the opportunity. Even so, after all this time, would you even want to go back?

You swallowed away all the words that wanted to pour from your mouth. “Wow,” you said, and it sounded stale. “That’s… that’s big.”

“Yeah,” Carm said.

“When do you open?” you asked. You tried to keep things light.

“Couple of months. We need to open fast. Faster than we wanted to, so, yeah. It’s a lot.”

As his words fizzled away, you looked at the ground. The air between you felt thick, heavy, with all of the words that you both wanted to say to the other, but couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Now wasn’t the time to think about what could have been. Maybe, if what happened at USC hadn’t happened, things would have been different. You’d still be friends, have any semblance of a relationship, compared to being almost strangers.

In fact, you’d pick being strangers with Carm over this. Inside, you still harboured the hurt from those years previous. He’d been so horrible. He’d been so cruel. You wondered if he still remembered all he’d said, or if he had no memory of the way he’d cut you to your core.

It’d been too long. It didn’t matter. Nothing would change from this.

“Well.” You sucked in a final pull from your cig, before you flicked it on the ground. You looked him in the eyes as you stood up straight. “Good luck with it all,” you said, before you started towards the door.

Carm shot up from the wall. “You should come to the opening, in July.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You grabbed the door handle, and Carmen tensed immediately.

“We’re looking for a front of house manager,” he blurted out. You froze. All the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and you clamped your eyes shut. “I don’t know– if you wanted a change, or something new.”

Your fingers hurt from how hard you held onto the door handle. Your knuckles had turned white. Quickly, you inhaled a sharp breath, turning back to him. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Carm realised his mistake as soon as you spoke. “Fuck– I just–”

“No, Carm. Think about it. You think that you can come back here after five fucking years, and offer me this like it’s nothing?” You were seething, you were upset. It only cemented that he didn’t realise how bad he’d hurt you, and if he did, then that was even worse.

He looked around the back of the building, anywhere but at you, trying to find the right words. “I was shitty, I get that.”

“Do you?” You stepped forward once. “Tell me how shitty you were, Carmen.”

“I was– fuck– I shouldn’t have–” he stumbled over his words.

“You shouldn’t have treated someone– who only fucking cared about you– like that, is that what you were gonna say?” you said over him, and the look on his face told you everything. You knew Carmen well, and you thought that was why he struggled. You could see right through him, especially back then. “You have a habit of pushing away people that give a shit about you.”

He frowned at you in understanding. “Yeah,” he whispered.

“I hope you grow out of it one day, and realise your worth,” you said, and felt the familiar sting of tears welling in your eyes.

“That’s what I’m trying to fucking do,” he said, finding his voice. He took a strong step forward, taking you by surprise. “Come and work at the restaurant. You need to give yourself a fucking chance too, not just other people.”

You scoffed at his change of character. “You’re really flipping it this way?”

“Yeah, I am,” he said plainly. “You’ve been here, what, seven years? You know you’re qualified to work in places ten times the level of the diner–”

“God– fuck you!” you burst, ignoring the way your cheeks warmed and your chest stuttered. “You can’t just come back here after all this time and tell me that you give a shit, that you’re living your dream and you finally want me to be a fucking part of it–”

Carmen cut over you. “So only you’re allowed to say I need to know my fucking worth, huh? I can’t say it back to you?”

“I know my worth!” you exclaimed. Carmen sucked in a breath and shut his mouth after, holding his breath. “I’ve known my worth all along, and sure, maybe I’m too good for this fucking place, but it’s my home.” Carmen’s face softened as the words tipped from your mouth. “What worth would I have if I went back to someone who treated me like shit?”

Carmen placed his hands on his hips and looked at the floor. His shoulders were tense as he hung his head in subtle shame. You knew Carmen. You knew he wasn’t like this, not always, which is what made it even harder to say no.

“This was our dream,” he said gently.

“It was your dream, Carm,” you said. He caught your eye strongly.

“You were always part of it.” The breath hitched in your throat. “It was always gonna be you and me–”

“Until it wasn’t,” you said over him. There was a finality to your words that Carmen understood wholeheartedly. He’d been too late, left it too long, for you to drop everything and come back now.

He inhaled deeply, and let his breath out slowly, surely. “I’m sorry,” he said, hitting your eye. “For all of it. The way I acted. Cutting you all out of my life. I’m trying… not to do that anymore.”

You nodded gently, softening your expression. “I’m happy for you,” you said, and you meant it. “I just can’t do it.”

“Okay,” Carmen said. “Okay,” he repeated, trying to get it all to stick.

You placed your hand on the door handle, and tugged it open. “It was good to see you,” you said. Maybe it was a lie, or maybe it had been nice to see his face after all these years. You just didn’t know yet.

Carmen nodded. “You too,” he said. You shut the door behind you as you went inside, leaving him out the back with his half smoked cigarette.

Sydney was amongst the last customers in the restaurant after lunch, and you sighed as you saw her alone. You strolled towards her table, and started picking up empty plates when you approached. “Nice meal?” you asked.

“Amazing,” Sydney perked up awkwardly. “You were right. Those tangerines are good.”

You smiled. “They’re my favourite, too,” you revealed.

Sydney rang her hands on the table. “Um, where’s Carmen?”

You kept your face flat, not wanting to show just how erratically your heart was beating after the entire ordeal. “Having a smoke, out the back. You can head out that way, I’ll clear this all up,” you suggested.

Sydney got up and nodded. “Thank you. It was really nice to meet you,” she said. When you looked at her face, you could tell she was being genuine. “Carmen knows a lot of people in this industry, and most of the places and people aren’t like this, or, uh– like you. It’s a refreshing change.” She smiled.

You felt bashful at her words, but ignored the warmth that spread to your cheeks. In that moment, you knew that Carmen had found himself a great partner. You just hoped he wouldn’t fuck it all up for her sake.

Sydney quickly shuffled in her bag, and brought out her wallet. “How much do we owe you?”

“Oh,” you stuttered, before you shook your head. “On the house. How do they say it? No checks.”

“Oh, no, I insist–”

“So do I. Didn’t you hear Paulie?” you said, stacking a final plate on your arm, as you balanced the rest with ease. “I’m the big boss around here.”

Sydney smiled marvellously. Her eyes shone when she did. “Okay, okay,” she said, backing off. “Whatever the big boss says, goes, right?”

“Too right,” you said, as you stood up straight and looked at her face-on. “I… I hope everything with the restaurant goes great.”

Sydney nodded, understanding that Carmen must have told you about it outside. “Yeah, me too. You should come by.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell her no, so you simply nodded. You stepped back and headed towards the kitchen, but stopped halfway there. “Good luck, Sydney. You’re gonna need it with him,” you said, gesturing towards the back door. Carmen.

Sydney scoffed, amused. The way her face dropped softly, and her eyes widened gently, made you feel properly seen. Like you were sharing words through looks alone, and absolutely knew what position the other was in, or had been in. “Uh, if you’re ever in Chicago– don’t be a stranger,” she added awkwardly, but you found it incredibly endearing.

You smiled, before you continued to the kitchen. As you did, you hoped it wouldn’t be like what happened to you, for her.

It was always like this with Carmen. He somehow always found himself next to people like you and Sydney, strong-willed, capable, caring, but almost always fucked it up in some capacity. He’d done it before with you, and others, and neither you–nor Sydney– wanted it to happen again. Not when their restaurant would be on the line.

You dropped off the plates at the sink, and found yourself looking around the empty kitchen. The chefs were out the back, taking their after-lunch break. Sydney had already left through the door at the back of the restaurant, so they’d no doubt all bump into each other before Carmen fully left.

Gently, you opened the walk-in and pulled the door closed behind you. You ducked down to the lower shelves, at the back, until you found what you were looking for– tangerines. There was a crate of them, some of them fresher than others, but you liked the ones that were almost over-ripe. You grabbed a couple and held them in your hands, before you headed back to the kitchen.

Grabbing Paulie’s knife, you sliced them into quarters. The insides were the most neon of oranges. Unlike the peels on big oranges, tangerine peels were thinner. You liked it when the colour of the juice was so vibrant that it got stuck behind your eyelids for a moment. You liked it when you picked up a quarter and it almost fell apart.

You were reminded of a memory then, of the last time you’d seen Carmen before today. Five years ago, when your reservation at Union Square Cafe had finally arrived, Carmen was in the kitchen just like you’d known he would be.

You arrived on time, dressed in something fancy and upper-class, just to fit in. It’d been ten months since you’d seen him, since he’d left Lucky Strike Diner, and he’d been far too busy to come by. You didn’t blame him. He was finally doing what he’d meant to, and, just as before, you’d been absolutely right– within five months at USC, Carmen Berzatto won the James Beard award.

You weren’t at the restaurant to tell him I told you so, but you couldn’t deny that you felt powerful about it. You knew Carmen better than he knew himself. But maybe that was more of a curse, than a blessing.

The hostess sat you down at your table for one, as the restaurant emitted a gentle lull of mutters and chatter. You’d booked a later reservation, nearer to the end of dinner service, and everything was serene as you perused the menu and chose a wine. A few moments later, a waitress brought over your glass, and you sipped at it gently.

This was nice. You could get used to this. Fine dining, putting on a show of excellence. This was so far removed from the world of the diner that you almost felt like a different person. Someone elegant, someone important. Not that you didn’t feel loved or supported at Lucky Strike, but you knew that standards in a place like Union Square Cafe were above and beyond. That’s how they got their stars, and kept them.

In the kitchen, Carmen worked on an order. He positioned micro basil and other delicate ingredients on the plates, working with immense precision alongside the rest of the kitchen. When he was done, he let out a strong “Hands!” and within moments all the plates had been picked up and whisked from the kitchen.

He made his way to the expo, banked a few more tickets, before his eye caught something. He stopped– froze, almost– as his gaze fell over your name on the reservations list.

“Chef,” he said, turning to his front of house manager, who was responsible for calling out orders, and ensuring everything ran smoothly. “This booking, table thirty two– has she ordered yet?”

“No, Chef. She was still looking the last time a server went to her table.”

Carmen had a thought, and he was going to put it into motion. “Take her menu away. I’ll be cooking for her tonight. Chef’s pick.”

“Yes, Chef,” the manager said, before she quickly fled the kitchen.

Carmen took in a breath. “I need two veal, four salmon and one beef!”

“Yes, Chef!” the crew boomed in unison.

You thought you’d decided. The salmon looked appealing, and as soon as you’d picked it was as if a server came over from being summoned. You turned to her, and smiled. “I’m ready to order,” you said.

“That won’t be necessary, ma’am,” she said softly, as she gently plucked the menu from your hands. “Chef Berzatto is taking care of it for you.”

Chef Berzatto.

Hearing Carmy’s name in such a way had you downright giddy. You wondered how he’d known, or if he’d been told, or whatever. You knew that top restaurants had a habit of being attentive to the max, so maybe they’d background checked you. Either way, you were excited.

“Looking forward to it,” you said, accepting the fate of your meal as being in Carmen’s hands. You simply sat back, swilled your wine, and felt at peace.

As you waited, you peered around the restaurant. Everything was laid out perfectly, had a system that worked, and every couple and group and business party looked catered for. It was an utterly different vibe than the diner. This was a place for another species, not like the locals you knew by name. You’d always assumed that intense and fanciful restaurants like this lacked character, in a way. They chose excellence over warmth, or stars over honest food, but you’d been wrong.

Already, despite being on your own, you felt like you belonged. Carmen knew you were here, his servers knew you were here, and you knew why you were here. For him.

A few parties finished up as you waited for your meal. All the while, you were generously topped up on wine from the servers, and positioned right by the kitchen. You could hear the methodical way they spoke to each other, sometimes, and the whoosh of the door every time someone stepped from within back into the restaurant, and vice versa.

In the kitchen, Carmen finished up preparing your dish. He’d been transported away as he worked, reminded of you with every garnish that he placed and ru that he drizzled. Whenever he saw the colour orange, he thought of you. It was impossible not to, when he’d cut up an uncountable number of tangerines for you during his time at the diner. As he placed the final piece of your dish, he readied himself to yell for hands, but stopped himself.

Instead, he grabbed your plate and approached his front of house manager. “How are we for time?”

