#That's how I learned to speak English in the first place

[adoredvi]

TILL DEATH DO US APART

1x1x1x1 x GN!Reader

Vi notes: uhmm punctuations may be horrendous and there are some error in the process, because English is NOT my first language and I just made this for fun, so enjoy:>>

They say that love is the greatest thing that can happen to a being. And you agree— it is.

Growing up, you are taught that love is important, along with kindness, and being respectful to people around you. At first, you were defiant about it, you dislike how your parents constantly wanted to instill that mentality in you, and as you grow older, you kinda see the appeal in their words and what they wanted you to learn.

1x1x1x1, or 1x for short, always wondered what he went wrong whenever she tried to get him to notice them, it's frustrating, every attempt, every single time they tried, she always fails, hell she even tried to go and do what it takes for him to notice him, but alas— it always fails, it never worked anyway.

He feels so much hatred inside of him, it slowly builds up as time goes by— everytime he sees him paying attention to other's aside from her. He thought it was all going to be like that for the rest of their life, until you came in, you lit up their life, their darkening heart, you drove them mad with every little smile you flash their way, every little encouraging words that he thought he'll never hear again. She loved it, she loves you, even if they don't want to admit it out loud.

You noticed— of course you did, you always do, you seemed to have made a habit of being observant of their movements, behavior, even how he speaks— you just find him endearing, but was it really just that? You really don't know.

You don't know until you found out they suddenly disappeared. You asked and asked everywhere, even going as far as to asking his creator who only looked at you and turned away not wanting to break your sweet fragile heart.

He isn't the same person you know anymore.

She didn't get it, she didn't get why their creator sent him down to this hell hole, to his own personal hell, and there it is, the hatred— the emotion he buried deep. The emotion that they never wanted to come out ever again, they thought that it's not there anymore, you helped them didn't you?....

Or were you lying like he is too..?

He walked, stared and grew bored alone in that world, not a single living thing around her, even things started shifting— like her skin, it started darkening, their own body shifting differently from what they used to know, it was horrifying, but did he care anymore? No, he barely even felt anything aside from hatred. That feeling of need for revenge, for satisfaction of seeing those who wronged him fall to their knees and beg for forgiveness while she stare at them condescendingly.

But from amidst of these thoughts, you always come crawling back to their mind, her heart pounding painfully, they don't know if they even have that anymore but it somehow did whenever they remember you smile and the way you lit up the room around you.

They groan whenever that happens, they just want to keep you in arms reach, or in other words, in their arms, and keep you away from prying eyes where others can disgustingly lay their eyes on your illuminating self.

It was yet another day of being alone in this dark world, 1x is seen wondering around the place, they seemed to have memorized it already, it was the only thing he can do in such place really, so he has no choice anyway.

1x sighed in boredom, the whole area felt empty without your presence, even though they've been there for what seemed like eternity, she still haven't forgotten who you are.

And when it seemed like it was getting too boring, she was teleported in a deserted hallway, that was until— of course a flash of red ran past him, only stopping a few feet away from behind her, and coming back once more.

"Oh oh!! A new person!!!" It? He said with so much enthusiasm, jumping up and down before physically dragging her from the place he came running out of.

"Lookie guys!! A new person arrived!!" The little guy yelled as soon as he entered the room, the door practically forcing open with his entery, his voice carrying that of excitement, cutting off the chatter in the room.

1x grunted in disapproval and distaste, brushing the kid's hand off of her, before standing there with his arms crossed, looking all too observant to his surroundings.

That went on for hours, and of course, 1x got the information they wanted, why were they here, and where are they.

1x sighed, the noise echoing through the confined space if their room, their first match is tomorrow, already, he already knows his abilities so is it even a surprise her first match is just right after she came to this world? No. The Spectre doesn't either.

You were confused, you spawned in on a room— a cabin, right on the cold wooded floor, luckily, a few people saw you and Introduced themselves and explained where you are, thankfully.

You understand the concept, but you don't know why you're here to begin with, judging by what the survivors around you, some looked like they hadn't seen a better day— which kinda is true considering their situation.

They also told you about your supposed abilities, which were pretty surprising considering you are just pretty much a normal robloxian, there is nothing important about you whatsoever, but did you complain? No, you're already here anyway.

Meeting again isn't in both of your bucket list, but here you are, face to face with one another— the other bleeding, and the other staring them down with so much emotion mixed into one.

You never expected to see him again, but neither did she expect to see you again, but here you are, faced to face with one another.

The time is running out, all your other teammates were down and dead, leaving you last, but did 1x made an attempt to move? No, they didn't, instead? They surprised themselves and you. He hugged you, brought you into his arms in a tight hold, muttering things about how stupid you are for getting hurt.

It was their way of saying they care and they missed you, but you didn't speak about it and just leaned into her hold, you missed this, you missed her.

"Death can't separate us," you would mutter in the past while you hold them in your arms similar to what she was doing now. It always made them smile and sigh in relief whenever you mutter those lines.

And now, they seem to be the one to be saying that, although albeit, silently, their hold on you tightening in the slightest while the time runs out.

It seemed like even when obstacles keeps you both apart, you will find each other over and over again, even after death.

IM SORRY IF 1X SEEMS OOC IN THIS I'M BAD AT CHARACTERS PERSONALITY...and it's not the canon either, I think....I also got lazy at the end😣😣

[poemsandghosts]

problem: I have a fanfiction addiction which keeps me from being productive

other problem: I need to study spanish and learn the entire language in like, one month

conclusion: the obvious solution is to read fanfics in spanish

[sege-h]

Like some kinda shark fin a now unrebloggable post on my dash has let me know whats going on on Twitter right now

Which is people going "UMMM NOT EVERYONE LIVES IN AMERICA OFC I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE ODYSSEY IS NOT ALL OF US HAD TO READ YOUR AMERICAN BOOK IN AMERICAN SCHOOLS" about being told it kinda sucks they dont know what the Odyssey is

Brother

Brother

I'm from Macedonia. That's like NOWHERE. WE had to read the Odyssey for school. And I knew of it BEFORE we had to read it for school because it was common knowledge. There was also some multi part Hallmark adaptation of it they kept playing on TV

[inkskinned]

i love finding out how big this world is. my girlfriend has only visited boston a handful of times, but i grew up here. i told her we'd be going to do the tourist traps in salem, and she said - which salem?

to be fair to her, there are a lot of other states that have a town named "salem." and i think there's some evidence that the witch trials actually happened in what is now called Danvers. but the thing is - she thought "salem" was like, a made-up thing. there wasn't actually a salem, massachusetts - like there isn't a gotham city.

they don't talk about it that much where she grew up, is the thing! and this made me laugh. a week ago she was talking about her hometown and said something akin to "well the museum's kinda like the one in richmond," and i had to explain i still had no frame of reference for what the hell this museum was like.

i love finding out what knowledge i take for granted. i used to live with 5 other women. 3 of them were from south korea. they had to take, like, a solid fifteen minutes to explain their birthday system to my gay math-blind ass, laughing as they did.

that same month, our roommate from denmark taught me the danish word for wreath by accident - she'd been talking about decorations, used krans, and i'd been able to figure it out through context. i just picked it up and kept talking. our entire house used krans as the word. she came home and slammed the door one evening, mock-angry, shouting: you motherfuckers! it's a - a wreath!

and how often do you use certain words, anyway! i am cuban, so i was raised with certain spanish words sort of sprinkled in there; but never how you'd think. in middle school i asked someone to pass me the recogedor - in a completely american accent, like i was speaking english. i hadn't registered it as a spanish word. i mean, how often in school do you actually use the word "dustpan" - i'd only ever heard it in the context of cleaning my house.

there are places that you grew up that you, just, like, know. that you assume everyone knows. there are things and people and "common knowledge" that you have that, just, like. doesn't exist for me. i don't know what you call your public transportation system, but in boston we call it "the T". our train cards are called charlie cards because of a song where a father accidentally abandons his family, which was written because our system of transportation. in boston, most people would snort and say everyone knows that, kid.

i think you and i should go on a long walk - it's getting dark early these days and we need any sun we can manage. tell me about the first time you saw snow. tell me about the stuff everyone knows about your home. tell me about the cities "everyone's been to," about the food "everyone's already tried." who knows. maybe it will feel nice to you - watching someone learn about it for the very first time.

[muntitled]

Boa

Pairings: Geum Seongje x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're just a kid, caught in a gangster’s crosshairs. What happens when you don’t deliver like you should…

Warnings: Language, Dom!Seongje, Gangsterism, Bullied!Reader, Coercion, Bullying, Extortion, Mentions of Rape, Smut +18 (mdni), Dark fic, Dubious consent, Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Desperate Sex, Humiliation, Degradation

A/N: I'm not responsible for the media you consume. I wrote this for me so...

Ever since you've started working for him, you've learned to get extremely acquainted with the floor.

"I'm sorry, Sir…” your voice is brittle as you try to make yourself heard in the suffocating internet cafe, “I'm short on delivery today..."

Hardwood. Tile. Linoleum. It's become all too familiar to you. The floor is all you see in his presence.

You never looked Seongje in the eyes unless he addresses you first. He likes that, you suspect.

It's kept you alive this long so you must be doing something right.

"I got assigned a kid to tutor and..." you clear your throat, not daring to make direct eye contact, choosing instead, to keep your eyes trained on the dirty, cold floor.

The internet cafe is the very last place you'd want to be on a Friday evening. You were caught right in between two challenging essay due dates- one for English and one for AP English. Both hung gravley over your head, threatening to set off your sympathetic nervous system and have you fainting from academic stress. Seeing him was the very last thing you needed.

"That tutoring time fucked with my system and-" despite all your achievements, despite the academic prestige and the boundless knowledge… in Seongje's presence you feel insignificant.

A bug he's letting scurry around for no other reason except his enjoyment. You didn't want to get stomped on. You saw what happened to the other kids under his thumb and it kept you up at night. All that blood. All the merciless sadism.

You aren't dumb enough to hope an exception would be made for you.

"I'm sorry,” you conclude, and for a second, you get no response. He plays his game. His friends remain silent.

That's all until he pushes the bridge of his glasses up further against his nose. A calm, quiet sigh leaves his lips.

“Before you started working for me, do you know what you were?" Seongje doesn't take his eyes off the screen. His fingers run deftly over the keys as he speaks to you without ever really acknowledging you, "You were in an alleyway, about to get raped by Eunjang scum."

"Yes, Seongje, I know-"

"And in return for my kindness, what did I ask of you?"

"FUCK- COVER ME BRO!" Your eye snaps up to the source of the loud and sudden burst of energy. Your frightened and pitiful eyes find a boy seated adjacent to Seongje and his goons. He's bent over his screen, clearly not a part of the group. Clearly far too young.

Your heart sinks when you realize Seongje's eyes are trained on the boy too.

"Ya…” Seongje raises his voice a decimal above the cacophony yet it has you flinching. “Too loud,” he says to the boy, “Didn’t anyone teach you shut up when adults are talking?” he asks monotonously to the boy- a child really- still mourning the loss of his avatar on the screen. He doesn't pay Seongje any mind.

Of course he doesn't. He's a kid.

How could he have known?

He came to an internet cafe to play a game with his friends.

It's the boy's innocence that hurts the most.

He doesn't know that the monsters under his bed are very real.

They walk where he walks.

They don't hide.

They move about freely.

Your heart makes like the titanic and sinks.

"Excuse me for a second." Seongje addresses you politely, finally giving you a fleeting glance before pushing himself out of his gamer chair. You see his entire row of friends (if that's what one could even refer to them as) remain unfazed as Seongje rounds the table to stand directly behind the young boy.

He’s bigger, far bigger as he pushes the rims of his glasses up, staring directly at you

"I know you're smart so you're probably aware that your fuck-up won't be tolerated-” he says to you, despite slithering his arm around the boys neck like a boa as he squeezes. Everyone keeps their eyes trained to their computers. Your fist curls at your side. You want to look away but you can't because you're speaking to Seongje. You wouldn't want to aggravate him further by showing him his mindlessly violence bothers you. So you try not to flinch.

You try not to let the casual violence scare you. How nonchalantly he speaks while an elementary school boy flails in his arms, begging to be released from the headlock making his lips turn blue

“You knew there'd be a punishment,” Seongje is still speaking to you. You hold your breathe in solidarity with the boy choking in his arms, “-for fucking up your delivery-” crimson blossoms onto the little boys face but Seongje keeps his eyes on you, appearing unfazed by the boy flailing like an animal in arms, "And yet you came anyway. That's the kinda work ethic, I like-” he smiles, “I like it alot-"

Eventually, after what feels like forever, he lets go of the boy. You finally breathe as well, watching as the kid slumps forward ingesting the air in horrid gasps.

Seongje bends forward, patting the boy on the back.

"No more interrupting when I speak, yeah?" Whether the boy was new to this particular internet cafe, it was unclear, but you hoped to whatever divine being that he wouldn't dare come back.

"So I'll let it slide-" He turns his attention back to you and you watch, still shaken up as Seongje leaves the little boy to make his way back to his side of the table. When he breezes past you he smells like nothing. Like his eyes, everything about him is empty.

"Thank you, Seongje-"

He nods before adding, "After you get on your knees." The goon sitting nearest to you, all the way at the end of the table, his fingers hover over the keys, and just like before, the room is rid of all air.

"Excuse me?”

He pulls out his chair for you, like some mimic of a perfect gentleman he opens his arm, gesturing you in.

"I want you on your knees, under the desk.” His words hang above you all. It has tears threatening to spill. Bile rising.

“What’s with the face? Its not like I’m asking you to suck my dick,”

"Seongje, I need to get home-"

"If you can't do it yourself I'm more than happy to help."

That has your legs moving into action. In your periphery, it feels as though everyone's watching you. A thing in psychology called the imaginary audience. When you're so self-conscious you concoct this idea of being the center of attention… only this time, it's real. You know they're all watching you. You know no one will do anything about it.

"Under the desk you go," he chuckles before sitting down and pushing his chair back in. You back away, creating intense distance between you. Your back hits dirty wires and your knees press hesitantly down onto the grime just to achieve a more comfortable position. Everything you see is his legs, his friends legs and you're suddenly hit with the overwhelming urge to cry.

You want to scream at him to let you go. He's hijacked you from your endless pile of homework and yet the very thought of standing up for yourself causes a sea of nausea.

So you sit there in the dark, not knowing when this punishment would conclude. When would he let you go home? That sends you into another spiral. You've heard Seongje could game for 24 hours straight. Maybe more if he was in close vicinity to food and a bathroom. You knew this internet cafe would close eventually, that gives you the smallest sliver of hope and so you do your time.

Never once does he acknowledge you- the girl under his desk. Unbeknownst to Seongje, you catch one of his fellow gang members sneak multiple glances at you under the table. They all do. Like they enjoy seeing you under here. As time passes, and you slip further and further away from the stress, you realize that down here, on the floor, under his desk, the world is small. It's quite comforting actually and that wasn't the trauma talking.

You've always liked small spaces.

It definitely beat dealing with whatever he had going on up there half the time.

Slowly, your body begins to shut down. Your energy plummets from all the stress and all the thoughts. This is the first time you've been forced into a spot for too long doing nothing. No essays. No tutoring.

Due to tendencies from your childhood that you should've gotten rid of, you find yourself curling up against his leg. He stiffens and you snap out of the exhaustion long enough to reel back. Especially when you see his hand reach under the table. Your heart hammers in your chest, not a single word spoken as his hand searches for something. You move a bit closer until his hand catches on your hair. You wince as he drags you closer, pushing your head against his leg as you had done.

He leaves you there. You try to regulate your breathing as you feel him adjust in his seat above you.

You shift as well. Not your head. He clearly wants you there. But your legs are uncomfortable. You try to kneel and it's ridiculous because your head never leaves his leg.

No position seems comfortable enough until he stretches his leg out, right in between yours and you're made to straddle it. Above you, his fingers are still hitting the keys and you try to disassociate from the fact that his leg is pushing against your cunt. You try to sneak a peek at the surface, his glasses are trained on the screen. Not knowing whether it's your exhaustion making a reappearance but you could've sworn you hear the words, "good girl," release from him in a low drawl.

Something in his tone has you shifting over his leg. Your cunt warms against his leg and you fight the urge to buck against him. All you had to do was remember who it is that you're currently touching. That conscious reminder has you once again hellbent on doing your time with concrete resolve.

That resolve breaks.

It shatters when he eases his back against the chair, enough to once again slither his hand down towards you.

He curls his fist into your hair and tugs.

He pushes you down and lifts you up and you mindlessly follow his movements until you realize he's coaxed you into riding his leg.

He lets go of your hair, satisfied when your hips move out of their own accord.

You hate how good it feels to quite literally be beneath him. You look up and you whimper oh so quietly when you see that small smile play on his lips while his eye remains on the screen.

He's given you new instructions now and so you don't dare to stop moving your hips against him. Despite the damp spot forming on the seat of your underwear. You're not sure what it is that allows you to lose yourself so easily. Perhaps it's all the expectations that melt away when you're doing something so pitiful. You're breaking for him and he's letting you. You're not in control of anything and there's freedom in that.

“F-Fuck-” you didnt mean for the words to slip. There are still other people here but you also couldn't help the wave of pleasure that pushed up so suddenly. Your clit is moving against the fabric of his pants just right and your eyes threaten to roll to the back of your head.

The second that whimper escapes your mouth, he stiffens again.

You watch as he leans back again, this time his hand isn't reaching out for you. It's to ghost over the bulge forming in his pants. Somehow that spurs you on more.

You grind against him desperately and before he can take his hand away, this time you reach up for him.

You watch him closely. The glare from the screen reflects on his glasses. His jaw, tight.

He controls the game easily with one hand, while you bring the other into your mouth.

You're not sure where this other side of you came from. This vixen who rolls her tongue out and forces his index and ring finger into her warm mouth.

He becomes more and more restless… His breath hitching. Seongje's fingers hit the keys more aggressively, while his right hand forces his fingers further down your throat. His hips buck upwards and you can see the damp spot forming where his cock is straining against his pants. He's about to cum in his pants and you're about to cum on his leg and it's far too much for you.

You know his friends are about. You try to preserve even a sliver of dignity but it all goes out the window.

“Fuck-” he spits out, slamming his fist on the table before abandoning the game. There's a fire in his eyes as he sits back to watch you peer up at him with complete and utter desperation.

“What a fucking slut-” he snarled, cleaely audible enough for not only him but his friends too. It has your mouth snapping open. Your back arches as you try to watch him watching you cum on his leg.

You've never held his attention for this long and it sends you off the edge.

“S-Seongje-” you barely squeak out as your cunt spasms against his leg. You rut uncontrollably, spurred on by the name That fell from your lips as if your body needed a reminder of just who it was making you cum. Your tormentor.

It has you seeing stars.

For all of 11 seconds.

Until it comes crashing down on you. Your pitiful act has you reeling. Mind spinning.

You don't want to look up at him but you have nowhere else to look. Your heart sinks when you see a smile form slowly across his lips… Somehow you knew you'd never be rid of him.

[sunrizef1]

Milk and Sugar

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not edited, cursing maybe, the ex gf isn’t anyone specific don’t @ me

Summary: Max is tired of his persistent ex girlfriend and friends that are maybe a little too empathetic about his breakup. What better way to scare them off than getting a new girlfriend? But he doesn’t actually want a new relationship. Enter: you. The perfect (fake) new girlfriend.

Word Count: 9.6k

Authors Note: this fic was kicking my ass im gonna be so fr. It took forever and I just couldn’t write the ending for some reason. Hopefully now that this is up, I can do something else lmfao

You were just doing a favor for a friend.

Or that’s what you had told yourself when Max had originally asked you to go along with his stupid idea. You hadn’t even really wanted to agree, by the way. He had just needed your help so badly and that’s what friends are for, right?

So that’s how you’d ended up in his garage, Red Bull hat pulled tightly over your head as you watched his car sail around the track in Brazil, the season well under way.

You’d met Max a few years back. You’d moved into the apartment next to his, not even blinking as your eyes scanned over the future world champion, too focused on your dog trying his best to distract you from the heavy box in your hands.

“Apollo! Stop!” You sighed at the dog as he jumped at your legs, trying his hardest to knock the box full of dog food and treats out of your arms. The dog, not knowing English, didn’t listen, of course, continuing his assault on your calves.

The box tilts in your grasp, coming dangerously close to falling out of your arms. But suddenly, the weight is lifted away and Apollo seems to turn his attention to whatever had relieved you from your struggle, giving you the opportunity to pull the small dog into your grasp, trying your best to calm his rowdiness down.

Once you’ve gotten the dog to calm down a significant amount, you look up to see who’d saved you from hours of cleaning loose dog food off the floor during your first day in your new apartment. You’re met with bright blue eyes staring back at you, a concerned look on the strangers face.

You’re too worried about the pretty man in front of you to even worry about Apollo as he starts to nibble lightly on your jacket.

“Are you okay?” And then he speaks for the first time and you’re captivated. Not in a love-at-first-sight way, of course. More of a this-guy-might-be-perfect kind of way.

You nod, gently separating your dogs mouth off your hoodie string, petting his, most-likely, empty head warmly, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. This little guy just really wanted that food, I guess.”

The stranger laughs, moving the box in his arms to rest against his hip, “I’m more of a cat person, anyway.”

You fake a wince, shaking your head with a frown, “Ahh, guess we can’t be friends then, mysterious stranger. Im a dog person all the way.”

He laughs again, grinning warmly, “Any way I could help you with this? Can’t imagine it’s easy moving in with a dog running around.”

Your eyes widen at his words, your hand fumbling to fish the key to your new apartment out of your pocket, “Only if you’re free! I wouldn’t want to bother my new neighbor on my first day.”

Your neighbor shakes his head, light brown hair falling down on his forehead, “It’s no big deal, I’m surprisingly free today.”

You smile, pushing the door to your apartment open, setting Apollo down as you enter. The dog immediately starts to scope out the area, bounding up and down the halls, his collar jangling loudly as he does. You hear the man enter behind you, watching as he walks over and places the box of dog food on the counter in the kitchen.

“Usually I learn a man’s name before I invite him into my apartment,” you smirk, laughing as a blush coats your neighbors face. He takes the few steps back over to close the gap between you, sticking out a calloused hand toward you.

“I’m Max.”

You smile, repeating his name before reciting your own, clasping your hand in his much rougher one, tilting your head up at him as you shake, letting go after a few moments.

“It’s nice to meet you max,” you say, smiling as you see Max’s face light up happily, “How inclined would you be to helping me get the rest of my boxes?”

Max laughs as he sees the sweet grin on your face, shaking his head as he moves toward the door, “I’d love to help, y/n. Can’t have my new favorite neighbor moving in alone, can I?”

Your face splits into a grin as you follow him toward the exit, turning to make sure Apollo was comfortably inside the apartment so he wouldn’t try and run away before closing the door behind you.

Max did help you that day, the moving in process going substantially quicker with the help of the athlete. He even invited you over to his place for dinner, explaining that it’d be too much of a hassle for you to make dinner after moving in all day. You didn’t bring up the fact he’d been moving all day as well, simply following him next door instead.

That had been three years ago and you’d been friends ever since. It was a casual friendship, more moved by the proximity than anything else.

He’d had to explain f1 to you, you being completely unfamiliar with the sport despite having moved to Monaco, probably the place with the most connection to it. Now, you’d casually watch his races as you worked or ate dinner, not entirely sure what was going on but supporting your friend anyway.

He’d also eventually asked you to watch his cats for him, Jimmy and Sassy being surprisingly friendly with your puppy. Max had been scared about introducing them, prefacing with many statements about how much the cats hated dogs and that it really wouldnt be a problem if you couldn’t watch them if they hated each other.

All that talk went out the window when the first thing the pets did when they met each other was take a nap.

It was January when it happened. You had been sitting calmly in your apartment, watching Bridgerton and eating pasta, your work computer abandoned to the side of the couch. You had a blanket pulled over your lap, a hot mug of tea sitting on the coffee table in front of you. Rare snow fell softly outside your window, albeit not very much snow but snow nonetheless.

