#also i had a friend once who's mom would do this to me

[monzabee]

the alchemy - cs55

masterlist || part 1 || part 3 ||

Summary: The one where not Carlos, nor you, have the power to fight the alchemy. 

Pairing: dad!carlos sainz x mom!reader 

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: absolute fluff (been a while), possible ovary explosion bc of dad!carlos, cursing (because i use way too many f-bombs in real life too), kids (apparently, it’s a tw for some people), i tried hating charles but it’s not happenning so a cheater redemption arc (kinda, he's trying okay??)

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! first of all, thank you all so much for the love you showed for part one, i really appreciate it and i'm sorry that this part has been a little delayed, but i just wanted it to be just as drama-filled as the first part whilst still being a bit lighter so i hope i found the right balance for it. while we love dad!carlos, i felt like charles still deserved a chance to redeem himself and come to his senses so we love that redemption arc for him (well, kinda guess?). also, i know we have one more part of this little mini-series to go, a social media au (yay!), but i just wanted to let you all know, once again, that i do not have a taglist, and no i will not be making one!! however, i do appreciate all your support and comments, and please do let me know what you think about this part! thanks to @percervall once again, who had to listen me talk about this part for many many hours and who was kind enough to help me proofread!! i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee 

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

It only happened once every few lifetimes. 

You honestly did not expect to end up with one of your closest friends – especially not after you told your cheating husband that you were getting a divorce, after he chose his lover over you and your baby; and most definitely not after the said close friend told you that he would step up instead of your cheat of a husband.  

But there you are, in the arms of non-other than Carlos Sainz, your boyfriend, having just woken up by the excited pitter patter of feet right outside your bedroom door. “Carlos,” you whisper, nudging him softly to wake him up, “Carlos, wake up.” You watch as he stirs, and then buries his head onto his pillow mumbling all the reasons why he doesn’t want to be awake, but you just chuckle softly as you poke him again. “Carlos, please.” 

With a disgruntled grunt, you watch as his eyes open, and with a scratchy voice he whines, “What, amor, I was sleeping.” 

Rolling your eyes, you point to the bedroom door, “Listen,” you tell him, and watch as his eyes widen as realisation sets in at the same time his expression turns into a smiling one. “I think someone is excited for today.”  

“You think?” He retorts, snorting lightly as he pulls you closer, “That’s all he’s been able to talk about for weeks, amor.”  

“Well, can you blame him?” You nudge him, ignoring the sound of scraping of your son’s step stool outside your door. “He just wants to watch his father win.” Watching the smile on your boyfriend’s face grows as the door handle is jiggling, you point to the pillows with your head, “Let’s just pretend we’re asleep, he’ll be happier that way.”  

With a deep sigh, the happy kind, he pulls you closer to himself – at the right time too, as you hear the patter of footsteps getting closer. With a tug at the comforter, you hear, “Papa, wake up.” You can hear Carlos, badly, muffling a chuckle by burying his head deeper into your neck, but the little voice beside him is non-relenting. “Papa! You promised me we’d go to the race today!”  

“Carlos,” you whisper covertly, “you’re going to make him cry.”  

Giving you a look that silently says, No I won’t, he turns towards the little intruder in your bedroom, quickly gathering him in his arms as he puts him on the bed next to you. The sound of laughter coming from two of the most important men in your life bring a sleepy smile to your face as you watch Carlos tickle your son despites his protests for him to stop.  

“Mommy!” Your son exclaims, climbing over Carlos to reach you, “Tell Papa to stop! We need to get ready!” His face is flushed with excitement and laughter, a sight that fills your heart with warmth. 

“Alright, alright,” you say, giggling as you pull him into a hug, “let’s get ready then. You don’t want to be late for your big day, do you?” 

Carlos finally stops his playful assault, sitting up and stretching with a groan. “She’s right, buddy. We should all get up and get going. Lots to do before the race, you still remember our plan for breakfast?” Your son’s eyes light up even more, if that were possible, and he scrambles off the bed, running back to his room to get dressed. You and Carlos exchange a glance, something you seem to do more now than ever.  

You wait until Rafael is out of the hearing distance before you tilt your head sideways and narrow your eyes in question, “What plan are you talking about?” 

“Nothing for you,” he boops your nose with his pointer finger as he straightens up and gets out of the bed, “to worry your pretty little head about. Just come to the kitchen when you’re ready.” 

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued but willing to play along. “So, you think I’m pretty?” you ask, batting your eyes at him exaggeratedly as he gently shoves you back into the bed. Getting up and stretching, which you shamelessly take the opportunity to ogle him, you watch him with a smile as he heads towards the kitchen following your son. Getting ready consists of brushing your teeth and hastily throwing on a robe for you, too anxious to see what you son and husband cooking up in the kitchen – literally.  

The scene in the kitchen is enough to melt your heart on its own – Rafael is standing on his trusty step stool at the counter, his little hands busy arranging an assortment of fruits on a plate. The concentration on his face is evident by the way his tongue peeks out slightly in that adorable way he does when he’s focused, a habit that he picked up from his father. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, is busy with flipping something in a pan, shirtless might you add.  

“Oh my God, look at my boys!” You croon, leaning against the doorframe with a playful grin. “You even have matching hats and everything!” 

“Boys?” Carlos scoffs, turning to Rafael and pointing his finger towards you, “Can you believe her?” He then turns to you as he places his hands on his hips and puffs out his chest. “We are not boys, amor, we are men.” 

You chuckle at his exaggerated display of masculinity, shaking your head as you walk further into the kitchen. “Oh, of course, how could I forget? The two manliest men I know,” you tease, your voice dripping with playful sarcasm. 

Rafael, picking up on the banter, puffs out his little chest just like his father, mimicking his stance. “Yeah, Mommy! We're strong, right, Papa?” 

Carlos grins, his eyes twinkling as he looks at Rafael. “That’s right, we’re the strongest men in the world." He turns back to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “And we make the best breakfast too. Isn’t that right, Raf?” 

“Yes!” Rafael exclaims, beaming with pride as he holds up the plate of perfectly arranged fruit. “Look what I made, Mommy!” 

You lean down to inspect his handiwork, smiling softly. “Wow, this looks incredible, sweetheart. You’re so talented!” You give him a big kiss on the cheek, making him giggle. 

Carlos steps closer, holding out a fork with a piece of pancake speared on it. “And how about a taste test, amor?” His voice is softer now, the playful tone giving way to something more tender. 

You take the fork from him, taking a bite of the pancake. The fluffiness and warmth of it fill your senses, and you can’t help but let out a contented sigh. “This is amazing, Carlos. You’ve outdone yourself.” 

He watches you with a satisfied smile, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Only the best for you.” 

Rafael, not wanting to be left out, grabs a piece of fruit and holds it up to you. “Try mine too, Mommy!” 

You take the fruit from him, savouring the sweetness as you chew. “Delicious! You’re both going to spoil me with all this great food.” 

Carlos chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist as he presses a kiss to your temple. “That’s the plan,” he murmurs against your skin, making you shiver slightly. “I can also spoil you in the other way you like,” his voice drops enough for only you to hear.  

You glance up at him, meeting his playful yet heated gaze, and feel a blush creep up your cheeks. “Carlos,” you murmur, half-warning, half-inviting, as Rafael happily oblivious to the exchange, chatters away about his breakfast creation. “I would like to still be able to walk by the time we get to the paddock.” 

But Carlos just smirks, leaning in to brush his lips against your ear, his breath warm and intoxicating. “Later, amor,” he promises, his voice thick with affection and mischief. 

Before you can respond, Rafael tugs at your robe, breaking the spell. “Mommy! Let’s eat now!” His voice is filled with the kind of innocent excitement that only a child can muster, and it instantly brings you back in the present moment. 

You smile down at him, ruffling his hair affectionately. “Alright, let’s eat. I’m starving.” Carlos gives you one last knowing glance before stepping back to grab the plates. As the three of you settle down at the table, you try to ignore his lingering gaze that makes your heart race just a bit faster, though you’re not exactly that successful. 

It would be safe to say that it had been a crazy few years for Carlos Sainz. Or at least, that’s what Charles would say – if, you know, anybody was to ask him his opinion. First, he had lost his seat at Ferrari, and Charles really felt for him at first; after all, he was his teammate. But he was also the man who ended his marriage, so his feelings for Carlos changed for the worse very quickly. The whole situation had him coming to some revelations.  

First revelation he came to was the fact that he was wrong for cheating on his wife, however complicated the situation might be. He had tried to justify it to himself, blaming the stress and the strain, but deep down, he knew there was no excuse for what he’d done. 

Second revelation was that you deserved to be happy, with or without him – he was just being petty because it was with his old teammate. You deserved to be happy, and while Charles could admit that in theory, accepting that your happiness was now tied to Carlos was a bitter pill to swallow. 

Third, and probably the biggest, revelation was that he had royally screwed up when he chose the other woman over you and your son, and it was a loss that he mourned every single day. If he thought seeing Carlos thrive after his own life was crumbling down was hurting his ego, seeing Carlos be the father to his son, was a thousand times worse.  

Life took an interesting turn for Carlos after that night at the hotel in Monte Carlo. You had no expectations for him, you didn’t expect him to stay true to his words and be there for you and your baby. But that was the thing, because he kept his promise. He was at your door the next morning with a short list of apartments and penthouses in Monte Carlo. Anticipating your need of getting out of the country, he was prepared – he also looked at apartments in New York, houses in LA and townhouses in London (the few apartments he chose in Madrid also didn’t escape you, but it was a conversation you weren’t ready to have yet). So, when you were having, yet another breakdown in front of him, he just stood next to you and held you until you calmed down. He was always next to you, somehow managing his schedule for the racing season and coming out to see you between races. He kept true to his promise as he made waffles for you at midnight, grumbling about how pancakes were superior, and he held your hand when you were in the delivery room even though you were probably close to breaking the poor man’s hand. The bigger shock came when he announced that he would not be racing for the next season – something he had conveniently not told you in the months leading up to your pregnancy. It also led up to your first fight, and your first real confrontation since this unexpected journey began. The news that Carlos wouldn’t be racing the next season blindsided you. It wasn’t just the fact that he had made such a monumental decision without consulting you; it was the realisation that he had chosen you and your child over the sport he loved so deeply. 

“What do you mean you’re not racing next season?” you had asked, your voice edged with disbelief. You were standing in the kitchen of the new apartment he had helped you find, your baby—your son—napping peacefully in the next room. Carlos was casually leaning against the counter, arms crossed, as if he had just announced something as mundane as what was for dinner. 

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, a habit you had come to recognize as a sign that he was about to say something serious. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” he said, his voice calm, and God it drove you insane how calm and rational he was being with a decision so irrational to you. “And after everything that’s happened... I just think it’s the right decision for now.” 

“But racing is your life,” you insisted, the weight of his words settling in. “I don’t understand how you can just walk away from it.” 

Carlos met your gaze, his brown eyes steady and full of determination. “It’s not about walking away,” he explained. “It’s about priorities. You and Rafael... you’re my priority now. I want to be here for you both, not halfway across the world, missing out on everything.” 

The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache. For so long, you had been used to being let down, to promises that were made and then broken. But here was Carlos, standing in front of you, willing to give up something he loved more than anything for you and your son. 

“That’s not fair to you,” you whispered, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. “I don’t want to be the reason you give up on your dreams.” 

Carlos stepped closer, gently cupping your face in his hands. “You’re not taking anything away from me,” he assured you. “You’re giving me something I didn’t even know I needed. I’m choosing this, because I want to. I want to be here for you, to be the father Rafael deserves. I want us to be a family.” 