“Fine, Chef. We’re in the after dinner lull, only desserts are left. Table thirty-two is the final main of the evening.”

Carmen nodded. “Right.”

“Do you want to take it to her?” she asked knowingly, and Carmen swallowed. “You know her, don’t you? An old friend?”

“Something like that,” he said, not knowing how to even begin to explain you. An ex-work colleague just sounded wrong, but an old friend sounded wrong, too. You’d been so much more than either of those, and still were. You supported his endeavours, and cared beyond belief.

The kitchen at USC was vastly different from the atmosphere at Lucky Strike. It was robotic, and static, and everyone had their purpose and place. Carmen’s purpose was that of importance, being chef de cuisine, but his superior– the head chef– was not like Paulie used to be.

Not in the slightest.

“I’ll take it,” Carmen finally replied. He placed your plate down and straightened out his chef whites. “How do I look?” he asked her.

She smiled. “Smart,” she said. That was enough.

As you sipped the last of your glass of red, you tensed when the door to the kitchen burst open. You turned your gaze towards it, and your heart stuttered in your chest. Walking towards you with the speed of a freight train, chef whites donned and clean, hair slicked back, was Carmy. He powered through the restaurant and gained glances of respect from other guests, triggering a small hubbub of chatter from other tables.

You relaxed even further into your chair, knowing that you didn’t need to perform. You didn’t need to sit up straight, or lean in, or do anything other than smile at him with as much warmth as you could possibly muster. He’d made it, and this was exactly what you’d wanted to witness– you just hadn’t expected him to leave the seclusion of the kitchen just for you.

Carmen reached your table, and set down your surprise meal. He gently drifted the plate towards you, and leaned down intimately.

“Your meal this evening is our classic fillet of salmon, with a twist,” he said. You had to stop yourself from laughing. You felt overwhelmed in the best way.

“A twist, Chef?” you asked.

“I took the liberty of adding fresh tangerine juice to the jus.”

Your eyes sparkled as he revealed all. It was very easy to feel special when you were alone with Carm at the diner before, to understand the gravity of his actions when he got past his shyness and opened up more, but this hit it out of the park. Your chest compressed as your heart lurched. Your lungs spluttered as you sucked in a shaking breath.

The sides of Carmen’s mouth curled almost imperceptibly, but you knew that look from a mile away. That small smile, that warmth, that affection, that he reserved solely for those people that he knew deserved it. That fact you were here, and everything else from before, was reason enough for you to deserve it. Innately, he felt good when he looked at you this way. It made everything clear, wiped the slate clean, made his crumbling chest settle just that tiny bit more.

Carmen stood up straight, hands behind his back. “I wanted to mention that there’ll be no checks tonight.”

You finally sat up straight, and immediately went to protest. “I–”

“We insist. I insist,” Carm cut you off softly.

You looked at the perfectly cooked salmon on the table, the bright orange jus, the drops of red wine on the sides of your glass. “Okay,” you said, peering back up at him.

“Okay,” he repeated, and his smile grew.

The cogs whirred in his brain, as he became hyper-aware of the other guests around him. He still had dessert orders to fill, and an entire kitchen to break down and clean. As much as he wanted to stay, to sit opposite you, to throw a kitchen towel at your face when you looked at him so deeply and warmly and lovingly, he simply couldn’t.

He leaned in once more, so much that your hairs stood on edge as he whispered. “I finish just before midnight,” he whispered gently, before pulling away. “Stay.” He swallowed. “Please.”

“Okay,” you whispered.

You stayed until the restaurant was empty. The hostess at the front folded napkins in the dim light of the deserted bar, but stopped ever so often to fill up your wine glass. She smiled at you every time she did.

It was a comfortable silence in the empty restaurant, a silence that you knew very well from being at the diner after hours. Inside the kitchen, you knew Carm would be breaking down after service. Cleaning every single surface in sight, scrubbing the floors until they shined, labelling produce with tape that was cut; not ripped.

Close to midnight, the kitchen door slammed open once more. Carm had stripped off his chef whites, opting for jeans and an old tee. He spotted you from across the restaurant and smiled smally. “Wanna see?” he asked.

He held the door open for you as you stepped into the kitchen. The sleekness of it all practically took your breath away. Every surface shone, every plate and bowl and mug glimmered. This was such a step up from the diner, one that you’d been expecting, but seeing it in person was far more incredible.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered under your breath.

Carmen huffed in amusement. “I know.”

“This is… this is insane.”

He nodded slowly, coming up to stand beside you as the door swayed on its hinges, before settling shut. “It feels like a dream, somedays,” he said, admiring the workspace with you. “And some days, it doesn’t.”

“I’m so proud of you, Carm.” You smiled. He smiled back, and for just a moment it was as if no time had passed. It was like you were back in the diner, talking about your dreams together. A place to call your own, and all that jazz. Perhaps, those dreams were still there somewhere.

“I’m not sure I deserve that,” he replied, but not quite jokingly enough for your liking.

You sent him a side-eyed stare and caught the look on his face– fear, or perhaps, damage. When he hit your eyes a second later, that look melted away. All you saw then was warmth. Carmen didn’t often show much on his face, but you could see it all. The years you’d spent alongside him had taught you more than how to run a restaurant; you were one of a handful of people that could seamlessly read Carmen like a book.

That’s why your gut coiled innately. That look wasn’t one that you’d take lightly.

“How’s it all going?” you asked.

He let out another huff and shrugged his shoulders, before opting to move away and roam the clean kitchen. “I can’t complain.” He swiped his hand across the stainless steel workbench.

“And that chef, David or whatever his name is, how is he?”

Carmen froze for a fraction of a second, but it was enough to make your hairs stand on end. His arms tensed, until you saw the strength within his veins rise to the surface. He looked up at you sternly, clenching his jaw. “He’s an excellent chef.”

“Okay,” you said. “That’s great. What about how he manages this place, manages you?”

“What is this, twenty fucking questions?” Carmen let out defensively.

It only cemented that you knew something was wrong.

“Okay– I’ll pretend you didn’t just snap at me for being interested,” you let out belligerently. “What the hell is it, Carm?”

“Drop it,” he said sternly, moving away from you and over to the enormous shelves of shimmering white plates. “I got a James Beard award, didn’t I? I got everything I fucking wanted here, so just drop it.”

“Listen,” you started, fast walking your way around the central island and closer to him. “I get it, I’m not part of this world– your world– anymore. But I still know a thing or two about chefs and their giant fucking egos. What’s going on?”

Carmen closed his eyes and let out a subtly shaking breath. You were taken aback by this whole conversation, the drastic shift in his mood as soon you’d started asking questions.

“Carm,” you said softly, dialling things down a little. “Just look at me for a second.”

His shoulders relaxed, dipping into more of a tired hunch than his previous disposition of a deer in headlights. When his eyes hit yours, your heart lurched in your chest. Those eyes, god– the blue was etched in the corners of your brain. Like a clear sky in summer, or a glittering pool, or a calm ocean. Carmen was many things, but clear, glittering and calm were not traits that most people would pin onto him.

Not you, though. This was the Carm that dreamt with you. This was the Carm that cut up tangerines into quarters for you whenever you asked, or even when you didn’t. Blue and orange, swirling together like the patterns on peppermint hard-candy or gingham squares on the Lucky Strike tablecloths. Ingrained. Permanent.

“He’s taught me a lot,” Carmen whispered.

You knew it wasn’t your place, but red flags popped up in your mind and billowed in the breeze immediately. He looked stripped back, a shell of himself, just for those fleeting seconds, and you fucking hated it.

“You’ve been here for almost a year,” you said, swallowing away the butterflies that had started crawling up your throat. “Maybe now is a good shot to find something else.”

Carm’s eyes widened brightly, and you saw all his plans from before; his restaurant, his staff, his food and the like. And then, as if a gust of wind uprooted the largest tree within his mind, that was gone. Replaced by something seething, something angry and not at all kind, Carmen rose.

“You’re telling me to quit?”

You took a small step back. “Of course, I’m not–”

“No, no, you fucking are.” He bit down on his tongue, you heard it. “You think being here for a few hours and one meal is enough for you to tell me what the fuck to do?”

“Carmen, what are you talking ab–”

“Fuck!” His shoulders squared off, and suddenly he was a corrugated iron board before you. Immovable, stuck in place. “You came here to tell me I’m strong enough, right? What, you want me to go back to the diner with Paulie and everyone else who’s never had a real fucking goal in their lives?”

“Wow,” you breathed out, laughing a little as a lack of what else to respond.

You stood your ground, as much as you wanted to scream and yell like a petulant child. The look on his face, the brick wall he’d built so high around himself, was something you’d seen before– self-sabotage, tugging away from everything and everyone that was there to help. A level of acceptance and denial alike was testament alongside situations such as this; abusive situations.

This Chef David was abusing the shit out of him. And Carmen was deep, way down to the core of it, just trying to get through his days, shift by shift, in any way possible. Even if that meant cutting off those dreams, cutting off people from his past– you.

“You really think I’d do that?” you said bluntly. “You really think I booked this solo reservation a fucking year ago because I wanted to come and drag you back to the diner?”

Carm’s eyes brightened momentarily. “A year ago?”

You took another step back, careful not to immediately fall into him from the childish bewilderment on his face. It was like he’d never had someone care, but you knew that wasn’t true. He just didn’t know how to spot when someone did, misconstrued it as someone trying to harm him, hurt him, ruin him.

“I booked to come here a year ago, Carmen,” you started. “I fucking knew you’d make it here. I knew that when I came today, you’d be the one cooking my damn meal. I was fucking right.”

It was his turn to take a step back now, just a little. Perhaps he was overwhelmed because he wasn’t expecting this. Wasn’t expecting you to still stay supporting him after he left, or didn’t even want to think about what the guys at the diner might be saying about him after he’d gone. Little did he know, everyone still talked about him with smiles and bright eyes.

Carmen Berzatto was the only motherfucker out there that didn’t know people supported him wholeheartedly.

“I’m not telling you to leave, or quit, or whatever else you fucking think I was about to say,” you began again. Carm swallowed nervously. “You can think what the hell you want to think about us at Lucky Strike, but we’re still the same people we’ve always been. I guess that can’t be said about you now, huh?”

Carmen’s anxiety turned to anger in a heartbeat. “What, ‘cause I actually made a name for myself instead of you all staying in the fucking box you planted yourselves in years ago? If that’s why I’ve changed, then I’m fucking glad about it.”

“Fuck– there you go again!” you exclaimed. “You’re talking down to us like we’re pieces of fucking shit on your brand-spanking new shoes!”

“And you’re looking at me with those fucking baby-eyes like I’m gonna crumble any fucking second!” Carmen screamed. “I can’t fucking stand it.”

You placed your hands on your hips and held your ground again. “He really got to you, didn’t he?”

Carmen saw red immediately. “If you bring up Chef David one more fucking time, then I’m done.”

“You’re done? Huh, what the hell does that mean?”

“Done with you.”

Your eyes widened. Bile started to crawl up your oesophagus. In that moment, you’d never felt more like your mother. You knew if you were to talk, you’d adopt her stern accent instantly. You popped your hip out and bent your knee, tired of fucking standing.

“So, you made it to the big leagues, and now you’re throwing out all your trash. Is that what it is, huh?” You stepped forward once. Carmen stayed where he was. “Look at me right here, Carm.” You pointed to your eyes, not wavering once. “Look at me right here and tell me that you hate me. Do it right now. If you do it right now then I’ll know you fucking mean it. If you do it right now then me, and Paulie, and everyone from the fucking diner will call it quits with you like that.” You snapped your fingers on that. It cemented that you meant it.

Carmen raised his chin, so close that your noses almost touched. In any other circumstance, maybe you’d have kissed him by now. Maybe you’d have realised that you both liked each other as more, loved each other once, still fucking did.

But, that wasn’t this reality.

When he didn’t say anything, you knew you’d won. He stayed as still as he could as adrenaline rushed through his blood. His fingers shook at the end of his arms. His chest thumped incessantly as oxygen tried to tear through his lungs.

“No?” you asked, almost as a final warning.

Carm breathed in. “I hate what you represent.”

“And what exactly is it that I represent?” you whispered.