You were very content.

This, of course, all came crashing down when you heard the sound of your apartment door banging open, heavy footsteps signaling the arrival of your neighbor. You’d given him a key for emergencies, although you couldn’t possibly imagine what could warrant an emergency at this time.

You roll your eyes as you hear him approach, setting your pasta down on the table and grabbing the remote to pause your show, turning as Max throws himself down on the couch next to you.

“Hello, Max. Can I help you?” You sigh, trying to force a smile onto your face. Max seems to catch your discontent and grimaces, wincing away slightly.

“Bad time?”

You let out a breath, not able to stay mad at the Dutch man for very long, “Maybe a little, but it’s fine, really. Did you need something?”

Max nods, sitting up straighter, “I may or may not have a formal request. Neighbor to neighbor.”

You furrow your eyebrows at his response, noting his slightly nervous behavior, “Okay?”

He takes a deep breath before speaking, his eyes trailing over toward where your tv was currently paused, “You know how I just went through that breakup, right?”

You hum, all too familiar with the aforementioned breakup, having had Max barge into your apartment for comfort food and movie marathons more than a few nights in the wake of his, now ex, girlfriends departure.

“Well,” Max starts and you can sense the hesitation in his tone but considering he had interrupted your night, you opted to let him flounder, “It’s been weird on the grid since then.”

“Okay,” you hum, eyes glancing over his face and catching the way he grimaces.

“Ever since the break-up, all the guys have been looking at me like I’m a child, you know? Like I might fall apart any second. Even though I’m completely fine!”

You stare, knowing more than anyone else, that he wasn’t very fine for a while, although he’d miraculously recovered over the past few months. You also stared in hopes he’d soon get to the point of the conversation.

“They also keep trying to set me up with their friends as if I need a rebound when I would really rather stay single,” Max groans, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. Your furrow your eyebrows, wondering where this could be going.

Max glances up, eyes avoiding yours at all costs, “I was wondering if you could, maybe..”

Max trails off, wincing slightly. You stare straight ahead at him blankly, waiting for him to finish his request. He does eventually mumble something under his breath and you lean forward, eyebrows raised.

“Sorry?”

Max grumbles, annoyed and you roll your eyes at the attitude of the man disrupting your own night.

“Could you pretend to be my girlfriend for a while?” Max rushes out, hands carding through his hair nervously, “Just long enough for the guys to leave me alone, you don’t even have to do anything, maybe just come to Brazil and Monaco-“

Max continues to ramble on for a few seconds, words seeming to fall out of his mouth unceremoniously before he’s cut off by you interrupting him.

“Max!” You raise your voice slightly in an attempt to talk to over him. Max freezes, looking at your face for the first time since he’s crashed through your front door, “I’ll do it.”

He stares at you blankly for a few moments, trying to process your words, “Really?”

You shrug, teeth digging into your lip as you turn your head toward the large window across the room that overlooked the darkened city of Monte Carlo, “Why not? You’re my friend. Plus I work remotely and who doesn’t want to travel around the world to all those different cities?”

Max’s face lights up at your response, his lips forming a huge grin. He rolls over into a lying position, practically star-fishing on your couch, “Thank you so much! I owe you one.”

You hum, fighting the smile on your lips as you watch him close his eyes calmly. You slip up from the couch quietly, padding over to the kitchen to grab something.

“Where are you going? Did I scare you off already?” You hear Max call as you walk away. As you walk back over, his eyes are still closed though, signaling that he didn’t really think he’d scared you off.

He does open his eyes as you set the bowl of leftover pasta and a fork on his chest before grabbing your own and sitting down, grabbing the remote to press play. He glances over as you settle into the couch and move your blanket over your lap before he sits up. You take a bite of your pasta as you continue to watch your show. Max takes a second but he eventually digs in as well, sitting up in order to grasp the bowl better.

Even after the pastas finished, you both sit back on the couch in order to finish the show. You glance over at Max, his eyes still locked onto the screen.

What had you gotten yourself into?

————

“Are you ready?”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you sit in the passengers seat of Max’s car, the hoards outside having no idea what was waiting for them inside. You slide your sunglasses onto your nose, hoping they’d hide at least a little bit of the anxiety flowing through you.

You nod, turning your head toward Max in the drivers seat, “Yeah, I’m good.”

Max hums, not entirely convinced but also aware he had no other option but to believe you considering he’s the one who’d asked you to do this. He opens his door, stepping out and sliding his own sunglasses on. You watch as he walks around the front of the car before stopping in front of your door and pulling it open. You pause for a moment but eventually step out, trying not to wince as the bright sun hits you.

You immediately step into his path, falling into stride next to him as you both walk toward the entrance. You hear the car lock behind you and watch Max pocket the keys.

The bright Miami sun beats down on your skin, causing you to wish you’d opted for a thinner shirt. Max had originally proposed for your first race to be Monaco but you had decided it was better to appear earlier than later for his sake. Plus, you’d always enjoyed Miami and were up for the idea of traveling there. You’d also originally planned to buy your own plane tickets but Max was quick to shut that one down.

As you both approached the turnstiles, Max pulls his lanyard out of his pocket. You don’t even notice as he pulls you inside the paddock, too busy trying not to notice the cameras surrounding you. Flashes come from all around you, the incessant clicks echoing through your head.

You finally do notice that Max hasn’t let go of your hand after he pulled you into the paddock. You grasp his hand a little tighter and he pulls you closer into his side as a response. When heat starts to rise to your face, you decide to blame it on the Miami sun.

As you both walk toward the Red Bull hospitality, heads turn to watch you walk by. You can feel people’s eyes trailing after you, locked on your unfamiliar form. Everything new in the paddock very quickly became a spectacle. Especially when it involved the current world champion.

You’re sure you’ll see pictures of yourself splashed all across the internet when you wake up in Max’s hotel room the next day. You’re sure your mom will send you whatever article they’ll attach your name to, no doubt hounding you for information about your new celebrity “boyfriend”.

You’d been curled up in Max’s hotel room the whole weekend, occasionally dipping out to get food with him between events. He’d wanted you to come to the track since Thursday but you weren’t entirely sure you were ready to step out as “Max Verstappens new girlfriend” until you’d woken up Sunday morning.

You’d woken up before Max, somehow. As you laid in your plush hotel room bed, you could hear Max’s soft breathing from the other bed filtering through the silence of the morning. Just outside the window, the city of Miami was waking up. At least, the early birds were.

You and Max had slept in the same room enough over the years, Max randomly crashing at your place pretty often, that when he suggested you getting a different room, you’d immediately turned him down. You were telling yourself it was just because it was nice to have the comfort of a friend but something deep down knew that that wasn’t the only reason.

You let the only sounds be his breathing and the light hum of the air on unit for a few more minutes while you woke up. You slid out of the bed as silently as possible, your feet padding quietly against the carpeted floor. You pull the door open to the balcony slowly, stepping out before closing it behind you. The sun is still pretty low in the sky but it still makes you flinch as it seeps into your eyes.

You sink into one of the two chairs out on the balcony, pulling your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on top, letting your thoughts run wild.

You watch Miami move below you, the sun slowly shining down brighter and brighter, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.

You weren’t entirely sure why you’d agreed to this idea so quickly. With every day that passed, you wished more and more that you hadn’t. Doubt seeped through you with every second you watched Max from the hotel television. He was just so good at his job and such a cool, wonderful person and athlete. How could you keep up with him? The press would be insistent and non-stop invasive. Fans would, no doubt, dogpile on you as well, both warning to know everything about you as well as rip you apart. You start to wonder if there was a single positive of this for you.

The door slides open behind you and you can hear Max moving onto the balcony beside you. You don’t glance over, only moving your gaze away from the skyline as a mug is held in front of your face. You glance down at it, spotting the coffee inside before you grasp the mug out of his hands gently. The ceramic warms your hands, the steam from the liquid splaying across your face.

“There was only those little creamer pods,” Max hums as he takes a sip of his own mug, leaning against the bannister in front of you, “Hope that’s okay.”

You chew at your lip, taking a sip of your own mug, humming lightly as your gaze locks on his back, “That’s fine, thanks.”

You’d usually take your coffee with milk and a spoonful of sugar but you’d had enough gas station or hotel room coffee that you’d be able to survive with just the creamer pods.

You watch Max’s side profile as he stares out at the city, the sun bouncing off the edges and planes of his face and perfectly lighting up his eyes. You bask in quiet that settles between you, sipping at your coffee periodically. You don’t quickly forget the kindness of his gesture. Actually, the action stays in your head for longer than it probably should, mind running wild as you think about his motives.

You dismiss it, though, not wanting to linger on something that probably meant nothing.

“You coming to the race today?” Max turns around to face you, his back leaning against the rail he’d just been looking out over.

Your eyes trace him as he turns, evaluating his early morning form. As you look at this man, your friend, you think about the coffee in your hands. You think about the times he’d dogsat Apollo despite hating dogs, the days he’d come over just to keep you company when you were homesick, when he’d attempted to cook you soup when you’d been sick despite his complete inability to cook soup, you even think back to the first day you’d met when he’d helped you move in despite having known you for all of thirty seconds.

As all those memories passed through your mind, you suddenly remember why you’d agreed to do this in the first place.

“Yeah, I am,” you reply, taking a long sip of your coffee and hiding your grin as one of his own makes its way onto his lips.

————

That had been earlier that morning and know you were sat in Red Bull, watching as Max’s car passes the finish line in second. You’d been biting your nails the whole time, worry seeping through you. You weren’t the biggest formula 1 nerd but Max had forced you to watch enough old races for you to get what was going on. You’d even started watching his races when he was gone, something that had taken you months to admit.

Because of Max’s insistence, you knew enough to grimace as the safety car came out. You were right to grimace, of course, as Lando was quick to pass your friend, taking the lead and the win. Max, for what it’s worth, didn’t seem too angry about the result. You were aware of Landos lack of wins, seeing why his winning would make everyone happy, even the losers. Not that you were too happy, you’d only ever and only ever would cheer for Max, even if Lando was deserving of a win of his own.

Max doesn’t get asked about you during interviews. At least, not directly. He gets asked how life had been and he answers with a vague answer about love and how great life has been. You know he’s talking out of his ass but you’re grinning anyway, not able to hold back you mind from thinking about a world where everything he was saying was true.

“Landos gonna have a big celebration,” Max starts as he gets back to you after the podium, walking you both back toward his room so he can change, “He’ll probably be awake for the next 72 hours.”

You smile lightly, resting a tired head against his sweaty shoulder, “Good for him, seems like he really deserves it.”

Max nods with a pleasant look on his face, “Yeah, I’m not even that mad about losing. Nothing I could’ve done really. Im just glad he got his win.”

You nod, taking a breath in order to hold back the yawn threatening to leave your mouth, “You should go to his party, I’ll just go grab some dinner and head back to get some sleep.”

You both stop as you reach his room, Max facing you as he leans back against the door to open it. You notice the deep furrow in his eyebrows as he locks eyes with you, “What are you talking about?”

You furrow your own eyebrows as a response, tilting your head to the side, “You should go celebrate with your friend? Go have fun, Max!”

He shakes his head as he enters the room, quickly gathering his things to go take a quick shower, “Why would I celebrate a loss with a coworker when I can get some quality time with a friend instead? I’d rather celebrate a win with you instead of a loss without you. Trust me, you’ll be there to see me win.”

You’re already at a loss for words at his response but your rendered speechless as Max pulls his fireproofs off, tossing the shirt to the side passively. He turns away from you and you watch his muscles ripple under his skin, your face hearing greatly. His arms flex as he reaches for something and you have to bite your lip to keep your mouth closed. Your eyes are wide as he turns to glance over his shoulder at you, “That okay?”

At the risk of sounding like an idiot if you attempt to respond with words, you simply nod, eyes moving toward the floor. You don’t notice the smirk that forms on his lips as he catches your stare.

“I’m gonna shower and then we can leave,” he calls out over his shoulder as he walks into his bathroom. Your eyes are still locked onto the floor. You hear the sound of water pattering against the floor just after the door shuts.

You take a large sip of your water bottle, trying to wet your drying throat and keep the heat in your face at bay. You feel like you might be going crazy, the image of Max’s shirtless back etched into your mind.

Jesus Christ.

————

“What do you wanna watch?” Max mumbles through a mouth full of pizza, his hand coming up to covering it as he speaks.

You shrug, “I don’t know.”

Max shrugs as well, grabbing the remote off the nightstand and passively flickering through the channels as he swallows his bite of pizza, “Come get some food.”

He gestures toward the box of pizza on the edge of his bed with the remote, glancing toward you sitting in your own bed, watching him instead of the tv. You slide off the bed, taking the few steps it takes to get to his own and gently settling on the side he wasn’t currently sitting on.

Max watches you move, humming as you grasp a piece from the pizza box before he turns his attention back to the screen. You don’t notice as he settles on a movie, too busy trying not to absolutely scarf down the food in your hand.

Your eyes do leave the slice to glance over at Max, legs outstretched with his back firmly against the headboard. He’s wearing a Red Bull hoodie, even managing to wear team merch in his own bedroom. He’s also got some old basketball shorts, a faded logo sitting on the upper thigh that, no matter how much you try, you can’t understand.

You look away when you hear the familiar sound of Lightning McQueen echoing out of the television speakers. You quickly catch sight of the Italian formula car, deducing that Max has chosen Cars 2, of all movies.

You try your best not to laugh but a giggle escapes you anyway, causing you to bury your head in your shoulder to try and hide your grin.

“What?” Max asks you and you look forward again, eyes locked onto the movie, “What’s so funny?”

Your head turns toward the driver who’s grin is now matching your own, “You chose probably the only movie on here that uses the words “Grand Prix” can’t even get away from racing in your hotel room.”

He feigns offense for a few moments before reaching forward to grab another piece of pizza and sliding down into more of a lying position, “It’s a good movie.”

You both turn to the screen for a few moments but the second Lewis Hamilton’s voice rings out in the silence, you laugh loudly, Max groaning beside you.

You quickly dissolve into giggles, trying your hardest to reign it in but when you look over and see the amused frown on Max’s face, you’re right back into it again, Max laughing in response.

You both do eventually settle down, watching the movie and eating your food together. Even after the pizza box is empty and max moves to set it on the table, you don’t move from your spot, using the reasoning that it’s just easier to see the screen from his bed.

You try not to notice the proximity between you. You’d been holding hands all day and you’d pressed several kisses to his cheeks and forehead, being near him shouldn’t bother you. But when you shift slightly closer just to get more comfortable and Max’s arm falls down over your shoulder, you freeze, keeping as still as you can.

He doesn’t move his arm through the rest of the movie. Not that you’d know, considering you drift off with about half an hour to go. But Max doesn’t notice that either, considering how he fell asleep just after.

You wake up before him again the next morning, don’t the same thing you’d done the day before and walking out to the balcony. Max does the same thing he did as well, walking out with two mugs grasped gently in his grip.

When you take the mug from him, you try not to think about the fact you’d woken up limbs tangled with his and your face pressed into his chest.

————

The São Paulo Grand Prix.

It had been 6 months of this charade with Max. That’s right, you’d managed to suffer through 6 whole months of pretending to be his girlfriend. There’s been countless headlines from various news sites, trying their best to figure out every single detail about your life and relationship with Max.

The only thing keeping your mind together was the root of the problem himself and your prolonged roommate, Max.

He was actually really lovely. Every time you suggested a different room for his sake, you’d end up right where you were the week before, in a bed across from his. You’d also kept the same morning routine every day, waking up before Max and sitting out on the balcony until he brought coffee out for both of you.

He’d eventually gotten to a point where he sat in the chair next to you as opposed to standing up and leaning against the railing. There was still little conversation, though, you both enjoying the silence of an early morning instead.

This specific morning, you were watching the city of São Paulo move along below you. Goosebumps raised slightly as the wind-chilled November air nipped at the skin on your arms. The sun hadn’t completely rose yet and the previous nights rain had left the air colder than it should’ve been. You found yourself rubbing your hands over your arms and wishing you’d worn something other than a t-shirt.

The door slides open behind you and you take the mug as it’s placed in your eye line, grateful for the heat of the mug to warm up your cold hands. You lower your face toward the mug, letting the steam warm up your wind-chilled skin. You go to take a sip but it burns at your lips when you tilt the mug, causing you to set it down on the small table in order for it to cool for a few moments.

After you set it down, something lands in your lap. You look down, holding the item up and quickly recognizing it as one of Max’s Red Bull hoodies. You glance over at him but he’s still looking out over the city below, sipping passively at his mug of black coffee.

You look back down at the item of clothing, glancing between it and the owner for a few seconds before deciding to slip it on, your cold skin winning out over any reasonable thought that would tell you not to wear it.

The hoodies too big for you and it smells like Max but you don’t really seem to mind either of those things. Especially as your skin heats as the fabric passes over it.

Once you’ve got the hoodie on, you pick up your coffee again, blowing on it slightly to cool it down. You raise the cup to your lips, letting the warm liquid flow into your mouth.

You hum at the taste, quickly noticing that it tastes different than usual. You furrow your eyebrows, taking another sip. The oh-so wonderful taste that you’d missed so dearly over the past 6 months takes over your tastebuds. The taste of real milk and sugar.

You hum pleasantly, grasping the cup tightly. You glance over toward the man who’d handed you the drink, “Is this milk and sugar?”

Max glances toward you for a split-second before he looks back over the city, taking a sip of his own coffee, “Yeah, that’s how you like it, right? You always drink it like that back home.”

You ignore the jolt in your stomach when Max refers to the Monaco apartments as a shared home. You bite your lip with an affirmative hum, “Where’d you get milk and sugar?”

“Couldn’t sleep last night, went for a walk. There’s a corner store down the block and I picked some up,” Max says it casually, like it’s not the most considerate anyone had been of you, maybe ever.

You stare at him for a few moments, trying to ignore the warm feeling in your chest as you imagine him thinking about you enough to buy coffee ingredients the way you liked them.

As you sat outside, in his hoodie, sipping on the coffee he had made and handed to you, you finally accept what you’d been trying to deny for six months, if not longer.

You were in love with Max Verstappen.

You longed for the domesticity that was so present on mornings like these. You wanted to live this life with him all the time. You didn’t just want to fall asleep beside him after a race but you wanted to be able to press your lips against his when he won instead of the light touches you’d flutter against his cheek. You wanted to wear his hoodies all the time, not just when you were cold and forgot one of your own. You wanted to stop pretending in front of his friends. You wanted the hushed whispers to be sweet nothings instead of scheming and planning.

You wanted this life with him. All the time.

“Max-” you start but you’re quickly cut off by Max as he speaks instead.

“My ex is going to be at this race,” he states and you close your mouth, deflating slightly as you look away, “Just wanted to prepare you in case we run into her. You could also, um, probably stop coming once you scare her off.”

You nod meekly, taking a sip of your coffee. What had once been your idea of a sanctuary with the silence of the morning is now too quiet, allowing your thoughts to be the only noise in your head, images of Max’s ex rolling around aimlessly.

You stand up quickly, taking rushed steps back into the room. You down the last sips of your coffee and slide it onto the table, moving hurriedly around the room to gather your things for a shower. You vaguely notice Max walking back into the room with a confused look but you don’t even look up as you rush into the bathroom, “I’m taking a shower.”

“Okay?” Max says as you close the door behind you. You don’t notice the frown on his face as he disappears from view.

You’re too busy throwing off his hoodie and turning the shower to practically scalding heat, trying your hardest to rid yourself of thoughts about a life with Max, thoughts of his ex-girlfriend or thoughts about the stupid coffee he’d handed you and how stupid you were to be reading so much into it.

For a moment there, you’d thought that Max was enjoying this as much as you were. But his words were quick to remind you that you were only there to do a favour for him. He is only there to get his friends and his ex off his back. After that, you were free to go. It even vaguely sounded like Max didn’t want you to come back around the next weekend.

Why else would he have said that? Why else would he have suggested you stop coming? Especially just after talking about his ex. It was a stark reminder that you were only a tool for him to mess with his ex. She was the one he’d loved, you were just a girl he knew.

You stay under the scalding water long enough for the mirrors to fog and your fingertips to prune. Your cuticles sting from where the hot water had made its way into the raw skin, the cuts still fresh from where you’d been anxiously picking at them.

You only pull yourself from the water when you start to sway from the heat, your head going light and an ache echoing through your skull.

————

A few hours later, you’re by Max’s side again, although there’s a slightly larger distance between you than usual.

That would change soon, no doubt, when Max spotted his ex, pulling you close to attempt to show his devotion to your fake relationship.

But for now, you're an arms-length away, hoping that pushing him away would also push away your own feelings.

Max can't grasp even an idea as to why you were acting like this. Did you really want this to be over that badly? He knew he'd mentioned the idea of your… situation ending but he didn't think you'd be this eager to get away from him.

At the first camera flash, you take a step closer to Max, knowing how even the smallest hint of discontent between you would be twisted for headlines and it would end with your concerned mother calling you fifty times to check on your relationship after seeing an article on Facebook.

So you step closer, reaching over to intertwine your hands. Max doesn't resist and you try not to read into the gentle squeeze he replies with.

Brazils nice. Or at least, you assume. You'd been too distracted to take much notice. But you do notice the fans yelling from all around. Lively crowds sway and shout in the distance, hues of blue and black and orange all represented amongst the groups.

Max leads you through the paddock, determination clear in his steps. It was most likely just his own determination not to talk to anyone, especially a certain ex-girlfriend.

You both get to Red Bull without an unwanted interaction and the second you're out of the public eye, you're dropping his hand, none the wiser to the confused look on the driver's face.

The tension's palpable in his small room. Awkward conversation flows, your words biting and curt. Neither of you wants to address the obvious undertones your words contain. One of hostility and unshared secrets. But you manage to survive until Max has to leave to get ready for the race and you follow just a few minutes later, making your way to watch said race.

The race is fine. Max wins, but you were never in doubt about that. He was starting from pole, it'd be pretty hard for him to lose. Lando finished just a few seconds behind him, having closed the gap a bit after getting past George.

As the team starts to leave to go greet Max, Christian Horner pulls you along, saying something about Max wanting you at the barrier after the race. You're sure its just so he can put on a show for his ex.

But you follow along anyway, trying not to stumble in your heels as Christian walks along a lot faster than you'd want to.

You pass through other teams and friends and guests or the drivers, waving slightly at people you’d gotten to know over the past six months. The thought of not seeing any of these people again after you and Max faked a breakup made your stomach hurt but you ignore it, trying to tell yourself it was for the better.

When Christian reaches the team, he guides you both through the crowd, smiling politely at the engineers as he slides by.

It seems you both reach the barrier just in time, as Max is parking when you come to a stop. You watch as he pulls himself out of the car, cheering a bit to the fans around as he stands atop it. When he pulls off his helmet and balaclava, you try your hardest not to smile at the pure joy on his face.

He glances over his shoulder at something you can't see before he turns and catches your eye, quickly moving in your direction. Before you can even say a word, he's set his helmet down and wrapped both his hands around the sides of your face, pulling it toward his own. His lips are warm, the heat of the race still emanating off of him. You dismiss the sweat in his hair as you wrap a hand softly around the nape of his neck, tangling your fingers in his locks. Your other hand rests on the side of his face, your thumb tracing the marks his helmet had left around his eyes.

You pull away first, glancing up into his eyes with a gentle smile, “Good job, you did amazing Max.”

His face heats and he glances away with a light chuckle, “Thank you, baby. I'm glad you're here.”

You wish he'd stop calling you that. At least for the sake of your heart jumping in your chest every time he does.

He looks away but your eyes are still firmly locked on the side of his face, tracing the familiar path around his features that they'd forged over the past six months. The same path they took every morning when you watched him look out over whatever city you were in that weekend. The same path they took when he fell asleep first during a movie in hopes of memorizing every detail before you slunk back into your own bed to fall asleep, the image of his face still etched into your mind.