His words broke through the wall you had been holding up, and you let the tears fall. It wasn’t just about the sacrifice he was making; it was about the fact that he was doing it willingly, without hesitation, because he wanted to be with you and Rafael. It was a love that was deeper than anything you had ever known, and it terrified you as much as it filled you with hope. 

“But what if you regret it?” you asked, your voice trembling with the weight of your fears. 

“I won’t,” Carlos said firmly, his thumbs gently brushing away your tears. “I know what I want. And if I ever go back to racing, it’ll be when we’re ready. When we both decide it’s the right time. But for now, this is where I need to be.” 

You searched his eyes for any sign of doubt, but there was none. He was as serious as ever, and in that moment, you realized that this wasn’t just about him making a choice— it was about him choosing you, over and over again, in a way no one ever had before. 

The argument you had anticipated fizzled out before it could even begin. There was nothing left to fight about, not when he had laid his heart bare for you. All you could do was fall into his arms, holding onto him tightly as you let the weight of his decision sink in. It was overwhelming, knowing that someone loved you that much, that they would uproot their entire world just to be by your side. 

So, yeah, Carlos Sainz had not raced for the 2025 season. If it were up to him, he would stay with the two of you for the 2026 season as well, but you and Carlos Sainz Sr managed to convince him to get back to the real world, no matter how much he was enjoying being a stay-at-home dad. But the biggest shock for the world, and Charles, wasn’t that Carlos was returning to the F1 grid – no, the biggest shock was that he was returning to the F1 grid in one of the most coveted seats; right next to Max Verstappen. The reaction to the news had been mixed. Some were thrilled to see him back, eager to see what he could do in a car as competitive as the Red Bull. Others were skeptical, wondering if a year away from the sport had dulled his edge. For Charles, the news was a bitter pill to swallow. Carlos wasn’t just returning to the grid—he was stepping into one of the most sought-after seats in F1. But more than that, it was the reminder that Carlos had taken something else from him, something far more personal and painful. Watching Carlos step into his new role at Red Bull, knowing that he was now part of your life and Rafael’s life in a way Charles never could be, was a constant, aching reminder of everything he had lost. 

And so began the Leclerc-Sainz rivalry – which although sounds riveting, is probably the reason why you had to visit your cardiologist more times than necessary within the last couple of years. On the surface, it was the perfect storyline: two former teammates, now on opposing sides, battling it out on the track in some of the most intense and thrilling races the sport had ever seen. But for you, it was far from entertainment. Each race weekend became a new source of anxiety, and Carlos knew how much it affected you, so he tried his best to keep the rivalry on the track. He would reassure you, telling you that whatever happened during the race, it wouldn’t change how he felt about you or Rafael. But even he couldn’t deny that the tension between him and Charles was personal. It was more than just racing—it was about proving something, not just to the world, but to themselves and each other. And so, race after race, you found yourself on an emotional rollercoaster. The thrill of seeing Carlos perform at his best was always accompanied by the fear of what might happen if things went wrong. The rivalry wasn’t just a storyline for the media—it was a real, living thing that had a profound impact on your life. 

So, when Rafael told you that he wanted to watch his father race live, you were hesitant to agree. The thought of bringing your son into that world—where emotions ran high, and the stakes were even higher—filled you with dread. The last thing you wanted was for Rafael to witness the intensity of the rivalry that had consumed not just Carlos and Charles, but your entire life. 

Carlos, however, was adamant. He knew how much it meant to Rafael to see him race, to be a part of something that had been such a significant part of Carlos’s life before Rafael was born. “He needs to see it,” Carlos told you one evening as you sat together, discussing Rafael’s request. “He needs to know what I do, why it’s important to me, and why I went back to racing in the first place.”  

You couldn’t deny that Carlos had a point. Rafael idolized his father and seeing him in action would only strengthen the bond between them. But the idea of watching the race unfold, of seeing Carlos and Charles go head-to-head while your son was there, was almost too much to bear. The days leading up to the race were a blur of preparation and anxiety. Carlos did his best to reassure you, but the tension was palpable. He understood your fears and promised to keep things professional, but you both knew that once the lights went out, everything would be on the line. So, you weren’t exactly surprised that your boyfriend spent the entire morning buttering you up and getting you to relax as much as possible about the day ahead of you.  

And to be perfectly fair, he was right for the most part. It had been fine from the moment you made it into the paddock, which somehow worked wonders on your anxiety. As you made your way to the circuit, Rafael’s excitement was infectious. He was practically bouncing in his seat, his little face pressed against the window as he took in the sights. You couldn’t help but smile, his joy momentarily easing the knot of anxiety that had been tightening in your chest since the moment you agreed to come to the paddock in the first place.  

Seeing him so happy and in his element, you know instantly that the paddock, no matter in which country, is going to become his safe place. Rafael keeps asking Carlos questions about everything from how they manage to keep the cars so clean to what would happen if they didn’t wear helmets. And Carlos is patient as he answers all his questions, no matter how childish or obvious they might seem. So, when he told Rafael that maybe, just maybe, he might end up in one of the cars he admires so much one day, you know your son won’t miss the beat. “Can I?” He asks you, eyes widened with a pleading look as he clasps his hands together under his chin, “Please, Mommy, I promise I’ll be very careful.”  

“Absolutely not,” you shake your head, mind immediately starting to think about all the things that could go wrong, “it’s so dangerous! Just think about how afraid you’d be of the speed.”  

Rafael scoffs, arms crossed on his chest as he pleads through the pout he has on his face, “I’m not afraid of the speed! Papa, tell her I’m not afraid of the speed!” 

Carlos reaches over Rafael’s head as he takes off his cap and ruffles his hair, which manages to get a series of giggles from the little boy, and he affirms, “You are not afraid of the speed, but your mother is right.” You have to hold in your laughter when you see the indignant look on Rafael’s face, but Carlos continues talking as he signals for his son to listen, “We can talk about it when you are older, but for right now you are my lead strategist, capisce?” 

Rafael steers his pout towards you, and you shrug innocently in response, which gets a resigning sigh from him. “That’s fine, I guess.” He mumbles, and points to the garage door behind the table the three of you are sitting, “Can I look at your car again?” 

“Be careful, and make sure you tell Caco where you are.” Carlos reminds him, as Rafael excitedly scurries off toward the garage, leaving you and Carlos to share a quiet moment. 

Carlos leaned back in his chair, a content smile playing on his lips as he watched Rafael dart off. “He’s got the bug,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice. 

You sigh, shaking your head playfully. “I know. He’s already got the attitude. I don’t think I’m ready for him to jump in a kart and never look back.” 

Carlos reaches for your hand, his touch grounding you. “We’ll keep him safe,” he says quietly, his gaze meeting yours. “I promise. Whatever happens, we’ll make sure he’s ready, and we’ll protect him from the worst of it.” 

You nod, squeezing his hand in return, trusting him like you always have. As you sit together, watching Rafael’s excitement fill the garage, the sweet moment is interrupted by a voice both of you know very well. “Seriously? You’re using him to get to me on a race day now?”  

Your fingers nearly crush your poor boyfriend’s hand as you look at the intruder, your heart immediately racing. You turn to see Charles standing there, his expression a mix of frustration and disbelief. His eyes flicker from Carlos to you, then toward the garage where Rafael had just run off. “Excuse me?” You manage to get out, your voice sharp with surprise. The audacity of his accusation stings more than you expected. Charles' gaze hardens as he steps closer, clearly not backing down. 

“You heard me,” Charles says, his tone edged with bitterness. “Bringing Rafael here, right in the middle of everything... it’s not a coincidence. You’re just trying to—” 

“To what?” Carlos cuts in, his voice calm but firm. His protective instincts kick in as he stands, placing himself between you and Charles. “To have a good day with our son? To let him enjoy the race?” 

Charles scoffs, shaking his head. “He’s not your son, he’s mine. Stop fooling yourself into thinking you’re his father just because you’re here.” 

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, everything goes silent. Carlos' expression tightens, but he doesn’t move, his body still a shield between you and Charles. You feel your breath catch in your throat, the weight of Charles’ words hanging heavy in the air. “I know who his father is, Charles,” Carlos says, his voice calm but steely. “And considering the fact that he doesn’t even know you exist, I’d say me being here is more than proof that I am his father.” 

Charles' jaw clenches, and his eyes flicker with something raw—pain, jealousy, frustration, all mixed together. “You think you can just step in and take my place? Be the dad, play happy family with my son?” 

“Cabrón,” Carlos warns, and though you’ve heard him use that nickname for his friends countless of times, this voice is devoid of all affection, “you lost all right to call yourself Rafael’s father when you decided to choose whatever flavour of the month you were with at the time.” You feel your heart race, not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of the moment and the murderous look on Carlos’ face. Carlos steps forward, his voice low but terse. “You think being a father is about biology? About showing up when it’s convenient for you? Rafael doesn’t even know who you are because you’ve never been there for him. I have. I’ve been the one tucking him in, I've been there when he was sick and crying, and I’m the one showing him love every single day.”  

Charles flinches, the sting of the truth evident in his expression. For a moment, the fire in his eyes dims, replaced by something else— regret, perhaps. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, and he straightens his posture, trying to regain control of the situation. “I made mistakes,” Charles says, his voice quiet but defiant. “But you can’t just erase me from his life. He has a right to know who his real father is.” 

Carlos’ gaze doesn’t waver, his protective instincts blazing. “Rafael knows who his real father is. He may not understand all the details yet, but he knows who’s been there for him. And when the time comes, when he’s ready, we’ll tell him the truth. But that decision isn’t yours to make anymore, Charles. You gave up that right a long time ago.” 

“You’re just going to sit there and let him talk to me like this?” Charles hisses, turning towards you in an attempt to find sympathy. His eyes are pleading, but there’s anger simmering beneath the surface. 

Your chest tightens as you meet his gaze, feeling the weight of everything that has been left unsaid between the three of you for so long. You take a deep breath, your voice soft but firm when you finally respond. “It’s time to let go, Charles.” Charles' face falls at your words, the weight of their finality hitting him hard. His lips part slightly as if he wants to argue, but no words come. The tension in the air is suffocating, each second stretching out painfully. Carlos remains silent, standing tall beside you, his hand subtly resting on your back for support. He knows this conversation is yours to finish. “It’s not about erasing you from Rafael’s life,” you continue, your voice steady though your heart is pounding in your chest. “It’s about doing what’s best for him. And right now, that means protecting him from the confusion and hurt that the fact that you were too much of a coward to choose him.” 

Charles takes a step back, the anger in his expression dimming into something more fragile. His eyes search yours, perhaps looking for a trace of the bond you once shared, but it’s clear that things have changed too much. Too much time has passed. “I’m not trying to hurt him,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I apologised countless of times, what more do you want from me? I am sorry, okay?” 

“Are you quite done?” Charles flinches at your sharp tone, the weight of your words settling heavily between the three of you. His gaze drops to the ground as if he’s searching for something to say, but nothing comes. Carlos stands steady beside you, his presence strong, comforting, even. “I am sorry, too, about it all.”  

You can feel Carlos’ confused stare on you, and Charles looks at you with the same expression as he asks, “You... do?” 