Suddenly, Carmen dropped his forehead on yours. His hands deposited themselves on either side of your neck warmly, gently. His fingertips set your skin alight. “The one thing I can never fucking have.”

As much as you wanted tell him to get the fuck off, to stop touching you, your heart melted as soon as your skin felt his. You clamped your eyes shut, leaning into him. Carm let out a pent up breath. His breath was warm as it skimmed your skin.

“Carmen.” You swallowed. “Please.” You paused. “I– love you,” you stuttered.

“I know,” he replied. “I know you do.”

For just a second, you thought he was going to kiss you. It’d be easy to drop his lips onto yours, you were right in front of him. Heads touching, breath mingling, sharing each other’s air like it was the most normal fucking thing to do.

You wanted him back, it was true. But not like this. Not broken, or bruised, or damaged beyond repair. It wasn’t his fault, you knew that. He’d been moulded this way. But, it was his responsibility to do good for himself. One deep dive into this entire conversation and you knew that it was impossible for him to do that, at least right now. Carmen Berzatto was stuck, and you didn’t want to get yourself stuck in the process of trying to free him.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Leave,” was all he said.

You shook your head slowly, tears welling behind your eyes. “Don’t push me away.”

“Leave,” he repeated, as his hands dropped from your neck to your shoulders. Gently, he started physically pushing you off him.

“Carmen,” you spluttered. Your eyes opened to see him in pain. God, you fucking hated it. “I won’t come back if you do this. I really fucking won’t.”

He stepped back once, twice, three times. Eyes glued on yours, blue and glassy like a glacier, his heart as cold as one, too. “Good,” he said softly, headed for the door to the kitchen.

“You don’t mean that.” You urged him to stay.

He only nodded. “I never want to fucking see you again.”

Carmen left unceremoniously, without another word or glance or care. The kitchen door swung shut, bobbing on its hinges. The only sound you could hear was the buzzing of the refrigerators, and the breaking of your heart strings.

PART THREE

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #the bear #the bear ff #fanfiction #friends to enemies to lovers #angst and fluff #flashback #second person #reader insert #ao3 #wattpad #writeblr #jeremy allen white #lightyaers #unrequited love #update #Spotify

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tropes-and-tales · 2 months ago

Text

Sharing is Caring

(Murph Connors x F!Reader; Benny Magalon x F!Reader)

CW: Mild angst. Smut (Cuckholding as a kink; open relationships; mention of threesome; mention of foot fetish; brief oral, m! receiving; less brief oral, f! receiving; PiV, protected). 18+ only.

Word Count: 8434

AN: This was originally requested for Kinktober 2023 (oops) by an anonymous person!

Of all the guys, Murph Connors has always been the least forthcoming about his romantic life. Big Nick, Henderson, Z…they all lay their love lives out for the scrutiny of the others. Their divorces, their conquests, their ball-and-chain back home giving them grief, their sweet new thing just a phone call away. The baby mamas and the ones that got away.

Murph is something of a mystery with most of his personal life anyway. Stakeouts and hotel parties alike, he’s always more likely to sit and smoke and listen thoughtfully than he is to open up about his time away from Major Crimes.

Which is all to say: Benny is never clear on when Murph started dating you. The big hulking asshole just brought you around one evening—a low-key night at a dive bar.

It was jarring, the first time the guys met you. You knew a lot about them, and they knew nothing about you. By the end of the night… they still don’t know much about you. Which may be why you and Murph became a couple: you had a slickness to how you answer their questions, a cool way of turning their queries back around on them.

You ended up leaving them that first night early. You leaned over and brushed a kiss over Murph’s stubbled face, and you waved at the guys and said it’s been a pleasure, and then you were gone.

“Nice girl,” Big Nick offered, a touch sardonic. “Playing your cards close to the vest, huh?”

Benny lifted his glass of beer towards Murph and added, more nicely, “good for you, Connors. She seems great.”

Murph chuckled and shook his head a bit. “You have no idea, man.”

-----

If you’re like a case file, Benny only builds you up little by little. One tiny gleaned fact at a time.

When Murph puts in for some PTO because he’s taking you back east for a long weekend. “She’s had a rough fucking month with work,” he says, and that’s how Benny learns that you work in the family courts system in some capacity.

When Murph comes in on a Monday stiff and limping. “She took me fucking paddle boarding. You ever do that shit? Fuck, every part of me hurts.”

When you show up unannounced one morning, in a sharp wool suit and heels that click on the floor. You smile at Murph and hand him his lunch. “You forgot this,” you tell him, and you strain on your toes to kiss him lightly.

And that same moment, Big Nick comes out of his office and asks Connors if his mommy brought him his bologna sandwich. You are quick to flip him off and retort that you just came from his mom’s place, Momma Big Nick sends her regards and says he should call more often, which makes the guys laugh.

When Murph hooks up with one of the hired girls at a hotel party. Benny is no angel, but he goes out on the balcony to smoke a cigarette, and he feels a sting of something. Disappointment in Murph? Pity for you?

When, days later, Benny brings it up to Murph. “Kinda shitty, man,” he says, even though none of them are saints by any stretch, and both Z and Big Nick are serial cheaters. Benny supposes he thought better of Murph and his whole strong-and-silent routine, mistook his reticence for a version of virtue.

When, a beat later, Murph looks at him in surprise and says, “it’s all aboveboard, bubba. We’re in an open thing.”

When Benny can’t come up with a reply fast enough, Murph takes in his expression and adds, “oh, yeah, didn’t you know? She’s way chill with a lot more than you’d think.”

-----

When Murph brings you around for Z’s birthday party. You and Benny end up in the kitchen together, restocking a cooler of beer together. Benny clears his throat, and you glance at him. Your lips are curved in a bemused smile, and before he can even voice his question, you preempt him and say, “you’ve got questions, huh?”

Benny nods.

“It’s only complicated when you think of it through the framework of antiquated social mores.”

What can he say to that? When has Benny ever really sat and considered the framework of antiquated social mores?

You touch his forearm softly. “What I mean is, Murph and I are never going to get married and have kids and a house in the suburbs. Murph isn’t built for that and neither am I. So why not do our own thing, recognizing that it will end eventually? Why not have a little fun?”

“Not about that wife and mom life, then?” he asks with a smile, though he’s still out of his depths. Every woman he’s known has wanted those things—or at least he thought they did. He’s been married twice himself, one small son from the second one. His mother, his sisters, his cousins, every woman he’s dated… they all seemed to be marching towards the same template, right?

“Marriage is just a legal contract that almost never benefits the woman. And children?” You laugh with a tinge of bitterness. “In this world? Maybe I love my children so much that I’ve decided to never foist them into this existence.”

“Grim.”

You cock your head at him. Appraise him. “Did Murph ever tell you what I do for a living?”

“You work in family courts, right?”

“I’m a minor’s attorney for the Juvenile Court.”

“Oh. Shit.” Benny’s work sometimes touches on juvenile cases, abuse of children. Neglect. But only sometimes, and he can’t imagine dealing with it exclusively.

“Oh shit is right.” You don’t say more. You finish dumping the ice into the cooler, then say in a brighter tone, “you’re up, Borracho. Carry the cooler out, will you? I’d hate for all that work at the gym to go to waste.”

If Benny perhaps preens at the unintended compliment, and if he perhaps flexes more than necessary as he carries the cooler, no one mentions it.

-----

The other guys must have a passing interest in you too, and Murph feeds them breadcrumbs of information over months and months.

The fact that yes, you’re pretty chill about things, but also pretty adventuresome.

The fact that you have a nice little bungalow in Little Armenia, and in a fact that both shocks Benny and kinda, sorta turns him on, you have a hidden sex room in that nice little bungalow.

“What the fuck is a sex room?” Henderson asks, and Murph actually blushes at the question. His face turns florid, but he answers with a cryptic, “look it up yourself, man.”

Which Benny does later that night on incognito mode.

Other things that come out, over time and usually by accident with Murph is just a touch too loose with the booze sometimes at their parties. He spills the salacious stuff and the sweet stuff, both.

You have a secret OnlyFans where you deal exclusively in foot stuff. You never show your face, and you have a small but dedicated clientele who pay outrageous sums for you to do weird shit with your admittedly very lovely feet. One guy pays for you to step on elaborate desserts, to get frosting between your toes. Another guy pays you to flex and contort your feet around various sex toys. Another pays to watch you paint your toenails in colors he chooses.

“It pays really well,” Murph says as the guys laugh and rib him. “How the hell do you think she afforded the down payment for that house?”

You are trying to learn Japanese (why asks Big Nick, and Murph shrugs and says why not? Then adds, “she loves Japanese cinema, man, and she doesn’t trust that the subtitles get it right.”)

You set up a threesome for Murph’s birthday last year, you and a woman you had carefully vetted. Afterwards, the three of you had sat in the kitchen and ate leftover apple cake from the Armenian bakery down the street.

You live across the street from a widow who has no family, so you routinely check on her, make double recipes when you cook, and make sure she’s good.

Once, at a hotel party (one that Benny wasn’t at because he had his son that weekend), Murph hooked up with a hired girl and had you on Facetime for the entire exchange. At your request. And that it tapped into some unrealized jealous streak, so when Murph dropped by your place afterwards, you fucked him senseless.

“Best sex of my life,” he mumbles around the mouth of his beer bottle.

And how the experience has opened up a new avenue of exploration. How you’re on the lookout for a willing candidate to fuck so Murph can be jealous. So Murph can be cuckolded.

Big Nick lifts his hand at that revelation. “I volunteer. Shit, man. Sign me up.”

Murph snorts and shakes his head, and he changes the subject as elegantly as a drunk person can, but his eyes slide over to Benny and linger there a beat too long for it to mean nothing.

-----

“She likes you, you know,” Murph tells him weeks later.

They’re on a stakeout, and when Benny turns to look at his partner, Murph is just gazing straight ahead out of the windshield. Benny lifts his eyebrows in surprise.

“She doesn’t know me.”

“She does. Better than you think, bubba.”

“We had half of a conversation once.” Benny reaches back through his memory and finds nothing else. No meaningful glances, even. No lingering touches.

Murph reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out his pack of smokes. He shakes one loose and offers the pack to Benny, who waves him off.

“You interested?” Murph asks as he pulls out a lighter, sparks up. He takes a deep drag, breathes out plumes of smoke.

Benny hesitates to answer. Of course he’s interested. You’ve been pinging on his internal radar since you turned up on the scene, but how the fuck does he tell Murph that? You may be chill and Murph may be chill, but it feels precarious, fucking with his partner’s woman.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Murph offers helpfully. “You don’t have to answer. Just know that she’s interested in you.”

“It’d be a dicey thing to fuck with your woman, Connors.”

Murph snorts. “It’s up to you, but maybe you aren’t getting it. She isn’t my woman. If she heard you call her that, she’d lay into you.”

“Then who the fuck does she belong to if not you?”

Another snort, and Murph shoots him a scathing look. “Man, it’s the twentieth century. She belongs to herself, you fucking caveman.”

Benny chuckles, shakes his head. “Yeah, okay. You’re a regular Gloria Steinem.”

“I’m a pretty enlightened kind of guy.”

“But it’s the twenty-first century.”

“Close enough.”

-----

The next time Benny sees you, it’s at Murph’s place. For once, the stingy bastard is opening up his own wallet and hosting an evening. There’s a fight on pay-per-view, and Murph lays out a surprisingly robust spread of pizza, wings, and booze. Big Nick invites a few of his regular girls.

Your contribution to the evening is your presence and the spoils from your visit to a dispensary. You settle on the couch beside Murph, cross-legged and leaning forward as you roll a joint. Murph’s big paw rests idly on your back, steadying you, and Benny watches from the corner of his eye.

When you light one up, you take a deep inhale, blow it out slowly. You pass it to Murph, who declines, who passes it to Z, who takes a hit, who passes it to Benny.

He usually doesn’t bother with pot, but when he glances over and sees you watching him, he lifts it to his lips and takes a hit as well. It’s smooth, tastes faintly of something citrus, and when he exhales, he can see you smiling at him through the plume of smoke.

-----

The shit you’ve brought is strong, and by the time the party settles in, Benny’s head is swimming. Everything has a halo to it, bright and golden, and he knows he has a goofy grin on his face but he can’t quite care.