But as you stare up at Max, trying to memorize the puzzle pieces of his face while he talks to Christian, you realize how futile of an endeavour it is. Not matter how hard you try, you'll never get the slope of his nose just right in your memories. You'll never get the right shade of turquoise for his eyes. The sandy-dark-blond of his hair will fade away until it was nothing in your mind but the shade of your coffee in the morning instead of the colour of his hair.

Maybe you should find a different apartment. Surely, Monaco had a different apartment complex that was far enough away from Max to rid yourself of the incessant thoughts of him that constantly plagued your love-adled brain.

Throughout all of that, you’d almost forgotten you were in love with him.

But when Max turns back to you, a glint in his eyes and a bright smile gracing his lips, you're suddenly all too aware of that fact.

“I’ll see you in a minute, yeah?”

You nod, smile slowly drifting as he walks away to get weighed and do all the usual post-race theatrics.

Christian pats his hand on your shoulder firmly, smiling as you turn around, “Let’s get to the podium, kid.”

You let Christian lead you away, yet again making his way through the crowd to get you both to the front.

The podium celebration is cute, Max’s happiness practically contagious. Lando and George are enthralled as well, the Brits both happy to back on the podium once again.

But when Max leans over to spray the champagne on the team, you put your hands over your face as Christian laughs beside you, both of you trying to avoid the sticky liquid as much as possible.

You peel away from the crowd after Max walks off, trying to find your way to wherever Max had gone.

As you'd left, you'd wandered away from Christian, who knew the paddock much better than you did. This was your first time here and you found yourself looking around for any sign of the Red Bull driver or, at least, a familiar face who could point you in the right direction.

It takes you a few minutes to gain your bearings but when you hear the familiar sound of Max’s voice, you go that direction, turning a corner to see his face.

And you do see him, post-race glow and all. But it's not just him you find. Standing entirely too close to him with her hand resting on his shoulder, is Max’s ex-girlfriend. She's smiling warmly, nodding animatedly at whatever it is Max is saying. Which, from constantly talking to him, you know is not worth the reaction she's giving him.

He's glancing around, clearly not comfortable with the situation. You huff, looking around before conceding and walking over to the pair. Were you maybe taking your time a little bit? Yeah, but you really didn't want to do this.

You roll your eyes when you catch Max’s eye and a relieved look rolls over his face, “Hey, baby.”

Max uses your arrival as an excuse to take a step back, swinging his arm around your shoulder. He's still covered in champagne and sweat but you ignore it, “Hey, Max.”

You finally glance up to meet the eye of the woman in front of you, her eyes narrowed as she looks between you, “Oh my god, hi! You must be Max’s ex!”

She rolls her eyes before smiling tightly with a nod of her head, “Yeah, I am. You must be his new girlfriend.”

You hum affirmatively, smiling wide as you glance over to the man beside you, “I am, yeah. He's just so perfect. We’re so happy together!”

She narrows her eyes again, glancing you up and down before her eyes stop on your face. You roll your head to the side to rest your temple on his shoulder, resting one of your hands against his chest.

“Well, I’m happy you moved on, Max,” She says, turning her entire attention to the man in question, “You seem… perfect together.”

Max gleams, nodding as he leans in to kiss your cheek, “Yeah, I’m really happy.”

His ex chews on her bottom lip for a few moments before huffing and moving away, turning to shout over her shoulder as she walks away, “Have a great life, Max!”

“Thanks, I guess!” Max replies, laughing as soon as the woman is out of earshot. He pulls away from your side, turning to fully face you.

“Thank you!” Max cheers, grasping your shoulders with his hands, “Did you see her face? She was so pissed that I'd moved on.”

You hum, letting him be happy by himself while you stood quietly, “Yeah, you're welcome.”

You peel away from Max, turning to go back to the car park so you can leave. You don't say anything to Max before you walk away, leaving him to jog to catch up to you.

“You okay?” He asks once he's by your side again. You glance over, catching the concerned look on his face.

“Yeah,” you nod curtly, looking back ahead, “Yeah, I'm fine.”

He doesn't seem convinced but he leaves it be, turning away as well.

He pretends not to notice when you coincidentally step away after he tries to grab your hand.

While Max debriefs, you text one of your friends to ask if you could stay with her for a few days when you got back to Monaco. After this fake relationship was over, you needed to get away from Max for a while just to try and push away the growing feelings you have for the Dutch man.

And with the departure of Max’s ex, you'd served your purpose and you could finally get out of Max’s life and give him the solitude he so longed for.

The ride back to the hotel is quiet, the only noise being the sound of your nails tapping against the screen of your phone. Max glances over periodically but you eventually set your phone down, choosing to stare out the window as the dark streets of Brazil pass by quickly.

When you get back to the hotel, you open the car door before Max can get it for you like he usually does. He sends you another glance, trailing passively behind as you walk in front of him. You both pass through the lobby and the elevator, your steps determined and much quicker than Max really wanted to be walking.

He's still riding the high of his win and the defeat of his ex-girlfriend but you're in your own mind, too sick to your stomach to be happy for him.

You pull out the spare room key when you arrive at the room, pressing it against the sensor before shoving the door open roughly, letting it fall against Max behind you who catches it.

You toss the key on the table by the door and set your phone down beside it. You still don't turn around as you throw the jacket he had let you borrow down on his bed.

"What is your problem?" You hear Max’s voice ring out in the otherwise quiet room. Annoyance paints his words, causing you to pause for a split-second.

"I don't have a problem." You say, cringing when you catch how much of a lie it sounds. You move on, though, pulling your suitcase out from under the bed and unzipping it.

Max scoffs, raising a disbelieving eyebrow, "Are you sure? Because it really feels like you do."

"It's nothing, Max." You reply sharply, walking into the attached bathroom, grateful to get away from his gaze for a second.

You come back out, your toiletry bag in hand. You set it down in your suitcase and stand up, walking over to the closet and pulling your clothes off the rack. The sound of the hangers hitting together echoes through your head, only contributing to the headache that had been growing since your revelation that morning.

Max finally catches onto what you're doing and speaks, his voice almost panicked, "What are you doing?"

"Leaving."

"What, already? Why?" You try not to be swayed by the hurt in his voice, turning around and walking past him to set your clothes down in your case.

He follows you over, stepping closer as you stand up. You try and step past him but he puts his arm out, stopping you in your tracks. You concede with a sigh, finally looking him in his eyes.

"It doesn't matter, Max.”

"But it does! What's wrong?" You finally step past him, on your way to go gather the rest of your things but his question makes you turn your head as you walk away.

"Max! It doesn't matter!" You immediately regret how loud your voice is but this wasn't exactly the time to be thinking about the people next door.

Max shakes his head, following you as you walk toward the doot in order to grab your shoes, "No, no, no. You've been like this all day and I can't think of a reason why. Do you really want to get away from me that badly?"

Your face twists, causing you to shake your head as you walk away, praying he wont follow you this time, "No, Max, that's not-"

He doesn't completely follow you but he does step a bit closer, shaking his head with a loud groan, "Then enlighten me! What could possibly happened in the past day that's making you act like this? Why are you leaving? Why won't you tell me? I thought we were supposed to be in this together! Why are you-"

"Because I'm in love with you, Max!" You shout, finally turning to face him as you say it, making eye contact with him for the first time since you'd walked in.

Silence falls between you and you toss your shoes down, covering your face with one of your hands. For a second, you think that Max might never respond, your stomach turning at the thought.

How hard could it be to find a different apartment in Monaco?

"What?" Max’s voice is soft and you look back to him, trying to will your frustrated tears not to fall.

"I'm in love with you! I fell in love with you and I know you don't feel the same. You only wanted me to do this to placate your friends and scare away your ex and now im getting out of your hair. I'm leaving you alone like you wanted in the first place,” Tears finally drip down your face and you don't bother to wipe them away, knowing there was only more where they came from. You look away as you explain, eyes locked onto the carpet beneath you, not wanting to face your embarrassment head-on.

"What are you talking about?" At Max’s purely confused tone, you look back to his face, teeth digging sharply into your bottom lip.

His face is soft, confusion etched into the furrow between his brows. Your stomach flips and you swallow, trying to rebuild the confidence you’d had at the start of your outburst.

The hotel room suddenly feels too cold, the air causing you to rub your hands over your shoulders in order to suppress the goosebumps that had started to rise. When you do speak again, your voice is soft, volume just above a whisper.

"This morning. You said I could stop coming after this race. And I did my job, I scared away your ex. You don't need me,” you trail off at the end of your statement, your voice breaking slightly as you shake your head, tears streaming out of your closed eyes and down your cheeks.

You expect Max to agree, to send you away, to end your friendship out of pure embarrassment after your decleration.

But he doesn't.

His voice is soft, just as yours was. His words are hushed but the emotion behind them seeps through every single word.

"I do, though. I do need you."

You look up, eyes widening at his statement. You can do nothing but stare as he steps closer, his hands grasping the sides of your face. Your own hands reach up to hold his wrists, just wanting to hold him someway.

He raises an eyebrow gently, quirking his head to ask for silent permission. You nod and its only a split-second before he's leaning down, pressing his lips against yours.

His hands cradle the back of your head, pulling you impossibly closer. Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest, his kiss causing your brain to practically melt. You mold together, leaning as close to him as you can as your hold conveys months and months of pent-up and hidden emotions.

As he pulls away, your lips want to chase his but you hold back, your eyes flickering open as he leans his forehead against yours. Neither of your speak for a few moments, silence settling between the two of you ask you bask in the adoration between you.

Max’s hand drifts back to your jaw, his thumb drifting across your cheekbone passively. You see his eyes look up and you glance up as well, catching his sparkling gaze in yours.

“I love you,” the words tumble out of his mouth, falling smoothly out of the lips you oh-so wished he would press against your own once again, “I'm in love with you. I fell for you during this whole thing, everything about you.”

You go to respond but he cuts you off, shaking his head lightly.

“I only told you that you could stop coming because I thought you'd grown tired of all this,” he takes a deep breath before continuing, leaning slightly into your hand that had drifted into his hair, “But I'm kind of glad I did.”

You furrow your eyebrows, quirking your head. Max pauses, allowing you the chance to admire every feature of his face, turning his freckles into constellations that you'd willingly stargaze in for hours. His hair is tousled from where your fingers had tangled in it and his lips are red from being pressed against yours. His teeth dig into said lip as he thinks before responding. You'd honestly be fine if he never finished his thought and you got to just look at him forever.

But he does finish his thought, the look in his eyes making your heart jump, "Because I don't want to pretend anymore."

You wait a moment, giving him the chance to take it back in case this was a joke, in case he didn't really mean it. But he doesn't take it back, he doesn't laugh.

And so you nod, "I want to do this with you for real, Max. I don't want to lie to anyone anymore, I want to celebrate with you after a race, not because people expect me to, but because I love you."

Max lights up, his face splitting into a wide grin at your words. Before you can react, his arms are around you and your feet are lifted off the ground as Max basically throws you onto the bed beside you.

Your laugh echoes through the hotel room, punctuated by the sound of Max flopping down next to you. You continue to giggle, glancing down to meet Max’s eyes, a special glint shining through.

You calm down after a few seconds as Max continures to gaze at you. When silence finally comes over you, Max leans up to rest on his elbows as you sit up slightly to look down at him.

“I love you too, by the way,” He says softly, “Dont know if you noticed.”

You hum, biting your lip to hold back your laugh, “I assumed so, yeah.”

You laugh as Max huffs, reaching a hand up to pull you down beside him, “Shut up.”

And you do, going quiet as your lips meet his. Later that night, as your both lying in bed, together this time, you fall asleep with your head against his chest, basking in the long-lastint but newly-confessed love between you.

The next morning, you wake up before Max, as you'd done so often. You slip out of his hold and pad over softly to the balcony, sliding on one of his hoodies before you open the sliding door.

You sink into one of the two chairs, looking out over the city of Sao Paulo as it slowly wakes up. The sun peeks out over the horizon, adding light to the previously dark morning.

Eventually, the door slides open behind you and you don’t even have to look to know it’s Max. But you look anyway, happy to take any chance to observe the man.

You take the mug from his offering hand, grasping the warm ceramic tightly. Max doesn’t walk over to the railing, instead moving toward the chair next to you. Before he sits down, he slides it over, pushing it as close to your chair as it could go. He sits down and you twist to sit sideways, leaning your legs over the arm of the chair. Max gently pulls your ankles over his chair to rest in his lap before he takes a long sip of his coffee.

You take a long sip of your own mug as well, letting the taste of the coffee coat your throat and warm your heart.

Milk and sugar, just the way you like it.

——————

Tags: @evie-119 @casperlikej

[thesilmarillionblog]

COME CLOSER

Summary: Reader asks her friend, Soldier Boy to take her virginity.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: +18! (MINORS DNI), virgin reader!, smut, language, rough Soldier Boy, beard kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, friends with benefits

Word Count: 4052

A/N: English is not my first language.

You grabbed the gun from Ben's suit and placed it in your bag without even waiting for a response since you knew he wouldn't refuse you. “May I take this?” you said. “Just for safety issues.”

Ben joined the team to kill Homelander months ago, and because you two have been on missions together for so long, you two have kind of gotten to know one another. He frequently teased you, and most of the time he really got on your nerves. Another thing Butcher's wanted from you regarding Ben was to make sure you kept an eye on him while he was high or furious. 

He sighed, “You are already in safe hands,” and then gave you a little push toward the car, where Butcher and the other members of the team were waiting. “You know that you are something different. Trying to protect yourself with a firearm in spite of the fact that you already have three supes with you, me included, who are the strongest and greatest.” 

“After the job is completed, even the biggest dicks become smaller. I wonder if your gigantic ego will ever be smaller one day, Ben.”

“Not mine,” he winked at you in between his laughter before the two of you entered the car. “How on earth does a naive virgin speak like that? I must discipline your dirty mouth at some point.” 

He pushed until you reached the other side of the seat, and you muttered, “Shut up.” Your face flushed. “You leave no space for me.”

“Do I look like your personal driver?” Butcher growled at Hughie to come in too, questioned in a disapproving tone. Then Butcher turned back to Hughie, who was sitting in the passenger seat, and said, “Where the fuck is your girlfriend?”

“She arrived earlier with the others. They were driven there by Frenchie already.”

“Will you shut up and drive?” Ben messed with your hair for a while while ignoring what you said that he was going to ruin it, saying to Butcher in an irritated manner. 

“Good boy gone bad, huh?” Ben ignored you and filled the entire seat between your complaints. Butcher murmured, “Let's fucking have some fun there since we may not be finding any free time soon, Navy girlies.” 

Luckily, Butcher managed to locate a club devoid of supes, but it was still massive and insane, complete with loud music. Hughie's gaze found Annie right away, and Butcher followed after him while he winked at the girl who was staring at him with a chuckle. 

You gave Ben a drink and complained, “Do I have to babysit you?” Even though all of the girls were capturing his attention, he was undoubtedly hearing what you were saying. 

He patted your head and said, "Babysit me?" with a look of astonishment. "Sweetheart, it's me who has been watching you for several months. After all, it's easy for you to get into trouble." 

"Me?" As he messed with your hair, you giggled and attempted to push his hands away. "You're always on the verge of being furious for no reason at all, and I have to keep your ego boosted when you are about to lose it." 

"Or maybe I act it this way to get you even more anxious; what do you think? Your human face looks so funny when you're trying to calm me," he smirked and remarked with arrogance. 

Punching him in the chest, you said, "You're impossible," although your wrist ached. You sighed in agony, "Fuck, Ben," and made sure everything was okay by looking at your hand. Thankfully, there were no physical wounds. 

"Why the fuck have you tried to punch me now? Haven't you still learned I'm built to last?" he complained, gently massaging your hands. 

You muttered, "You're so annoying," while he sighed and released your hands. "I can't imagine why almost nobody likes you." 

"All you do this evening is talk rudely with that lovely mouth of yours and spit poison. Also, you are to blame. How many times do I have to tell you not to try to punch me? Wish to adopt a tough-ass persona? You're just a little sensitive, soft doll," he continued to tease, causing you to flush with rage. 

"Remember the day I gave myself a Temp-V injection? When I really punched you, you seemed rather surprised, and I'm sure it hurt." 

“I didn't think being a temporary Supe could happen, and that was a while ago.” Ben continued to smirk and replied, “Keep that in mind. I was merely trying to comprehend the change in your scent when you unexpectedly struck me and pushed me against the wall. You know, I should have been doing that. Of course, I'm not referring to the punching; rather, I'm speaking to the second one, but more gently.”

Ben flirted with you, giving you a tiny pinch on the chin and a wink. He was perhaps the most flirtatious man ever, but the reason he acted this way was that you told him you were a virgin, and even when he understood you were becoming too shy and a little anxious, he continued to tease you verbally. You didn't feel uncomfortable about it, though. 

“Whatever.” You rushed to end it, fearing he would start talking even more profanely. You tried to silence him by putting your palm over his mouth. “When are you going to shave this beard? It's really lengthy.”

He murmured, “I thought you liked it longer and thicker,” as he combed his facial hair. 

This time, instead of being annoyed, you giggled. “You're impossible.” 

You said, “I'm going to check on Annie and others,” feeling a little guilty for something you didn't even understand when you saw him searching for women who fit his tastes. “So that you can have your fun.”

Ben, who had just bought a drink for himself, approached a redhead who had been staring at him passionately ever since he entered the bar. You led the way to join Annie and the rest of the team, but you were carrying a heavy weight that you couldn't quite explain. You did your best to ignore the stupid ache in your heart and laugh out loud at Butcher's half-made-up stories. It was a rare, heartfelt moment of calm after months, shared by all of you as you briefly watched the redhead woman take Ben's head and lead him to the second floor.

Ben's social batteries ran out after a few hours, and when he got into a fight with Butcher, you volunteered to take him home in your car because you were starting to have headaches too. Annie and Kimiko were dancing in the center; it appeared like they were just getting started. Either their heightened enthusiasm was to blame, or you simply didn't feel like having fun at that particular time. Ben was the source of your annoyance because he preferred to spend his time in the club having fun with other women and left you kind of alone.

You just said, “I will drive Ben back; just stop arguing for once,” and snatched Butcher's keys. “I assume everyone will be arriving home late. It appears that Kimiko and Annie won't be calling it a night anytime soon.” After observing them for some time, they realized you were right. Kimiko was high as fuck.

Ben didn't have a shower in his own room, so he quickly took one in yours once you drove home. Surprisingly, he hasn't complained to Butcher about it in any manner, and you've allowed him to use yours anytime he needs to, even if he occasionally takes a shower a bit too frequently, leading you to believe that he does it on purpose to irritate and enrage you so that you two can argue. But no matter what, his unique word choice never failed to make you chuckle.

As he was taking care of himself in the bathroom, you considered something you had long since ignored: your virginity. You could never go one step beyond, not even if you were in your mid-20s. You just didn't want it to be just one fleeting, pointless act, and you didn't feel anything at all. Perhaps you were a shamefully traditional person who was eagerly awaiting the realization of your real fate.

Ben used to make jokes about your virginity, which you didn't mind, but tonight it kind of got under your skin and made you feel uneasy, like there was something wrong with you. It just didn't seem right at all to be a virgin in your mid-twenties. 

“You appear to be lost in thoughts. What's consuming your mind so much?” Ben queried. 

His long beard and damp hair were pouring over the floor as he emerged from the bathroom, his thick, muscular belly wrapped in a towel. Your eyebrows are raised between your sighs. Though you always knew he was extremely attractive, he seemed even more so at this moment. 

Ben glanced at your short dress too, seeing that you were staring at him as your lips parted slightly in a hint of yearning. He smirked, conceited, seeing your legs pushed together. 

“I think I can make a guess.” He walked over to sit on the bed next to you and mumbled. 

You hesitantly said, “I was thinking something,” not quite sure what to say exactly. 

“About?”

You abruptly asked, trying not to flush too much as you moved the bed and fully turned your body to face him. “Would you take my virginity?” 

Ben exclaimed, “What?” with his lips parted in wonder as he tried to understand what you meant and raised an eyebrow. 

“You already heard me.” 

Ben laughed and ignored your request, saying, “Are you drunk or do you need to jerk off? You're going to be a good nun when you grow up.”

“I'm serious here,” you said, blushing red from embarrassment and rage at the fact that the fact that he didn't take you seriously at all.

Ben's mocking expression changed to one of confusion as he realized you were serious. “I thought you were waiting for the love of your life or something. Why did you change your mind all of a sudden?”

“I wasn't waiting for someone,” you denied right away. “I decided being like this bothers me, and I want to change it.”

You continued, “We have known each other for months, and I think we kind of formed a good friendship during this time,” before he said anything, you added, “It must be okay to ask your friend for help, and it's better than to be with a total stranger, right?”

“I'm not the right person to share something like that.” Ben said in a serious tone, “I don't know why you made this decision so quickly, but you'll regret it tomorrow, I promise. If you are horny, I can give fingerfuck you, though.” It was clear that he was not hearing you clearly. 

“It's not really that significant, is it? I didn't wait for someone right away, as I had said. If I knew I would regret saying it, I wouldn't have said it in the first place. What's the purpose of friends?”

Hesitantly, you reached out to touch his damp arms to gauge his reaction while also conveying your concern. You felt your small confidence begin to fade as you noticed he was staring at you with the same expression, so you brought your hands back to yourself. “Well, of course I won't try to convince you to take my virginity if you don't want to get into such an intimate interaction with me,” you said, trying not to seem offended or disappointed. “It's a different issue.”

Your heart raced under your thin dress as you anxiously awaited his response. 

“I would fuck you with pleasure; it's not that I don't want it,” he added, examining your bare legs and breasts as they rose and fell in time with your heavy breaths. He whispered, placing his rough palms on your chin. “But I can't promise it won't hurt, and I don't want it to be just a one-time thing.”

You muttered, “I know it's going to hurt,” and at last he relaxed and seemed to agree. 

He smirked and continued, “I'll fuck your cunt whenever I want,” staring right into your eyes and making you tremble at the sensation. “You'll spread your legs for me and beg me to fuck you.”

“It's better,” you said as his hand lowered to your throat, causing you to become even more thrilled. You chuckled awkwardly and murmured, “Practice makes perfect, right?”

Your lips parted in ecstasy as his thumb massaged your hardened nipple, and he gently pinched it between his fingers through your dress. He didn't even slightly break eye contact with you, as if he wanted to watch every move you made. 

Ben mumbled, “I wonder if you're dripping under there already,” as he climbed on top of you. Feeling uncertain about what action to take, you placed your quivering hands on his large chest. 

His palm stroked your pussy through your underpants, and you clenched around nothing, murmuring, “I feel like it.” You were already embarrassingly drenched; you knew that. 

“Ben,” you murmured quickly, and his hand instantly froze there. He stared at you, confused, not knowing if you wanted to stop or not. You grabbed his wrist and stopped him just as he was about to return his hand to himself. “Can you do the entire job for tonight” you said in a hesitant manner. “I have absolutely no idea what to do.”

Ben surprised you with a kiss on the forehead and said, “Of course I'll do the entire job. You just lay down and relax. I'm going to take care of you well, okay?”

You nodded quickly, trusting that Ben knew what to do when he started to rub your pussy through your underwear again. Your hips rose higher to meet his movements as he played with your clit with a gentle thumb. “Let's get rid of your dress, huh?” he said, helping you to remove it from your body. You were lying under him naked, except for your underwear.

You wanted to hide your body with your hands because you felt a little shy, but you forced yourself to look at him with courage because you wanted this to be good. Even if he was already erect under the towel, he ignored his own needs to give you the pleasure you needed first.

Then he pinched your nipples once more and added, “You have such lovely tits.” Before you could respond, he put his warm lips on one of your tits and started sucking, giving you very light bites. You were a little scared that he could harm you because you had a big power imbalance since he was a supe, but you chose to put your trust in him because you knew he had experience having intercourse with normal people just like you.