“I’m sorry that you were cheating on me from the start, I’m sorry you were too weak to stay faithful to me after we got married,” you continue, the words heavy but resolute as they fall from your lips. Charles' expression shifts, a mixture of guilt and pain crossing his face. Carlos’ hand tightens slightly on your back, offering silent support as you finally lay bare what you’ve held inside for so long. “I’m sorry I ignored it for as long as I did, and I’m sorry that I ever found out.” Charles’ face hardens, his eyes clouded with guilt and perhaps a hint of defensiveness as your words hit him. The weight of what you're saying seems to pull him down, and he takes a deep breath as if trying to absorb the impact. He opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off, not willing to let this moment slip away before you say everything that’s been weighing on your heart. “I’m sorry I ever found out about the lies, but most of all, I’m sorry for Rafael. He deserved better, he deserved a father who was present and loved him without conditions,” you say, your eyes locking with Charles’. “You weren’t there, Charles, you weren’t there before Rafael, and you weren’t going to be there after him. So, I suppose what I’m not sorry for is falling in love with a man who was courageous enough to fill that role for both me and him.” Charles’ lips part as if to argue, but no words form. His eyes betray the guilt and regret he’s been carrying, but there’s nothing left for him to say. He knows it. You know it. Even the mechanics and people around you who have stopped what they are doing to watch this whole thing go down know it. “Finally, I’m sorry that you felt the need and audacity to come down here, now not only have you ruined our marriage, but you’ve also ruined my day-off which I intended to spend with my boyfriend, and our son.” 

Charles flinches at your final words, his face crumpling under the weight of it all. The sting of your truth, laid bare for everyone to hear, leaves him speechless. His bravado has completely evaporated, replaced by a hollow sense of regret and defeat. He opens his mouth as if to respond but quickly closes it, realizing there’s nothing he can say that will undo the damage he caused, the pain he inflicted, or the years he lost. His eyes flicker to Carlos, who stands steady, unmoved by Charles’ turmoil. There’s no room for pity here. “I—” Charles begins but stops as Carlos raises his hand.  

“I think you’ve said enough,” his voice lacks all sympathy for his old friend, his old teammate, “it’s best you should go before you distress my girlfriend, or my son any further.  

Charles’ eyes widen slightly at Carlos’ words, the final blow landing hard. He looks as if he’s been physically struck, his shoulders slumping as any remaining fight drains from him. His gaze flickers between you and Carlos, searching for something—anything—but finding no redemption, no sympathy. There’s nothing left to say. 

He swallows hard, his lips pressed into a tight line, before finally nodding in a reluctant acceptance. “Fine,” he mutters, his voice barely audible. He turns on his heel, walking away with slow, defeated steps. The tension that had gripped the air slowly begins to dissipate as he disappears into the distance, leaving only the echoes of his footsteps behind. 

Carlos turns to you, his hand still resting on your back, but now it’s a comforting gesture rather than a protective one. His expression softens as he searches your face. “Are you okay?” he asks gently. 

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything that’s just happened, but also a sense of relief. “I think so,” you reply, your voice steady despite the emotional whirlwind you’ve just gone through. “It needed to happen.” 

Carlos nods, his thumb brushing soothingly against your back. “He’s not going to ruin this for us. Not today, not ever.” 

You smile faintly, grateful for his support. “No, he’s not. He’s gone now, and I’m finally free of it all.” 

“We’re free of him,” Carlos adds, a reassuring strength in his voice. “You, me, and Rafael. That’s what matters.” 

“Just promise me you’ll be careful on the track today,” you plead, chin resting on his chest as you look up to him.  

Carlos chuckles softly, his warm smile easing the tension that still lingers. “I promise,” he says, his voice light but sincere. He tilts his head, giving you a playful wink. “But you know me, I can’t drive too carefully. It's in my nature to push the limits a bit.” 

You roll your eyes with a small laugh, but your heart flutters slightly at the thought of him racing. It’s something you’ve grown used to, but there’s always that edge of worry. "Just... don’t make me regret asking," you tease, though the concern in your voice is real. 

Carlos leans down, brushing his lips gently against your forehead, the gesture filled with tenderness. "I’ll come back to you both, safe and sound," he whispers softly, his forehead resting against yours for a brief moment. "Always." 

You smile, feeling reassured by his words, and you give him a small nod. "Alright. Go show them what you’re made of, then." 

As Carlos pulls away, you can see the familiar spark in his eyes, the passion and excitement that he always carries before a race. He gives your hand one last squeeze before turning to head toward the car. You watch him for a moment, taking in the sight of him—confident, composed, and ready for whatever comes next. Just before he reaches the garage doors, he turns back and flashes you that signature grin that always makes your heart skip a beat. “For you and Rafael,” he calls out. Your smile widens as you watch him go, knowing that no matter what happens on the track today, you’ll always have each other. 

It’s not hard for you to find Rafael when you head back to the garage yourself. He’s completely engrossed in conversation with one of Carlos' engineers, pointing out different tools and parts of the car with wide-eyed fascination. His little hands gesture excitedly, and the engineer listens with a warm smile, clearly amused by Rafael’s enthusiasm. Carlos stands off to the side, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, watching his son with a look of pure affection and pride. His eyes sparkle as he takes in the sight of Rafael’s excitement, and there’s a certain softness to his expression that makes your heart swell. 

You walk over, standing beside Carlos, who doesn’t take his eyes off Rafael but greets you with a small grin. “He’s already talking like he’s part of the team,” Carlos says quietly, his voice filled with pride. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s taking over the pit crew in a few years.” 

You chuckle softly, watching Rafael explain something animatedly, his little voice echoing through the garage. “He’s got your passion,” you say, leaning into Carlos slightly, feeling the warmth of his presence. 

Carlos hums in agreement, his arm slipping around your waist. “Maybe,” he says, his tone affectionate, “but the way he talks about everything… that’s all you. He’s got your curiosity, your heart, so, all my favourite parts of you.” 

“My boyfriend the charmer,” you mumble as you lightly hit him on his chest.

Carlos chuckles, catching your hand gently against his chest before pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Just telling the truth,” he murmurs, his eyes twinkling as he holds your gaze for a moment longer. “You deserve all the charm in the world.” 

You roll your eyes playfully, though you can’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re lucky you’re good at this, or I might think you’re just trying to get out of bath time for the next few days.” 

Carlos laughs, his warm, deep voice sending a wave of comfort through you. “I’d never do that. Bath time is part of the job.” He leans in slightly, lowering his voice with a mischievous grin. “But if I do this race right, maybe we can negotiate something.” 

You raise an eyebrow, feigning suspicion, but you can’t help the flutter in your chest at the way he always manages to make you feel light and cared for, even in the most mundane moments. “Alright, we’ll see how you perform today,” you tease back “if you win, I’ll let you put a baby in me, how about that?” 

Carlos freezes for a moment, his eyes widening in surprise before a slow, playful grin spreads across his face. “You’re serious?” he asks, his voice filled with both excitement and disbelief. 

You nod, biting your lip, unable to hide your own smile. “If you win today, we can start thinking about it.” 

Carlos lets out a short laugh, running a hand through his hair as if trying to process what you just said. “Well, I’ve never been more motivated to win a race in my life,” he says, his eyes gleaming with a new intensity. 

You chuckle, your heart racing at the look on his face. "Just make sure you’re focused on the track and not… well, other things." 

“Oh, I’ll be focused,” Carlos says, stepping closer and lowering his voice. “But now, I’ve got the best reason in the world to win.” He leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. “For you, and for giving Rafael a baby sister or a brother.” Your breath catches at the sincerity in his voice, and as he pulls back, he flashes you that charming grin again before heading off toward the car. You watch him go, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness settle in your chest. 

Eventually going behind the barriers and watching the race is harder than you’ve expected, you realise. As the laps go by, you keep glancing at Rafael, who’s glued to the action, his eyes wide with admiration for his dad. You smile at the way he clutches his little racing helmet, a miniature version of Carlos’ gear, his excitement evident. It’s clear he’s living every moment of the race through his dad’s performance, just as you are. When Carlos is in the lead, you hold your breath, willing him to stay ahead. When he’s fighting for position, you’re on the edge of your seat, cheering him on with every ounce of energy you have. 

As the final laps approach, you glance at the clock and then at Rafael, who’s practically bouncing with excitement. You can tell he’s just as invested in the outcome as you are. You squeeze his hand, giving him an encouraging smile, and he returns it with a determined nod. 

When Carlos crosses the finish line, the roar of the crowd is deafening, and you let out a cheer of your own, tears of joy welling up in your eyes. You look down at Rafael, who’s jumping up and down, his face beaming with pride and excitement. “He did it!” you shout, lifting him up in your arms as you join in the celebration. 

Caco and a couple of the mechanics help you and Rafael to get to the barriers, weaving through the throng of celebrating fans and team members. As you approach the barriers, Rafael’s excitement is noticeable. His eyes are wide with wonder, and he clutches his mini helmet tightly, bouncing with every step. Caco, with his warm, reassuring smile, offers a few words of congratulations and gives Rafael a high-five. Carlos comes into view, his car parked in the parc fermé. His grin is infectious, and you can see the joy and relief in his eyes as he looks up at you and Rafael. The moment he gets out of the car, he’s enveloped by his team, but his gaze quickly finds you and Rafael. He finds his way to you after getting weighed and you can see him grab his cap before finally rushing towards you. Carlos scoops Rafael up into his arms, spinning him around as they both laugh, and then turns to you, his eyes shining with gratitude and affection. 

“Well, looks like we’ve got a baby sister or brother to start thinking about,” Carlos says with a wink, setting Rafael down so he can pull you a in for a kiss. 

You smile against his lips, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the joy of this moment. When you pull away, you look up at Carlos, your eyes sparkling with love and excitement. “We do, don’t we?” you say softly, your heart full as you take in the sight of your family together in this victorious moment. 

Rafael, still buzzing with excitement, tugs on Carlos’ sleeve, his little voice bubbling over with enthusiasm. “Papa, did you see me cheering? I was so loud!” 

Carlos laughs, his eyes crinkling with joy. “I heard you, buddy. You were the loudest cheerleader out there.” 

As the celebration continues around you, you feel a profound sense of contentment. The day’s events, the race, the emotions—everything has come together perfectly. You take a deep breath, savouring the feeling of being surrounded by the people you love most. 

Carlos pulls you close, wrapping his arms around both you and Rafael. “Thank you for everything today,” he murmurs, his voice filled with sincerity. “You’ve made this day even more special.” 

You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart. “It’s been an incredible day,” you agree, looking out at the jubilant scene around you. “I wouldn’t have wanted to spend it with anyone else.” 

As you watch him savour the moments with your son before he needs to go for his interview and the podium celebrations, you realise just how lucky you are to have something that only happens every few lifetimes. 

[elderberries-and-honey]

Another hint something's been off about Millie this summer...hm...I wonder?

previous / next

Transcript Below The Cut

Ruth: Can we get ice cream after practice?

Wanda: Maybe, we'll see, okay?

Winifred: Hey Wanda, hi Ruth, is Millie home?

Wanda: Winifred, oh my goodness!

Mil's right inside; I'm so glad to see your face around here again.

You'll have to forgive her mess...she didn't start packing until today. I don't think it hit her she's really leaving until yesterday afternoon.

She's been so...up in her own head lately and well, you know how she gets at times...moody, dramatic...

But it's been different. I can't put my finger on it.

Winifred: Maybe she's just nervous for college?

Wanda: Hm, maybe.

You'd tell me if it was something else, right Winifred?

Winifred: Of course...

Ruth: Mama, we're gonna be late!

Wanda: Alright, alright, we're going. Go ahead and let yourself inside, Win.

Winifred: See you later, Ruth.

[lesbiansanemi]

I am so fucking sick of living with my roommate and his fuck ass boyfriend. Also watching my roommate burn every single one of his (already rather minimal, I might add) bridges for this guy is also kind of painful but also his relationship with me is one of said bridges so I'm almost past the point of even feeling bad for him lmao

[feliz-navidad]

vent post in tags

[pepprs]

hm. i think i am going to stop going to counseling. he does not understand me. he pathologizes things that are not pathological.