“That must hurt,” you tell him. Everyone has shifted around, drifted. Henderson and Z are the only two watching the fight in earnest. Big Nick is off with one or more of the hired girls, and Murph is stretched out on the couch and drowsing despite the TV noise and music.

Benny is outside on the patio, looking up at the sky and wishing he didn’t live in a place with so much smog. Then you’re standing over him, smiling, and you gesture at the bit of free step beside him. He nods, and you join him.

“What hurts?” he asks.

You gesture at his face. “You’re smiling a lot. Pretty stoned, huh?”

“Why would it hurt?”

“You’re not exactly a smiley sort of guy.”

He laughs, and you giggle along with him. “Yeah, Connors said you know me pretty well.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He pauses, blinks against his dry eyes. “What do you know, then?”

“You’re probably too stoned for this conversation.”

“Nope. I’m good. Lay it on me. What’s my favorite color?”

You shake your head. “No idea.”

“Favorite food?”

Another shake, paired with a smile. “Also no idea.”

Benny snorts. “You don’t know me at all.”

You draw your legs up to your chest and hug your knees closer to you. You bend your head, rest your cheek on your knees, and fix your gaze on him.

“Funny that you think your favorite color and food is what defines you,” you say.

The pot has left him dry-mouthed and loose-limbed, so he fumbles as he reaches for his half-empty bottle of beer. You watch him as he takes a sip, then fumbles to set it back down.

“What defines me then, huh?”

“Murph never told you?”

“Told me what?” Told him that you were interested? Told him you might want to fuck him in one of your sexual games, and told him that you were free to do that because you belonged to yourself and no one else? Benny thinks it all, rapid-fire, but he says none of it.

You turn your head away from him and stare straight ahead, where Murph’s built out a sad-looking fire pit of scavenged bricks and concrete blocks. “There was a case a while ago. Couple cooking meth in their house. South Central. You and Murph were on it.”

Benny remembers. He has to dig past the pot and past the other cases since then, and then he remembers: the scrawny dude, the scrawnier woman. A shitty little house, one of those places where people kept adding on lean-to additions without permits, little more than shacks. They had a surprisingly sophisticated meth lab, and they also dealt in other unsavory activities: guns, fenced goods, occasional assault.

The meth makers had a kid. Benny remembers that.

Benny wishes he didn’t remember that.

“You and Murph were on the case, but you were the lead. By the time their kid came through the system to me, you were off the case. I guess you got moved onto other things, so when I needed testimony, that’s how I met Murph.

“I didn’t know.”

“So I do know you, kinda. I thought it had been Murph, so when I read through the case notes, I told him how impressed I was. How thorough it was. How…I don’t know. There was a barely contained rage in the notes about the conditions that kid was found in. Murph told me right away they weren’t his notes. ‘That’s my partner, Borracho,’ he said.”

“What does that tell you about me?” Benny asks, curious.

You turn your head and look at him again. “It tells me that I work off of police case notes all the fucking time, and half the time, they barely note the kids caught in the cross-fire. I read a note from an officer that says ‘child seems small for his age,’ and then I see the kid and it’s obvious they’ve been starved their entire life. I talk to a detective; he says, ‘yeah, kid had some bruises but kids are always getting dinged up.’ Then I see the x-rays from the medical exam and the kid’s broken more bones in five years of living than you or I will break in our combined lifetimes.”

He doesn’t have a reply for that. He knows the profession he’s in. He knows the type of people that it attracts. He knows that even the well-intentioned get jaded, get burnt out or exhausted by the parade of misery each day.

“You saw that kid. You didn’t downplay any of it. You witnessed and documented it, and because you did all that, I was able to terminate his parents’ rights. He’s been adopted by a cousin. She’s a nice lady, out in Lubbock. Kid has a backyard and a family dog and his own room. I got a card from them last Christmas.”

Benny breathes out a heavy exhale. He didn’t realize that’s how you and Murph met, and he never realized you’d known about him all along.

“Well, shit,” he finally says.

“You’re a good guy,” you tell him.

He shakes his head. The way you say it, like you’re capitalizing the “G” in “good.” He likes to think he is good-ish, but he often feels like he skews more on the bad side of things. Not evil, but more towards the less admirable traits a man shouldn’t have. He doesn’t see his son enough. He doesn’t speak up when Big Nick is behaving badly. He should go home more, help his mom around the house, spend more time with his nieces and nephews. He drifts towards inaction, and if he’s learned anything in his career as a cop, doing nothing is often as bad as… doing something bad.

The pot loosens his tongue more than he’d like, and he blurts out, “so I took good case notes and that’s why you want to fuck me?”

You inhale sharply, then burst into gales of laughter. You release your hold on your knees and stretch your legs out in front of you, plant your palms on the step beside you and laugh.

“Goddamnit, Benny,” you manage to get out between peals of laughter. “When did you get so blunt?”

He laughs along with you. “You brought super-pot. I’m a fucking lightweight.”

“Oh, god.” You swipe at your eyes, then stand up. You turn to go back inside, but you pause and look down at where he’s still settled on the patio step.

“For the record, you took good case notes and that’s why I think well of you.” A beat, and you add, “I only want to fuck you because you’re hot.”

Hearing you admit it from your own mouth and not secondhand and obliquely from Murph makes Benny’s go all fuzzy in the head, a wave of lust so strong that he has to stay out on the patio for a while until he calms.

-----

“Just curious,” Benny asks Murph a few weeks later. “How would it work?”

They are on another stakeout on the same miserable case, and Murph grunts from the driver’s seat. “How would what work?”

“You know.”

“I don’t.”

“Jesus, c’mon.” Benny runs a hand over his jaw. “Don’t make me say it out loud.”

“You can’t be so squeamish if you’re considering it, bubba.”

“Fine.” He huffs out a breath through his nostrils, then turns to look out his window. “How would hooking up with her work?”

He can see Murph turn and look at him; his reflection is a ghost in his window. He can just make out a wide grin.

“How does it work?” he teases. “Well, when a guy likes a girl a whole lot, he takes off her clothes—”

“Fuck off. You know what I mean.”

Benny catches Murph’s shrug in the reflection of the window. “How would it work if I wasn’t in the picture?”

“It’s that easy?”

“Yeah. I can give you her number.”

Benny pauses, considers how out of his depth he is. “And you’d be fine with it?”

Murph chuckles and turns to face forward, his eyes fixed on the house across the street they are scoping out. “Dude, that time I hooked up at the hotel party and she watched on Facetime? Then I went home to her? I thought I was gonna die. She was like a damned wildcat, and it was amazing. So yeah, I’d be fine with it. It’s a fun thing to explore. You have your fun, I’ll see if I get all jealous like she did. If I do, then I’ll go fuck her brains out too. If I don’t, then she got to have fun with a guy she’s got a thing for.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. Like I said, it’s fun to explore. Fun to play around with. Win-win-win all the way around.”

“Sharing is caring,” Benny adds.

Murph laughs. “Exactly, dude.”

-----

Murph gives him your contact information when they clock out, and he puts a heavy hand on Benny’s shoulder.

“Treat her good, though, yeah? She’s chill and fun but she’s also kind of a softy, so be nice to her.”

Benny nods. “I will.” He takes a beat, then adds in a lighter tone, “any tips?”

Murph laughs and drops his hand from Benny’s shoulder. “You’re on your own there, bubba.”

-----

Benny probably asks Murph at least ten more times if it’s okay.

At the same time, he asks you probably fifty times if it’s okay.

“You seem uncertain,” you tell him over the phone one night as you try to hash out plans. “You know you don’t have to do anything. Hell, if you want to just go and grab a beer, I’m down.”

Benny chuckles at that—like he’d be content with just sharing a drink after living with you in the forefront of his thoughts for months.

“Maybe it’s just difficult because I live in a framework of antiquated social mores.”

“That framework starting to feel like a cage yet?”

“You planning a jailbreak for me?”

“Yup. Operation Free Magalon.”

He glances around his apartment: spartan, utilitarian. The latest in a long string of places. He’s bounced between apartments and homes, marriage to divorce to marriage to divorce, and now he’s back here alone. It’d be nice, he thinks, to let loose like this. To explore something different.

“When works for you?” he asks, and by the end of the call you have a date and time for him to go over to your place and hang out.

“Still no pressure though, Benny,” you remind him gently. “We can hang out and see what happens. If nothing happens, we’ll have had a nice evening of good company.”

-----

It turns out to be a nice evening of good company after all.

Benny goes to your place and brings a bottle of wine, because he has no idea the etiquette of this sort of thing. He’s never actually seen you drink wine, and you take it from him with thanks, but then set it aside and tell him that dinner is about ready.

Because you cook for him. Because of course you fucking do.

He relaxes little by little. You eat, and you make a pitcher of margaritas light on the tequila so neither of you get wasted. You chat, stilted at first, then more comfortably. After dinner, you shift to the living room and the conversation continues. You ask if he wants to spark up, then joke and tell him you have a milder strain, so the two of you share a joint, passing it back and forth, loosening up even more.

It probably helps, knowing that you want him. Benny has always been secure in himself, but never as blustery confident as Big Nick or even Henderson. There’s always been a thread of submissiveness in the beginning of his relationships, a subtle feeling-out before making a move. He’s always wanted to know it was a close-to-sure thing before putting himself out there.

The tequila and pot relaxes him enough that he unclenches his shoulders, his arms. He unclenches his jaw. When you move towards him, he’s able to meet you halfway in a smooth motion. He’s able to get an arm around your waist and maneuver you into his lap right out of the gate. You settle there, your weight so close to where his cock twitches at the change to the evening. Then you cup his head in your hands and lean in to kiss him.

It's soft, at first. It surprises him how softly you kiss him. He’s way out of his depths, and he supposes he has a lot of preconceived notions. Part of him thought you’d open your door in some dominatrix getup, all patent leather and metal hardware, and Benny realizes that he doesn’t have much of a handle on any kinks beyond the tamest ones. Because you answered the door in a simple dress, and now you’re kissing him gently, almost shyly, your hands soft against his face as you settle more of your weight on him.

It progresses in slow movements. You kiss. You deepen the kiss. Your hands touch him in widening arcs: his face, then his neck, then his shoulders. His chest, his arms. Lower, down his belly, and your palm slips under the hem of his shirt to touch him low, right where the waist of his jeans cut into him.

Lower still, as you kiss him, as you sweep your tongue against his, as you taste him and breathe against him and make little moans that make him grow harder. You feel him there; you rock against him, and he swears he can feel the wet heat of you through your panties and through his own clothing. Your hand fumbles at his belt, his button, his zipper, and he’s about to reach down to help you but you succeed. A beat later, he feels your hand on him, grasping him lightly through his boxers.

He can’t help the moan that tears out of his throat. He hasn’t been touched since his ex-wife, the second one, left him.

He slides his hands from where they rest on your hips. He slides them back and grips the fat of your ass, kneads and grasps you. He pulls you closer to him, and you pull your hand away from where you’re grasping him. You steady yourself, hands on his shoulders, and now he definitely can feel the wet heat of you: the head of his cock has slipped the bounds of his boxers, and he bumps against the damp cotton of your panties.

“Benny,” you breathe against his mouth. “Can we move this somewhere else?”

In a less-than-smooth move, he shuffles forward with you still in his lap, then staggers into a standing position. He keeps his hands under your ass, hauls you up, and you wrap your legs around him.

“Tell me where to go, baby.”

-----

Benny’s incognito searches made him think your sex room would be something wild: padded walls with shelves of dildos, perhaps, or red satin sheets. A piece of weird leather furniture, maybe, like he saw on one site. Chains hanging from the ceiling like a meat locker.

Murph oversold it a little. It’s just a separate bedroom, done up nicer than the average guest room. There’s dark, soft-looking bedding on the king-sized bed. The frame is wrought iron, and sure, there’s handcuffs dangling from either side of the headboard. The lighting is soft and low, and there’s a steamer trunk at the foot of the bed that Benny will one day learn is full of sex toys, neatly organized by type.

He takes it all in in a split second and no longer, because you’re in his arms as he carries you to the bed. He moves to lay you down, but you keep your legs wrapped around him. He follows you then, an awkward drop but you tug his full weight onto you and kiss him fiercely.