As he continued licking both of your nipples, you placed your hands behind his hair and pulled. You pushed his head to your tit as you raised your hip to match his movement, but you moaned loudly when he ripped off your panties and inserted one of his meaty fingers inside of you slowly, even though you were trying really hard not to scream. It was difficult to take even one finger, so tears welled up in your eyes, but you didn't want to ruin the moment.

Groaning, “Fuck, you are tighter than I expected,” he lifted his head.

When he noticed your pained expression, he began to gently massage your clit with his thumb once again. Thankfully, this helped you feel better, and after a while, you began to slowly tighten around his finger.

He asked in a rough voice, “Do you like me fingering you?” and continued to push his finger in and out. “Your pussy is so adorable and swollen. You so desperately need me to fuck you raw.”

He commanded, “Tell me it's just for me,” tensing up his motions as you continued to tighten around his finger.

You said, “Just for you,” and he attempted to press another finger, but you were simply too tense to take it. You said, “Ben, be slow,” in a panic.

“In order for you to take me easier, we need to properly prepare your little pussy. Now spread your legs and don't cover that adorable cunt,” he gave another command. It was then that you realized you were attempting to press your legs together.

You spread your legs so he could see you as per the directions he gave. You let out a loud cry of pleasure and agony as he carefully inserted another finger. Ben swallowed your groans and stretched you with two fingers, his warm lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss.

You were moaning inside his mouth while his tongue and fingers dominated you. Ben felt your wetness on his fingers, your hips rising to match his rhythm, and he felt like he might come without even touching himself.

With a harsh voice, he commanded, “Cum on my fingers,” and proceeded to fuck you while your walls tensed up. With a loud moan and his name between your lips, you nailed his biceps while he watched you orgasm under his touch. “Good girl. You are so easy to make cum. Fuck, you're a needy one.”

You continued orgasming and wetting them while Ben held your fingers within. Even though your pussy felt extremely sensitive, he continued to finger you without giving you a minute's break after your climax had passed.

“Ben, it feels sensitive.”

“Fucking take it,” he growled. “You'll come as much as I want you to.”

You muttered, “I don't think I can,” as your legs continued to shake uncontrollably.

“You can and you will,” Ben responded, and he proceeded to fuck you even more forcefully than before.

The bedroom was filled with obscene noises, and your eyes welled up with tears of pleasure.

“Cum to me,” he commanded again, and you instantly clenched around his fingers. Putting your hands over his head, you kissed him, pressing your lips to his in an attempt to stop your moans.

As you orgasmed, you sensed him grinning slightly against your lips throughout the kiss. He whispered, “You're so fucking tight, you're almost going to lock me inside your pussy,” as you calmed down after your climax subsided. “I guess you're ready now.”

Your eyes widened with fear and dread as he removed the towel from his belly and threw it to the ground, revealing his firm cock. Ben began to give himself brief strokes while spreading your legs apart. Aware of your discomfort, he smiled slightly at you. “I'll do my best to be gentle. You're enough soaked already.”

You nodded to him, waiting tensely as you watched him pump himself between his rough hands. You tensed up abruptly as the tip of his cock touched your entrance, and he took himself in hand after giving it enough strokes.

He said, “Relax,” and kept pushing the tip inside. “Fuck, take it already.”

You attempted to let him in, your legs trembling with desire and dread, but you couldn't stop clenching.

You whimpered, your eyes welling with tears, as he thrust his cock inside with a forceful move. You also pulled his hair around his neck. Your hips were being held in place by his hands, preventing you from moving them. You were certain that it would bruise badly.

You cried out in fear, “Ben,” as he persisted in pushing. Tears fell from the corner of your eyes onto the covers when you were nailing his arms.

He groaned, “Calm down,” and gave you some time to relax. “It's just the head.”

“Sorry,” you said, ashamed that you weren't able to bear pain and adding unnecessary difficulty to the procedure.

His eyes widened at the sight of your face, and he planted a gentle kiss on your forehead. He whispered, “Hey, it's okay. You take me so good, so warm,” in between kisses and proceeded to place his cock inside of you once more. You knew it was a major step for you when you felt like he broke your hymen. This time, his hands gently remained on your hips as he sensed a change in your feelings.

Thank goodness, you relaxed between his kisses and compliments, and your wetness allowed him to enter at last. Ben gave you time to get used to his size after his cock completely filled your insides.

After planting another hard kiss on your lips, he asked, “Are you okay now?” and stroked your cheeks. 

You responded, “I'm okay,” as the agony lessened and you began to get pleasure from his cock pulsing inside of you. 

Ben put his hands on the sheets, and as he started to move slowly inside of you, you locked your legs around his hip. 

He groaned, “You're so tight around me,” as he began to move faster. “I should have fucked you sooner.”

He gave you quick kisses, and his bushy beard tickled your chin as he began to fuck you quickly and roughly. “I'll turn this little cunt addicted to my cock.”

As you continued to moan beneath him, he gave another order: “Tell me you want me to fuck you hard.”

You murmured, “Please,” and he slowed down. 

Ben wrapped his hand around your neck and said, “Beg me properly,” but he wasn't using force against you. 

You sighed, “Fuck me hard, please, Ben.” You moaned as you saw his mucsles stretching as he continued to penetrate you quickly and roughly. Your hands nailed his chest and broad abdomen. 

He put your legs on his shoulders and stated, “I'm going to fuck you every day; make you my little cumslut. Do you enjoy having your friend fuck you? Does this turn you on?”

When he kept talking filth, you couldn’t stop clenching around his cock.

He moaned, “Fuck,” in between hard strokes. “Look at this pussy clench. You really get turned on by it.”

Ben intensified his movements as your legs trembled with pleasure around his hips, and you felt your climax strike with a loud moan and a cunning sneer on his face. You tried biting your lip to muffle the moans, but it was difficult as Ben fucked you raw, on top of you, dominating your whole body. 

He whispered, “I'm going to fuck your face another time,” and put his thumb inside your mouth. “Suck it. Prove to me how much you crave my cock inside your mouth.”

You groaned in displeasure as he slowed. Ben strictly said, “Suck it, show me how badly you want my cock inside your mouth, and I'll fuck you as you need,” when you lifted your hips to get him to return to his previous rhythm. 

With the expectation that he would like it, you put your lips around his thumb and started to lick it with your tongue. 

He mumbled, “Fuck yes, gonna cum inside that mouth,” and started fucking you quickly and roughly once more. 

He muttered, “Almost there,” and continued to fuck you while staring at your bouncing tits. 

His hardness continued to throb inside of you as you tightened around him one more time and orgasmed. He moaned and spilled inside of you, filling you with his thick and warm ropes. 

Ben continued to fill your pussy as your climax subsided. You felt incredibly satisfied because you felt so full of his seed. 

When he was finished, he carefully pulled out his cock, exposing the blood at the tip. Ben gave you a long, hard kiss on the lips when he noticed you were staring at it. 

You offered him a tiny smile as he whispered, “Come closer,” and he embraced you with his large arms. “Are you alright?” 

You continued to stroke his beard while responding, “Yes.” Actually, you've never felt better.

You can check my MASTERLIST for more.

[ateliersss]

The Huntress

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: It's the first time you and your mate go on a hunt after your pregnancy. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: Mild Smut, English isn't my first language Word Count: 4.412 After the Blooming Family series

⇨ I wanted to post this yesterday already, but I got a little distracted as something terrible happened last night in my city.

⇨ The long awaited hunting trip is finally here! I apologize for the long wait, but a writing slump is the most horrible thing for a writer.

"Oh, come on, my little star. Say Mama." You pouted down at the pup in your arms. "Ma-ma."

Toyah, who seemed to be displeased that you had your hair in an updo and therefore couldn't touch your soft and shiny strands, wasn't listening to you in the slightest and instead reached up to your head with grabby hands.

"Mama, Toyah. It's Mama. Ma-ma." You tried again, but except for whine, you got nothing back from him.

A rumbling sound that could only be your mate's laugh caused you to look up with a displeased look. Mi'ytiar came closer to you until he felt Toyah's wiggling form press against his stomach and securely placed his hands in the dip of your bare waist, looking fondly down at the both of you.

"Yawne, he will not talk. Not for a while." He grunted, his thumb stroking your soft skin. "Took Akail one year."

"I know that. I just want to finally hear his voice, hear him talk." You sighed. "Remember when Akail started speaking?" You asked him with a starry look in your eyes as you looked up at your mate.

Akail as a toddler in itself had been chaotic, a whirlwind in his parents' lives, but Akail as a toddler who had just learned the ability to speak? It was mostly loud nonsense, but you found it endearing nevertheless. Every now and then, you could understand a "Mama" and, after some time, even a "Papa". You were mostly fond of the times when he would sit on your chest, hands on your cheeks, and he would just start chirping with the occasional "Mama" in between his words. That had been his version of informing about his day.

Mi'ytiar grunted in acknowledgment and his hand left your waist to reach up to pet his son's head. He had grown in the last three months, albeit only slightly. His skin had grown in intensity just as his eyes. His teeth were now tiny little spikes and the tusks of his mandibles had gotten sharper. The rest had stayed just the same. But his personality had grown as well. Like his older brother at that age — fast on his tiny legs, a combination of crawling and unsteady stumbling on his feet — he loved to explore his environment. Once, you had found him sitting outside with the Hell Hounds, even though you had put him to bed five minutes earlier. You didn't know how he had managed that and you had to hide your grin when you scolded him.

"Go?" Mi'ytiar asked with a purr and you let out a hum in agreement.

Your mate and you had planned this trip for a while now. You had been sick of it, doing nothing but lazing around in your nest with your pup as your companion to bridge the time while your mate was busy with leader business and your eldest doing his own duties. Mi'ytiar's overprotectiveness had reached new heights and you were barely allowed to leave the nest to go to the bathroom to relieve yourself without him hot on your heels. To his credit, you only needed one intake of air in one certain way for him to suggest the hunting trip before you could start your rant.

Now, you were dressed in your hunting attire similar to the one your mate was sporting. A metal chest-plate was sitting on a layer of leather that covered your body like a top but kept your arms and midriff free. The metal of the loincloth hugged your lower body like panties did while a cloth that was attached to it covered your backside, going from one hip to your other and was triangular in shape.

Everything was tailor-made, though it had been altered from time to time. The beautiful design, the carvings and the feminine touch hadn't changed at all, but your pregnancies had taken a remarkable toll on your body, with your breasts growing bigger and your hips wider.

The only thing that stayed the same was the wrist gauntlet adorning your right forearm. It wrapped around your arm, beginning at your wrist and ending near the crook, so you weren't restricted in bending it. You had a matching forearm vambrace on your other arm, though this one was merely armor. The gauntlet was a petite little thing and your preferred choice of weapon. It looked like any other gauntlet the Yautja used, though it was modified significantly. You only needed it to hunt, so most of the usual functions were removed.

Mi'ytiar placed a hand on the nape of your neck and guided you through the door and out of your home. After a short growl, the Hell Hounds stayed put. They had excitedly greeted you with wagging tails but now let themselves dejectedly sink on the floor again to lie on their stomachs.

The walk to the docking platforms for their ships was calm, though you sometimes cooed back at Toyah in answer who had started to babble. Here and there, you stopped for a few minutes because some of his people had to inform their leader about this or ask him about that, but you didn't pay them any mind. You only did when a Female approached you to take a look at your pup and you presented him to her like a proud cat mother would with her kitten. The Female chirped at him and complimented his development. You would have spent hours chatting with her and about what a precious boy your pup was if not for your mate to gently stir you away.

You stopped again at the ship that was readied for your departure under the watchful eye of Akail. You never understood why they needed to make such a spectacle out of it. You would only go hunting for a few hours.

"Akail." Mi'ytiar addressed his son who turned around to greet his father properly, hands on each other's forearms and forehead pressed together.

"My little warrior." You chimed in. "Are you excited about your alone-time with your little mei'hswei?"

Akail bristled before he let out a grunt you would label as a "Yes." It was more than you would have received from him two months ago. Your eldest still had some resentment towards your youngest, but the murderous glint had disappeared from his eyes since your little talk a while ago. It took him baby steps, but steps nonetheless towards a better relationship. Toyah was oblivious to his brother's displeasure about his short existence and behaved like he always did with his family, with happy shrieks and grabby hands.

There had been this one moment where you had coincidentally stumbled upon Akail holding Toyah in his arms, pointing towards one of the skulls on the walls of your home, showing him their father's trophies. Toyah, of course, didn't understand one word but was simply happy to be near his brother. You had to quickly compose yourself and walked backwards to not disrupt this wonderful moment. It was like there was a conflict inside Akail that told him to continue disliking his brother for what he did to you, but after your talk, there was a voice that told him to try, as hard as it might be.

You smiled up at Akail and handed Toyah over into his arms. He gingerly took him — you had to bite your lip to not comment on how he suddenly knew how to professionally hold the pup as if he had done it before — and looked down at his little brother in disdain.

Grinning to yourself, you continued, "I already fed him, but if he should be hungry again, go to Zakui. She also knows how to change him. Right now, he is still full of energy, so I would suggest bringing him to T'ihtuial who watches some pups of other Females when they're too busy. He will tire himself out on his own. And should he actually grow tired, then put him in his crib and turn the small light on. Oh, and don't stop keeping an eye on him." You said and watched him to see if he understood. "Don't. Let. Him. Out. Of. Your. Eyesight." You empathized every word because you knew Toyah would find a way. He was determined like that. "He seems to like being anywhere but where you want him to be."

After another grunt, you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to place a kiss on Toyah's cheek and another on Akail's forehead after he leaned down for you. "Bye, my boys. Be nice to each other and behave, alright?"

"Bye, Mama." Akail rumbled while Toyah only gurgled a laugh.

With a smile, you turned around and met Mi'ytiar halfways who placed a hand on your lower back, his scales rough on your soft skin. Together you entered the ship through the ramp and he wasted no time starting the engines and taking off.

Thanks to the autopilot, making the ship fly to its destination on its own, you could easily make yourself comfortable on Mi'ytiar's lap. You talked, exchanged sweet nothings, and snuggled with each other. It had been quite some time since it had just been the two of you and without any of your pups. The only time you did have your togetherness was once in a blue moon at night when everyone was asleep. Well, when most were asleep because most certainly didn't include Toyah who, like his brother in his toddler stage, needed to spend even the nightly hours with you. It was exhausting, but thankfully, the only downside of pups at his age.

"Where are we going, my love?" You asked him after a while of playing with his fingers, stroking his knuckles and massaging his palm.

"Yiulk." He answered with a soothing rumble of his chest, showing just how relaxed he was after God knows how long it had been since the last time it happened. "You remember? You hunted Wikki before carrying Toyah. You really good at it, yawne. Very proud." He purred and fondled your nape, his claws playing with the tiny hairs that had already loosened from your updo.

You smiled with a soft blush dusting your cheeks, mumbling "Charmer." before sitting up with your knees on his knees and your arms snaking around his head to hold the back of it. "Makes me want to give you one more. Right here, right now." You purred seductively, twirling one of his dreads around your pointer finger.

Mi'ytiar was about to reply, but the nav started beeping and signaled your arrival. Turning around in his lap, you could see the bright green-colored forest planet that was Yiulk. There were no humanoid beings living on the surface, only animals ready to be hunted. There were over a hundred species living there, both predator and prey, and you loved the various difficulty levels those species offered. Some were as simple as a sloth and some a little harder like a cheetah. And they were so fascinating, you loved to stay back and watch them, study them. If you had the equipment — a camera, paper, a typewriter — you would write a factual book where each and every one of them had their own double-page.

You readied yourself for the landing and quickly exited the ship with Mi'ytiar in tow. You were greeted by a wall of trees, standing so close to each other, it was a miracle he found a landing spot so easily. You took a deep intake of air and were immediately hit by the sweet aroma that emitted from the trees around you. Mi'ytiar had told you about them on your first hunt on Yiulk and he had seemed rather amused by your amazement, which was no surprise because Earth had looked so dull to you for a very long time.

The ground was soft as you took measured steps forward and through the jumble of trunks. Your eyes were fixed on the dark, earthy forest floor as you scanned it for traces of whatever animals you would find first. The environment was ideal for Shuxxi. The air was humid, the trees were covered with their preferred moss, and if you stopped in your tracks and pricked up your ears, you could hear the sounds of splashing water. Your best guess was to follow whatever source it was coming from as Shuxxi loved swimming and deep waterholes were rare on Yiulk.

You continued on your way, slowly and quietly.

While your mate preferred the chase, you put your strength into stealth. Rather than barreling towards the prey, you stayed back and observed their behavior, even killed from a distance. And although Mi'ytiar's fingers were already itching, he held himself back when you climbed up the large rocks that had emerged behind the trees after walking quite a distance. You slowly crawled up and to the edge until you had an overlook over the area to where you had tracked your prey.

You smiled at your success as your gaze wandered over the small herd, from one to the other. They were pretty for something that looked like a mix of deer and sheep. You could at least discern seven of them, a male and six females, all of them nibbling on the bluish moss growing on the trees around the clearing.

You looked down at your wrist gauntlet and skimmed through the different projectiles. You chose your favorite one — spike-like arrows of razor-sharp metal that were the size of an unused pencil and as thick as your pointer finger. You lifted your arm to aim at the one standing the farthest away from you. You enjoyed challenging yourself again and again when you were hunting a species that was already familiar to you.

And for today, you had chosen easy prey, so it wasn't that challenging. They were child's play, but something to gain back the mobility and stamina you had lost during your pregnancy and bed rest after giving birth.

You were about to pull the trigger, your aim secure on the grazing animal, when you felt a warm breath fanning against the side of your head and a hand on the back of your thigh slowly traveling up under the cloth attached to the loin cloth. You wiggled your hips and tried to throw him off, but when you only got a deep rumbling back — a laugh, probably — you shot him an angry "Mi'ytiar!" through gritted teeth.

"Distraction. Typical in environment like this. Need to get feel for it." He only grumbled against your ear.

His body was now pressed to yours, practically lying half on top of you, with his face nuzzled into your nape. You could feel him tug on your tied-up hair until it was hanging loosely down your head and he could bury his face into it, inhaling your scent. His hand snaked around your waist and to your stomach, pulling you back into him.

"Concentrate."

You tried, but your arm had gotten a little shaky as well as your focus.

"Mi'ytiar." You said slowly, warningly, when you felt his hand dipping lower.

"Shoot, yawne." He growled into your hair and started to rut against your thigh.

You let out a growl of your own, used the only part of your brain that was still able to work logically and took your shot. Your prey dropped dead when your arrow pierced its eye, killing it instantly, and spooked the rest of the herd that soon took off.

You rolled to the side and away from Mi'ytiar's rutting hips. You gave him a mean look with glinting eyes before you climbed down the rock and quickly approached your prize. You looked it over. Maybe you could use the gorgeous black fur with red speckles as another cushion for your nest. You already had four of them, but another wouldn't hurt.

"You did good." You heard Mi'ytiar behind you.

You only needed to stand up and turn on your heel to find him looming right above you. You wanted to give him a little piece of mind after he almost made you miss your target, but he looked so deliciously feral right now that the words died on your tongue. His eyes were wild, his chest was heaving and the muscles of his chest and stomach were twitching and contracting. You wanted to jump him at this very moment.

"You know…" You purred and pressed yourself against him, dug your fingers into the flesh of his hips, and pushed him backwards against one of the nearby trees. "I believe this was one of the possible scenarios where we created our firstborn." You mused, your voice taking a lower pitch with every word. "Hunting, me killing something and then you fucking me against a tree, filling me up so much that your seed dripped down to my ass and on the dirty forest floor."

Mi'ytiar let out a roar, grabbed you by your shoulders, turned you both around, and pushed you against the tree trunk.

You groaned, but not because of pain. Whenever he would manhandle you, use his brute strength to put you in whatever position to his liking, it turned you on a little more and reduced you to nothing but the basic need of graving him buried in your depths.

Patience was never something for Mi'ytiar when you were the only thing on his mind and instead of going through the process of opening the buckles that connected your thigh-high boots to your loin cloth, he just ripped them apart and tore off the pieces of metal and leather that hid your dripping arousal. Your hands immediately flew to his own covers, disparately pulling and tearing on them to free the throbbing piece of muscle that must be hiding behind it, but Mi'ytiar gripped your wrist.

"No." He groaned and pulled your hands away.

"But-"

"No."

Mi'ytiar might crave you, but he didn't want to mate with you just yet. "Three months." Cahrein had said to refrain from mating with each other to let your body heal after birthing Toyah. Those months were already over, but he wanted to be careful. Your body was a treasure, so magnificent, so beautiful. He wanted to give you all the time you needed and more, no matter how tempting it was to see it nakedly sprawled across the furs of your nest.

You reached for his loin cloth again. You could at least please him with your mouth, feel his heavy manhood down your throat, taste his heady aroma, and get drunk on it. You were desperate for him and you wanted to feel him inside you, even if it wasn't in the way you wanted for months now.

But Mi'ytiar once more pulled your hands away from it and instead lowered himself down on his knees. He grabbed you by the thighs and hoisted you up against the tree until your pussy was on eye level with him, placing your legs on his shoulder until you were practically sitting on them.

You hissed when the tusks of his mandibles dug into the skin of your ass cheeks and pelvis as they clamped around you after opening them up. Your breath hitched when you felt his own hitting your already dripping and twitching folds, and your hand grabbed ahold of a few of his dreads, keeping you grounded both on his shoulders and in the moment.

"Mi'ytiar…" You mewled.

And Mi'ytiar immediately listened. The tip of his tongue darted out and gave your folds one, two, three licks before it circled around your pulsing clit. Greedily, he lapped at your leaking hole before he plunged his tongue into you, wasting no more time, and groaned when your sweet ambrosia filled his mouth.

Meanwhile, you were a quivering mess on top of his shoulder. With your one hand already seeking support by holding onto his dreads, your other hand had reached up and above your head to dig your nails into the bark of the tree. Your eyes had fallen close and your head had lolled back. Your thighs trapped his head between them and you used them to push him impossibly closer to where you needed him most. Your hips rocked against his mouth, seeking for more.

And Mi'ytiar was soaking everything up as he ate his fill. You looked stunning in this very moment. Your face was flushed, your mouth parted, lips glistening with salvia, and your eyes were squeezed shut with the occasional twitch of the eyelid. It all made him even hungrier and he started twisting his tongue.

"Oh my... ahhh, Mi'ytiar!" You moaned, dragging the last syllable of his name out into a long, high-pitched squeal.

When your grip on his dreads tightened before you pulled on them, he growled into you, the vibrations adding to the stimulation and making your back arch. His tongue drove deeper and the deeper he got, the thicker it stretched you out.

"Tanhì… I’m…"

You couldn't even finish your sentence. With a scream of his name, you came as your thighs tightened around his head. In the orgasmic bliss that hit you like a train, you faintly heard the pitiful whine Mi'ytiar groaned into your depths and, therefore, almost missed it. Luckily, you didn't and thus, you immediately knew. You could tell by the signs when you looked down through half-lidded eyes — his claws digging into your thighs, the jerky motions of his hips, the unsteady up-and-down movement of his chest from heavy breaths.

He'd just ejaculated from eating you out.

You didn't need to see the evidence dripping from his loin cloth covered crotch. You knew because it hadn't been the first time it happened. No, there was this one moment decades ago when Mi'ytiar and you slowly but surely got to know each other on an intimate level, step by step. You had explored your bodies and discovered the multiple aspects of mating together. For someone who had no lips and no mouth per se, he had made you cum harder than on the rare occasion when one of your former lovers reluctantly agreed to pleasure you with their tongue. And Mi'ytiar, who never had tasted the paradise between a Female's legs, came across the furs and blankets after your sweetness hit his taste buds mere seconds earlier.

"Tanhì…" You purred and placed your hands on either side of his head to pull him back a little.

He retracted the tusks of his mandibles where they had been digging into your skin, eliciting a hiss from you, and tugged them back to his face. You smiled softly down at him when he nuzzled his face into your belly, purring in content, and you put your hand on top of his head, your thumb stroking his forehead.

You couldn't wait until you would finally be able to truly mate with him again.