[rosicheeks]

oh yes you were at court! i forgot that was at the start of that post lmao. i've been to court twice when i was super young for drinking underage and then smoking lool it was so boring and long and shit but thankfully you were just there for moral support, i hope it wasen't such a bad thing your friend had to deal with! I remember seeing you post about moving but i forget if it was TO or AWAY from your parents but that clears it up. I totally get you on that though, i'm living at home right now and i feel kind of similar about not feeling comfortable in your own home. Its a bit different for me, but similar enough. Hell my stepdad even sleeps in the living room too! hes always done that so ive always felt like i had to be on eggshells when night time hit. I used to sneak smoking in the backyard back in the day myself, i got caught once when i was in highschool he made me throw all my pieces out which sucked big time. ahhh i love that, art! you should totally show more stuff on here too, at least if you're comfortable and its not stuff you'd wanna sell, i would absolutely love to see any of it 🖤i've dabbled in writing poems and things i planned to make songs, although only recently. I've always wanted to be a musician but my attempts at learning guitar over the years have never ended up lasting long and i try to learn singing but i just dont really think i can. plus i was always afraid of self expression so i never wrote until a few years ago. i still do, because music is so important to me (which is why i did pick 🎤!) and it makes me so happy but yeah. i have 2 shows im headed to in a few months even so im so excited 🥰my day though has been so boring, i mostly played video games and watched youtube videos. watched another episode of a show i've been watching called Silo, which i absolutely love. im so surprised you had room in your tags still after myself lmao, but i do that same thing i always talk in the tags! also i'm giving you tons of hugs and kisses 😘🥰 - 🎤

Hi hi hi ☺️ how are you doing lovely? 🥰

[timeisacephalopod]

I saw a post the other day that kinda pushed back on the way all coming of age movies are about sexuality and all high school stories basically center around who wants to fuck who and how that's like. Not really all coming of age and high school stories should offer since you know. Youth isn't about who you have a crush on and probably coming of age stories in particular should be far more diverse in subject matter than they are.

Honestly as someone who, when I was 'coming of age' age, hated coming of age stories and still do for the exact reason listed above (see the weird scene in It where we all sexualize a 13 year old girl because boys have crushes and surely there's no other way to portray this than feeling a child up with a camera to demonstrate boys have ~feelings~ Bev gets no equivalent scene because she's the object of affection rather than the subject feeling desire) I also wish there was diversity in those stories. And coming of age stories about adults- we don't stop going through huge life moments that change everything forever, but back to kids. When I was a kid I could have desperately used a coming of age story where the character has a sick and dying parent who does die by the end of the story and what happens after that. Granted I did just fine without it, but even without being asexual it's always irked me that coming of age stories don't seem to appreciate that kids have way larger problems and way better stories to tell then first crushes and first kisses for shit sake give kids who went through what I did as a kid some kind of story about what happens when your parent gets cancer and how complicated that is and stop assuming the biggest thing that happens around puberty is discovering sexuality that, if you were queer, you probably already noticed what you felt wasn't in a coming of age story anyway.

[weaselle]

had an interaction with a cat at my mother's friend's house (we dropped by to feed her while my mom's friend was out of town) and my mother said "i was surprised how much that cat liked you, she doesn't usually let people pet her but she followed you around and let you pet her a lot"

and in explaining to her my interaction with the cat i put into words a thing i'd never put into words before, having always automatically understood what i was doing. But once i put it into words my mother said she'd never thought of that and it felt like something worth sharing here.

This cat did a typical cat thing where she sniffed my fingers i was holding out, and then acted like she wanted me to pet her, but then when i started to move to pet her, moved her head away slightly to prevent it.

I instinctively understand this interaction, and stopped trying to pet her and moved back to a neutral position and waited to see if she would re-initiate an interaction.

Because this is basically a consent test. This is how a cat can assess "how closely are you paying attention to what i'm telling you" and "how respectful of my boundaries are you".

If i am responsive to her yes/no game, moving to pet her when she indicates i can, stopping immediately when she seems to change her mind, then she knows she can trust me to understand her, and also to respect her choices. That's what i did, so then she knew she could trust me and relax around me and enjoy my company. She was actually a very friendly and social little cat, who clearly wanted to make friends with me.

But if i had insisted on trying to pet her when she seemed to change her mind instead of simply understanding that she didn't want to be pet in that moment, she would have known she couldn't trust me to understand or respect her, and she would have treated me like she has to treat 90% of the people who visit that house, evidently.

I work mostly with dogs these days, but i grew up with cats too, and am generally good with animals. Many shy animals will also do this same "sniff sniff okay touch me nope just kidding" routine, especially if they've had experiences with people that make establishing that kind of communication and trust important to them.

And in fact, a lot of animals will do some version of this kind of consent test in a whole variety of situations. When well socialized dogs do that thing where they are rough housing and then they both stop suddenly for a moment until one of them play bows or makes a little pouncing motion and then they fly back into rough housing mode, that's what they are doing, they are doing a consent check-in, like "whoah this is getting wild, are you still in? are we still playing, is this still a good time for you?"

anyway, that's why this lovely little cat followed me around asking me to pet her the whole time we were visiting that house, because i showed her that i understood her signals and respected her boundaries, which is something i see a lot of both men and women not doing when interacting with cats and dogs.

[nomairuins]

thank GODDD the doctor is taking time to work on himself maybe now he can stop ruining womens lives .

[2024skin]

I was talking to my nb a few weeks ago about our relationships with our parents and when I said something like "I don't expect you to forgive your parents because your parents treated you worse than mine did" he hit me with "I don't think that's true. I never slept in someone's shed to get away from My parents" and im sat here days later like 😶

[snekdood]

ig my biggest issue with fandoms is the almost... false closeness thats there in them? ig since i was a kid and wasnt good at enforcing boundaries and was just excited to find ppl with the same interest I didn't really think about it but be real like, there was a vibe that it was "okay" and "fine" to expose a lot about ourselves to eachother that... i think if we knew eachother irl... we'd hafta be a lot closer than that to see or hear about that stuff...

[aledmorningstar]

╰┈➤Misunderstood

Summary: How the gang finds out about Sukuna's girlfriend in a misunderstanding.

Relationship: Ryomen Sukuna/Reader

Word count: 3.0k

Note: I'm a liar, I know I said this would go up yesterday, in my defense we set very optimistic goals. Please comment and feel free to send me anything to my inbox

-‘๑’-: No curses au, uni au, sfw, humor, fluff, bad english

The house of the twins Yuji and Ryomen seemed more lively than normal, as every weekend they had planned a movie afternoon, the meetings began early after leaving school, buying snacks, preparing comfortable clothes and choosing some games of table.

Yuji's face wrinkled into a displeased grimace at seeing his twin dressing casually to go out for a walk down the street, while he and his friends were already prepared wearing their comical pajamas, it wasn't fair. This time it was Yuji's turn to choose the movie so as not to let his brother get away with it.

“What are you doing?”

Sukuna turned to look for a second indifferently at his brother while he finished fastening the buttons of his dark shirt. How could he take seriously his brother who maintained an irritated pout while wearing those ridiculous tiger-themed full-body pajamas?

"I'm going out, tell mom I'll be late"

Yuji's moan of annoyance echoed throughout the house, drawing the attention of Nobara and Megumi who were stealthily trying to spy on the conversation by hiding behind a wall.

"You said you would watch Human Worm 4 with us today!"

The one with the caramel eyes began to complain about the injustice that was occurring, a perfect time for his faithful friends to take action.

“We already prepared everything, you can't leave us stranded for an afternoon of movies!”

Nobara grumbled as she tried to fix the sleeves of her raccoon pajamas.

"We made a pact, you must suffer with us"

Megumi was supposed to be the most mature of the group, perhaps Sukuna had overestimated him because he never imagined seeing him share the same neuron as his friends while also wearing ridiculous beige dog pajamas.

“It's a shame brats, it'll have to be another day.”

The older twin's hands didn't stop moving trying to find the car keys; he had somehow managed to look appropriately with a hint of elegance, but without losing that menacing aura, a pair of black pants held up by an expensive belt that he had stolen from his father, a dark gray shirt with the first few buttons open showing his collarbones and the sleeves perfectly arranged at his elbows showing his tattooed arms.

"You look like a criminal"

“Who said I'm not?”

Itadori's intentions to plant some blame on his brother for abandoning them on a seemingly important night were noticeable for miles.

"At least have the decency to tell me where the hell you're going."

Sukuna took a while to respond, his eyes straying suspiciously and the trio could see a slight nervousness on his face. Wait, nerves? Sukuna? Those words were naturally contrary, it even seemed strange to put them together in one sentence. Here was definitely another shoe that was taking a while to drop.

"Mind your own business, don't be nosy"

Itadori instantly stood between his brother and the front door, blocking his way, he would get to the bottom of this matter at any cost.

"Are you planning something bad? Mom will be angry if you get into trouble again"

"Yes, yes, yes. I plan to do many bad and illegal things, in fact in this mood I plan to strangle the first person in front of me"

Itadori, Nobara, and Megumi looked at each other before leaving the hallway clear, letting Sukuna walk.

"Behave badly, take good care of yourself and if they discover you, deny everything"

“See you”

Once the so-called evil twin left the house, the hallway was completely silent for a few seconds.

“Don't you feel...? Curiosity?"

An excited Nobara looked at her friends with bright, gossip-hungry eyes.

"No not really"

Megumi's voice was ignored as Itadori pushed the Fushiguro boy's face away with his hand.

"I was hoping you'd ask, Nobara! In fact, my brother has been acting strange lately."

Itadori put on a thoughtful expression as he remembered his brother's unusual behavior in recent weeks.

"What do you mean he's been acting strange?"

At that moment Nobara had taken on a detective attitude, while the previously disinterested Megumi began to listen attentively to his friends.

“He's been coming home late, more than usual.”

“That doesn't seem strange for someone like him.”

An exalted Itadori raises his hands dramatically as he defends his argument.

“But when he is usually late it is always because he is causing problems in the streets and he is not at all careful with his arrival, now it is different!”

Sharing a room with Itadori, Sukuna didn't care how scandalous he could be when he showed up at home after curfew. He didn't pay attention to the fact that the noise of his shoes being thrown to any side of the room or that the sound of his swear words every time he tripped over something could disturb his brother's sleep.

Lately, however, the nights that Sukuna had spent late away from home had become more frequent, and Itadori couldn't help but notice even in the dead of night how messy his twin's clothes were every time he returned with silent footsteps and he also did not overlook the large number of marks that stood out on Sukuna's neck.

“Also, he has been trying hard in all his school subjects, he has turned in all his homework and sometimes he goes out to the library to study. Did you hear what I said? He goes to the library to study!”

“That's definitely not the Sukuna we know, something is happening to him.”

The three teenagers headed to the living room to sit down to discuss more calmly and solve that mystery.

“Do you think someone is bullying him?”

Itadori looked worried for a split second at Nobara's statement until Megumi gave him a strange, brief sarcastic smile.

“Are you serious right now? Do you think Sukuna, the most feared man on campus, could be bothered by someone? Jesus Christ even earned the nickname “The King of Curses”

They didn't need much time to agree with Megumi, it was impossible to imagine Sukuna being submissive to anyone.

“True, it would make more sense for him to be the one who bothered someone… It can't be possible”

“I told him clearly not to get into trouble, but he never listens to me!”

“Wait, Yuji, calm down. Don't you think that if that's the case, he's spending too much time on that person?”

Itadori seemed to think about it for a second and his face transformed into one of much more dramatic horror than before.

"So he really hates that person! Maybe he's planning a murder? Your brother isn't exactly known for being patient"

Nobara's words were the little push Itadori needed to panic.

"Sukuna definitely can't go to the correctional facility again!... Mom was very sad back then..."