The pot keeps it from being too frenetic. The eagerness keeps the pot from making it too lazy. It’s the perfect balance, an ebb and flow of energy and speed. You strip him quickly, and when he goes too slow in stripping you, you push him away, kneel above him, and tug your dress over your head.

Benny lays back on the bank of pillows and watches in awe: your arms lifted up lifts your breasts, and you’re wearing one of those bras that barely covers anything. Lacy black cups only cover the rounded fullness at the bottom, and he can see where your nipples peek out. He takes in the rest of you: the softness of your belly and the curve of your hips, the equally skimpy panties.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he mumbles. He reacts automatically, grips himself and gives his cock a few pumps with his hand at the sight of you half-naked and kneeling over him. Backlit by the soft lighting. Gazing back at him with half-lidded eyes, lips parted. The pink tip of your tongue skating over your lower lip as you watch him touch himself.

“You do this before?” you ask. Your voice has a husky quality, either from the tequila or the pot or the moment, or all three.

“Do what?”

“Touch yourself thinking about me.”

No sense in lying. He’s done it more than once. He nods at you.

You rock back on your heels and smile at him. “I’ve thought about you too.”

The admission makes a fresh pulse of desire rocket through him, makes his cock twitch in his hand. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

“How’d it go?”

“Hmm.” You move to all fours and crawl towards him, and he releases his hold on himself. You work your way up from the bottom of him, teasing him.

“I thought about you the night I finally met you.” You say it right near his erection, your warm breath skating over him, making him shiver.

“And the night that Murph fucked that blonde girl? I imagined you here, fucking me at the same time.” Your tongue darts out and licks against him, teasing, lapping up the precum that’s leaked out of him. Benny groans, and his hips judder upward, but you’re already moving away. Pressing a kiss on his belly, right below his navel. Then above it. Up his sternum, his chest, his collarbones, and your lower body is hovering over his now.

“How would I have fucked you that night?” Benny manages, but it comes out strained. You lower your weight on him, and he feels how wet you are, your panties drenched as you slide against his erection. Back and forth, teasing him. Torturing him.

“On all fours,” you reply. You suck a line of wet kisses along the side of his neck, mouthing at his tattoo there. He feels your teeth, your tongue. Feels your words sink into him when you add, “your hand on the back of my neck, holding me down against the mattress.”

“Fuck, baby—”

“So deep that I can feel you in my throat. So deep I can taste you.” You bite the tendon between his neck and shoulder, and he groans, reaches up. Slides his hand against the back of your skull and holds you there. You continue rocking against him, sliding against his cock, and he’s glad for the pot because it always keeping him from coming too soon.

The pot also makes it difficult for him to focus completely. The word taste lodges in his mind, and his thoughts drift in that direction and settle there. He holds your hips for a moment, but then he reaches up to gently untangle you from where you’re kissing him, and he sits up underneath you. You smile at him, your lips swollen, and ask what he wants.

“Wanna taste you.” He reverses it back on you—he bends his head and kisses your neck, sets his teeth against the soft skin of your throat and makes you whine. “Can I?”

“Fuck yes.”

“Lie down then.”

You do as you’re told, and Benny detours to your tits, has you arch off the bed enough to undo your bra and toss it aside. He puts his mouth to you, thinks of it as a preview for you. He lowers his head and nuzzles against your soft skin. He drags his tongue over the curves of you, breathes against the wet line of spit, and smiles when you whine again. He blows against one nipple, then the other, then wraps his lip against one. Rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger, pinches lightly until you hiss. Switches to the other: his mouth on one, his hand pinching the other, and you making the sweetest goddamned noises he’s ever heard.

He makes his way lower. He nuzzles here too, feels the delicious damp of your panties. Takes a deep, blatant inhale of you, and it sets you squirming underneath him. Eager.

Benny hooks his hands under the waistband and draws them down your legs, and you lift your hips to help. Completely bare now, he rocks back on his heels to look his fill, and his earlier assessment was correct.

“Perfect,” he mutters, and the praise makes you squirm, makes you fix him with a heavy gaze.

Makes you part your legs as he stares down at you, drawing his eyes to where you’re already a mess just from fooling around with him. You’re so fucking wet, your arousal slick on your inner thighs, and Benny is too stoned to finesse it: he just dives in, clumsy and impatient, his facial hair rasping over your sensitive folds.

“God, Ben,” you moan. He feels your hands on his head, and you tug against his hair. Pull him firmer against your hot flesh. He doesn’t need any convincing.

Eating pussy is generally one of his favorite moves in the bedroom. Men who get squeamish about it mystify Benny; to him, there’s nothing hotter than literally tasting a partner. To putting one’s mouth to a person. When he was much younger, he could get off just by eating a partner out, and it never bothered him when he did.

It helps when his partner is so damned into it too. Benny’s been with partners who didn’t like it, too traumatized by previous boyfriends who gave them shit about it. You? You’re all in. You steer his head bossily, and he’s happily led. You moan and swear in equal message; you groan out his name and praise and gentle instructions on what to do more of.

He works the flat of his tongue over your seam, and he reaches with a hand to part your folds to reveal the slick inner core of you. He laps at your hole, then draws his tongue upward to swirl around your clit.

“So good, Benny,” you sigh. “Oh, just like that. Please. Don’t…fuck, don’t stop.”

He sets that rhythm, over and over. He adds a thick finger, slips it into your clenching heat, and he groans at the feel of you, of being inside you. It makes your hips press upwards, makes you breathe out his name, so he adds a second finger, lazily slides them in and out of you as he laps up and down your slit. He wraps his lips around the firm bud of your clit and suckles. You lift your hips again, chasing the sensation, and he chuckles.

“Good?” he growls against your core, and you whine out yes, so good, so fucking good.

“Better than Murph?”

His words don’t give you pause—you go with it. “Yes,” you whisper. You sound wrecked, halfway fucked-out, and he hasn’t even gotten his cock in you yet. “Y-you’re better.”

“Fuck yeah I am.” He pushes his two fingers deep inside you and feels the answering clench of your cunt. He crooks them, rubs his fingertips against you from the inside, tests different spots. Finds it a moment later when a fresh pulse of cum coats his fingers, enough to slick into his palm.

“Murph ever find this?” he asks as he presses against your g-spot.

“N-never.”

“But I did.”

Another press of your hips, seeking more, needing more. “You did. Feels so good, Ben.”

“Gonna come like this?” He peers up at you from between your thighs and takes in your wrecked expression.

“I’m close,” you warn him.

“Then let me have it,” he replies. “Wanna taste you coming in my mouth.”

It only takes another moment, and you do what he says here too: you tighten your grip on his hair, almost to the point of pain. You moan his name, and then you come. Your thighs clamp shut around his head, and there’s a moment where he’s deprived of enough oxygen that he sees sparks in his peripherals. He grins at the thought of passing out between your legs. Your orgasm sends a fresh pulse of arousal, and he laps it up as you tremble above him.

Benny makes his way back up to you, and your hands tug him down. You kiss him deeply, and you must taste yourself on his tongue because you moan against his mouth.

You break the kiss and smile up at him as he catches his breath. Your hands stroke his shoulders, and your fingertips scratch against his head. It’s been so long since he’s been touched, he practically purrs under your attention.

“Still good?” you ask.

“You know it.”

“There’s condoms in the nightstand if you want more.”

Yes, Benny wants more.

-----

He gets you on all fours, just as you said you imagined. He rolls a condom onto himself, gives himself a few experimental pumps with his fist as you shuffle backwards towards him.

“Now, like you said.” Benny lays a palm along the back of your neck and pushes you down gently until your head is turned and your cheek is pressed against the mattress. “Like that.”

He can hear how turned on you are when you echo, you’re voice heavy with desire, “just like that.”

“Good?”

“Perfect.” You wriggle your ass at him, tempting him, and it doesn’t take much. He grips his cock with his other hand, swipes the tip through your slick. He teases it a bit, teasing the broad head of his cock along your plump lips, pushes the barest bit into you but then pulls out. Does it until you whine, and there’s a threatening tone underneath the simpering. Like there’s only so far he can tease you.

He enters you as slowly as he can. He wants to feel every inch of you, and he stares down at where he splits you open, where he disappears into your body. He can feel you try to push back and rush it; the only thing stopping you is his hand on the back of your neck holding you firm.

“Benny…” It’s a drawn out whine. A pleading tone.

“Patience, baby.” Benny grits his teeth and slides the last inch home, his cock buried to the root, his hips flush against you. “There we are.”

He feels how tight you are against him, the little twitches against him as you mold to the shape of his cock. If the analogy is a cliché, so be it: it’s a perfect fit, a key made for a lock. He releases his hold on your neck and skates his fingertips down the bumps of your spine. You shiver against the sensation, and he smacks your ass lightly a beat later.

“Benny, c’mon.” Another whine. “Please.”

“Please what?” He smacks you again, not hard, and then he sinks his fingertips into the swell of your hips. Holds you tight against him but only to stop you from moving.

“Please fuck me.”

“Yeah?” He draws out an inch, thrusts back into you. “Like that?”

It makes you groan, the sound coming from deep inside you, deep in your belly. “Just like that. Just like that, please.”

He does it again: pulls out a fraction, slides back in, hard and firm. “Feel good?”

“Fuck yes.”

Again. Hard enough to jar you forward a bit, and his hands on your hips pull you back. “You ever been fucked like this?”

“N-no.”

Again, and he pulls out halfway and pauses. Looks down at where his cock glistens with your arousal, where your cunt twitches and spasms against him. Struggling to push him out or pull him in, he can’t say for sure. He pushes forward and pulls you back in one motion, and it knocks the wind out of you, pushes out a guttural moan.

“Murph never fuck you like this?” He repeats it, a hard thrust that makes you keen this time, then he holds it, buried as far inside you as he can go. He pulses forward, feels where the base of him grinds against your clit, where his heavy balls press against you.

“Never. Never!” Your voice is higher, reedy. Breathless. “God, Ben—”

“He’s gonna fuck you after I leave, isn’t he?” There’s a filament of jealous burning in him. He doesn’t understand this cuckolding kink from the other side of things. If you were his, he’d fucking make you his. He wouldn’t fool around at hotel parties like Murph did; he’d be right here with you, keeping you stuffed full of him, satiated.

He also doesn’t understand the possession side of things, why it’s such a bad thing. Of course you belong to yourself. When he says you’re mine, Benny means a hundred nuanced things. He means that he’s also yours, that you belong to each other not in an ownership way but in a way he can’t quite express without sounding like some antiquated asshole. That you’re his to keep safe, to love, to take care of, just as he’d be yours to keep safe and love and care for.

Of course, you aren’t his anyway, and he’s not yours. This is a borrowed moment, so he deals you a handful of deep, slow thrusts, his cock hitting the end of you and making you whimper each time.

“He’s coming over after this, right?” Benny asks it again. He wants you to say it.

“Yes.”

“He gonna fuck you this good?”

You shake your head against the bedding. “Nuh-uh.”

Benny pulls you tight against him, and he grinds himself into you, pushes every fraction of himself into your clenching heat. You’re so fucking wet that it goes a brush easier, but he can’t know that he’s deeper than any man’s ever been, that he’s nudging against the mouth of your womb, and that you’re thinking no, Murph’s never fucked me this good because he’s never been so deep inside me, and it’s just like I imagined that time—I can feel Benny in my chest, in my throat.

Benny knows none of what you’re thinking. Instead, he reaches down and grasps you under your arms. He hauls you off your hands and up to where he is. He wraps his arms around your torso, holds you—your back to his chest—and he whispers in your ear, “good. No one will ever fuck you as good as this.”

You turn your head. He can see the fucked-out look on your face, the dazed expression, the teary eyes. Your lips parted as you pant, breathless, then agree with him. Echo his words, tell him, “no one will ever fuck me as good as you, Ben.”

It ends too quickly after that. Even with the pot delaying his pleasure, Benny can’t put it off forever. He feels you as your second orgasm approaches, the way you tighten up against where he’s bouncing you against his cock. Then, a beat later, you come, and the walls of your cunt ripple against him like you’re trying to pull him into you. Like you’re trying to consume him, and Benny thinks he wouldn’t mind being consumed by you.