When you went back home — after hunting down the rest of the herd to bring food back to the clan — you were greeted by a grumpy-looking Akail who dropped his little brother into your arms when they reached out to greet him, wanting to hand back the responsibility to watch over the pup as soon as possible.

You had asked him if something happened and the only thing Akail said was that he had found the little parasite in the most impossible places, although he had just been put into his crib throughout the few hours their parents were gone. He had found him in your bedroom, in the bathroom, outside with the Hell Hounds once again, and crawling down the path to your home. There even had been a Male with little Toyah in his arms at the clan leader's abode, asking Akail what the hell the pup was doing at the landing platform next to one of the Scout Ships.

You actually considered strapping Toyah to your chest every hour the day had to offer at that moment.

You looked down at the pup resting in the crook of your arm. "You are a little troublemaker, hm, you little rascal? You made it so difficult for your big brother, didn't you? Put him through so much trouble." You cooed down at him.

You and Mi'ytiar started walking side by side, his hand securely placed on your waist. The ship you had used for your trip was taken care of and the hunted prey was being carried out of it to store it. Your mate offered nods to the Yautja of his clan who greeted the three of you on your way home, but his attention was rather occupied by you and his son who was babbling nonsense. Until…

"Ma!"

You stopped dead in your tracks and looked down at your pup with wide eyes.

He did, didn't he?

"My little star, what was that?" You asked, barely holding in the bursting happiness. "Can you say that again? Did you say Ma?"

Toyah was looking at you, beautiful yellow eyes partly closed from the — what you called, although it was pretty unlikely — smile. He was babbling more and more non-coherent stuff before another "Ma!" slipped from his mouth while he reached out to your face with grabby hands.

It may be just another random syllable mixed with the other typical chatter of a three-month-old pup, but to you, it was a win.

"Yes, Toyah, Ma! It's Ma! You are such a clever little boy, aren't you? My sweet and clever boy!" You praised the pup before you turned to Mi'ytiar with a smug grin while he looked down at you with what looked like an amused glint in his eyes. "That's two for me, my love."

He then watched you continue on your way home, listening to the receding exclamations of "Such a clever boy, my Toyah!" and "Already knowing how to say Ma!" and that familiar warmth bloomed inside his chest. It happened with every smile, every crinkling of your eyes, every caress of your soft hands on his skin, the sound of your voice.

He chose good, he chose right to have you as his Life Mate. Even without pups, you were an incredible enrichment to his life. The way you treated him, appreciated him, loved him, he could not have been luckier. And after you brought your two wonders into his world, it only confirmed his beliefs that you would be a great mother, too.

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[satellite-evans]

my little girl

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando and you welcome your baby boy, but Sophie struggles with jealousy. As she adjusts, she learns her place in the family is just as important.

Word count: 5.6k+

Warnings: fluff, little angst

Request: can you do a continuation of “my lando” ? reader and lando’s baby has finally arrived and little sophie is jealous all the attention is not on her anymore but she’s obviously reassured, love your writing 💌💌

or

The second part to best friends was soooo cute 🥺🥺 if you’re still taking requests would you be willing to write about when the baby is born and maybe their new dynamic with the new baby and how Sophie is adjusting maybe her having a moment of jealously

A/N:

I recommend for you to read part 1 and part 2 first xxx

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

One of the things you had always loved about hospitals was the stillness, the quiet that seemed to wrap the entire building in a soft cocoon of serenity. The absence of loud, unnecessary noise, the only sounds being the faint, comforting whispers of nurses moving about their duties, and the occasional soft murmur of visitors exchanging words.

But now, that same silence was suffocating. What once brought you comfort now felt oppressive, a cruel reminder of the pain you were enduring. The quiet made every breath you took feel louder, every sensation sharper. It was as if the stillness in the room amplified your suffering, making each contraction feel more intense, more unbearable. The world outside seemed so far away, and inside, all you could focus on was the agony that seemed to pulse through your body, relentlessly, without end.

The only sound that broke the silence was the rhythm of your own breathing, steady but shallow, as you tried desperately to stay in control. You focused on each inhale and exhale, trying to calm the storm inside you, but with each contraction, the pain grew. Your mind raced with each passing second, but you kept your eyes closed, holding on to the one constant in the room: Lando.

He was there, as always, your unwavering support. He hadn’t left your side for hours, holding your hand firmly, his presence a steady anchor in the sea of pain. His voice, soft and soothing, whispered words of reassurance in your ear, grounding you in the chaos. His touch was like a lifeline, pulling you back from the edge, reminding you that you were not alone.

“Lando…” you gasped between breaths, the pain surging again, a new wave of contractions hitting. Your eyes fluttered open, the world around you still spinning. “Is Sophie okay? Is she with Cisca?”

Lando’s face softened, his gaze steady and comforting as he brushed a loose strand of hair from your forehead. “She’s fine, baby,” he replied in a calm, quiet voice, squeezing your hand. “She’s with my mum, playing with her toys. She’s so excited to meet her little brother. You don’t have to worry about her.”

You took in a shaky breath, nodding slightly, but the worry didn’t leave your heart. “I just… I don’t want her to be scared, Lando. She’s still so young…”

“She’s not scared, honey,” he reassured you. “She’s fine. You focus on yourself now, okay? You’ve got this.”

Your eyes searched his face, desperate for something to hold onto, and though the pain felt like it was going to swallow you whole, the certainty in his voice gave you something to latch onto. His words, like a balm, calmed your racing heart just enough for you to focus.

But as the intensity of the moment deepened, Lando gently released your hand and stepped away, just for a moment, to speak with the nurses. You barely noticed as he moved, consumed by the fire burning within you, but the slight absence of his presence felt like a gap in the world. He’d been with you every step of the way, and now, with him gone even for a few seconds, it felt like the room grew colder.

And then, the door creaked open, the sound breaking the stillness as the doctor entered. Everything shifted in that instant. The air felt heavier, more charged. The time had come. The moment you had been waiting for, dreading, and anticipating in equal measure was finally here. The baby was almost here. The contractions that had seemed endless now had a purpose, the pain now a sign that the end of this chapter was near. And in that moment, you realized you were about to cross into something completely new.

Lando returned to your side in a heartbeat, his hand back in yours, steady and sure. His thumb gently rubbed over your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re doing amazing,” he murmured, his voice full of love and encouragement. “This is it, baby. We’re almost there.”

You nodded, focusing on his voice, on his hand in yours, as the world outside melted away. He was right. You were almost there. The baby was almost here.

In the hospital’s waiting room, Sophie sat quietly beside Lando’s mom, her tiny fingers fidgeting with the edges of her dress. She had been waiting for what felt like hours, her excitement growing with every passing minute. At first, she had been bouncing around, full of nervous energy, asking every few minutes if the baby had arrived yet. But now, with time dragging on, she was growing restless. The energy she had once radiated was fading into quiet fidgets and soft sighs, her eyes flicking toward the hallway every few seconds as if hoping for some sort of sign that something was happening.

Cisca, ever the doting grandmother, tried her best to keep Sophie distracted. She handed her a coloring book, hoping the bright pictures would capture her attention. "Here, sweetie, why don't you color this one? It’s a picture of a bunny with a little baby in her arms. Maybe that’ll make you feel better."

Sophie glanced at the book briefly but then set it aside, her eyes once again darting to the hallway. "Nana," she said softly, a small crease forming between her brows, "when's the baby coming? Is he here yet?"

Cisca smiled gently, though she could see the concern in Sophie’s eyes. "Soon, sweetheart. Your mommy and daddy are taking care of everything right now. It’s almost time."

"But why is it taking so long?" Sophie asked, her voice tinged with frustration and a bit of anxiety. "I thought babies just come out. Why is it so… so slow?"

Lando’s mom chuckled, her heart swelling with affection for the little girl. "Well, sweetie, babies don’t always come when we expect them to. Sometimes, they take their time and do things at their own pace. But don’t worry, your mommy is strong. She’s doing a great job."

Sophie gave a small nod but didn’t seem entirely convinced. She could hear the reassurance in her grandmother’s voice, but it didn’t quiet the flutter of unease in her stomach. Something was different now. As much as she had been looking forward to this day, she couldn’t help but feel a bit scared. What if everything changed once the baby was here? What if her parents didn’t have as much time for her anymore?

She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, staring at the door as if willing it to open. "Nana… what if things are different now? What if Mommy and Daddy don’t have time for me anymore? What if they love the baby more than me?"

Cisca’s smile softened, and she gently placed a hand on Sophie’s shoulder. "Oh, honey, I know you’re feeling nervous. But your mommy and daddy love you so, so much. That will never change, not even when your little brother gets here. You’re their big girl, and they need you just as much as ever. You’ll be a big sister, and that’s a very important job."

"But I don’t want to share them," Sophie whispered, her voice barely audible. "I like being the only one."

Her grandmother squeezed her shoulder comfortingly. "I know, sweetie. It’s okay to feel that way. It’s a big change, and it’s okay to be a little scared. But you’ll see — you’re going to be the best big sister. And you’re going to have so much fun teaching your little brother all the things you know. You’ll always have special moments with your mommy and daddy, just like before."

Sophie chewed on her bottom lip, still uncertain. "I guess so," she murmured, though the anxiety still lingered in her chest. Her mind drifted to memories of playing with her mom and dad, all the little moments when it had just been the three of them. It felt like a world that might slip away.

Before Lando’s mom could offer more comforting words, Sophie’s eyes widened, and she straightened in her seat, her heart skipping a beat. She stared at the hallway door, as if she could sense something was about to happen. "Nana, I think I heard something! Do you think it’s time?"

Lando’s mom chuckled softly and nodded. "Maybe it is. Let’s wait and see, sweetheart."

Sophie shifted in her seat, her legs shaking with a mix of excitement and nerves. "I just want to meet him," she said quietly, her voice filled with wonder and a hint of fear. "I hope he’s really cute. What if he cries all the time? What if I don’t know what to do?"

Her grandmother’s gentle laugh filled the room. "You’ll know what to do. You’re a smart, kind girl, and you’ll know just how to help. And as for crying — well, that’s just part of being a baby. But you’ll get used to it, I promise."

Sophie’s brow furrowed for a moment before she nodded slowly, trying to convince herself that it would be okay. She was excited, really. Deep down, she knew she would love her little brother. But the unknown was always the hardest part. As much as she had wanted this day to come, it was suddenly here, and with it came the realization that things would be different from now on. The whole world was about to shift, and she wasn’t sure what that would mean for her.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door to the waiting room swung open. Lando stood in the doorway, his face glowing with a mixture of excitement and relief. His usual calm demeanor was replaced with an undeniable energy, and his eyes immediately found Sophie. A smile tugged at his lips, softening the tension that had been building in his chest for hours.

"Sophie," he said, his voice warm but with an edge of nervous energy, "It’s time, Soph." He paused, his gaze filled with emotion as he stepped into the room, his footsteps quiet but purposeful. "Are you ready to meet your baby brother?"

Sophie’s heart leaped in her chest, and she jumped to her feet, her wide eyes never leaving her father. All the restlessness, the worry, and the nervousness she'd been holding onto for hours seemed to melt away in that moment. Her legs felt shaky, but her excitement made her move with purpose. “Is he here? Is it really time to see him?”

Lando nodded, his face breaking into a proud, loving grin. “Yeah, he’s finally here.” He took a step closer, his voice lowering slightly, though there was still a hint of excitement behind it. "Come with me, sweetie. You get to meet him first."

Sophie’s breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t believe it. She had been waiting for this moment for so long, her anticipation building with each passing second, and now, it was finally here. She had spent hours imagining what this day would be like, and now it was unfolding in front of her. The baby, her little brother, was real. He was finally here.

“Is he okay?” Sophie asked, her voice small but filled with concern. She had to know. There had been so many questions bouncing around in her head during the long hours in the waiting room, and now that the moment had come, it seemed like there was one more important thing she needed to ask. “Mommy’s okay, too, right?”

Lando’s smile softened as he knelt down to her level, taking her hands in his. “Mommy’s doing great, honey,” he assured her, his voice soothing. “She’s a real trooper. And your baby brother, he’s healthy and perfect. You’re going to love him, Soph.”

Sophie clutched Lando’s hand tightly as he guided her toward the room, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. Every step felt like a small eternity, and with each passing second, her nerves grew. What if her brother didn’t like her? What if he didn’t want her to hold him? What if everything changed, and she wasn’t ready for it?

Lando, sensing her tension, glanced down at her with a warm smile, squeezing her hand gently. “I know it’s a big moment, but I’m so proud of you, Soph,” he said, his voice calm but filled with pride. “You’re going to be such a great big sister. I know it.”

Sophie gave a small nod, trying her best to hide her nerves, but her eyes betrayed her. Her excitement was there, but so was the fear of the unknown. She didn’t know what it would feel like to be the big sister. But she was about to find out, and it felt like a lot to take in all at once.

Lando reached out and gently opened the door to your room. The room felt calm and serene, but it was also filled with an undeniable sense of change. And there you were, sitting on the bed, your face a mixture of exhaustion and joy, holding a tiny baby in your arms. Your eyes were fixed on your son, filled with love, a love so deep it was almost palpable. his little hands grasped at the soft blanket, his tiny features so delicate and perfect, like a new world all on his own.

Sophie froze in the doorway, her small body stiffening as her eyes locked onto the tiny bundle in your arms. her little brother's eyes were closed, his body curled up in peaceful slumber, but to Sophie, it was all so overwhelming. She had imagined this moment for so long, built it up in her mind, but now that it was here, now that he was real and in your arms, it felt like the world had shifted in ways she didn’t know how to handle. She couldn’t look away from the tiny form, but it was almost too much to take in.

You smiled softly at Sophie, your heart overflowing with love, and opened your arms to her. "Come here, baby girl," you said gently, your voice soothing and full of warmth. "I want you to meet your little brother, River."

Sophie hesitated, her eyes still fixed on River in your arms. Every part of her wanted to move forward, but the unknown was a heavy weight in her chest. She was afraid of how her world would change, afraid of River, afraid of not knowing what to do. But then, Lando crouched down beside her, his hand resting gently on her shoulder, his voice quiet and steady. "He’s pretty amazing, huh?"

Sophie nodded slowly, her eyes wide in awe, her heart full of emotion she couldn’t quite put into words. She didn’t say anything at first; she just stared down at River, watching him sleep peacefully. She reached out tentatively, a small finger brushing the baby’s tiny hand, feeling the warmth and softness of his skin. A wave of wonder and love washed over her, the weight of the moment settling in.

"He’s so little," Sophie whispered, her voice barely above a breath, filled with awe. She held her other hand over her chest, as if trying to contain the rush of emotions that surged through her — wonder, excitement, and something else too, something she couldn’t quite name.

Lando smiled gently, watching his daughter with a quiet tenderness. "He is. And now… you’re his big sister." His voice was full of pride, his eyes filled with love as he looked at Sophie.

Sophie’s eyes remained on River, a soft smile creeping onto her face as she slowly sank to her knees beside you. She was still unsure of what it all meant, still trying to process the whirlwind of emotions inside her, but as she gently touched her baby brother’s hand again, a feeling of protectiveness began to blossom in her chest.

“Hi, little brother,” she whispered softly, her voice full of wonder, as if speaking to him for the first time. “I’m Sophie. I’m your big sister.”

Lando stood beside her, his arm resting around her shoulders, as he looked down at his children — one so small, so new, and one growing up right before his eyes. This was the moment they had been waiting for. The moment everything changed.

Sophie’s smile grew a little wider, and she turned to look up at her dad. "I think I’m going to like being a big sister."

Lando’s heart swelled with pride and love as he bent down to kiss the top of her head. "I know you will, sweetheart. You’re going to be amazing."

The day you were finally discharged from the hospital felt like a whirlwind. You packed up the baby’s things, bundled River carefully in his tiny car seat, and, with a little help from Lando, you all made your way to the car. Sophie was bouncing with excitement, eager to finally be home and start this new chapter of their lives together. She had been waiting for this moment, but as the reality of it all sank in, she couldn’t shake the nervous flutter in her stomach. What would life be like once they were home? What if everything felt different?

As you all settled into the car, Sophie sat quietly beside River, gazing at him in his car seat, her fingers gently brushing the edge of the blanket covering him. “He’s so small,” Sophie said softly, her voice filled with a mix of wonder and concern. “What if I mess something up?”

Lando reached over, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “You’re doing great, Soph. We’re all in this together. He’s going to need both of us. You’re going to be a great big sister.”

Sophie smiled, but the doubt lingered in her eyes. She was still processing everything, still figuring out how to share the love and attention she had always gotten, and now River needed it all too.

When you arrived home, the house felt different, but in a good way. There were new baby things everywhere, and the familiar routine that had once seemed so normal now felt strange. You laid River down in his bassinet for the first time, the soft sound of his little breaths filling the air. Sophie stood by, watching as you gently rocked him to sleep, her arms crossed over her chest, her face a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.

Later that night, after a long day of adjusting, River began to cry. The sound echoed through the house, loud and persistent. You rushed to his side, trying to soothe him with gentle words and soft touches. But the crying didn’t stop. Sophie, who had been sitting quietly in her room, flinched at the sound, her hands clutched tightly around the edge of her blanket. The noise was unsettling to her — she wasn’t used to hearing River cry, and the way he cried felt like a new presence in the house. She had imagined it would be a joyful sound, but it was overwhelming.

Lando came in, sensing her discomfort. “Hey, Soph, you okay?” he asked softly, sitting beside her on the bed. “I know the crying is tough, but we just have to be patient. He’s still getting used to everything too.”

Sophie nodded, her lip trembling slightly. “I don’t like it,” she admitted in a small voice. “It’s so loud. It makes it feel like he needs all the attention.”

Lando hugged her tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I know, honey. But remember, this is new for all of us. River’s going to cry sometimes, but it doesn’t mean he loves you any less. We all have to learn how to share the attention, but that doesn’t change how important you are.”

Still, that didn't change how Sophie felt.

When you fed River, or when he cried and you rushed to pick him up, Sophie’s lips would tremble, and she would retreat to her corner of the room, watching from a distance. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling — part of her wanted to be the center of attention again, to be the one you focused on, the one you cared for. But another part of her, deep down, felt a sense of protectiveness over the baby, just like you did. She didn’t understand how she could balance both feelings. She wanted to be the big sister, but she wasn’t sure how to fit into this new dynamic, especially when it seemed like River needed so much of your time.

Later, when Lando found her sitting on the couch in the living room, clutching her stuffed bunny tightly against her chest, he could immediately tell something was off. Her eyes were distant, sad. Her little hands gripped the bunny as though it was the only thing grounding her, and Lando's heart ached when he saw the sadness in her eyes.

He sat down beside her, careful not to startle her, and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. “Hey, Soph,” he said softly, his voice filled with concern. “What’s going on, sweetheart? You’ve been quiet for a few days now.”

Sophie sniffled, her face full of uncertainty, her big, vulnerable eyes searching her father’s face for reassurance. "I’m still your little girl, right?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, trembling with raw emotion. Her words hung in the air, heavy with the fear that she might be losing something irreplaceable. "I don’t want him to take you away from me."

Lando’s heart shattered as he saw the pain in her eyes, the way her little voice quivered, the tremor of her insecurity. Without thinking, he scooped her up onto his lap, pulling her into the safest place he knew — his arms. His chest rose and fell with each steady breath, a silent promise to always protect her. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his voice thick with love. “Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered his words a soft balm to her wounded heart. “You’ll always be my little girl. Nothing, nothing will ever change that.”

Sophie buried her face into his chest, her small hands fidgeting with the edge of his shirt, as if trying to hold on to the familiar comfort of him. She could feel his warmth surrounding her, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear, but her worries were still there, gnawing at her. “But you’re always with him now,” she murmured, the words coming out in a rush, full of quiet hurt. “You’re always with River… and I’m not the only one anymore.”

Lando’s heart ached with a tenderness he couldn’t quite put into words. His hand gently cupped her cheek, lifting her face so she could meet his gaze. His eyes were filled with a depth of love only a father could know, the kind that transcended everything else. “You know, Sophie,” he said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, “when I’m with him, I’m always thinking of you too. You’re my first little girl. You made me a dad. You taught me how to love in a way I never knew was possible. Just because I’m taking care of him, it doesn’t mean I love you any less. It doesn’t mean anything has changed. You will always, always be special to me. You are my heart, Soph.”

Sophie’s small body relaxed against him, and she closed her eyes, as if she could finally allow herself to believe his words. She nodded slowly, but deep down, there was a flicker of uncertainty still lingering. This new chapter of their lives was still so fresh, so overwhelming. Her heart wanted to believe him, but it was hard to share the love she had always had all to herself with River. She didn’t know how to navigate this new balance, how to accept that the love she had for her parents wasn’t being spread thinner, but instead multiplied in ways she was still learning to understand.

Lando could feel her tension, the subtle shift in her breathing, and he tightened his hold on her. “I’m not going anywhere, Sophie,” he whispered, his voice full of conviction, steady like a rock. “You’ll always be my girl. I’m here for you, and I always will be.”

Sophie buried her face deeper into his chest, seeking the comfort of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as a reminder that, no matter what, she was loved. She felt the warmth of his words, the reassurance in his arms, and for the first time in days, a sense of peace began to wash over her. “I love you, Daddy,” she whispered, her voice muffled by his shirt but full of the pure, unconditional love only a child could give.

“I love you too, baby,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion, holding her just a little tighter. “And that will never, ever change.”

As they sat together in the quiet of the night, the weight of Sophie’s worries slowly beginning to fade, she knew deep down that she was still their girl. She always would be. There was no space between them, no shift in the love they had for her. River would never take her place. She was the first, the one who made Lando a father, the one who had opened his heart in ways he didn’t know were possible. Nothing — not time, not change, not new additions to their family — could take away her special place in their hearts.

Sophie looked up at her dad, her eyes still filled with a little bit of doubt, but there was a glimmer of hope now. “You promise?” she asked softly, her voice small but filled with the trust only a child could have.

Lando pressed a kiss to her forehead, his arms around her so tight that she could feel the warmth of his love seep into her very soul. “I promise, sweetheart. I promise, no matter what comes, you’ll always be my girl. And I’ll always be here for you.”

And as Sophie leaned into her father’s chest, the gentle rise and fall of his heartbeat lulling her into comfort, she believed him. Deep in her heart, she knew that even though things were changing, their bond was unbreakable. It was stronger than anything else — a love that would always hold her, no matter what.

In the days that followed, Sophie began to find her place as the big sister, slowly but surely. She still had moments of uncertainty, moments where she felt unsure about how much space River would take up in the family. But with each passing day, her love for him grew. She began to bond with him in small ways that were becoming so meaningful. Every time she sang him a lullaby, her soft voice would fill the room, and she would giggle whenever River cooed in response, a spark of joy lighting up her face. There was something magical about those moments for Sophie, something that made her feel proud of her role as his sister, even when it wasn’t always easy.

One afternoon, you were sitting in the living room with River in your arms. He was peacefully nestled against your chest, his tiny hands twitching every so often, and you were soaking in the quiet bliss of motherhood, when Sophie came running into the room, her feet light with excitement. Her face was bright, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. She clutched a piece of paper in her small hands, almost as if it were the most precious thing in the world. She stopped in front of you and held it up proudly, her smile wide and full of purpose.

“Look, Mommy! I made this for him!” Sophie said, her voice soft but filled with quiet pride, the effort she’d put into the drawing evident in her flushed cheeks.

You reached out, taking the paper from her hands as she held it up, your heart swelling. The drawing was simple — a picture of your family, each of you surrounded by hearts, but there was something so pure and sincere about it. Sophie had drawn you, Lando, herself, and the baby. When she got to River, however, she had added a much larger heart around him, almost as if she was already claiming him, already protecting him in her own way.

“This is so beautiful, sweetheart,” you said, your voice thick with emotion as you gazed at the drawing. “He’s going to love it when he’s big enough to see it.”