Nobara and Megumi looked into each other's eyes, unable to abandon their friend in such a situation.

"Fine! Our mission today is to prevent your brother from becoming a criminal.”

"Are we allowed to use force? I still have to get revenge for the books I lent him."

The brown-haired girl, Kugisaki, was the first to stand up and was followed by Fushiguro. It seemed like a scene worthy of a movie, this was the motivational part because both friends extended their hands to the boy in tiger pajamas.

“Wait, wait, wait… What happened to your books?”

“I'll ask your brother when I see him.”

It had been approximately 30 minutes since the trio of friends had located and followed Sukuna, a difficult mission that had begun with the friends running after the older twin's car. The fatigue was overcome by surprise when seeing the target enter a flower shop.

“We're late, he's already planning the funeral!”

“Wait, give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe… Maybe he's going to visit a friend?”

“Impossible, my brother has no friends”

Nobara and Yuji's brief talk was interrupted when they saw Sukuna leaving that flower shop with a huge and pretty bouquet of yellow carnations.

"You see it? Maybe your brother is not as bad as he seems” Nobara's voice tried to be optimistic, and it also seemed strange to her that a man would buy flowers for no apparent reason.

“Now I'm quite confused” Itadori, for his part, narrowed his eyes, staring at Sukuna, trying to read his brother's mind.

Megumi spoke with a stiff voice drawing the attention of his friends.

"Don't be so surprised, in the language of flowers, carnations of that color mean contempt"

"Is he turning his assassination attempt into a performance? He's getting creative"

"Hey, he's leaving. Hurry up"

The gang quickly got into a taxi and like every chase scene, Itadori and Nobara yelled at the driver to follow the car in front of them, Megumi had to apologize to the driver at the end of the ride.

Sukuna drove his car until he reached the darkest and most dangerous neighborhood that anyone could imagine, clearly that place had an invisible sign indicating that it was better not to be there, there were few passers-by and the streets were cold with graffiti everywhere.

The older twin got out of his car after having entered the area a little, he walked as if that place was his territory, as if he felt at home, he adjusted the sleeves of his shirt, raising them to his elbows, with a bored look he observed the time on his watch and then leaned his back against the wall waiting patiently. Meanwhile, the trio had remained hidden behind a pile of boxes and seemingly useless objects, thinking about Ryomen's intentions.

"There isn't a soul in this place, what is he planning to do?"

Itadori's question was answered when Megumi held his jaw making him look to his right, his eyes widened as he saw a girl with a small frame, transmitting an aura of delicacy and fragility, she was the complete stereotype of a little princess wearing a pink dress and white sneakers, light makeup and a flower crown adorning her hair, she looked out of context walking with a smile and humming a song in that horrible alley.

"It can't be her... There's no way Sukuna..."

Nobara's words were cut off when the red-eyed man put out his cigarette and walked over to where the girl was with a proud smile on his face.

The fear that this small, fragile woman could be hurt by his violent brother made Itadori quickly get up from his hiding place and stand in front of his brother.

"Sukuna! Stop right there, don't do it!"

The sudden entrance of his nosy brother surprised Sukuna who maintained a displeased scowl at his twin's actions.

"What the fuck? Get out of the way brat, I'm on something important right now"

"Don't you dare take another step, don't do something you'll regret!"

Itadori's voice took a drastic change, sounding too threatening compared to his usual cheerful tone.

"What the hell are you talking about? Leave me alone, I don't have time for this."

Sukuna looked at the horrified girl who was just a few meters away from him, he pushed his brother away with one hand with the intention of walking towards where she was, however he was stopped and subdued on the ground by Megumi.

“Don't even try it, you disgusting scoundrel.”

“Leave me alone, you fucking bastards!”

While the three men argued and fought among themselves, Nobara also came out of her hiding place and walked towards the frightened woman, being careful not to exalt her even more, Kugisaki placed his hands on her shoulders trying to calm her down.

"Are you okay? “Did he do something to you?”

The girl's hands remained covering her mouth, completely surprised by the situation. She instantly left Nobara and ran quickly to where Sukuna was lying on the ground.

"What are you doing?! Get your hands off him!"

Megumi and Itadori's movements stopped, still holding Sukuna on the ground, they turned to look completely surprised at the owner of that little voice, their minds went blank as they watched her approach, she put her hands on Fushiguro's chest. making an attempt to push him away from the red-eyed twin.

"What are you doing to my boyfriend?! Leave him alone!"

Still bewildered, Itadori was the first to move away and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder for him to do the same, allowing Sukuna to stand up a little dazed.

"I don't know what 'Kuna did to you, but what you are doing is not right, it is not right to intimidate others, problems are solved by talking"

You stood in front of your boyfriend trying to be the one to defend him this time, you used to be a little shy when talking to strangers, but you weren't going to let your lover be the victim of such an unfair situation.

"Honey, calm down. They are—"

"No, love! They were very mean to you, no matter who they are!"

You knew that Sukuna had a special weakness for you that made him want to protect you from any danger, everyone told you that, obviously he would also want to take control of this situation in his hands. No, this time it was your turn to protect him, to be his knight in shining armor.

On the other hand, there were also the three idiots who had tried to play detective, watching the situation in astonishment.

"She... just called him love"

“Yes, she really did”

"I can't believe it"

Ryomen had tried to calm his girlfriend's little anger by taking her hands and caressing them, it worked for a few seconds until that trio spoke again.

Upon hearing the incredulous voices of those strangers, you let go of Sukuna's hands and walked a few steps close to those you thought were criminals.

"Listen, my parents are very important people, I will make sure you are punished appropriately"

Your acute and sweet angry voice was silenced by Sukuna's lips, one of his large hands finding a place on your waist while the other caressed your soft cheek.

"It's okay, princess"

"No, it's not okay-"

You tried to reply to his deep voice, you would be lying if you said it didn't make you shiver, his voice was only directed at you, only for you to hear, that made you calm down and also lowered the tone of your voice.

"Pretty, this is my stupid brother and his friends."

"...Impossible, it can't be…, they were subduing you"

"Don't worry, I'm sure they have a good explanation for doing all this, right?"

The affectionate look that Sukuna had given his supposed girlfriend had changed drastically when he turned to look at his friends, removed his touch from his beloved and walked towards the frightened trio, cracking the fingers of his fists.

"Last words?"

Approximately 10 minutes had passed after that disastrous encounter, Sukuna had considered himself generous that day so he decided to take his brother and his friends to the house where they should have stayed from the beginning, very kind, it had nothing to do with his girlfriend will look at those three idiots like abandoned puppies.

"How were we supposed to know you were visiting your girlfriend?"

"What kind of dates are you taking her on?"

"Yeah, you looked like you were about to commit a crime!"

Of course Itadori, Megumi and Nobara tested their patience throughout the car ride, complaining from the back seats and trying to alleviate the pain caused by the car owner's blows. Your curious little eyes turned to look at the trio with intrigue.

"Why do you say that?"

None of them knew how to answer your question, the answer was so obvious that they thought you were stupid or blind, of course none of them said that thought out loud, not when they felt Sukuna's psychopathic gaze in the rearview mirror. However, that didn't stop Yuji from continuing the conversation either.

"You were alone in that horrible and dangerous place, it is the perfect opportunity for a madman"

"Oh, that..."

Your calm reaction to that comment only confused them more, you were too sweet to be in those places and even worse to be there with Sukuna for no good reason.

"Her parents are renowned people and they do not agree with our relationship, that is why we must meet in the most discreet places possible"

"Sometimes dad hires people to watch me, so our meeting point for dates is that place."

The older twin's words left the dynamic trio thinking, especially Itadori and Nobara, Megumi didn't really care much, your complementation made them imagine a current version of Romeo and Juliet. The explanations of your strange relationship had clarified most of his doubts regarding the strange day.

"Wait, what about the flowers?"

Nobara's comment made all the attention focus on Ryomen who wrinkled his face in confusion until he remembered the detail that his friend was talking about at the same time that he stopped the car in front of his house.

"What flowers?"

"Oh right, I brought you something"

Sukuna got out of the car and went to the back taking something out of the trunk, a nice big bouquet of flowers appeared in front of you held by your handsome boyfriend.

"Oh, honey, you shouldn't have bothered."

"It's no bother when I can make you happy"

You received the beautiful flowers in your small hands, allowing yourself to smell them, such a fresh smell while you lovingly observed your loved one and he returned the same look, absorbed in that cloying atmosphere.

Of course that beautiful moment was not the most comfortable for everyone present, much less for Yuji Itadori imitating his twin with a shrill and annoying voice, since he had never seen his brother in that silly state.

"It's no bother when I can make you happy"

“I'm going to kick your ass”

Megumi couldn't stay silent for long either, because something kept echoing in her mind.

"But the meaning of flowers..."

"Excuse me?"

You looked at him with a smile so sweet and innocent that he hesitated for a second on his next words.

“Those flowers have a negative meaning…”

"It's funny you think my 'Kuna knows the meaning of flowers"

"We should have assumed that"

⋆·˚ ༘ *🔭 master list is here

[sugarlywhispers]

viking!b.katsuki x fem!reader

a.n; i wanted to give viking!bakugou a try, and honestly, this is all @imaginationmess fault for feeding me fanarts of bakugou and his dragon🙃 luv you tho🤍

Viking Bakugou Katsuki who rides the biggest and most terrifying dragon that has ever existed.

A legend said that his dragon in particular had been going on for generations in his family, no one willing to risk their life to tame it. Until Katsuki’s uncle, Bakugou Kudo, did it. He had been the first in generations to ride this dragon. Yet he understood that the bond between dragon and riders was not consolidated between them.

When Katsuki was eight, the little shit escaped the hut and went towards where the nests were. Kudo almost had a heart attack when he saw the brat far off and almost there. He sprinted as fast as he could, a tragedy already displaying in his head –the kid being incinerated, turned to ashes, and his sister cutting his dick off for being a sorry ass uncle. Fuck, and he would had deserved it. Because even though he had tamed the beast, it was still very unstable to let anyone close to it; one of his own men had suffered the consequences of trying to get close, more than half his body had been burned. He was no longer part of their battles.

However, Kudo saw in first person how a dragon’s bond was created. Between his terrifying dragon and his little nephew.

It hadn’t looked much from his perspective, yet he felt the magical aura surrounding them. Katsuki laughed as he touched the dragon’s snot like it was a mer pup, happy and excited while climbing its leg with such ease until he was up on its back, right behind the head. The dragon himself helped the kid to reach the place. Kudo noticed then the beast’s eyes shining a very resplendent gold. Yep, that was definitely a bond.The kid was anything but scared, as he caressed the dragon's head, hugging it even.

Kudo smiled, shaking his head, hands over his hips as he took a deep breath, relaxing. The dragon was only letting him ride it because it knew that Katsuki was his bonded rider and Kudo was related by blood to the kid.

As years went by, the bond only became stronger and deeper. Kudo would ride it in battles, but once at home, the brat and the beast were like one. When Katsuki turned eighteen, Kudo retired from battles and settled down with a wife and kids at the village located next to that of where their family originally came from. From that day on, the brat became the dragon’s one and only owner.

Katsuki was the only human being able to control, care for and command this massive dragon, also becoming the nightmare of most villages in the world. Both, dragon and rider were vicious, deadly and feared.

You still remember the day Bakugou Katsuki landed on your lands. The bright blue sky suddenly turned dark, the huge dragon he rode clouding the sun above. Everyone knew what it meant. Destruction and chaos, the end of their peaceful lives.

The Leader of the village, your dad, didn’t waste time in trying to negotiate a truce between them.

And that truce is you.