His own orgasm is quick to follow yours. He feels the telltale heaviness in his gut, the taut tightening of his balls. In the split second before it breaks around him, he wishes he hadn’t worn a condom. He wishes he could come inside you, fill you up with himself, leave you a mess for when Murph visits you later.

He wishes the other man could see you looking blissed-out and satisfied, then could look down and see Benny’s cum trickling out of you.

The mental image—you filled with his spend, the mess of it as it drips from your body—is what pushes him over the edge. The tension in him snaps, and he pushes in as deeply as he can as he come harmlessly in the latex.

-----

If Murph is due at any point afterwards, Benny can’t tell what the timeline is. You don’t rush him out. You don’t harry him along so your real boyfriend can come and take his turn.

In fact, it’s a lazy post-coital scene. He helps you clean up. He spends a long moment in your bathroom, sobering up and gazing at his own reflection. This was a bad idea, he thinks now that his orgasm is behind him.

There’s too much jealousy but not with the people he’d assume. He’s the one that burns with jealousy. It's a cuckolding kink that has somehow boomeranged around to hit him, not Murph.

But back in the bedroom, you’re stretched out and sated, a lazy smile on your lips. You pat the empty space beside you, and Benny takes it. He puts an arm out and you curl up against his side, then he wraps his arm around you.

“You okay?” you ask.

“Mmm-hmm. You?”

“Oh yeah.” You turn your head and kiss him above his collarbone. “You’re great, you know.”

Benny hums at that but says nothing. You must read something in it, because you ask, “is this going to be a problem?”

What’s the point in lying? There’s a hot ball of jealousy sitting like lead in his gut, and it’s not what it was supposed to be. He was supposed to have a fun little interlude, then go home. So why’s he the one feeling like he’s being cuckholded?

“I don’t want it to be a problem,” he answers honestly.

You hear the unspoken “but” in his reply, and you urge him to explain.

“Maybe I wasn’t the best guy for this sort of game.”

“Why not?”

How should he put it? He's got two divorces under his belt. It should be obvious.

“Because I fall pretty easily, I guess,” he replies.

You twist in his hold and settle your chin on his chest so you can gaze up at him. “This wasn’t a game, you know.”

Benny snorts. “No?”

“Murph and I have an open thing.”

“And you wanted a guy to fuck you so he could play around with being jealous about it.”

You shake your head faintly. “You’re missing the point, Benny. I wanted to be with you. The cuckholding was secondary. It’s not the other way around. I wasn’t looking for a guy for the sake of cuckholding Murph. I was looking to be with you first and foremost.”

It gives him the barest bit of comfort, but you still sense his confusion. You sigh and push away from him, and you leave the room for a moment. When you return, you have your phone in your hand, and you’re typing as you walk back to the bed.

“There,” you say. You set the phone down on the nightstand, then crawl back in to lie down beside him.

“There what?”

“There…I texted Murph. Told him not to come over.”

“But—”

“He sent back a thumbs up.” You strain to brush a kiss onto his frowning mouth. “It’s all good, Benny.”

He furrows his brow because he can’t quite believe you, and he tells you so, which makes you sigh again but smile.

“It’s an open thing. It’s not serious. He messes around with other women, I mess around with other men, and sometimes our outside stuff overlaps, but usually it doesn’t.”

“You sure?”

You nod, and you kiss him again. Softly. Lingering. “I promise,” you assure him when you break away.

“I’m sorry to mess it up.” Benny had been prepared to slink home and lick his wounds, but it turned into a massive non-issue. He feels a sting of guilt all the same.

“Oh, you didn’t.” You snuggle closer to him, the softness of your breasts pressing against his arm. “But now that there’s no time limit on your exit, we could go again.”

Benny’s cock twitches at the thought. “Yeah?”

“Mmm-hmm.” You kiss him again, then run the tip of your tongue over his collarbone. “But maybe this time, you don’t mention Murph at all while we’re fucking.”

“Deal.” Benny reaches his hand and cups your breast, tests the weight of it in his palm. Runs the pad of his thumb over your hardening peak.

The second time that night, it goes slower. It’s softer: gentle movements against each other, and without the specter of Murph in the room—glowering from the corner, the cuckold—it’s an entirely different experience. It’s quieter but deeper, more intimate, and when he comes a second time, Benny doesn’t think of the other man at all.

He falls asleep, though he doesn’t mean to. He means to go home either way that night, but he falls asleep with you in his arms, with your arms around him, and the thought that he falls asleep to is this: maybe he’s old-fashioned and maybe he falls too easily, but you could be his, and he could be yours, and it might be amazing if he could convince you to consider it.

#kinktober2024 #clear the inbox 2024 #tropes and tales #benny magalon #benny borracho magalon #benny magalon imagine #benny magalon x reader #borracho magalon imagine #borracho magalon x reader #borracho magalon #murph connors #murph connors x reader #murph connors imagine #den of thieves

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nordicmuse · 1 year ago

Text

Down by the River - Astarion x Tav Romance/Sm!t

After Astarion is shamed for what he is, he and Tav find themselves confronting the dynamic of their relationship, and if it can even be that.

Fading embers crackled as the group sat around the dying fire. It was late, and conversation had dulled to the occasional mumble about stiff muscles or the notice of a previously looked over wound. Tav stifled a yawn as she lazily spun a dagger between her fingers, having now cleaned it of goblin blood and polishing it until it shone her worse-for-wear face in the firelight.

Shadowheart rolled her head on her shoulders and sighed as an unpleasant pop sounded. Tav winced. To her right, Gale was nursing a sore knee, courtesy of a bad tumble, and sat with it out sideways, wrapped for support. They’d taken a hell of a beating today, but they were alive - more than what they could say for some of the druids and tieflings. Guilt still weighed heavily there it seemed.

Shadowheart stood on stiff legs and sighed, breaking the silence. “Well, I don’t know about the lot of you all, but today’s kicked my ass. I’m turning in.”

Tav opened her mouth to speak, but the rustling of leaves silenced her, making her palm her dagger. She relaxed as a mess of white hair pushed through the bushes and Astarion stepped into camp. His shirt was torn and bloodied from the day’s events, both his and slain foes alike, but where earlier they had browned as they dried, fresh bright splotches scattered amongst them. They were minimal, but undeniably there. He’d been feeding.

“Welcome back. Not that we noticed you were gone,” Shadowheart teased.

Gale rolled his eyes. “Must you go and do that while the rest of us are awake? We don’t exactly care to see-”

“Gale!” Tav whisper-shouted. She flashed apologetic eyes towards the vampire spawn.

Astarion rolled his eyes. “No, please, let him go on. You’re so very charming. I accept, but with a request of my own. You can’t eat in front of me either. Have to play fair, after all, and it’s hardly kind to rub it in that what I used to enjoy can’t sustain me anymore.”

“You should know to just ignore him by now,” Shadowheart chided him.

“Or better yet,” Astarion continued, “You eat whatever you want at any time, but if I see a speck of gravy on your shirt or a stray crumb, I’ll remind you just how inconsiderate you are.” His smirk did nothing to hide the pair of stained, elongated teeth at either corner of his mouth.

“You are vile,” Gale berated, raising awkwardly to stand on his bad knee.

“Hmf. Suppose that you are entitled to your opinions.”

“It’s not a huge favor to ask that you keep those monstrous tendencies to yourself. Though you clearly had no problem making it Tav’s prob-”

“That is enough!” Tav shouted, bolting to her feet. She pointed an admonishing finger at Gale. “You’re going to lecture him about what he eats when I had to watch you consume a pair of boots just yesterday? For fuck’s sake, find something better to gripe about!” she hissed.

“And you!” She turned to Astarion. “Learn when to walk away!”

A pregnant pause fell over the group as she stared them both down.

“Tav is right,” Shadowheart said. “We need to stop bickering. We’re all complicated. No use in pointing out what makes it different.”

Astarion glanced down at Tav, then brusquely averted his gaze. “Suppose you’re right. Now, if there’s nothing else to be said, I think I’ll be changing into fresh clothes and turning in.” As he stepped away, Gale scoffed to himself. Tav watched as Astarion hesitated that half-step, sighed, and continued to his tent.

Shadowheart and Gale excused themselves as well, but Tav stayed by the fire, sitting on her bedroll. Thoughts consumed her. Why were people so vile to him? He hadn’t hurt any of them. She grimaced. Well, not exactly. But she had let him. Of course she was aware that he had snuck up on her that first night. But she had offered himself to her freely, once the shock had passed. And, try as she might, she couldn’t convince herself that he would have fed from her if she had never stirred or simply refused. He tried to deny it at every turn, but that glimmer was there. Humanity.

And it made it all the damn more conflicting when she had offered herself to him again. And again. And again.

There was no denying it. She couldn’t hide the bruising or puncture marks on her neck, and she was admittedly lethargic the day following a feeding, but seeing him so rejuvenated made it somehow worth it. It didn’t make any damned sense. Why was she sacrificing herself for someone people saw as a monster? Probably because she didn’t see him that way at all. Not anymore.

And then something strange happened - Astarion had reeled her into a conversation about that fateful night, talked about how it seemed to have awoken an appetite (though he swore he had no intention of feeding off of Gale of Shadowheart), and being his musing, hypothetical self, he had asked her who she would feed off of if she were like him. And the answer came a bit too quickly. You. He’d laughed it off with thanks for the flattery, but she realized she had admitted something deeper than that.

Tav looked up from the all but extinguished fire, barely an ashen glow. Lanterns were snuffed out around the campsite, but the full moon illuminated the woods in a pale glow. She stood, muscles aching and face still stinging from the slash it had taken across the bridge of her nose and down her cheek today. She told herself she was just taking the long way around to her tent. It wasn’t her fault that it passed his. Besides… she wanted to check on him.

Her hand fell to the tent flap, hesitating as she was unsure of how best to get his attention when knocking wasn’t an option and she didn’t want their other companions to hear her call out to him. She pulled the tent flap back.

“Looking for me?” a saccharine voice whispered. She turned to Astarion’s tall frame leaning against a nearby tree, and dropped the flap.

She hung her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry-”

“Hush,” he said, a finger to his lips. He crooked his finger, beckoning. “Let them sleep. If you want to talk, I suggest we wander off some.”

She nodded, following him down a winding path to the riverbank, where the steady flow of water sang, drowning out their conversation.

“What were you doing out? I thought you were going to bed, too.”

“I could accuse you of the same. But if you mean to ask if I was feeding, then no, so you needn’t worry.” Defensive malice dripped from his words.

Her heart stung. Was he accusing her of being appalled? “You know I don’t care about that - not in any bad sense. So then what were you doing?”

He leaned back against a large boulder, arms crossed over his chest. “Thinking. I might be able to be in daylight now thanks to our little passengers, but I’ve been a dark dweller for hundreds of years. It’s oddly comforting once you’re used to it. A monster can hardly change its true nature,” he bit out.

“You’re not a monster.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“You don’t get to decide that! I let you feed off of me. Why would I let you do that unless I gave a damn about your wellbeing? When I know you can survive off of animals, yet bare my neck and let you take from me?”

He averted his eyes. “I never meant to insult you.” He stepped away from the boulder, staring into the black water. “But even I have to admit that you’re a puzzle I can’t solve.”

“It’s not a puzzle, Astarion. I just… I just want you to be okay,” she admitted, surprised by her boldness.

“I’ve survived how many more lifetimes than you, darling girl? I’ve managed,” he quipped.

You feel it, too. You have to…, her mind wondered.

Tav stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Astarion’s arm. “You might actually believe you’re a monster, or maybe that’s what you tell yourself to prepare for the inevitable storm of assholes that can’t see past their own prejudices. But I’m telling you what I see, and that has to be worth something.”

He turned, red eyes locking onto hers. “And what is that?”

Had her chest been heaving this hard a minute ago? Her breath stuttered. “I see you.”

His eyes fell to her lips, she shook with anticipation. Was he wondering what it would be like to close that gap just as much as she was? Her hand fell to his arm again, trailing down to his fingers as she locked her hand into his. Was he shaking? Yes, he was undoubtedly glancing between her eyes and lips, torn in the middle of a decision. One she wanted so badly to make for the both of them - but he needed to be the one to decide. To be allowed to choose for himself.