Sophie’s eyes shone with pride, her small fingers tugging at the hem of her shirt, but there was a nervousness beneath it all, a vulnerability she hadn’t yet learned to hide. “I wanted him to know he’s special,” she explained softly, as if there was no doubt in her mind that her brother would be able to feel the love she had for him, even if he couldn’t understand it just yet.

Lando, who had been sitting beside you, looked over at you with a soft, affectionate smile. His heart seemed to swell with pride as he watched Sophie, the love he felt for both her and River so evident in his eyes. The uncertainty that had once clouded Sophie’s face had been replaced with something much more familiar — a deep sense of belonging. “You’re doing an amazing job, baby girl,” he said softly, his hand brushing a strand of hair from Sophie’s face. “River’s lucky to have you as his big sister.”

Sophie beamed, her face glowing with the pride of someone who was beginning to truly understand the weight and beauty of her new role. But there was still a small thread of self-doubt that lingered, something you could see behind her sparkling eyes. “I know he is,” she said, a little shy but with a fierce determination in her voice. “I’m gonna protect him. I’ll always keep him safe.”

The tenderness in Sophie’s words made your heart ache with love, and you shared a glance with Lando, a quiet understanding passing between the two of you. The uncertainty that had once filled Sophie’s days — the doubt that had come with becoming a big sister — was starting to fade, replaced by a bond that was growing stronger with each day. She wasn’t just protecting River; she was embracing him with all her heart.

You gently hugged Sophie to you, holding her close as you glanced down at River in your arms. He was blissfully unaware of the drawing, of Sophie’s promises, but you knew that someday, he would understand. He would see how much his big sister already loved him. “I’m so proud of you, Soph,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “You’re doing such a good job, sweetheart. You’re making this so easy for all of us.”

Sophie’s eyes sparkled as she looked at her baby brother, who was just beginning to stir in your arms. Her voice was soft, but there was a quiet resolve in it. “I’ll always be there for him,” she said, her small hand reaching out to gently touch River’s tiny fingers, as if to reinforce her promise to him. “Even when he’s older, I’ll be there.”

You kissed the top of her head, overwhelmed by the depth of her love, the way she was already stepping into this new role with grace and affection. The bond between Sophie and River was growing every day, even if it wasn’t always easy to see. It was a slow process, but it was happening, one small gesture at a time. And no matter what challenges lay ahead, Sophie was proving that she was ready. She was the big sister, and her love for River was unconditional.

As the days turned into weeks, Sophie continued to help with River’s care — handing you diapers, fetching clean clothes, and sometimes even trying to soothe him when he cried. One morning, you were in the kitchen, and River began to fuss. Before you could get to him, Sophie was already there, sitting beside his bassinet, softly cooing at him as she tried to calm him down. It wasn’t always perfect, but she was trying, and the tenderness with which she held him made your heart swell.

She looked up at you with a smile, a little unsure of herself. “He’s okay, right? I’m doing it right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, walking over to her and resting a hand on her shoulder. “You’re doing more than right, sweetheart. You’re doing amazing.”

Sophie’s smile widened, her cheeks flushed with happiness, as she looked down at River, who had finally quieted, his small hands resting gently against his blanket. “I’m his big sister now,” she whispered, as if the weight of the words was just beginning to sink in.

Lando, who had been standing in the doorway, leaned in and kissed the top of her head. “And you’ll always be his protector. You’re doing great, Soph.”

Sophie looked back at her little brother, her heart full of love and pride. It wasn’t always easy. There were still moments when she would feel a little lost or a little jealous, moments when River’s cries felt like a reminder of how things had changed. But in this moment, as she sat beside him, the bond they shared — that invisible thread of love between siblings — was stronger than ever. And Sophie, no matter what, would always be your girl — the one who had made you a mom, the one who had given you hope in the midst of chaos, and the one who would always, always love her baby brother.

[mac-tirs]

the usage of different types of english in elden ring

most human/tarnished NPCs we meet, like rogier, ansbach, and nepheli, use late modern english:

"a sorcerer, as you might have guessed. i'm looking for a little something, here in the castle. when i'm not hotfooting it from the troops, that is." - rogier, first meeting "general radahn. a pleasure to see you, after all this time. but those remains do not belong to you." - ansbach, upon summon for PCR

but older demigods like messmer, ranni, and morgott use early modern english:

"thou'rt tarnished, it seemeth. mother, wouldst thou truly lordship sanction, in one so bereft of light? yet… my purpose standeth unchanged." - messmer, pre-battle cutscene "thou needst not indulge them unduly, but they too wish to appraise thy worth. it hath been a passing long time since a newcomer entered my service, after all." - ranni, after agreeing to serve her

then there are the younger demigods, like miquella, malenia, and potentially melina, who use a later variant of modern english, similar to the tarnished NPCs we speak to:

"if we honour our part of the vow, promise me you'll be my consort. i'll make the world a gentler place." - miquella, post-PCR cutscene "the scarlet bloom flowers once more. you will witness true horror. now, rot!" - malenia, phase 2 transition cutscene

finally, the hornsent NPCs like the hornsent, hornsent grandam, and the hornsent spirits such as the one outside the whipping hut, who use late middle english similar to the english found in shakespeare's sonnets:

"fie, another? ... then, as that woman would surely say, we are in our purposes well aligned. but understand. your kind are not forgiven. the erdtree is my people's enemy. by marika long betray'd, set aflame." - hornsent, first meeting "all your resentment lingers yet... the raw stuff from which i shall surely forge a curse. upon the dastard messmer's head. upon marika's children each and all." - scorched ruins hornsent spirit

i find it interesting how different the usage of english is in the game, and i feel that it can be a hint on how to properly date an individual's occupation in the lands between/land of shadow. the hornsent, being a people much older than many in the lands between, use the most archaic version of english, while the tarnished and younger demigods use a form of english more closely related to our own in the current period. older demigods (and marika herself, as heard from melina's recounts of marika's spoken echoes) use a form of english more closely related to the period of transition from middle english to early modern english.

additionally, another interesting thing to me: mohg is almost certainly nearly the same age as morgott (since they're referred to as twins), yet he speaks a little differently compared to morgott:

"tarnished, thou'rt but a fool." - morgott, post-battle dialogue "dearest miquella. you must abide alone a while." - mohg, pre-battle cutscene

this makes me wonder if it's possible that, assuming that miquella's verbiage is indicative of his younger age in comparison to the older demigods (aka the demigods born before the marika/radagon union), miquella's charm altered mohg's perception enough to also alter his manner of speaking and carrying himself in some way. if his pursuit of finery (dressing in embroidered robes and handling himself with poise, juxtaposing his bestial growls and strength) was mainly done in an effort to fit into miquella's ideal of a consort. of course, mohg could just be as vain as he seems to be all on his own accord, but i find that it's interesting to entertain the idea that even his current state of being was due to miquella's charm.

i'd love to hear what others think about this. i'm not very learned when it comes to english (it's not really my first language), but i find this all very cool to think about.

[keferon]

Eh okay so. My brain is absolutely cooked so you will probably just have to ignore the linguistic fuckups

Jazz and Prowl learning to communicate because language barrier is a thing >:D

Previous part

Jazz sometimes thinks that somewhere along his career path he lost the bar separating normal from...well...everything else.

After all he's seen, heard about, and done, he's not sure exactly how to measure what's weird and what's normal. He has..the general idea.

His own. And it's so convoluted and fucked up that he'd rather jump into a volcano than try to explain it to anyone else. Jazz thinks the little colorful aliens around him are weird as hell. He thinks they sound weird, he thinks they look weird, and he thinks he must be going crazy.

And then this big black and white robot catches his eye and Jazz's first thought is not "what the fuck??"

His first thought is

"Thank God! Someone's normal!"

Whoever this guy is, he sounds like he knows what he's doing. And most importantly, he looks just like Jazz. Well, not exactly. But close enough. After all, Jazz knows that his organization wasn't the only mech maker on the entire planet. Other countries were making Mechs too, and Jazz hadn't seen even half of them.

But he can recognize a giant robot when he sees one, okay?

The thought that another mech could be an alien doesn't even enter his mind.

So used to the constant presence of huge piloted robots around him, he looks at this one and clings to its appearance as something familiar and easily explainable. His brain says, we know how this works. There's a robot and inside the robot there's another person. It's the way it's always been. The sky is blue, the grass is green and the robots are human-piloted. It's that simple.

The guy takes him to the far corner of the room and says something. Jazz…doesn't understand..

The mech's face contorts in a surprisingly believable display of concentration. How...who built this robot? How could they make it frown?

He hears something else being said to him but again can't understand a word. Why won't this pilot get out of the mech to talk to him? Jazz doesn't have his communication frequency but surely they could at least shake hands. There must be some reason. Maybe something wrong with the air? Is it dangerous to be outside? This guy should know better, he's been here longer than Jazz, it seems.

(Damn it, whose idea was it to make a mech with a face, it's so distracting)

He rushes to activate the external speakers, because he and this guy obviously speak different languages, but it never hurts to try, right?

"So uh, I don't think you can understand English?"

Mech frowns again, trying to pick up on something familiar in a language that's apparently new to him. But finds nothing. Jazz lowers his horns sadly.

Oh well. Fuck. As if being stuck in an unknown place with unknown creatures wasn't enough, he can't even talk to anyone! How is he supposed to get out of here? Which way should he even go?

The mech waves his hand to get his attention and then pulls out a tablet and a stylus from..where ?

Jazz somehow manages to overlook the fact that the tablet is made to fit the mech's size. His head is still feels a bit…off..after that portal thingie.

"Charades it is then."

____________________

An hour and a half later, Jazz finds himself staring intensely at the screen in front of him with a surprisingly neatly drawn chart on it.

"So uh. Motion."

The other guy nods and starts drawing a walking mech. Then something that looks like a very unusual car. Then a submarine. Jazz gets a little lost looking at how skillful he is with the stylus.

Honestly, he's a good artist!

The guy points to the sketch of a walking mech and says

" Motion."

Then points to the drawing of a car driving and the columns of the chart.

"Motion-rotation" he points to the car again.

That must mean "driving" huh? Jazz nods understandingly.

Mech moves his finger to the submarine.

"Motion-Water."

Ah, it must mean swimming. Jazz nods once more, feeling like a wind-up dummy repeating the same motion a dozen times.

The mech makes a quiet humming noise and then points to the chart

"Motion. Sky."

And then gives Jazz the stylus?

Uh, what is he... Oh, he wants Jazz to figure out what it means.

"Motion" and "sky," right?

Jazz takes the stylus? Pencil? Thingie.. and very carefully draws out a crooked scribble of something only remotely resembling an airplane. The mech arches an eyebrow and looks like he wants to laugh.

Jazz shrugs awkwardly and tries to add windows to the airplane, but ends up making it look more like a severely fucked up caterpillar.

Mech snorts.

Jazz kicks him in the leg.

The airplane begs for a merciful death.

Jazz didn't really expect to get into a language class but he has to admit that whatever language he's learning now is a surprisingly easy one. It only took the other dude half an hour to show him the basic concept and from there it became a game of associations.

There were simple definitions. Like size, quantity, speed, emotion and so on.

There were signs that automatically turned the whole sentence into a question or a statement.

There were modifiers that Jazz defined in his head as positive and negative.

Positive speed - fast.

Positive size - large.

Positive direction - forward.

Positive time - future.

There were also basic words for senses, emotions and whatnot, also with modifiers.

Mouth-positive - to speak

Brain-positive - to think, but negative-brain-do-positive - to learn.

Huh.

And it's so neatly organized that Jazz wondered if this language was designed specifically to be easy to learn.

Let's see....

Mouth - positive, effort - negative.

"Easy to speak."

The guy nods contentedly and starts talking back, while pointing to the appropriate columns of the chart to make it easier for Jazz to understand.

"Creation-positive. Purpose. Person-negative-knowledge. memory-positive-effort-negative."

Jazz frowns, concentrating on his finger.

Oh. Created. For those who don't know it. Easy to learn.

He was right. The whole thing is waaaay too awkward to write poetry but learning it is a delight.

Jazz leans over the chart.

All right, well, let's see.

“Name. You. Question?”

The other guy smiles and pokes at the chart

"Me.Motion-sound-negative.Negative-eyes-positive-someone."

Walk quietly. searching?… Sneaking?

Oh, it's not "to sneak" it's "to prowl"

"Prowl" nods affirmatively. Jazz smiles at him and looks at the chart again. Okay. How to say “music”?..

“word-knowledge-negative.”

He stops to make a gesture with his hands, as if playing an invisible piano while humming a tune.

Prowl nods

“Sound-positive-positive-hearing.”

Jazz chuckles

“A whole two positives eh? Okay then. Uh. You don't look like you listen to jazz....so..”

“Me. Name. Sound-positive-positive-listening.”

Prowl raises his eyebrows. (Jazz is jealous, he wishes he had eyebrows too.)

“You're a musician?"

Jazz quickly shakes his head while simultaneously muting the outside speakers to a barely audible level and turning on one of the songs on his playlist.

Prowl twitches in surprise when he hears the melody.

Jazz waits for the intro to finish playing and then points to himself

“Creation-negative..uh..Sound-positive-positive-hearing. Jazz. This...”

He pats himself lightly on the chest.

"..is me. Jazz."

Prowl straightens up slightly

“Oh, you're not a musician, you're the music.”

Jazz nods cheerfully

“Yes yes!”

“Jaaz?”

“No no. Jazz.”

“Ah. Jazz?”

“That's right.”

Prowl draws a portal on the screen.

“You teleported here. What happened?”

Jazz hangs back, trying to construct an answer in his head. Good thing Prowl seems to have infinite patience

“So, I uh. What was 'fight'? Movement-pain-positive? I fought these things...”

He takes the tablet from Prowl and draws a crooked blot with a bunch of tentacles on it. Then thinks for a bit and adds big teeth and a lot of eyes. He's not really sure how to draw those eyes properly, so he just scatters them randomly around the monster area.

Prowl doesn't seem to be that amused by Jazz's drawings anymore, in fact, he suddenly becomes very somber.

“Quintessons.”

He pokes at the monster

“Name-Quintessons. Number-question.”

How many?

Jazz scratches the back of his head

“So uh...a lot?....number-positive-positive-positive-positive-positi...you get the idea.”

To be convincing, he dramatically spreads his arms out to the sides depicting something very large.

Prowl looks alarmed.

And unconvinced.

“How did you survive?”

Jazz laughs pretentiously

“Ask them how they survived.”

Prowl makes the “you can't be serious” face. Jazz isn't quite sure what exactly is confusing him. Mechs are designed to kill Quintessons, aren't they? Judging by his movements, this pilot must be damn good at controlling his mech, and that kind of guys usually fight on the front lines.

He decides to put that thought aside for later. There are more important things right now, like...oh shit, where is he even going??

Jazz leans over the chart again

“Uh. Right. Question-we-move-up-place” Man, how to specify... “Knowledge-negative?”

Prowl, linguistic gods bless him, understands him and starts gesturing over the chart in response

Okay. Ah. I-move-up. Planet-creation-positive.

'I'm heading home' or 'my home planet'.”

Jazz instantly perks up.

“Oh that's great, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to go there too.”

Prowl is speaking in a language he's unfamiliar with, so he's definitely from another country, but hey, who cares as long as it's on Earth, right? He just needs to get there and he'll find his own way from there.

He watches the space debris flicker by outside the window. Even the stars are unfamiliar, Jazz can't find any constellations he knows.

One of the little purple creatures says something and Prowl steps aside to chat with them. Jazz leans back and settles into a more or less stable position. Then does the same thing, but with his real, human body. Hell, his head still feels really fucking weird after that teleportation.

He opens the comm channel and just listens to the static for a couple minutes in the faint hope that the engineering department will find a way to contact him.

Nothing.

He sighs.

“1061 on the com. In case there's any way you can hear me...ah shit. You guys won't believe what happened...”

___________

[Next]

[a-pute11as]

serendipity - kika nazareth

word count - 6.9k | summary - a ray of sunshine stumbles into your quiet cafe one morning, with heart shaped latte art and the added bonus of gaining a new english teacher, she decides to make it her everyday stop, even when your ex decides to pull a stunt. part 2.

warnings - mentions of toxic relationships - please take care of yourself <3

-

the small bell attached to the door dinged as it was pushed open, alerting you to a new customer entering the cafe. 

“buenos días” you greeted, not yet turning around, still busy cleaning the coffee machine behind the counter, “qué le gustaría?” (good morning, what would you like?)

when you turned around you were greeted with someone who looked like she’d stepped out of a different world and landed, somehow perfectly, in the middle of your quiet café. she was tall, lean but strong, wearing a matching hoodie and joggers like she’d just come from some kind of gym session. her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her scrunchie wrapped round her hair,  a few strands curling around her face. her eyes met yours with the kind of focus that made it feel like the rest of the room had gone quiet.

there was a little half-smile playing at the corner of her mouth, like she’d caught you off guard and knew it. not cocky, just effortlessly aware. you didn’t recognize her, but something about her made you feel like you were meant to know who she was. maybe it was the barcelona logo that sat prominently on her clothes, yet you still couldn’t place her name. 

“uhhh hablas catalán?” she asked, her fingers tapping on the counter as she looked up at the menu boards that hung above your head. (do you speak catalan?)

“no, lo siento, solo inglés o español.” you smiled lightly. (no, sorry, only english or spanish.)

“that’s perfect!” she beamed, “can i practice my english on you?”

you raised your eyebrows in slight shock. since moving to barcelona you had had a lot of english customers, mostly ones that butchered every kind of pronunciation when ordering, yet someone who seemed to be a spanish natural wanting to speak english? that was new. “i think that’s the first time anyone has ever asked me that.”

a grin tugged at her lips as she laughed slightly at your response, “well i need to get better so my friends stop bullying how i say words.”

“your pronunciation?” you questioned, tilting your head slightly.

“yes that! pronunciation” she copied, “but i’m not good at saying that word.” 

you let out a soft laugh, charmed with her effort and determination, “you actually said it pretty well.”

she smiled at you over the counter, a genuine smile, “thank you, i’ve been watching a lot of tiktoks.”

“that's the best way to learn,” you agreed, “so english practice, what’s your order?”.

she took a moment, scanning the board again like it was a test she wanted to pass. “i will have… an oat milk flat white, please.”

you blinked, “that was pretty perfect, have you been practicing on someone else?”

she grinned, visibly proud of herself. “i had to repeat it a lot in my head before i said it, but they make fun of how i say ‘flat.’ i say it like - ‘flaaat.’” she exaggerated the vowel, pulling a face as she did so.

you laughed slightly, her accent clear in her words, even when she tried to hide it, “well i think it was good.”

“thank you, my new english teacher.” she smiled, small dimples showing in her cheeks as she grinned. 

you turned around and started working on her order. you didn’t rush it, she was the only customer in the shop, other than your usual regular who sat reading his newspaper out the front. so you wanted to get it exactly right. the right measurement, temperature of milk and the prettiest heart in the middle of the latte.

as you perfected her coffee you heard her fingers tapping away at the counter, not impatiently, but curiously, as if she was wanting to say something but was working up the courage. 

“sooo, how long have you lived here?” she hummed, the finger tapping stopping briefly as she spoke. 

“not long, only 3 months.” you responded. 

“did you move here for erasmus?” she asked, curiosity clearly getting the better of her.

you laughed lightly, shaking your head, “no no, life just bought me out here.”

now wasn’t the time to tell kika your whole backstory about moving to barcelona. she didn’t know that you moved here to be with your girlfriend of 3 years just to find out she had been cheating on you for the last year and a half, and she certainly didn’t need to know about the way you walked in on her cheating on you on your birthday after only a month of living in barcelona. or even the way your now ex-girlfriend wouldn’t stop texting you, gaslighting you into thinking you were in the wrong, or the way she somehow saw every interaction you had with a pretty girl and accused you of doing the exact thing she had you crying over for weeks. 

things you would never do.

but, obviously, she didn’t need to know all that. 

you picked up a brown paper napkin, along with a nearby sharpie and as you placed her coffee gently on the counter, you scribbled something quickly before sliding it toward her with the drink.

in perfectly scripted handwriting, it read: “oat milk flat white – 10/10 english. very proud teacher.”

when you looked up, her eyes were already on the note. she let out a laugh, quiet and surprised, before biting her bottom lip in a way that made your stomach flip. 

“i need a picture of this.” she mumbled, pulling her phone out of her pocket as she positioned her coffee slightly diagonal to the note, before holding her phone above it. snapping the perfect picture before putting it back in her pocket. 

she picked up the napkin carefully, like it was something delicate.

“i’m gonna keep this,” she said, slipping it into the front pocket of her hoodie. “proof that i’m improving.”

“next time, there’s a sticker chart,” you teased, leaning your arms on the counter as you rested your chin on your hand.

“ohhh, dangerous,” she said with a mock-serious nod, “i love rewards.”

“you seem like someone who’s very competitive,” you said, watching the way her eyes crinkled with amusement.

“you have no idea,” she replied, grinning. “but i think i could be convinced to behave if the teacher is nice.”

you laughed, shaking your head, and tried not to let the flush in your cheeks betray you.

the quiet rhythm of the café wrapped around you both again. outside, the sun filtered through the windows, painting soft golden lines across her face. it was almost cinematic, the kind of moment you didn’t realize you’d remember until much later.

kika didn’t leave right away. she pulled out a chair at the table closest to the counter, and sat with her coffee in both hands.

you turned to rinse out a few mugs behind the bar, but her voice called your attention back after a few minutes.

“so, teacher,” she said, resting her chin in one hand while she swirled her coffee with the other, “is there an english word for when you meet someone and they make the whole day better?”

you glanced over at her, your heart beat suddenly picking up in pace, her question didn’t feel as casual as the way she asked it. it felt as if it was more than a question, more like a statement. 

“serendipity,” you said quietly.

she repeated the word under her breath, eyes locked on yours, “ser-en-dipity,” she murmured. “that’s pretty. i like that.”

you gave her a small smile. “me too.”

she stayed a while longer, asking little questions here and there between glances at her phone, how to pronounce ‘squirrel’,” why ‘laugh’ was spelled so weird, and whether ‘rain check’ actually had anything to do with weather.

by the time she stood to leave, she had her coffee finished, your napkin still tucked into her pocket and whilst you didn’t know her name, and she didn’t know yours, you had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time seeing her. 

“have a good day, teacher” she smiled, already backing toward the door, still facing you as she did

you just nodded, amused and curious and undeniably intrigued,  “you too a-plus.”

the bell over the door jingled again as she slipped out into the street, and you stood behind the counter, staring at the spot where she’d just been.

serendipity. 

-

the bell above the door gave its familiar chime, softer, but still altering. you looked up from the espresso machine just in time to see her step inside, hoodie up, shoulders hunched slightly against the early chill.

she caught your eye immediately and smiled, tired yet still warm. “morning, favourite teacher.”

“sucking up isn’t going to get you a better grade,” you teased, already reaching for a cup. “oat milk flat white?”

“please,” she said with a grateful sigh, leaning against the counter as she watched your every move.

“didn’t peg you as a morning person.” you spoke, pouring the espresso into the cup with precision.

“i’m not,” she murmured, rubbing a hand across her face, “had to be somewhere early, figured i’d get a head start.”

you handed over the coffee, and she took it like it was the best thing to happen to her all morning, “god, this is good,” she mumbled, cradling the cup like she was trying to soak up its energy.

she lingered by the counter, the steam from her cup curling around her face as she tilted her head, eyes still heavy with sleep but alert enough to hold your gaze.