You are forced to marry him, to leave your family, friends and life there and go with this barbaric man. You are a bit afraid he is some sort of savage. Rumors told how violent he was, how scary he looked with his scars and aggressive attitude towards everyone. Now that you have said man in front of you, you agreed with all of them.

You were expecting him to manhandle you, to treat you like another woman he picked to use for his own pleasure. Yet all you received since you stepped foot in his village, in his home, had been nothing but coldness and distance. He has kept to himself, doing his stuff and trying not to get in your way. Least to say, it has been completely awkward since the ceremony.

When you are getting ready for it, his mom enters his-your hut. She smiles, a sincere feeling in her eyes, “Being the daughter of a Leader sucks, ain’t it?”

You look down, a slight smile on your face that agrees with her but eyes filled with tears you’re holding back. “It does.”

You feel her hand on your shoulder, and the little squish she gives it in reassurance makes the knot in your throat tighter.

“My son is not a charming prince; however, I know the kind of man I raised him to be. You’re gonna be okay.”

You don’t say anything in response. You don’t even look back at her, but you think she didn’t expect it either as she walks out, leaving you alone. As you walk towards the entrance, fully knowing that once you cross it, your soon to be husband will be waiting at the end of the aisle, all you can wish is that Ms. Bakugou is right.

When the ceremony reaches its end, the old lady of his village drawing the symbols of union, love and family in your foreheads, Bakugou extends his hands for you to lay yours over his. You still haven’t looked him in the eyes, but you do what's expected for the ceremony. When your hands touch the skin of his, you can't avoid thinking how warm they feel. Big calloused, rough and strong hands surround yours, and you don't hate the feeling. On the contrary, it’s quite comforting. The old lady ties a beautifully white and gold silk ribbon around your hands, symbolizing the union of the souls.

While everyone cheers, you finally decide to raise your eyes towards him. Deep red eyes collide with yours, making a shudder run your body at their intensity. Surprisingly, it isn’t a bad feeling, but it is something you have never felt before.

A tingly feeling swirls in your stomach as you realize Bakugou Katsuki's face is getting closer and closer to yours, his intent clear. He is going to kiss you. Your first kiss. You close your eyes instinctively and his lips touch yours in a quick and short peck. Yet it feels like all the tingles in your stomach exploded, sending warmth throughout your whole body.

That has been the only close and physical interaction you have had until today.

Bakugou Katsuki decides to give you space to accommodate and get to know his village and people around.

It doesn't mean he doesn't want you. However, he never makes any sort of move towards you.

Until one day…

Bakugou got back that morning to the village after being away for almost four days with the victory of conquering another village, so you decide to bring him some of the sweet bread you have cooked as a welcome back. You have to admit, this time with him since the marriage ceremony hasn’t been bad. Civil, even. Despite his distance and cold attitude, he has never disrespected or forced you to nothing. Not even that first night as husband and wife. He didn’t even try, he simply picked one of the pillows and clothes to make a bed on the floor, closer to the entrance door, and slept there. You have been very confused. Your mum had previously told you everything of what was expected from a woman on the night of the ceremony. You expected even a fight between you two, because of course you didn’t want that to happen with a complete stranger like he was still to you.

Nevertheless, he never hovers over you. But you do feel his eyes on you whenever he’s around. He always makes some sort of sound for you to acknowledge that his presence is close. Katsuki is attentive to your reactions whenever you are both alone and doesn't even raise his voice at you. Ever.

Then again, he is his ruthless self with everyone else.

You tried looking for him around the village, but couldn't find Bakugou anywhere. So you walk towards the woods where you know the dragon's nests are, where they rest. Even though Bakugou has explicitly forbidden you to go near there, due to the danger their dragons were most of the time, even for the riders.

You are confident Katsuki will be there, so probably he will see you from a distance and you wont need to get that close. But when you arrive, you come face to face with the massive beast: Bakugou's dragon, Cweorth.

You have seen it at a distance, but having the beast up close is a completely different experience. Its whole body is red, with golden piercing eyes that feel very much like Bakugou’s itself. Its wings are huge as they spread in a stretching movement up high, almost taller than the big trees that surround the woods. You can even see some flare of gold in its scale that actually looks mesmerizing. Majestic.

Your basket falls to the floor in shock when the beast finally looks down at your small, minuscule being. It watches you intently, with a scowl on its face –like beast, like owner. But far away from feeling scared by it, you feel intrigued. You feel enamored even as you stand there, looking at such majestic creature.

Bakugou is actually several meters away, taking a bath in the lake close to the nests, cleaning all the blood and dirt off his body before going to the hut he shares with you. He has some scratches and cuts from the fights, but nothing deep or worrisome. He is very proud in saying he is the fucking best out there.

When he's walking through the woods back to the nests of their dragons, he sees it.

His whole body freezes. You are standing there, your arm and hand stretched upwards. His own dragon, the one who eats men like candy at Katsuki's own command, the one who has burned villages in seconds with his strong fire, the one who hates anyone’s touch or closeness that isn't Bakugou himself... His dragon has his snot close to you, letting you pet him with its eyes closed, enjoying your affection like a small puppy dog.

And he can not fucking believe what his eyes are seeing.

Of all the women he has had before you, none were brave enough to even look at the beast. They had all been afraid to death.

And there you stand, looking even fascinated by it. Eyes shining and smiling as you feel for the first time what its skin is like under your touch. You look… beautiful. Gorgeous. Heavenly sent. Fuck. You have him in your hands already.

Bakugou Katsuki then decides:

He will fucking kiss the ground you walk. He will give you everything you ask of him.

You want certain clothes to wear? He will search for them for you. You want certain foods? He will fly his dragon to wherever they are made or grown on. You want a land? He will fucking burn every single thing or life it takes to give it to you.

You want him? He will gladly give himself completely to you.

Well, he already is.

[obsesssedblerd]

“Megumi!” You call your son in the living room, who’s sitting next to his father, Toji, on the couch watching the news. “Could you go grab your sister and tell her to put her studying on hold? Dinner’s almost done.” 

“Yeah, no problem,” Megumi says as he rises to his feet, putting his headphones around his neck and pulling his phone out of his hoodie pocket. “Oh, uh, Mom?” 

“Hm?” 

“Can Itadori spend the night after dinner?” He then looks over at Toji with a small scowl. “After Dad hides all of his assassin stuff?” 

“Hey, watch it,” Toji says.

You nod with a light smile. You loved having Yuuji Itadori over. He was a bright kid, and besides, he made Megumi relaxed and happy. “Of course. Go prepare the guest bed, yeah?” 

Megumi departs with a nod, then heads upstairs. From the living room, you hear Toji whistle. “Wow. Baby, looks like Spider-Man stopped that bank robbery.”

You look up from the dishes in the kitchen, then hum in delight when you catch what’s on the screen. It looked like small clips from the internet as the reporter gave details. The masked hero, wearing blue and red, swings, fights, and rescues hostages swiftly. “Incredible,” you say, then walk over to hand your husband a list of groceries. “Could you head to the store and grab these? I want to make sure that we have enough food for breakfast in the morning now that Yuuji will be staying the night.” 

Toji looks around to make sure that Megumi and Tsumiki aren’t present, then lowers his voice to a whisper. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Yuuji.” 

“Megumi has feelings for him. Yeah, I know.” 

“No- Not that. Amazing for them, and I think they’re adorable together, but,” Toji points over at the TV. “I think he’s Spider-Man.”

You blink, then burst into laughter as you head back into the kitchen. “Toji, what? Don’t be ridiculous. He’s only fifteen and very busy. You know how often he studies with Megumi.” 

“I’m serious,” he says as he follows you. “Think about it. Do you know how often Yuuji shows up with bruises or scratches?” 

You begin arranging plates on the dining room table. “Just like our son, the kid’s a fighter. I mean, his uncle Sukuna was a huge fighter before he passed away. Plus, he spends a lot of time with Satoru Gojo, and we know how he is. Also, doesn’t he have an older brother? Brothers fight.” 

“True, but just walk with me for a second.” You sigh and look up to see Toji waving his hands animatedly as he explained. “Do you remember when we all went to the parade on New Years together, and that giant robot appeared?” 

“Yes, it was all everyone could talk about for days.” 

“Uh-huh.” He then points at you. “Do you also remember how Yuuji was gone when Spider-Man appeared at the scene?” 

You stare at him blankly. “...Toji, he went to the bathroom before everything happened,” you remind him. “I’m certain that he got lost in the crowd when everyone started running.”

Toji groans. “You don’t believe me. Baby, I’m telling you—He’s Spider-Man. I can’t prove it now, but I will eventually.” 

You sigh again and cross your arms. “Okay, so, let’s say he was. What would you do?” 

“Well, I mean…” Toji mutters, then sheepishly rubs the back of his head as he quietly chuckles. “I dunno, give him a high-five? Worry about Megumi?” 

“Trust me, Toji. The only people with secret identities here are you and I.” You reach over and grab a stack of napkins. “By the way, Megumi had a point earlier. Be more careful about where you’re leaving weapons. One of Tsumiki’s friends nearly saw one not too long ago.” 

He winces. “Sorry.” 

“You’re fine.” You push to your tip toes and gently kiss him. “No job tonight, right? I know I don’t have one.” 

“Nope. Once I get those groceries, I’m all free.” He grabs the list from you, then reaches towards you to lovingly push a loose strand of hair away from your face. “I’ll be back soon.” When he leaves through the back door, the front doorbell rings. 

You hear Megumi rush down the stairs. “I got it,” he tells you as he passes you. When the door opens, Yuuji Itadori waves at you with his usual grin. “Hi, Mrs. Fushiguro!”

“Hi, Yuuji. What happened to your face?” You ask. His lip is slightly busted, and there’s a bruise beginning to form on his jaw. Yuuji laughs sheepishly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his yellow hoodie. “Oh, uh, me and Okkotsu fought again. Gojo-sensei had to pull us apart.” 

Megumi rolls his eyes. “I swear, you’re always fighting.”

“Aw, come on, Megumi,” Yuuji teases with a smirk as he crosses his arms. “You’re just as bad. I heard about what happened a few days ago.”

Your son’s cheeks dust with pink, and he clears his throat. “Yeah, whatever. You need to get cleaned up before dinner. Come on, there’s a first-aid kit in the bathroom.” 

Megumi goes upstairs, and Yuuji follows close behind him. You’re about to tell Yuuji that the flap of his backpack is slightly unzipped, but the words get stuck in your throat when you catch the tiniest hint of the red and blue suit. You only see it for a split-second before Yuuji swings his backpack around, excitedly telling Megumi about a new action figure he wants to get for his birthday.

Your eyes widen. Holy shit. 

-----

a/n: lol i can't believe I wrote this. spidey yuuji au, you'll always be loved by me <3

[brainmuncher]

A mis-text-derstanding

After a long night of patrolling around Amity, Danny damn near collapsed onto his bed. His back ached from a stray ectoblast and his eyes felt heavier than a mountain. Technus had done something to the technology around the town. At random a piece of technology would suddenly go rogue with a virus the ghost implemented. The virus would make the item try to capture anyone in the vicinity using any means necessary. So Danny had been doing regular patrols around town to catch anyone who needed help.

That also means that his sleeping time had been radically reduced. Without even the energy to lift his head, Danny patted around for his phone. Once he finally found the device he hefted himself on his side with a groan. It was a new phone since he was the first casualty in Technus’ plan. Thankfully, Sam had given him another so his parents wouldn’t try to make him one. (Who knows what kind of ‘anti-ghost’ protection they would’ve put on it.)

Tucker had promised that he was working on fixing the virus going around. Hopefully, he had some kind of good news to share. As soon as Danny went to message him he realized he hadn’t downloaded their chat app to the new phone. With a sigh he knew that he would just have to use normal texting but with careful codewords.