After what felt like many moments of empty promise, she pulled back, her hand leaving his. As she turned away, his eyes widened, like the loss had panicked him. He grabbed her hand and stared at her, uncertainty in his red eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong.” And she meant it, by every definition.

He pulled her body against his, lips crashing onto hers with fervor. His hands cradled her neck as he backed her against the nearest tree, all semblance of his self-control lost. Good. She didn’t want it. His tongue searched for hers, a different kind of ravenous, and he groaned pleasurably as she wrapped her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers into his hair. His kisses trailed down her neck, hesitating at the marks he had left on her. He needed to be distracted from where his mind was returning to.

She used her leg to pull him flush into her body, an unmistakable hardness pressing against her. Both gasped at the contact. Her hands flew to his fresh shirt, opening the first few buttons, but he put his hand over hers. Breathless, he asked, “Leave it on. Please.” Shame clouded his eyes, brows furrowing. “I have… scars.”

“We all do,” Tav said, confusion riddling her voice. “Hell, I have an open cut running across my face right now. That will probably scar, too.”

Though his desire was palpable in the air, he pulled back another excruciating inch. “These ones are… different, to put it lightly.”

“From the transformation...” Her confused look softened, but turned to horror in her eyes. But not at him. At whoever could have done that to him.

Astarion didn’t say it, but he didn’t deny it. He backed up a step, though he looked physically pained to create the distance. “You don’t actually want this, Tav. You deserve better.”

“I want all of you.”

He grimaced. Fucking grimaced. “There’s not a lot of me left.”

She advanced, hand touching his cheek. “Then let me take whatever you will give.”

His eyes clouded with something - relief, resolve? But he nodded fervently and lurched in to kiss her like she was air and he was suffocating. She ran her hands over the planes of his chest exposed by the few buttons she had opened, wishing she could run them along his back, but respected his wishes. She would only take what she was given. His hands fumbled for her belt, unbuckling it as she pushed them down her thighs, exposing herself to the chill night. Her pants and boots were thrown haphazardly to the side, and they both heard the unmistakable tumbling and splash of something heavy hitting the water nearby.

They hesitated long enough to laugh as he lifted her into his arms, bracing her against the boulder. Tav cried out, biting off a moan as a long finger slid through her slick heat. Astarion groaned, producing the soaked finger in front of him. And sniffed. He was fucking smelling her.

“Oh, darling,” he purred. “I’ve tasted your blood. But this is going to be divine.”

Words couldn’t form as he sank to his knees, barely giving her a moment to realize his intentions before his warm tongue slid against her. She gasped, fingers tangling in his hair. She couldn’t help the involuntary tug when he sucked her clit into his mouth, working over the sensitive bud.

“Delicious,” he sighed against her.

Her brain fogged, and certainly not from the damned tadpole. But was it possible that everything she was feeling, he felt, too? It would explain the sense of mesmerized pride she felt.

“As-Astarion!” she begged, bucking her hips against his mouth.

He placed a steadying hand over her hip bone and broke away, causing her to cry out in frustration. “Quiet, now, or you’ll let everyone in on our little game here.”

Suave as he was, she knew. He didn’t want her to be embarrassed if she was caught with him. And it burned her, because nobody else gave a damn who fucked who the night before. Unless it was him, apparently.

“Let them hear,” she whispered. “I want them to know.”

“You say that-”

“Then believe me.”

She sank to her knees, shoving him backwards so she could straddle him. She unlaced his leather pants, growing frustrated with them and allowing him to free himself. He groaned at the relief from the confines, and need radiated in her core like alchemist’s fire. He was going to be the death of her, but not in the way he worried about.

Her hand encompassed him, and he jolted, lips parting. “Darling, I don’t mean to rush you, but I’m afraid you’re going to spoil your own fun if you keep that up.”

A smirk played at Tav’s lips. “Been a while?”

“What can I say? I’ve been a bit preoccupied with being kidnapped and turned into a nursery.” But the sharp, joking tone of his voice dropped. “But, yes. I don’t often take people to bed. Despite Gale’s prodding, I do still have impulse control, and I don’t seem to enjoy meaningless little trysts.”

She hesitated. “Are you saying this means something?”

“Please, don’t make me answer that tonight. But I think you already know that answer, even if I can’t bring myself to say it.”

“I understand.”

He took her hand, holding it between them. “Thank you.”

He coaxed her off of him and kneeled, closing his eyes as he unfastened the last buttons of his shirt.

“Astar-”

“I know what I said. And I have no plans of letting you see that. Not tonight, maybe not ever… but I’m not about to bed you on the cold ground,” he explained, pushing the white shirt off his shoulders and laying it on the ground. He beckoned her closer, drawing her into another fervent kiss and laying her onto the thin fabric. He kneeled over her, supporting himself on his forearms. They both sighed as his cock nudged her entrance. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Thank Gods.”

He pushed into her, sinking in inch by inch until his hips were flush with hers. Tav gasped, hooking her arms around him. She felt the marks a moment too late, and her eyes flew open, boring into his. But he was just watching her, studying her like he was waiting for regret to ebb into her eyes. It never came.

Her body ached from more than the ass beating she had taken today. It ached for him, wanted him impossibly closer. Her hips bucked as she tried to draw him in, causing his breath to stutter as his gaze grew hazy, setting a steady rhythm rocking into her.

“Astarion, fuck-” she gasped, pulling him flush to her chest. “I need you. Please.”

“Darling, you have me,” he rasped, punctuating the thought with a tantalizing grind of his hips that rubbed her clit as he moved. His movements grew feral as he kissed her fervently, head dipping down to her neck. She groaned at the distinct feel of his teeth grazing her neck. And though she knew he only did it to heighten her senses…

“I want- want you to- fuck… I want you to feed on me,” she begged.

Astarion’s hips stuttered as if the thought alone was going to drive him over the edge.

“Tav, now isn’t the time. I’ve had enough to satiate me.”

“But not enough to fill you. And you said it yourself - it can be extremely pleasurable in the right circumstances. And I want to give it.”

“Are you sure?” he breathed, eyes wide with doubt even as his hips rolled slowly against hers.

Her hands guided him to the healing bruise on her neck, and a moment passed where she questioned if he would accept her offer. And then a sharp sting radiated pain thorough her neck and shoulder. Pain and wooziness and… yes, that. She quivered, surrendering to his touch, to everything that was him. She would die for this, would beg for it without shame. She was his, whether his heart understood that or not. Even if it never did.

Her stomach tightened, release a cliff edge she just needed the slightest push towards… Maybe their minds were more interconnected than she thought. “Come for me,” Astarion groaned, reaching down to rub her clit and punctuating the thought with sharp, dizzying thrusts. And the world shattered.

“Astarion!” Tav screamed, orgasm ripping through her like earth-shattering magic.

He panted against her, pushed her legs up to drive into her impossibly deeper, sweat beading on his forehead. She gasped, sensitive from her climax, and fell deliriously into a second one as he groaned, burying himself to the hilt and stilling, cock twitching inside of her as he finally broke apart.

He stilled, lowering her legs and bracing himself, eyes closed as he fought for breath. He slid out of her slowly, regretfully, and fell to the ground beside her. He pulled her into him, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, damp with sweat.

Laying on his stomach, he tucked an arm under his head and turned tired but sated eyes on her. No, more than sated. Adoring.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, disbelief heavy in his eyes.

“So are you. Wonderful and handsome and smarmy and arrogant sometimes… but amazing. I meant it. I see you, Astarion.”

His throat bobbed, then his gaze fell to the dirty, frumpy shirt they were lying on. As if realizing his position suddenly, he swore, jolting upright and turning his scarred back away.

“Damn it. I’m sorry. I truly didn’t mean for you to see that. You just…,” he sighed, “make it too easy to let my guard down.”

Tav pulled herself into a sitting position. “I don’t mind it, Astarion.” She cupped his cheek, directing his eyes to hers. “And, for whatever it’s worth… you’re beautiful. Unique. Something I want to spend a thousand nights mapping out.”

He smiled. “Then you’d be the first. And some horrible, selfish part of me wants you to be the last,” he admitted softly.

Tav leaned forward, wiping a droplet of her own blood from the corner of his mouth.

“I think I would join you in that eternity. We’ll find a way to make this work, if that’s what you want, too. I promise.”

“I… I believe you,” he breathed, pulling her into his arms.

“We should get back to camp. I’m sure tomorrow can’t wait to kick our asses again, and we both need rest.”

They dressed in silence, minus one boot that might have accidentally somehow ended up in the river. He apologized, but she could only laugh. He surprised her when he outstretched a hand. She took it as they strode silently back into camp.

With his tent just past hers, Astarion hesitated outside of her tent, lingering. Their hands stayed locked as he pressed his forehead to hers appreciatively. “Goodnight, you strange and wonderful thing,” he mused, smiling down at her.

It was a reach, but she couldn’t just let him walk away. It was some agonizing fear that if he left now, he would convince himself that this was all just for fun, that this was a distraction for both of them. “Stay,” she asked, searching his eyes.

“If I stay, the others-”

“I don’t care. Stay.”

Slowly, he nodded. “Alright.”

She fell asleep in the folds of his arms, not minding the dirty shirt he slept in. Hopefully he would ease about his back scars over time with her, reveal more of the history, but she was just content to be held by him tonight, and hopefully many nights after. And Astarion slept peacefully beside her for the first time in many long nights.

She woke to his gentle gaze roaming over her, taking in her face, her hair, her breathing. He adjusted as she stirred, almost apologetic.

“Good morning,” Tav murmured, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Good morning. I apologize for staring, but… I wasn’t convinced it was real when I woke up this morning. I’m still not.”

Sleepily, she moved forward and pressed her lips softly to his.

He sighed, relief melting over him. “Thank Gods.”

Between his hands running through her hair and his adoring words, she drifted back into the daze between sleep and waking. Just resting her eyes a bit longer…

Except when she opened them again, Astarion was gone. The distinct voices of Gale and Shadowheart filtered through the tent walls. Camp was awake. Had he snuck out unnoticed, still embarrassed to be discovered? Her heart sank at the thought.

She left her tent, strolling into the center of camp where Gale was cooking breakfast over the fire and sitting on a cut log.

“Good morning,” Tav said, nodding towards Shadowheart who sat polishing pieces of her armor.

The cleric nodded. “Good morning.”

Gale nodded curtly. “Morning.”

She knew she was showing her hand too much, but worry ebbed into her veins. “Has anyone seen-”

“Your boot. Yes. Found it by the bank behind your tent, actually,” came his steady voice. Astarion waltz into camp, throwing the soggy leather boot down by the fire to dry. “It’s, eh- a bit damp. If it doesn’t dry well, we can visit a merchant in town, no doubt. Or check at the grove.”

Her relieved smile met his content one. “Good morning, darling. Sleep well?”

“You mean you actually got sleep last night?” Gale retorted, shooting Astarion an accusatory glance.

If at all possible, the elf paled, but a snarky grin masked it well. “What gave it away, Waterdeep? Her beautiful sounds, or the shirt I’m wearing? Had to wear the dirty one I bedded her on top of last night so as not to wear that bloody one that upsets you so.”

Gale stiffened, not expecting the crass admittance.

“But… yes,” Astarion said. “Tav and I are… trying this. And I don’t give a single damn what you think. All that matters,” he laced his fingers into hers, “is what she thinks. What I think.”

Shadowheart smiled. “If this is what you want,” she glanced at Tav, “ I’m happy for you.”

Tav nodded, lacing her fingers tighter into his. “It is.”

Gale nodded. “Seems like I’m on the unpopular opinion side of this debate. Which also means that I might have been wrong about you,” he said, locking eyes with Astarion. Astarion nodded, and the conversation ended. A quiet agreement of mutual respect.

Hours later, Tav ripped at the buttons of Astarions shirt, shoving it partly off his shoulders so she could roam her hands freely over his chest. Her tunic followed swiftly as he laid her onto his bedroll in his tent.

“Last night,” she gasped between kisses, “I told you- that I- wanted to explore you for a thousand nights. This is only two.”

“You’re foolish if you think I’m giving you up after the thousandth,” he rasped.