“do you always make them this perfect?” she asked, sipping again, “or am i just the chosen one?”

you smiled, leaning on your forearms across from her, “maybe a bit of both.”

she chuckled under her breath, then glanced at the clock behind you, “we’ve only got a short lesson today, but i wanted you to remind me of that word from yesterday.”

you tilted your head, “which word?”

she thought for a moment before speaking, “the one about making my whole day better.”

you picked up a napkin, scribbling the word on it. 

serendipity.

you slid it toward her, “there, now you have study material.”

she read it slowly, then tucked it carefully into her jacket pocket, “you really are my favourite teacher.”

and before you could even respond, she was gone again, disappearing out into the quiet street with her coffee and your napkin, leaving only the soft jingle of the door behind her.

you were just finishing up the midday prep when your phone buzzed sharply in your apron pocket. the familiar weight of it shifted against your side, and you almost ignored it. your coworker had just come in to take over the afternoon shift, and you were minutes away from freedom.

but something about the timing felt... off.

you wiped your hands on a towel and slid your phone out.

bea.

you hesitated, thumb hovering, heart ticking up a notch. then tapped.

[1:56pm] bea - i saw you smiling at her today, again. you know the one with the tracksuit and the ponytail with the scrunchie. cute.

your breath caught mid-read.

[1:57pm] bea - you were definitely already talking to her before we broke up. i’m not as stupid as you think i am.funny how you used to look at me like that, too.

a chill threaded through you, even in the warmth of the café kitchen.

scanning the handful of tables still occupied, no one familiar, no one watching. yet you turned your body slightly, like instinctively shielding yourself.

[1:58pm] bea - especially after all those lies about me cheating on you, yet you were doing it the entire time.

you typed out a reply. deleted it. tried again. deleted that too.

you leaned against the edge of the counter, swallowing hard, your other hand instinctively gripping the rag you’d just used, knuckles turning white. the words stung, not because they were true, but because they echoed every twisted manipulation you’d grown used to for the last 3 years. every time she flipped things around. every time she made you feel like the villain.

you’d been the one who walked in on her. you’d been the one who moved out. you’d been the one who stayed quiet.

and now, here she was again, reappearing only when she sensed something slipping from her control. 

the afternoon air felt colder than you'd expected, grey clouds pressing low over the rooftops, filling the sky with the same dread that was filling your body. you pulled your jacket tighter, hands buried deep in your pockets, steps quick without even thinking about it.

you’d done this walk more times than you could count, the same route as usual, yet it didn’t feel as calming as it usually was.

your thoughts drifted to yesterday. the way her laugh had softened the rest of your day, or how her dimples stuck in your mind ever since you saw them. the way being near her felt easy and safe, as if you could simply exist without feeling shame. 

you didn’t even know the girls name, but bea didn’t need a name to twist something good into a weapon. a tool to belittle you, something to make you feel small. 

-

the bell above the door chimed, and you glanced up just in time to see kika walk in, yet there were two people just behind her. this time she wasn’t in the crested tracksuit you had seen her in previous days, rather a dark pair of jeans, a black hoodie and a red cap covering her head.

“good afternoon” kika greeted, smiling as her eyes met yours, “i’m surprised you’re still here.”

“it’s your lucky day then, my shift finishes at 3.” you grinned back to her.

“so we really got here just in time for the best coffee in all of barcelona,” she tilted her head slightly, leaning against the counter as usual, “and i bought friends this time.”

you couldn’t help but laugh at her compliment, cheesy but it still made your heart flutter.

“ah so you’re the famous nameless barista.” the shorter brunette smiled, her eyes racking you up and down momentarily. 

“famous?” your eyebrows raised, looking between your a+ student and the two new girls. 

“apparently your english lessons are as good as your coffee.” patri added with a smirk, “i think i might need to start coming here too.” she winked. you almost missed the way kika shot her quick look, a look of unease before patri’s smirk changed into a teasing smile.

“well what can i get you guys?” you asked, breaking the short silence that had built.

“three oat milk lattes, please.” kika requested, her gaze shifting to yours. 

you sent her a nod before turning around to work on the order, jana and patri drifting over to a comfortable sofa in the corner of the cafe, kika still leant against the counter. 

“i still haven’t got your name.” she stated, fingers tapping as usual. 

you glanced over your shoulder, lips curving just slightly. “i’m starting to think you like the mystery.”

kika let out a soft laugh, “i like knowing the name of the person who makes my day start better, serendipity remember.”

you rolled your eyes lightly but gave in.

kika repeated it under her breath, like she was trying it out for herself. “it suits you.”

you tried not to let the smile that tugged at your mouth show too much as you finished steaming the milk, “and what’s yours?”

“my what?” kika questioned, her head tilting with confusion, before a look of realization snapped, “oh my name, kika.”

you turned around, placing the drinks in front of her, “it’s pretty,i like it.”

you had made the three with differing patterns of latte art, but the one with a heart you pushed forward in her direction, “enjoy.” you smiled.

she laughed lightly before making her way over to the corner where her friends sat. jana gave her a smug look whilst patri whispered something about being a flirt. kika, for the most part, ignored them both but you could see the slight red glow in her cheeks as she angled her seat just slightly, in your direction.

you pretended not to notice the way she stole one last glance your way as she sat down, fingers wrapped around her cup, the heart still intact in the foam.

you were stuck behind the counter, doing anything to look busy, you wiped it down and organised the cups. but your eyes flicked over occasionally, just quick enough to catch jana mouthing something exaggerated that made kika throw a sugar packet at her, and patri laughing behind her hand.

your shift had technically ended five minutes ago, but you were still tidying up, well more like delaying. the cafe had thinned out, a few of your regulars still hanging about, as well the three friends who were still deep in conversation.

from the corner, jana leaned back in her chair, eyes finding yours over the rim of her coffee cup. “chica,” she called casually, “your shift’s done, no? come sit. your star pupil should buy you a coffee, like a date.”

“jana.” kika hissed, her cheeks highlighting red.

“you were taking too long to make a move, she had to say something.” patri shrugged, taking a sip from her coffee. 

you wiped down the last corner of the counter, biting back a smile. the warmth of embarrassment rolled off kika, visible even from across the café. you tucked the cloth under the bar, pretending to consider the invitation for just a second longer than you needed.

“i’ll guess i can make some time for you,” you smiled, walking towards the empty chair at their table, “but i’m good for a drink.”

patri watched you for a beat too long, then smiled like she knew something you didn’t, “so, serendipity?”

you blinked, “what?”

“that’s what she’s been calling you,” she said, flicking her head toward kika, “kika doesn’t usually get poetic, so she must really like you.”

kika groaned into her hands, “stop talking.” she mumbled.

“she says your english lessons are better than the catalan lessons she’s getting from the team tutor.” jana added with a small laugh. 

your face scrunched a little at the mention of a ‘team’, and then it clicked, the matching tracksuits, the famous football club barcelona logo on each of their chests. there was no way it was a coincidence, maybe they just worked for the club?

kika just shook her head, cheeks red and glowing now, but her eyes flicked to yours with that same softness she always carried when she looked at you.

you let yourself hold her gaze. maybe just for a second longer than you should have.

and just as you were about to ask the question that was circling your brain, it all came crashing down. 

the door swung open with a violent jingle of the bell, louder than it had any right to be, your head turned and suddenly you were on your feet. 

your blood ran cold.

she didn’t wait. she walked straight toward you, voice already raised.

“you really don’t waste time, do you?”

your body tensed as the air in the room shifted.

a few people looked up, curious but cautious. you glanced toward kika and her friends, their conversation had stopped. kika had straightened in her seat, eyes narrowed slightly, jaw tight.

you forced a breath through your nose, standing up slowly, “bea, not here, i’m at work.”

her eyes flicked past you, to the corner table, then back again, “why not? thought you liked an audience.”

your face burned, not from embarrassment but the sharp sting of something you’d been trying to outrun for months, “i don’t want to speak to you, just leave, please.”

tears were threatening to fall from your eyes, your hands were starting to tremble as you watched her face light up as if she was enjoying this.

bea let out a bitter laugh. “no, you don’t get to say that. you don’t get to act like the injured party when i’m the one who got left!”

your jaw clenched, holding back everything that was threatening to spill, “you didn’t get left. you got caught.”

there was a heavy silence, followed by the scrape of a chair against the floor and then kika was on her feet.

“okay,” she said, stepping forward. her voice was calm, but her posture said otherwise, “you’ve said enough, it’s time to go.”

bea scoffed, eyes narrowing as her arms crossed, a mocking smile curling on her lips as she took a step closer, her eyes drifted to kika momentarily before they were back on you. “oh now you have a saviour?” she sneered, voice dripping with something that could only be described as venom, “cute, is she your rebound? gonna fix you huh, clean up your mess?”

her expression twisted into something crueler, “you act like i’m a monster, like you didn’t just walk away and erase all those years we had together. but sure, blame me, make yourself a saint. it’s easier than admitting you were never committed to us, to me…”

“i made one mistake, one, but you couldn’t handle it. you used it as an excuse to run, an opportunity to get out, just like you wanted. don’t pretend you didn’t want to leave me long before that.”

she looked around the room as if it was a stage, the deafening silence gave her power, “so go ahead and play the victim. let her defend you, but we don’t know the truth, don’t we?”

you stood frozen for a moment, the buzz of the cafe like static in your ears. your hands trembled as you took a step back, brushing past kika with a quiet ‘i need a minute’ and headed for the door. chest tight and vision blurring at the edges. 

bea saw it.

you didn’t have to look to know. she saw the way your shoulders curved in, the way your breath hitched and the way your pain was clawing its way to the surface. the same pain you had spent a long time trying to bury. 

and just like that, her entire demeanor shifted. 

gone was the snarling, spiteful ex as she morphed into someone new entirely, “hey… wait.” the change in her tone was nauseating, it became gentle, as if she was still someone you could trust. like she hadn't just tried to humiliate you in front of a room full of people. 

“you're upset, i get it.” she continued, voice laced with faux concern. “but you always do this, remember. run off all emotional. you always break and then you need me to pick up the pieces. that’s what we do, it’s why we work so well.”

bea smiled, too soft, too rehearsed. “just let me talk to you. alone. we can fix this, we always do.”

that’s when kika stepped between you two, no hesitation, “no, you don’t get to twist this,” she spoke, her tone cool and calm. “she’s upset because you made her this way, and you don’t get to feed off that anymore.”

bea’s eyes flicked to kika, as if she was debating whether she would be able to take her on and come out successful. but after a few moments she backed down and then turned her gaze back onto you. 

bea’s expression twisted, mouth curling into a smirk that didn't quite reach the eyes. she took another step forward, lowering her voice just enough to make it more threatening than loud. 

“oh you don’t want to leave me,” bea spoke, tone mocking. “then maybe i should tell everyone what you were like at the end. all those nights crying on the bathroom floor, begging me to stay, the fucking pathetic texts. the way you…”

bea reached for your arm, fingers latching on with a grip that was too tight. nails digging in. 

“maybe everyone would like to hear about how you couldn't even sleep alone without…”

but before she could finish, kika was there, shoving bea back with both hands hard, “back off!”

the force knocked bea a step or two back, almost stumbling over her own shoes. the tension in the room increased, crackling like static in the air. a few gasps broke out from nearby tables.

kika stood in front of you now, solid. her voice was low but lethal, “touch her again, and i promise you’ll regret it.”

jana and patri stood up too, “you better leave before you see how fast three footballers can throw you out of the building.” patri added. 

bea stared, blinking as if she couldn't believe what has just happened. her mask cracked, just for a second, and the bravado on display faltered. 

her eyes lingered on you for one final moment before she stepped back with a muttered curse, turned, and stormed out, the bell above the door marking her exit.

kika didn’t move until the door had fully swung shut. only then did her shoulders loosen slightly, her attention turning back to you.

“are you okay?” her voice quieter, her face painted with a look of empathy that surprised you. you weren’t used to it, it made your mind stutter.

you shook your head faintly, “i - i’m sorry, i need to go.” with that you grabbed your bag from behind the counter and ran straight out the door. 

-

the next day you called in sick. you couldn’t face kika, your regular customers, or your coworkers after the scene bea had pulled in front of everyone. 

you laid in bed staring at the ceiling, your body was riddled with anxiety. the silence in your apartment was suffocating, but the idea of filling it felt like too much.

your phone buzzed once. you didn’t look.

then again.

and again.

you peered at it, your coworkers name lighting up from your bedside table.

you rolled over, clutching your pillow to your chest. you weren’t sure if it was guilt or shame or some mix of both settling in your stomach. sure bea was gone, but her words and the impact they had weren’t.

none of it was true, but that didn’t dull the sting.

you thought about kika. the way she stood between you and everything ugly, the way her voice had cut through the noise. how she put herself on the line for you, protected you from something she knew nothing about.

but then you thought of her seeing you like that, completely frozen and helpless.

you hated it. 

so you stayed in bed, hardly moving, in the quiet where you could avoid everything.

-

but when the next day came, you couldn’t stay bundled up forever. so you pushed yourself out of bed, and went to work. 

you were doing your usual morning routine.

grinding the coffee beans, wiping the counter, checking the milk fridge, pretending your hands were shaking as you reached for the cups.

it was too early for your regulars but too late for the commuters. just you and the ache in your chest that hadn’t let up since bea decided to flip everything upside down.. again. 

you moved slower than usual, like your body hadn’t quite caught up to the fact that it was safe again, as if bea was still somewhere, watching.

the bell above the door didn’t ring, but your eyes kept flicking toward it anyway, like your brain couldn’t help bracing for impact. you didn’t even know if she’d come in.

but then she did. 

you didn’t look up right away, you told yourself it was a habit, that you were just focused on wiping down the steam wand. 

“morning.” her voice was soft, careful, as if part of her was hesitant to speak. 

you looked up. kika stood just inside the door, her hands in the pockets of her hoodie, her eyes on you with something unreadable behind them. she wasn’t smiling like she usually would, but there was a gentleness in her expression, like she was waiting for permission to be there.

“i didn’t see you yesterday.” she said after a beat, stepping forward slowly, like approaching something fragile, “i still came in, your coworker doesn’t make coffee as well as you do.”

you couldn’t help but smile faintly at her compliment, knowing your co-worker wouldn’t have spent the extra time perfecting the latte art or making sure the milk was at just the right temperature that kika liked. 

the quiet settled for a moment before you attempted to speak, “i didn’t think you’d come back,” you muttered, quieter than you meant to.

she tilted her head, eyes narrowing just slightly, “why?”

“i was worried she scared you off,” you started, your hands rubbing the cloth in your hand between your fingers, “she has a habit of ruining things that make me happy.”

she leaned her elbow on the counter, eyes still on yours, her voice dipping a little, playful but steady, “i train against some of the best football players in the world, i don’t get scared easily.”

your head tilted slightly as you tried to decipher what she was saying, eyebrows scrunching, “so you play football?” 

kika’s lips quirked, a soft curve that was half a smirk, half a dare, “i mean yeah, i run around a field with a ball for a living, so yeah.”

you blinked at her, brows still drawn, processing, “like for an actual team?”

her smile widened, like she was enjoying watching you put the pieces together, pointing to the barcelona crest that sat on her chest, “mhmm.”

the tracksuits, the subtle discipline, the confidence, the way jana and patri had joked. you felt your mouth part slightly. how did it take you that long for you to put the pieces together?

you exhaled a soft laugh, stepping back slightly with a stunned look. “and you didn’t think to mention that before?”

she raised an eyebrow, “you never asked.”

“i have so many questions.” you admitted.

yeah you weren’t necessarily ‘into’ football, your friends had dragged you to a game before but you spent most of it taking pictures of the cat mascot on the sidelines. barcelona breathed football and yet somehow the footballer who had been visiting you went right under your nose.

“perfect english practice then.” she grinned.

you made kika her usual, before drilling her with every football question you could possibly think of, including a very slowed down version of the offside rule.

you leaned on the counter, chin resting in your palm and a smile across your face as you watched her arrange the sugar packets like defenders and a spoon as the striker. her brows furrowed in concentration, tongue poking slightly out the corner of her mouth as she adjusted the layout so it would finally make sense.

“so,” she said seriously, tapping one of the sugar packets, “this is the last defender. if the striker, the spoon, is beyond this point when the pass is made, that’s offside.”

you stared at it, eyes narrowing. “but what if the spoon was, like, moving back behind the sugar?”

kika looked up at you slowly, “you’re trouble.”

you smiled sweetly, “i’m just trying to understand your world.”

she gave a small laugh, brushing a hand through her hair and shaking her head. “i can’t believe this is how i’m spending my recovery day.”

“you chose to come here.” you pointed out, nudging the napkin she’d used as a goalpost.

“i really did,” she murmured, eyes flicking up to meet yours again, softening at the edges, “i didn’t feel like being anywhere else.”

the words sank between you. 

lika leant back a little, letting her hand drift across the counter in a casual sweep. “and now you owe me.”

“i owe you?”

she nodded firmly, “you made me explain the offside rule with props, that deserves something.”

you tilted your head, amused. “what do i owe you then?”

“your number.” she grinned, a spark of mischief lighting in her eyes as if she set up that entire interaction perfectly. 

a soft smile pulled at your lips, “very smooth kika, very very smooth.” 

“what can i say? i obviously need some online english tutoring.”

you laughed slightly before grabbing the napkin she had used as a goalpost and a pen, scribbling down your number before sliding it across the counter towards her.

kika caught the napkin with a quick smile, her fingers brushing against yours for a moment longer than necessary.

“looking forward to our next lesson.” she smiled, voice low and teasing.

you felt your cheeks warm but managed a confident nod, with that she was gone. 

it had only been 20 minutes before an unknown number lit up your phone, 

[unknown number] - guess i’m a good teacher too, after that beautiful offside explanation 

you couldn’t help but laugh at her message, quickly changing her number into a contact, before responding. 

you - are you trying to steal my job?

kika - nothing could ever compare to your incredible english lessons

something in you was feeling bold, far bolder than you had been to kika in person.

you - careful… i don’t think you’re meant to flirt with your teachers

kika - then i don’t want to be your student

you caught yourself smiling, the kind that crept in slowly and made you warm. her message lingered on your screen, your thumb hovering just above a reply, heart skipping.

before you could type anything, the bell above the door chimed, sharp and familiar. you slipped your phone beneath the counter like it had caught fire, straightening just in time for the midday rush to pour in, pulling you back into routine with both hands.

serving what felt like hundreds of customers, the sudden rush filling the cafe swept you off your feet. 

the end of your shift arrived quicker than expected, and very typical for you the sunny barcelona weather had taken a turn. the once cloudless sky was now covered in a dark grey layer, one that had rain pounding against the pavement.  

you tried getting an uber, but of course it was nearly 25 euros for a 5 minute ride, so a 20 minute walk in the pouring rain seemed more ideal. 

pulling your hood over your head, you left the cafe and stepped out into the downpour, the kind that soaked you instantly. cold drops ran down your neck as you tugged your jacket tighter and started walking, head down, shoes already slipping against the wet pavement.

you’d only made it halfway down the street when a car slowed beside you, creeping just a little too perfectly in time with your steps. you glanced over, ready to ignore a stranger, until you saw her.

kika leaned across the passenger seat, window already down despite the rain.

“you weren’t going to text me back?” she said, one brow lifted, a teasing edge in her voice that was just soft enough to make your stomach twist.

you blinked, caught somewhere between disbelief and amusement, “you came all the way here just because i didn’t answer?”

“well my ego didn’t know how to handle it so i had to come check on you,” she gave you a crooked grin, “but now i see i’ve turned up at the right time, so get in because i’m not letting you walk home in this.”

you hesitated for half a second, until a gust of wind blew your hood back and rain trickled down your spine. with a quiet sigh, you climbed into the passenger seat, water dripping down your sleeves. 

kika reached over instinctively, tugging the heater dial up before glancing at you with a soft shake of her head, “you really were about to walk the whole way, huh?”

you shrugged, trying not to shiver as you pulled your sleeves down over your hand, “it’s only like 20 minutes, and it wasn’t exactly my first choice.”

she glanced sideways at you, her voice lower now, “next time, just text me, i’ll show up faster.”

you let out a breath of a laugh, heart skipping, “and here i thought footballers were busy.”

kika grinned, eyes back on the road as the car pulled away from the curb, “not too busy for you, put your address in my phone.”

you did as was asked and typed in your address before sitting back in the seat, “so do you always drive around rescuing baristas from the rain?” you teased, a grin across your face.

“only the ones who put little hearts in my coffee… and then ignore my texts.” she grinned back.

you laughed slightly, rolling your eyes, as a comfortable silence fell between you before you spoke up again, “thank you, for yesterday and today and just everything.”

“you never have to thank me,” she smiled lightly, “you deserve the same kindness you show people, and i’ll make sure i’m here to remind you.”

you gave her an appreciative hum, unsure of what to say other than thanking her again, but her words were running round your head at full speed. 

kika pulled up slowly to the curb outside your building, putting the car in park but making no move to rush you out. you turned to her, hand already on the door handle, then paused.

“i know you’ve just told me not to say thank you, so i appreciate you driving me home.” you smiled softly. 

she hesitated for a moment before speaking, “can i walk you in?” 

you blinked, surprised at the shift in her voice, a little more uncertain than usual.

“yeah,” you said gently, “of course.”

the two of you stepped out into the drizzle, kika flipping her hood up as she jogged around the front of the car walking in time with you. 

inside, the building was quiet, the soft hum of the elevator filling the silence between you. kika stood close, your arms just brushing as you were comfortably close. 

when the doors slid open on your floor, she followed you down the hallway, her gaze scanning the space before flicking back to you.

you stopped outside your door, turning back to face her. her hands were tucked in her jacket pockets now, and her brows drew together slightly like she was working up to something.

she let out a soft breath, glancing down for a second before meeting your eyes again. “i’ve got a game next week, a home game.”

you tilted your head slightly, you had a feeling you knew what was going to be asked, but you couldn’t help but tease her anticipation, “oh yeah.”

“yeah,” she nodded, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth, “i’d really like it if you came.”

there was a short pause before you answered, “i’d really like to.”

her smile widened, warm and full of something unspoken, “i’ll text you the details.”

“looking forward to it,” your voice barely above a whisper but certain.

neither of you moved at first. then, slowly, she stepped back, still watching you like she didn’t quite want to leave just yet. she gave a small wave, backing down the hallway toward the elevator with a grin that stayed with you even after your door clicked shut.

inside your apartment, the silence felt safe. you stood still for a moment, a smile painted across your face as your heart fluttered. 

you had gotten so used to shrinking yourself down for someone who refused to let you live in happiness, apologising for taking up space as if you were never good enough no matter what you did. you were always wrong, never said the right thing, didn’t love correctly. even after moving cities, 700 miles away from everything you knew, everyone you loved, and you still become a second option to whatever was easier in the moment. 

yet kika made you feel the opposite. she was a ray of light, like a beam of sun that shone around her every where she went. you felt warm around her, safe, protected from everything negative your past could throw at you. 

you kicked off your shoes and hung your jacket, still damp from the rain, before moving to the kitchen and flicking on the kettle. the hum of it filled the space as your phone buzzed in your pocket.

kika - i meant what i said by the way. you deserve good things, and people who show up for you.

you - i’m starting to think you don’t need my english lessons anymore

kika - no entiendo ingles, ¿puedes enseñarme por favor? (i don’t understand english, can you teach me please?)

you couldn’t help but smile at your phone, warmth filling in your chest despite the rain still tapping softly against the windows. finally you felt a moment of peace, a moment where you weren’t concerned that a bulldozer was going to run through your life yet again, because in your little bubble, it was just you and her.

a/n - part 2 can be found here. i wanted to separate the angst of r's past from the real fluff of kika! thank you for reading, any feedback/requests can be left in my inbox! and ofc thank you @earpskeeper for your incredible help with the angst <3

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 The Book Thief.

Spencer Reid x Librarian!reader

main masterlist

Summary: In your uneventful first week at work, a man arrives to return a book two weeks late, and you decide to test his patience for a bit of fun.

Words: 2,3k.

Warnings & Tags: fem!reader. teasing. spencer from the firsts season with glasses meow. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I'm putting a lot of myself here because teasing a little to flirt is so fun.

Spencer's day was quickly turning into a complete disaster, and anyone paying attention would notice. He thought that he probably looked like a lunatic. His glasses were misplaced, his hair was blowing in the wind, his pants were rumpled, and his bag was still open with a book that wasn't his on the verge of falling out. Normally he felt like a disaster, but this was beyond his usual limits. He didn't even know how he had gotten into this situation, let alone how he had managed to get up from the couch he had fallen asleep on the night before.