Putting in Tucker's number with a yawn, Danny sent the first message.

‘It’s your undead bro. The night out tonight was killer. Any news on the techie progress?’

Danny smashed his face into his bed with a sigh after hitting send. Knowing Tucker he was probably face first in his laptop and won’t notice the message for a bit. He could probably just close his eyes and…

Before he could even consider taking a nap there was a generic jingle from the phone. He should really get to fixing that. Tuck deserves a much better ringtone than some bells.

‘Nothing noteworthy yet. It's harder to crack than normal but nothing I can't handle. Do you need me to take over for tomorrow?’

‘Also why aren't you using our chat?’

Danny squinted at the screen with a slight frown. It had been a while since Sam or Tucker tried to go out in his place. They learned pretty quickly that it made Danny way too anxious to have them out there without him. Something about not being there to protect them if they got over their heads made Danny’s chest ache. 

And of course, Tucker noticed that he wasn’t using the app he made. It was a bit glitchy at times, but what tech wasn’t when it came to Danny? Not only was it secure, but it became an easier way for them to establish a timeline for filing. Jazz had been the one who realized that they didn’t have steady information on not just the rouges but the events of the fights. It became a staple to write out what happened and what went wrong after hearing her lecture about it.

‘Don’t have it on this phone yet. And you know how I feel about you being out there.’

Danny watched the screen for a bit, waiting to see if Tucker would reply immediately again. His mom probably caught him on his computer all day and was forcing him to separate himself from it for a while. It wasn’t an uncommon thing for Ms. Foley to do.

‘Yeah yeah, Mr. Possessive. Do you need me to walk you through how to get it again?’

Snorting at the pun, Danny easily replied. If Tucker was feeling sassy enough to joke about that, then he would push some buttons back. It was a simple banter that they sometimes fell into.

‘You know how I get with technology. I’m more likely to break something. Especially since this phone is so new. Whatever happened to flip phones?’

Danny snickered to himself at the message. Tucker had an ongoing war between new and old technology. While he loved his PDA he also admired some of the top-of-the-line devices. It was like the past and the future mixed in his friend's room. He would gush about the new devices but also gush about the older ones that still had functions that the newer ones lost. But flip phones? That was the only technology he knew that Tucker hated. It was the worst of both worlds for him. He’d been so excited when Danny’s flip phone was bricked by Technus’ virus.

‘I’m going to ignore that you said that.’

‘Also there’s going to be trouble in the park near you tomorrow. I’m already planning on going. Do you want in?’

Scooting up from his lounged position, Danny started to write back his reply.

‘Of course, I’ll be there. Don’t need you to go in alone and join the dead. Unusual for him to leave his plans there though. That’ll be fun to write in the report.’

The image of Jazz reading about that brought a smile to Danny’s face. She always found it interesting when one of the ghosts would change a long-time behavior. The fact that Technus was able to keep this rather on the down low would guarantee her interest. He was always one to blatantly announce his plans to the world to hear. Even though it’s a bit of a pain that he’s learning to keep things to himself it would peak Jazz’s curiosity, which made it bearable.

‘It is weird. And don’t remind me about the report. I still have the one from last week to write and I don’t want to do it.’

That made Danny laugh to himself a little. Last week the lunch lady tried to embrace the Ultra-Recyclo Vegetarian life. In the overflow of food, Tucker had gotten trapped in veggies. He was visibly green from having to eat some to escape. Sam had been excited about it at first before she saw how much food was being wasted. She ended up getting attacked for trying to explain the damage overconsumption and food waste could bring.

‘You looked like you wanted to vomit afterward. Well, at least we are prepared this time. We don’t always get that chance.’

Danny stretched out his stubborn limbs, feeling himself try to sink into the darkness. He’d have to end the conversation sooner rather than later. At this rate, he wouldn’t have a choice on whether he was taking a nap or not. At the familiar sound of bells, he looked back down at the conversation.

‘Unfortunately. Well, I’ll be finished by the time we meet at the park. I know you usually like to sleep after a long night.’

The reply made Danny’s core feel fuzzy with happiness. Tucker always knows him so well. He doesn’t know what he did to get such a fantastic best friend. It was at times like these that Danny knew he was so glad that they were in this together. With two of his best friends at his side, it made being a vigilante so much easier to bear. 

‘Thanks. Remember that not just the dead get to sleep. Don’t push yourself. Goodnight.’

With that, Danny felt comfortable with setting his phone down to get changed into pajamas. It ached on his back to take off his shirt, but Jazz would be disappointed in the morning if he didn’t. She always got that pinched look on her face when he didn’t take care of himself to her standards. Her standards weren’t exactly high up either so it made him feel extra upset when he missed the mark.

Being careful to not lie on his back, Danny got back into his bed. He curled himself into the blankets with a small smile. One last chime of bells rang out in the room, probably from Tucker saying goodnight back. Picking up his phone, he opened up the lock screen and looked at his messages.

Instead of a goodnight, his stomach dropped as he realized a different number messaged him. A very familiar number.

‘Hey dude! I know you had to get a new phone so this is me. Not only did I figure out how it’s spreading, I think I finally found a way to get rid of the virus.’

Practically throwing himself off the bed, Danny got to his feet. Both his back and his mind screamed at him as he looked over the message. He tapped back to the one he’d just been replying to, finding his heart stopping at the string of numbers. One of the area code numbers was a six instead of a nine. He’d been messaging a stranger this entire time.

Looking back at the messages he convinced himself that it was fine. He was vague enough to not be recognized. It wasn’t like this person was from Amity. They won’t recognize the correlation between him and Phantom. Surely the other person wouldn’t take his words at face value. 

Worst comes to worst he can have Tucker take over his phone for a bit and make sure the other person can’t find out who he is. He hadn’t bought the phone or had it under his name in any way, so they could only find out from the conversation alone.

Breathing out a breath of air he kissed his night of sleep goodbye.

‘I’ll be over in a sec Tuck. I think I just made a mistake.’

[egcdeath]

something old, something new

pairing: patrick zweig x f!reader

summary: when your childhood best friend asks you to get married, how are you supposed to say no?

word count: 7.2k

warnings: MATURE (mentions of sex but no explicit sex scenes), marriage of convenience, fluff, mentions of alcohol, patrick is a bad friend (but he improves), friends to spouses to lovers, fake dating, yearning and pining, everyone is bad at communicating, many feelings are being repressed, mentions of dieting in an athlete way, one singular creepy old man, no use of y/n

author’s note: i cannot get this tennis man out of my head!! i hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

It wasn’t every day that you could count on hearing anything from your childhood best friend, but it seemed like whenever you did hear from Patrick Zweig, it was always an ask for something more shocking than the previous one. 

As kids, you spent many evenings doing the homework that Patrick didn’t want to do, despite the fact that you didn’t really want to do more homework either. At boarding school, you’d somehow become his personal designated driver, answering his calls no matter what time and groggily picking him up from whatever party he’d found himself at. In your adulthood, you found yourself becoming a go-to stand-in for him at events he didn’t feel like attending. The amount of times that you’d shaken hands at charity galas and introduced yourself as Patrick’s girlfriend, despite not having a single romantic encounter with him, was frankly astounding. 

It seemed like whenever Patrick needed something, you were the first person he reached out to. After his parents, of course. 

You dreaded knowing the reason behind the simple hey, text message you’d just received, but you were sure that you’d find the reason out sooner rather than later–and that whatever the reason was could not have been good. 

Like clockwork, only an hour after you’d received his message, Patrick appeared at the doorway of your apartment. He came to you equipped with his secret weapon, the kicked puppy look that he often used on you before he asked you for a ridiculous favor, like breaking up with his girlfriend for him or telling his mom that he still wasn’t joining the board of the family business. 

You sighed as you took his less-than-stellar appearance in. Downtrodden expression, wrinkled and sweat-stained shirt, as if he’d gone to the gym to sweat out his feelings before coming to you, and eyes so red-rimmed, you wondered if he’d been crying. 

If you had to guess, he’d either been arguing with his parents, who knew exactly how to get under his skin, or his tennis friends, who also knew exactly how to get under his skin, or his latest girlfriend, who probably confronted him about his own wrongdoings. Regardless of who had upset him, he had obviously come to you to lick his wounds. 

Like always, Patrick stalked inside without asking you for any further permission. The two of you had done this song and dance more times than either one of you would like to admit. 

“How are you?” he asked, stopping in your kitchen to steal an apple from your decorative bowl of fruit.

“I’m good,” you said with hesitation, eyeing him once more. He really looked like shit. If he hadn’t looked so sad, you would’ve told him exactly how much shit he looked like.  

“Aren’t you gonna ask me how I am?” he questioned, a little pathetically.

“No,” you walked off to your living room, fully expecting him to follow you. You were unsurprised when he did exactly that. “Let’s just get right to it. Why’d you come over here?” you asked as the two of you sat down on your couch. 

“My parents are cutting me off,” he explained, voice breaking as he spoke.

Surely, this couldn’t all be over an empty threat. They seemed to threaten Patrick with this every few days. In fact, you’d been in the room with him when his parents promised that he’d never see another dime from them–more than once. Every time, it ended with them coming to their senses and throwing more cash at him. 

“That’s what, the twentieth time?” you laughed. “They always threaten to cut you off. What’s different this time?”

“This time, they mean it.”

You laughed even harder in his face. If you had a quarter for every time you’d had this conversation, you’d be richer than the two of your families combined. 

“I’m serious,” he inched closer to you. “They’re tired of funding my ‘tennis habit’. They want me to get serious about life. To join the board and start a family. My dad showed me an edited draft of his will and everything”

“So?” you prompted, trying to figure out where you fell into the equation. Hopefully he wouldn’t try to put you up to something absurd, like seducing his father into convincing him to not threaten Patrick’s inheritance.

“So, tennis is the only thing I care about.”

“Okay…” you trailed off. “What would you like me to do about that?”

“I need you to help show my parents that I have a vision for the future.”

“Again, Patrick, what exactly are you asking me to do?”

“Marry me.”

You weren’t sure what you expected him to say, but it certainly was not that. Your mouth instantly dropped open and you were sure that you were gaping like a fish. Maybe if he had asked you ten years ago, you’d have instantly said yes, but you’d let that naive dream die after you’d come to realize the transactional subtext of your friendship.

“What?”

“I want you to marry me. I was thinking… you remember when we were younger and we made that pact, that if we weren’t married by the time we were adults, then we’d get hitched?”

You continued to stare at him, completely dumbfounded and not believing a single word coming from his mouth. “I… I…” you couldn’t even form the words. “We were kids!”

He gave you a halfhearted shrug, as if that didn’t matter at all, and as if he didn’t just ask you to be legally and romantically bound to him forever.

“You are fucking unbelievable! You haven't talked to me for anything other than asking me a favor in years, I barely know you’re alive apart from the random drunk texts you send me, and now you want me to marry you? Do you even hear yourself?”

You scoffed and stared at him in disbelief. “And that has to be the worst proposal in all of human history. First you tell me that tennis is the only thing you care about and then ask me to marry you? You’re a joke.”

He let you finish your rant, but after a beat he finally asked. “…Is that a no?”

———-

Stranger things had happened to you than marrying your childhood best friend just a month after he’d randomly popped back up in your life. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you walked down the aisle on a beautiful beach off of the Amalfi Coast.

The last few weeks had been an absolute whirlwind, with what felt like every second of your time consumed by making guest lists and invitations, booking hotel rooms, and finding a dress that you liked enough to get married in. Obviously, you knew this was more of an elaborate scheme than a celebration of love, but you wanted it to be nice anyway. For all you knew, you may never get married again.