She laughed, falling into their passionate embrace.

#Astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #down by the river #larian studios #astarion x tav #bg3 smut #astarion smut #astarion spoilers #baldurs gate tav #bg3 tav #my tav

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oldiesstationlover11607 · 2 months ago

Note

Gladly taking you up on your smut requests omg??? The last one you posted was so good !! I absolutely LOVED the good day Clancy fic it was amazing. so I had a vague idea of a Clancy x reader fic where it starts out with fluff then leads into smut? My idea is that Clancy had broken the reader out of Dema and was now helping her adjust to life outside of the city. She's a bit nervous around him because of how ambitious he is and how much of a risk taker he is. She feels like with how firm he is with his decisions and how quick he is to act out plans, it's dangerous for her. She's just scared to get caught by the Bishops and returned to Dema. She ends up telling Clancy about all of this and he comforts her through her doubts and anxieties. With how much time they spend together while Clancy is helping her adjust, they end up getting pretty close and realize that they're actually a lot more alike than previously anticipated and they bond from it. Thennn you can go from there how you'd like ^^ idunno I've never requested fics before so idk if this is too much or not LMAO You can change it up however you like if you end up doing it!! I'm just itching for more Clancy x reader content really lol -🩷✨

Scared - Clancy x Reader - Smut

Warnings: Fluffy smut hehe

Word Count: 2438

A/N: I love writing lore fics ngl 👀 Also love that we've got new anons coming in! That was a great request :)

Clancy had always been a whirlwind of energy, an enigma of rebellion and daring plans. He’d been that way in the city but the second he stepped out of the walls he’d gone full tilt. From the moment he helped break me out of Dema, I had felt a tug of nervousness in my chest. I wasn’t quick like him, I wasn’t bold like him. He moved so quickly, his mind always calculating the next step, never stopping to rest for long. His intensity filled the camp as he conversated with the Torchbearer and while it was what had saved me, it also worried me. Clancy was unpredictable, reckless at times, and his ambition seemed limitless—qualities that made me feel like we were constantly on the edge of being caught, dragged back to the nightmare I had barely escaped. Hidden at the bandito camp, where the city’s grasp could not reach. The silence of Trench was disorienting after a life in Dema and I still wasn’t used to the freedom. The thought of it often sent me spiraling, making me wonder if this new world was really safer, or if it was just a ticking time bomb leading us down a path of being dragged back to Dema by the bishops.

Clancy had seemed to notice I wasn’t coping well. His piercing gaze had fallen on me more than once, sizing me up, always quietly observing. I could tell he was holding back, waiting for me to come to terms with this new life on my own but it never happened–my worries growing heavier with each day.

One night I found myself sitting near the fire, staring into the flames that Torchbearer had ignited. Clancy sat on the log next to mine, looking down at the notebook everyone knew he kept his plans in. The pen in his hand scribbled frantically as he spoke to himself quietly. My heart raced as I watched him, the feeling of helplessness clawing at me. What if he made a mistake? What if we didn’t move quick enough and we were caught? I couldn't take it anymore.

“Clancy,” I said softly, walking up to him.

He stopped, looking over at me, his brow furrowing in concern. “Yeah?”

“I’m worried about what we’re planning. I don’t trust that we’re safe,” I admitted, my voice shaking slightly. “You’re so–so confident with every decision you make. We’re taking risks without thinking twice, and I’m… I’m terrified. What if the bishops find us? What if all of this was for nothing?”

For a moment, Clancy didn’t respond, his intense brown eyes studying me. Then, slowly, he moved across the log, allowing me to sit next to him. His presence, though comforting, also made me feel more vulnerable. The firelight flickered against his face, casting shadows in his dark hair, making him seem almost otherworldly.

“I know it's a lot,” he said quietly, his voice softer than usual, losing some of its usual bravado. “And I get that you're scared. You’ve been through hell in Dema. I know what it’s like to be afraid of them. The bishops... they have a way of getting into your head, making you think there’s no way out. But trust me when I say they don’t control you anymore.”

I shook my head, struggling to explain the storm inside me. “But you don’t understand. I feel like we’re still running. Like at any moment, they’ll find us, and it’ll all be over.”

Clancy’s eyes softened, and his hand reached out to rest on mine. I froze at the contact, not sure what to expect. But his touch was gentle, grounding.

“I do understand,” he said, his thumb tracing small circles on my skin. “I’ve been living like this for a while now. Always on the run, always looking over my shoulder. It’s not easy, and it never will be. But you don’t have to carry all that fear alone.”

I looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, I saw past the recklessness, past the daring confidence. There was something deeper, something raw. He wasn’t as invincible as he made himself seem. He had his own scars from Dema, his own demons chasing him. And in that moment, I realized how much alike we were, despite my fears.

His hand squeezed mine lightly. “I’m here. You’re not doing this alone anymore.”

The vulnerability in his voice melted the walls I’d built, and I found myself leaning into him, letting his warmth pull me in. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close, and I let out a shaky breath, resting my head against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, a rhythm that seemed to slow the chaos inside me.

“You don’t have to be like me,” he murmured against my hair. “I don’t expect that from you. Just be you. We’ll figure the rest out.” I closed my eyes, letting his words sink in. For the first time in days, I felt at peace. His arms around me, the quiet of the cabin, the crackle of the fire—it all felt... safe. Safer than I’d felt in a long time.

Time seemed to blur as we sat there together, the tension between us shifting. I felt myself relaxing into him, my fingers absentmindedly tracing the lines of his chest through his shirt. His body was solid, grounding, and I felt a strange sense of comfort in his presence. But something else stirred, too. A closeness that hadn’t been there before, or maybe had been, but I hadn’t let myself acknowledge. I lifted my head to look at him, our faces inches apart. His gaze, normally sharp and calculating, had softened. There was something in his eyes now—something vulnerable, open. My breath caught in my throat.

Neither of us spoke. We didn’t need to. The air between us had changed, thick with unspoken tension. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Clancy’s hand moved from my shoulder to my cheek, his thumb brushing my skin in a way that made my heart race.

My pulse quickened, my body reacting before my mind could catch up. I leaned in, closing the distance between us, my lips brushing his softly at first, testing the waters. His breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he kissed me back, his lips firm and warm, as though they’d been waiting for this moment as much as I had. The kiss deepened, the fire between us growing with each passing second. My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as his arms wrapped around my waist, drawing me into his lap. The warmth of his body, the way he held me so tightly, so possessively, sent a shiver down my spine.

“Clancy,” I whispered against his lips, my voice trembling with need.

“Tent. Let’s go to my tent,” he muttered, picking me up bridal style and carrying us over to one of the larger tents in the campsite. Lucky for us the floor of his tent wasn’t too hard, the blankets he’d stolen from the city making a comfortable barrier between the dirt ground and us.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark with desire. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low, rough with restraint.

I nodded, my heart pounding. “Yes. I need this. I need you.”

That was all it took. With a hum of approval, Clancy’s lips crashed into mine again, more urgent this time. His hands roamed my body, exploring, claiming. The world outside faded away, the Bishops, Dema, all of it disappearing as we lost ourselves in each other.

Clancy’s lips were relentless now, the hunger between us building with every passing second. The intensity of it made my head spin, my body aching for more. His hands, strong and warm, gripped my waist as he pulled me impossibly closer, my legs straddling his lap. I could feel the heat of him through the fabric of his clothes, his arousal evident against me, and it only stoked the fire burning inside me.

His hands slid under my shirt, his fingers tracing the bare skin of my back, making me shiver. The sensation sent a wave of electricity through me, igniting something deep and primal. I gasped against his mouth as he tugged at my shirt, pulling it up and over my head in one swift motion, tossing it aside without a second thought.

Clancy's eyes raked over me, dark and intense, his breath coming quicker now. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “and smart, and strong, and brave.” His hands cupped my breasts through the thin fabric of my bra, his thumbs brushing over my hardened nipples, making me arch into him with a desperate need I hadn’t known I was capable of.

I moaned softly as he kissed along my jaw, down the column of my neck, his lips hot against my skin. His hands were everywhere, touching, exploring, claiming me in a way that felt both overwhelming and exhilarating. My fingers tugged at his shirt, wanting to feel his skin against mine, needing the barrier between us gone.

He obliged, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. The sight of him—strong, toned, and so undeniably real—made my pulse race even faster. I traced the lines of his chest with my fingers, marveling at the heat of his skin, the way his muscles tensed under my touch. I leaned in, kissing the curve of his collarbone, tasting the salt of his skin, reveling in the way he groaned softly, his hands tightening on my hips.

Clancy’s hands moved to the button of my jeans, and I lifted myself slightly to help him as he deftly undid them, sliding the fabric down my legs and discarding them in the growing pile of clothes. His hands gripped my thighs, pulling me back onto his lap, his hardness pressing against my core through the thin material of my underwear. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through me, and I couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped my lips.

He looked up at me, his eyes filled with lust but also something deeper—something tender, almost reverent. “You’re sure?” he asked again, his voice barely more than a whisper, as though he needed to hear it one last time.

I nodded, my breath shaky but full of certainty. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

With that, Clancy’s hands slid beneath the waistband of my underwear, pulling them down and leaving me completely bare before him. His gaze darkened as he took me in, and the heat in his eyes sent a thrill through me. He shifted beneath me, his fingers brushing over my core, teasing, testing.

“You’re so wet. Is all this for me?” He teased, bringing my slick to up his lips and sucking it off his fingers. I nodded desperately, my hips instinctively rocking against him, craving more.

He didn’t make me wait. His fingers found my clit, circling slowly at first, building the tension inside me. I gripped his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin as pleasure began to coil tightly in my belly. Clancy watched me with a hunger that matched my own, his touch both gentle and demanding, as though he knew exactly what I needed.

I was lost in him, in the sensation of his fingers, the heat of his body pressed against mine. Every touch, every stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing through me, and I could feel the tension building, spiraling higher and higher until I was on the edge of breaking.

“Clancy,” I moaned, my voice breathless, desperate.

He pulled his hand away, and I whimpered at the loss, but before I could protest, he shifted beneath me, undoing his own pants with a swift motion. The anticipation, the knowledge of what was coming, made my heart pound in my chest. I watched as he freed himself, his erection hard and ready, and my body ached with need. Giving his cock a couple tugs, he slipped on one of the few condoms he’d stolen from his draw back in Dema when we escaped. He lifted me slightly, positioning me above him, his eyes locked on mine, seeking permission one final time. I nodded, my body trembling with want, and slowly, he lowered me onto him, inch by inch, until he filled me completely.

The sensation was overwhelming, a delicious mix of fullness and heat that made me gasp, my hands clutching his shoulders for support. Clancy groaned, his grip on my hips tightening as he held me there, letting me adjust to the feel of him inside me.

“God you feel so good Y/N.”

“Shit,” I seethed, feeling my wall stretch and clamp around him.

For a moment, we were still, the only sound between us the ragged breaths we shared. He pressed his lips to mine, capturing the moment in a passionate kiss that took my breath away. I placed a hand on his chest as I slowly began to move, rocking my hips against him, finding a rhythm that sent sparks of pleasure through me with every movement.

Clancy’s hands guided me, his touch firm but reverent, his gaze never leaving mine as we moved together. The connection between us was undeniable, an intimacy that went beyond the physical. I could feel it in the way he touched me, the way he held me like I was something precious.

As the pleasure built again, faster this time, I could feel the tension rising inside me, coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust. Clancy’s breathing grew ragged, his grip on me tightening as his own control began to slip.

“Clancy I–I’m–” I couldn’t manage to get the words out, groans escaping my mouth between each pause.

“I know baby girl, I’m here. We’re safe. Cum for me,” he murmured, his voice rough and commanding, as he reached down to rub circles on my clit–that was all it took.

With a cry, I shattered around him, the pleasure ripping through me in waves that left me breathless, trembling in his arms. Clancy followed moments later, his release spilling into the condom.

For a long time, we stayed like that, wrapped in each other, our bodies still trembling from the aftermath. The world outside was quiet, the threat of Dema and the Bishops fading into the background as we held each other close.

In that moment, with Clancy’s arms around me and our hearts still racing in sync, I realized something. I wasn’t just free from Dema—I was free with him.

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