His feet made their way to the stairs of the library, which were quite imposing, and he struggled up them, holding on to the railing so as not to fall. He was somewhat taken aback when he walked through the door and noticed that the place was empty, without a single soul loitering or even browsing through a book. All the tables were empty and shiny, as if they had been cleaned recently and no one had used them since. Even the librarian's desk was empty, if a bit more cluttered with various books, papers, and pens strewn about.

Where was everyone? Was the place closed?

Reid was on the verge of departing, having considered the possibility that his time there might have been in vain. However, you emerged from behind the bookcase, observing him with a keen interest, almost as though you were equally taken aback by his presence as he was by yours.

“Hi.” You were the first to speak without taking your eyes off him.

“Hi.” He replied immediately, still showing a bit of his nervousness at your sudden presence. “I'm looking for the librarian. Do you know if she's here?”

As you listened to him, you walked to your desk and sat in the chair, feeling his gaze follow you. “Here I am.” You said, waving a hand to point to yourself.

He blinked a few times, his brain short-circuiting for a moment because you looked nothing like the woman who had been the librarian for years, with whom he always exchanged a few kind words and talked about the occasional book. She was probably three times your age, drank a lot of coffee, and didn't smile at him or anyone else as brightly as you did now.

“You're the librarian now?” He repeated, tilting his head slightly, looking for confirmation on your face. Noticing your nod, he felt even more out of place with his disheveled appearance and tried to straighten his unruly hair to look more decent.

It might have been a bit silly, but the fact that you were so young and probably about his age made him a bit more nervous than he would have liked. His social skills were already not the best with anyone, but with a pretty girl they were even less so.

“Yes, I am.” You confirm, noticing his slightly disheveled appearance at that moment. His subsequent attempt to clean himself up makes you chuckle internally as you watch him awkwardly try to look more presentable after learning who you are.

Spencer's curiosity grew by the minute. He looked at your desk, even though he had seen it before, but this time he noticed that most of the books there had dividers and post-it notes that made it obvious that you were reading them. He also noticed that the old caffeine smell that hit you as soon as you walked in was gone, and that was when he saw the cup of tea in your hands. It was clear to him that you had a different way of working than your predecessor. So he took a moment to watch in silence as you settled in.

“How can I help you?” Your voice brought him out of his thoughts and startled him a bit.

He cleared his throat, hoping you hadn't noticed that he was trying to get to know you a little by spying on your stuff. His eyes moved quickly from the books on your desk to yours, pretending that nothing had happened and that he wasn't lost in his own thoughts.

“I've come to return a book.” He said after a few seconds, taking it out of his bag and placing it on the counter so you could take it.

You picked up the book and examined it with interest, running your fingers over the cover and checking that it was in good condition. It was the first time in your first week on the job that anyone had ever returned a book, or even approached your desk for anything more than asking where the bathroom was. After carefully checking to make sure the book was completely fine, you opened it to see if the due date was in order, and then you realized there might be a problem.

“Mr. Reid, you should have returned this book two weeks ago.” You pointed it out after going through the file. “And you didn't ask for an extension.”

When Spencer heard your comment, he looked surprised; his eyes went to the floor, and then he looked back at you with a hint of embarrassment. He realized that he had almost completely forgotten about the book after working on several difficult cases in a row for days. He had barely had time to get a good night's sleep as he had to travel non-stop from city to city.

“I'm sorry, I...” He begins, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had every intention of returning the book, but unfortunately the policy here is not to grant extension after extension…the last few weeks have been pretty hectic. I have to admit that I lost track of time a bit. I…”

At that moment, you noticed how nervous he seemed to be about the whole situation, and a somewhat wicked idea came to your mind to step into your total cliche librarian role.

“I understand your situation, Mr. Reid, but you are a regular visitor here, as far as I can see. The rules must be followed by all, and there are no exceptions.” You pointed as you handed the book back to the bookseller. “What if someone had wanted to read it? Imagine the sadness of someone who doesn't know if their favorite copy will ever be available again because someone missed the deadline.”

At your words, Spencer swallowed dryly, and a hint of horror came over his face at the thought that he might have prevented someone else from enjoying a good book. He automatically felt a bit selfish about it.

“I hadn't considered that.” He said, biting his lip nervously. “I really wanted to return it.”

Seeing him in all his nervous glory, you couldn't help but find him strangely adorable. You didn't understand how anyone could be so nervous about a library fine that wasn't even that high. You had already learned that most people didn't even bother to check out books because of the hassle and how easy it could be to forget to return them. Not everyone has a true appreciation for books, and to finally meet someone who does is comforting.

“This is a very serious matter. How do you plan to compensate the poor soul who might have been interested in reading that book?” You added, observing his reactions with careful consideration.

He looked down again for a few seconds and then looked up to meet yours in the midst of his great nervousness. He felt somewhat exposed and vulnerable, so he thought about apologizing again, but your expression suggested that perhaps that wouldn't be sufficient this time.

“I...” He seemed to have run out of words, his brain working quickly to think of a worthy excuse. “I'll pay the fine, of course.”

���Oh, certainly.” You laughed lightly at the obvious, easy way out I'd given him, and he raised an eyebrow as if expecting something else. “But I think that's a bit mundane, don't you? You can't throw money at every problem that comes your way.”

Spencer's mind began to consider what other possibilities you might be alluding to. He even contemplated offering more or apologizing again until he noticed a subtle gesture that suggested you were holding back a smile. It was then that you stood up from your chair to be closer to his height, surprising him. He wasn't accustomed to someone being so suddenly close to him, which made his cheeks flush a little.

“Can I ask you a question?” Your breath brushed against his, which made him nod quickly, indicating his willingness to engage in further conversation. “Are you a book thief, Mr. Reid?”

The question takes you by surprise, and he is momentarily at a loss for words, just watching the way the soft light from the lamps hanging above you two reflected in your eyes. The unexpected proximity and the sudden question were not what he had envisioned in any of the thousand scenarios his mind created per second. He took a moment to collect his thoughts and then answered, his voice slightly hoarse.

“A book thief?” He repeated, as his brain processed what you had just asked him. “No, of course not. I would never...”

“Then what are you stealing, Mr. Reid?” You look into his eyes in a way that makes him shudder and feel both the urge to run away and the desire to never escape. “Maybe hearts?”

Spencer's cheeks reddened in a mixture of surprise and shock at your words. The idea of being considered someone capable of stealing hearts sounded so absurd to him. He stared at you, unable to find the right words to respond, his brain went blank for a few seconds, which was an unusual experience for someone like him. And the fact that you kept calling him ‘Mr. Reid’ didn't help his heart stop beating so hard and his rational side come into focus a bit.

“What? I don't...I didn't...” He finally managed to stammer. “I don't steal hearts. I…I only read books. I love books.” He blurted out, noting how sappy that last sentence had sounded.

Tell a librarian that you love books. Really? That's a good response to a weird kind of flirtation?

Reid wanted to punch himself in the face.

“Did you know that a Yale University study found that those who read books live an average of two years longer than those who don't?” The words were pouring out of his mouth before he could control them and think about whether it was timely or not. “Reading keeps the brain healthy and strong by keeping it active...which...which could be one of the reasons why those who read live longer.”

“Well, that's interesting. It seems like we'll be living longer.” You said this with a seriousness and interest that surprised him because he expected quite the opposite.

At that moment, you noticed that his glasses were out of place, and you couldn't help but feel the need to step closer and put them back on properly. As soon as you did, he froze. No one had ever done this before, and it seemed strangely intimate. He already felt quite vulnerable under your gaze, and your unexpected gesture made it even harder for him to keep his composure.

He swallowed dryly, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. “Uh...thank you.” He murmured, his voice a little shaky.

Despite his considerable expertise and success as a profiler, he felt somewhat uncomfortable in this particular situation. The feeling of being watched so closely, along with your questions and your touch, left him almost speechless and unable to profile you. He wasn't used to people catching him off guard like that, and he found it challenging to come up with a witty response that would make even the slightest impression. He felt a little out of his depth, and in a strange way, he liked it.

“It's nothing, Spencer.” You replied with a smile.

His first name...it's possible that he had never liked to be called that name as much as he did until that moment, when it came from your lips.

“May I call you that?” Your voice brought him out of his thoughts again.

“Yes, absolutely. Please.” He replied too quickly and now wishes he hadn't. He probably sounded foolish.

“Well, Spencer.” You repeated his name again, simply for the joy of it, which caused him to smile and try to talk again.

But the moment had to break suddenly.

You were both taken aback by the sudden opening of the front door, which prompted Reid to refocus his attention as soon as you both turned away from each other. You sat back in your chair, patiently awaiting the arrival of the newcomer. And at that moment, the former librarian appeared with a bag from a nearby restaurant in her hand, watching the two of you with interest.

“Hi mom.” You said.

His eyes widened as he looked back and forth between you, the former librarian, and the door. He was trying to understand the situation and how he hadn't foreseen it before. He hadn't even considered that there might be a relationship between the woman he had known for years and you, as you hadn't mentioned anything either.

“Mom?” He was frowning.

Spencer's phone suddenly rang, a high-pitched, shrill sound that echoed throughout the library, breaking the rule of silence. However, it was a rather timely interruption, giving him a chance to regain his composure and escape the increasingly uncomfortable and confusing situation. After apologizing, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, saw the caller ID, and breathed a sigh of relief that it was his work.

“Sorry.” He muttered, his eyes darting between you and your mother, barely noticing the resemblance between the two of you. “I...I have to go, but thank you for the help. I won't forget to return a book again.”

And with that, he left.

“I think I scared him.” You said to your mother as the door closed behind him, and the sound of his footsteps as he walked away confirmed that he wouldn't hear you.

“And it's not even Halloween yet, honey.”

[lovemomhatepolice]

as a boyfriend - charles leclerc

navigation taglist requests

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: established relationship, mention of sex, slightly suggestive, English is my second language!

summary: how is he acting as your boyfriend?

more content: formula 1 masterlist, charles leclerc masterlist, as a boyfriend - lando norris, latest oscar's one-shot, as a boyfriend - oscar piastri, as a boyfriend - max verstappen

boyfriend!charles who takes you on a drive around Monaco, pointing at places from his childhood. “This is where I learned to drive. This is where we used to get ice cream.”

boyfriend!charles who opened up to you in a surprisingly quick time and trusted you on such sensitive issues as the death of his father or Jules, talking to you for long hours about how it affected him

boyfriend!charles who walks away when he’s too angry, not because he wants to leave, but because he doesn’t want to say something he’ll regret

boyfriend!charles who randomly picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, laughing as you shriek.

boyfriend!charles who smirks when he catches you staring at him shirtless, leaning in close to murmur, “Like what you see, mon amour?” [nswf]

boyfriend!charles who gets jealous when Leo chooses you over him, dramatically gasping, “Leo, I raised you. Traitor.”

boyfriend!charles who writes a song for you but gets too shy to tell you, so you find out when you overhear him humming your name in the melody.

boyfriend!charles who suddenly starts speaking in rapid French when he’s frustrated, leaving you confused but very entertained.

boyfriend!charles who surprises you with flowers, always choosing the ones he knows are your favorite. “Just because,” he says, shrugging with a shy smile.

boyfriend!charles who writes a song for you but gets too shy to tell you, so you find out when you see the title of the song (your initials and your relationship start date)

boyfriend!charles who makes you say exactly what you want before giving it to you, loving the way your voice trembles when you finally give in. [nswf]

boyfriend!charles who whispers “Marry me” against your lips, not as a joke, not as a passing thought—but because he means it.

boyfriend!charles who insists he's not a "soft boyfriend" but lets you paint his nails when you pout at him

boyfriend!charles who acts like he’s the strong, protective one, but is the first to climb onto your lap and rest his head on your shoulder when he’s exhausted

boyfriend!charles who already has names picked out for your future kids, shyly grinning when you ask him about it.

boyfriend!charles who takes years to reply to texts, but if you don’t answer in five minutes, he’s sending, “Are you mad at me?? 😭”

boyfriend!charles who adores seeing you with his mom, secretly taking pictures of you two laughing together because it means everything to him

boyfriend!charles who adores leaving marks on you, pressing kisses along your neck before murmuring, “Let them see. Let them know you’re mine." [nswf]

boyfriend!charles who holds your face so gently, his thumb tracing your cheek as he whispers, “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

boyfriend!charles who forces you to play Formula 1 simulator with him because he thinks that as his girlfriend you have to equal his level (he can't accept that you can do better than him)

A/N: please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

short one, but i hope that you're like it! feedback always welcome <3

[goosewriting]

idk about you but joaquin drunk confessing that he's been in love w you since he first saw you is so personal to me

Enamorado

summary: Joaquín’s drunken love confession. 

relationship: Joaquín Torres x gn!reader

warnings: alcohol, drunk behaviour, established relationship

word count: ~760

A/N: i’m honestly not even sure if this was meant as a request or not but it was too good not to write something for 😩💕 you're so right anon,, have this lil blurb mwah (be safe when drinking, kids)

[all masterlists] 🪶 [mcu masterlist] 🪶 [ao3]

(title means "in love" in spanish)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Usually, you don’t go to bars much, but this time it was a special occasion, so you went out with Joaquín and Sam. Even Bucky joined you, but now that he's a proper citizen and all, he left early. 

You glance at the time on your phone, it’s 2:46 am. Looking over your shoulder from where you sit at the bar, you see Sam on the dance floor, and smile to yourself. He’s having a good time, it seems. Joaquín is next to you, and as your eyes go back to him, he’s putting down his drink he just emptied. He looks at you with a goofy grin. 

“Alright, then, that’s enough for you,” you say with a gentle smile, pushing his glass a little farther away from his hands. “Let’s take a break, yeah?”

You’re fairly tipsy yourself, but Joaquín is proper drunk now. He doesn’t let himself get to this point often. Luckily he doesn’t get angry or physical when intoxicated, instead he turns to absolute mush, incoherent mumblings about how much he loves you and Sam leaving his lips incessantly, muttering about how glad he is to be part of the group, how badly he wants to meet the Avengers. He also gets a little clingy, not that you mind. His hands will always be on you somewhere, your leg, your back, your face. 

Right now, he’s leaning his forehead on your shoulder, grumbling under his breath, but you can’t make out what he’s saying.

“Wanna go take some fresh air?,” you offer.

Joaquín nods, getting off his stool, and he lets you pull him to the back, where you exit to a small patio. You breathe in the cool night air, the buzzing in your ears starting to dissipate. You lean onto the wooden fence and look out to the city below, the lights moving and dancing in the distance like a painting. Or maybe you just can’t focus your eyes right now.

You feel something warm coming up behind you, and Joaquín’s arms snake around your middle as he hugs you into his chest. He hums, swaying you both lightly from side to side, and you laugh, turning within his hold to face him, and you cup his face. His skin feels hot, and you can see the redness on his cheeks even in the dim light.

“You need to learn to pace yourself,” you say.

“Ssshuddup. Sam’s fault,” he retorts, and he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck.

“Right,” you chuckle. Sam and Joaquín did make some bet or other about how many drinks they could have before losing the ability to walk a straight line.

When he pulls back, his chocolate eyes find yours, albeit slightly out of focus, but his gaze holds so much warmth and affection, you can’t help but get lost in them. He hums again, a smile spreading on his lips. You tilt your head.

“Whatcha thinking about?” you ask.

“You.”

“Yeah?” Your heart flutters.

“Always,” he confirms.

“Anything specific?”

“I, when you…” he starts, struggling to form real words. “Desde el primer momento en que te vi…”

You chuckle, softly pinching his cheek, then cup his face again.

“English, please.”

“You, it’s always been you,” he speaks more clearly this time, and quickly turns his head to place a kiss to your inner wrist. “From the very moment I first saw you, I’ve been in love with you.”

You swallow, tears stinging behind your eyes as you smooth over his cheekbones with your thumbs. Joaquín’s hands slide from your waist to your back to push you closer into him.

“Madly,” he says, and places a kiss on your forehead. “Entirely.” Another on the tip of your nose. “Desperately.” His speech is a bit more slurred on that one, and he kisses the corner of your mouth, giggling goofily as he pulls back to look at you.

You mirror his love struck gaze, softly running your fingers through his curls before you hold the back of his head to pull him close, capturing his lips. It’s not as elegant as it could have been, kissing somewhat sloppily in the dark of night, but you can feel how earnest his words are in the way he holds you, breathes you in. And with every wet kiss he places wherever he can reach, he whispers ‘I love you’s into your skin, the press of his lips leaving a trail of fire, burning his words into your body, to remind you that you’re his and he’s yours. Madly, entirely, desperately. 

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @f1-tennisgirlie @magikdarkholme @tsunchani @Chuchu8293 @bitchy-bi-trash @guynamedaurel @crumbledcastle28 @sarahskywalker-amidala @crazy4lyricb

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

[pennylaneforthoughts]

It's just so narratively crunchy that Spite writes poetry as his chosen form of self expression. Especially given that he clearly struggles to communicate with the people around him, the fact that he writes poetry in the scant moments he has command of Lucanis's hands really cements other textual indicators that Spite is frustrated by his difficulty with communicating. Over and over again he asks to talk to Rook, to be heard, but when he does get the chance to talk, he isn't understood, which must be unbelievably frustrating for the poor guy. So he practices! In writing! And that writing gives such a neat look into Spite's mind and how he conceptualizes himself and his situation. So I'm gonna dust off my English degree and yell about his poetry.

1.

a PEACE

cut from the ALL

golden stranded weaves

PROTECTION CAGE

keep them OUT

keep me IN

As with all poetry, there's a lot of room to interpretation, and I think that's especially intentional for Spite's worldview as a spirit. He's from the Fade, which operates on perception and emotion instead of concrete immutabilities like the material world. That being said, I think this first poem is Spite trying to process and talk about a.) his own violent summoning from the Fade and b.) Lucanis's mental Ossuary.

Spite was ripped from the Fade against his will, a piece of a larger infinity cut and captured. Likewise, Lucanis creates the Ossuary in his mind as a (poor) coping mechanism for dealing with what happened. Spite recognizes this as an attempt to create peace in emotional turmoil.

The golden stranded weaves evoke the imagery used in the narration explaining how the dagger cuts through the Veil. It's visually represented as gold geometric lines separating the Fade from the material world, which may be a hint to how spirits see the Veil: a barrier made of gold strands that has also stranded Spite from the world he knew. Given that Lucanis's mind Ossuary is also a part of the Fade, this same barrier applies here as well, stranding him and Spite from the freedom they seek.

The Veil and the mental Ossuary therefore function as what Spite calls a "protection cage," designed both to keep its occupants safe and keep them contained. Arguably, Spite could also be talking about the magic that keeps him bonded to Lucanis, magic that is likely similar in nature to how the Veil works given that blood magic is what sustains both. Protecting Spite and Lucanis from being hurt further by the Venatori but also keeping Spite from going home. He's stuck in Lucanis whether he likes it or not. This is further complicated by the mental Ossuary, which Lucanis has unconsciously constructed to keep the people he loves out of harm's way (protecting them) while also keeping Spite trapped.

This is Spite's first cry for help. He recognizes that he is trapped in multiple ways: he is forced to share a body that aggressively does not want to share with him, and the part of the Fade that Lucanis is connected to mentally is also a prison, one that does not respond like Spite would normally expect the Fade to respond. Lucanis mentions in Sea of Blood that "The Fade does whatever a spirit wants. Real walls and chains, not so much," but Spite tells Rook in Inner Demons that he can't touch the locks in Lucanis's mind despite it technically being a part of the Fade. My personal theory is it has something to do with the blood magic that bound them together in the first place, but regardless of why, it's understandably extremely frustrating for Spite to feel trapped both in the material world and the Fade, neither of which respond to him as he expects. To Spite, it must feel like the very laws of physics have stopped working as they should.

2.

scentsing the BEYOND

rememburnings from before

when one was infinity

not a small shade

not a SHARP hooked claw

in a gut

takemeouttakemeoutletmeout

riiiiip

Here we get to see how Spite has been learning to use language to artistically express complex abstract ideas, which speaks to him having mature, adult intelligence, given that abstract thought is a marker of higher-order cognition. In this poem, Spite is no longer simply describing his situation as he is in the first poem, he is self-reflecting and forming his own identity.

It's clear in this first line and in several points throughout the game that Spite's favorite sense is smell, possibly because it is a sense that he can unintrusively access and therefore isn't barred by Lucanis. So he is not just sensing, he is specifically "scentsing" what he calls "the BEYOND," likely the Fade, referencing his ability to pull things from it (especially considering that the little icon on an accessible spot says "a sense of something").

But he's not just talking about the Fade as a place, he's reminiscing of the Fade as a time. But the portmanteau he uses here, "rememburnings" suggests an attempt to explain the emotion he associates with this remembrance. The memory is painful. It burns. It hurts him. He remembers being a part of the Fade, being part of "infinity," and now he is only a "small shade" of what he once was.

But that's not all. He's also demonstrating that he understands how Lucanis perceives him, sees that he is hurting Lucanis. He knows that he was force-fed to Lucanis (quite literally according to his banter with Bellara where he says it happened when "They fed me something. Like he was a parasite in uncooked meat."), which explains why Spite conceptualizes himself as being a foreign, damaging object "in a gut." And, importantly, he doesn't take satisfaction from that. The tone he is using here suggests grief and desperation, especially the "takemeouttakemeoutletmeout." He wants to be free, yes, but he also wants to stop being an object of pain. And yet the last line suggests that Spite knows that separation would also be painful. It would be another ripping, because he is a claw now. As much as he is trapped by Lucanis, he is embedded in him as well, and extraction would tear them both apart.

3.

toes wiggle

when he drinks the brew

a small shade

and a wounded spirit

sitting

there is STILL

we are still

there is an INFINITE

there is a SHELTER

there is a STORM outside the center

UGH Spite your MIND!!! This poem makes me want to cry fr. It's so much more concrete than the other two, showing how he's becoming more familiar and comfortable with Lucanis's body and the material world. The tone is gentle, like a relieved sigh, with none of the urgency and desperation of the others. This is the first time we see Spite describe a physical sense other than smell. He notes that Lucanis wiggles his toes when he drinks his favorite coffee, suggesting that this is something Spite feels as an occupant of the same body, though he likes to manifest himself as separate. It confirms that he feels what Lucanis feels through shared senses, though has his own interpretations of sensory input.

Spite still conceptualizes himself as a "small shade," but no longer is he a "SHARP hooked claw." He is still hurt, still affected by what he and Lucanis went through, but he now sees Lucanis as more than the body he's trapped in. He sees Lucanis as a fellow "wounded spirit," hurting and healing in the same way that he is. They are sitting together, feeling together, and they have found stillness. They've finally made peace.

While he may no longer be a part of the Fade as he once was, Spite has found that being and living with Lucanis is another "INFINITE" that he gets to experience. He is safe, sheltered in their bond. It's no longer a cage. It's just protection now. And while Spite can feel the absolute mess that's going on with the world and the Fade and everything they're dealing with, he is centered now with Lucanis, which makes it all manageable.

All this leads me to believe that after Inner Demons and their little coffee date with Rook, Spite and Lucanis are at a point in their relationship where Lucanis is much more accommodating of Spite and where Spite is able to explore and experience the material world with a certain level of patience. He no longer feels like he has to bully Lucanis into letting him pilot because he understands physical space now and can experience things alongside Lucanis as he experiences them. Lucanis is more confident letting Spite speak through him because he's no longer worried Spite will wrest complete control from him and/or do something to hurt them. As Lucanis says in the final romance scene, they're no longer afraid. Lucanis now trusts Spite's reports about what happened and how much time has passed while he was asleep, which suggests that Spite has earned that trust.

At this point, the line between demon of Spite and spirit of Determination seems extremely blurry at best, and it really makes me wonder if gaining a physical body through means other than normal possession allows spirits to develop more complex cognition and emotional versatility beyond just their purpose.