You don’t know what possessed you to say yes to Patrick. Maybe the small, desperate part of you that had been begging him to truly see you since you were old enough to realize he didn’t, or maybe the desire to finally have that fairytale destination wedding you’d been dreaming about from the time you learned what a wedding was. Regardless of the reason, both of your families were overjoyed by the union. In one fell swoop, you’d been able to satisfy both of your parents’ desires for you to settle down, and you’d done it with someone both pairs approved of. 

You had to give props to Patrick, the ceremony was beautiful. Given the short timeline, the two of you decided to divide and conquer the planning of the event. You were sure that he’d outsourced the work, since he was still in the middle of his tennis season, but whoever he hired did an excellent job at giving you the wedding you’d always wanted. 

Despite the very short timeline everyone had been given, you were able to wrangle all of your close family and friends to Italy to watch you elope. Your parents had insisted on inviting second cousins and shareholders to your wedding, but you’d somehow convinced them that you and Patrick wanted a smaller, more intimate ceremony. It was probably better to have less people there, lest someone notices the artificial nature of your union. 

Part of you felt like you’d pulled off the greatest prank of all time as the two of you stood up in front of your small crowd, gazing as lovingly as you could manage into each others’ eyes while the officiant said his spiel, but the other, more logical part of you filled with dread as the reality of the situation began to set in. Patrick seemed to have a way of always dragging you into a shitty situation, and you hoped for both of your sakes, that that wouldn’t be the case for your marriage.

After what felt like a lifetime, Patrick began to recite his vows, claiming to have loved you since you were children, and promising to continue to love you ‘till death did you part. If you had been marrying literally anyone else, your knees would go weak with swooning. 

Unfortunately, you were cursed with the knowledge of the reality of your situation, one where your vows sounded more like: “We only have to stay married until I retire, which should be sooner rather than later. We don’t have to do anything together: no galas, no family dinners, no family vacations. Hell, you don’t even have to come to my games. And we don’t have to be exclusive either. This is basically just a title, so feel free to see anyone you want to. I can already see the worry in your face. Stop that. We can hire someone to make us prenups, so the divorce will be an easy, clean split of our assets. See? It’s not that bad.”

The dichotomy between the words he’d said to you a month ago and the bullshit he was spewing now almost made you laugh, but that was clearly not the reaction you were meant to be having when the love of your life was publicly declaring their feelings for you. 

Once he finished declaring his romantic, empty words, you began to read off your vows. They fell in a similar vein to his, a proclamation of a lifetime-spanning love that didn’t really exist in the first place. But when you glanced up at him from your slip of paper, he was really selling it. He stared at you like he adored you, like he wanted to study every inch of your face after running off with you into the sunset.

The ridiculousness of it all finally hit you like a freight train, and you managed to pivot the laugh that was creeping up into your throat into a weepy sounding crack of your voice. Surely people cried during their own weddings. 

You finished off your vows, doing your best to pretend like this whole ordeal wasn’t the most ridiculous scheme you’d ever been dragged into. You imagined a world where he was less selfish and you were less selfless, one where you were exchanging these vows with sincerity, and it helped you to get through the words that you knew were almost completely meaningless. 

The two of you then took turns placing the ring on each others’ fingers, with Patrick giving you a ring with the largest diamond you’d ever seen, and you giving him a band that had been passed throughout your family. He’d agreed to give you the heirloom back once you divorced, so you couldn’t complain too much about giving it away in the first place.

The announcement of being able to kiss the bride rang out in your ears, yet you still found yourself surprised when Patrick eagerly wrapped his arms around you and kissed you passionately. Cheers erupted around the two of you, and you pulled away as the officiant declared you Mr. and Mrs. Zweig.

You had successfully tricked your audience, and yet, you still had the strangest feeling. 

Your reception felt far more natural than your wedding ceremony. After a change of outfit, a huge bowl of pasta, and a few flutes of champagne, you were feeling substantially better about the arguably poor decision you’d just made. You chatted up your friends, who jumped at the opportunity to comment on how cute of a couple you two were, did some light matchmaking between single guests, and placated both of your parents with manufactured acts of affection. You even managed to get Patrick out on the dance floor, after he swore to you that he didn’t dance. 

By the time the two of you were stumbling back into your villa, the woes of the day had practically been forgotten. When you were having this much fun, who cared about a massive, potentially life altering decision? 

You immediately made a beeline to the bathroom, anxious to get into your comfortable pajamas and to wash your face after a long day of wearing tight, extravagant dresses and a heavy layer of makeup.  

“So what did you think of your big day, Mrs. Zweig?” Patrick called out from the other side of the bathroom door, where you were sure he was also preparing for bed. “Was it everything you wanted and more?”

“I think this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” you paused as you thought about something before confessing, “but it was everything I wanted and more.”

“Yes!” he celebrated from where you couldn’t see him, though you could perfectly envision the goofy look on his face. “I owe it to you after everything I’ve put you through. I just hope you weren’t too let down by the groom.”

“What?” you drew out before blowing a raspberry. “Of course not. You looked very handsome today,” you complimented in between splashes of your face. 

“You looked pretty beautiful, yourself,” he complimented you right back. 

“Aww, thank you, honey,” you emphasized the pet name. 

“Hmm, I don’t know if I like that,” you heard the squeak of the bed from behind the door as you assumed that he’d sat down.

“Hey, you’re the one who made me marry you,” you pointed out. “Am I more than you bargained for?”

“Of course not, babe,” he emphasized his own pet name, which sent you into a fit of laughter. “It’s just so weird to hear you refer to me as anything other than an asshole.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you’re still an asshole,” you replied as you walked out of the bathroom, donning an old shirt with the logo of your boarding school and an equally old pair of shorts. “Just a married asshole.”

You took in the sight of your now-husband as you made your way to your side of the bed, surprised to find that you quite liked the sense of domestic bliss you were feeling. The bed dipped as you sat down and glanced back at Patrick with the slightest bit of hesitation. 

“Is this weird for you? I can go to the spare room, if you want me to,” he offered, surely in reference to the two of you sleeping in the same bed. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you assured him, setting a steady hand on his knee. “What kind of couple would we be if we didn’t spend our wedding night together?” you teased. 

“The kind of couple that marries for convenience?” he suggested.

“Hey, who’s to say that this isn’t love? I had the biggest crush on you when we were kids. Maybe some of it lingered, or some shit.”

“Oh yeah?” he looked at you with that sleazy smirk that you both loved and hated. “What happened?”

“Hmm… I think I realized that you’re a dick,” you matched his smirk with a challenging one of your own.

“Huh. Did you have this realization before or after you started seeing Dan Thompson?” he questioned.

You were surprised by the mention of your first boyfriend, particularly because you weren’t sure that Patrick remembered any detail about your personal life, let alone your love life. “I realized it after you started treating me like your workhorse.”

“Oh okay, so you had a crush on me while you were with your boyfriend. Good to know.”

“Shut up,” you groaned and turned away from him as you finally full laid down. 

“Would it make you feel better to know that I also had a crush on you?” you heard the bed sheets rustle as he scooted closer to you, and you turned back to face him. 

“You’re lying.” You couldn’t see any world where that would make sense to you. In your youth, it seemed like Patrick was always off somewhere with a new person, and none of those people were you. Not that you had an issue with it, but the thought that the two of you might’ve had crushes on each other at the same time without either of you pursuing each other felt kind of weird. 

“Nope. You’re the first person I ever jerked off to,” he said as casually as if he were telling you what he ate for breakfast, not breaking eye contact with you.

“Ew, you’re so gross,” you gently pushed him, but your hands lingered where they sat on his chest. “Was that supposed to be romantic or something?”

“That’s not romantic to you?” he asked with all the sincerity of someone who was fully committing to a bit. 

The two of you broke out into laughter. Once you finally caught your breath, you began once more. “This is gonna be a long marriage.”

“Hopefully,” he remarked in response. 

“If you keep talking to me like that, I will literally go get our marriage annulled, like right now.”

“Please don’t,” he whined, grabbing one of your hands from his chest and kissing your fingers. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Every time you promise to make something up to me, an inconsistent fairy gains its wings.”

“Hey,” his tone suddenly became very serious, completely catching you off guard. “I really am sorry that I’ve been a terrible friend. I don’t know that I’ve ever said it, but I am. You deserve so much better than me, and I don’t even know how I convinced you to do this for me.”

You almost started to laugh, unable to take the absurd situation seriously. You’d been waiting years to hear him genuinely apologize, and now hours after you’d married solely as a favor to him, he was finally telling you what you wanted to hear. 

“Please. I’m serious. I know you think I’m a piece of shit flaky ashhole, and I am, but I want to be a better husband to you than I ever was as a friend.”

You felt your heart stop beating for a second. The word husband sounded so foreign in his mouth. You couldn’t quite pin how you felt about it, but you knew you felt uncomfortable with the intimacy of his words. 

“Patrick, please shut up,” you squeezed your eyes shut, suddenly a little overwhelmed with the Patrick of it all. In fact, you couldn’t think of anything more encapsulating of your experience with him than the whiplash you got from that moment. He could be a complete asshat, but his occasional moments of earnestness kept you following him like a lost puppy, accepting his apologies and granting him ridiculous favors, despite your better judgment. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, moving closer to you to get a good look at you. You swore you felt your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. 

“I’m fine, I just-“ am overwhelmed by you being sweet? Can’t believe that I’m hearing you say this to me after so long? Also can’t believe that you and I are married?

None of the right words seemed to come to you, so you did the second best thing you could think of. 

You pecked his lips and pulled away as if you’d just touched a hot handle. You didn’t know what had come over you, and immediately began to apologize profusely. 

“Oh my god, I don’t know-“ you were cut off by his hands on your face, greedily and sloppily pulling you back in for another kiss, this one far more passionate and confident than the first. 

Your kiss was messy but fervent, years of pent up sexual frustration and non-sexual frustration behind your every movement. As you kissed, you moved to straddle him, feeling a little ridiculous in your ratty old clothes, but that didn’t stop him from groping you over your pajamas like you were the hottest thing on the planet. 

Maybe the strangest thing to happen to you that day wasn’t even your wedding.

——

That night was the first in a series of very strange events. You couldn’t even fully wrap your head around what was happening in your marriage. You just knew that the two of you had become closer friends than you’d ever been before, and that you slept together when either of you had the urge. It was basically a no strings attached situation, except, legally, all strings were attached. 

If you were confused by your arrangement, you were sure that your friends were even more lost, something they proved to you as they interrogated you over brunch. 

“So, just so we’re clear, you married him as a favor?!” your friend asked in complete disbelief. 

“Well… yeah, basically.”

“Shit. Can I ask you for a favor of a million dollars?” she joked, leading to the laughter of your other friends at the table.

“Well, that’s different. At least with our marriage, we both benefit. He gets his parents off his ass about being so focused on tennis that he doesn’t have any future prospects, and I get my parents to stop trying to marry me off to every single rich boy they find.”

“But you’re not like, actually married. Like you guys don’t have feelings for each other?” another friend questioned.

You sipped your mimosa before explaining your situation for what must’ve been the fifth time that day, “we’re basically friends with benefits.”

“But you’re legally married? Like, the wedding was official and stuff?”

“Legally? Yeah. But it’s literally just that,” you clarified. 

“Legal marriage and sex?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, hoping that they were finally catching on. 

“Then… are you guys seeing other people?”

“Oh yeah, what ever happened to that one model guy you were seeing?” another one of your friends pitched in. 

“It didn’t really work out,” you addressed that with an understatement. He rightfully flipped his shit when he found out you were going to be marrying someone else. “But neither of us are seeing other people. I don’t think either of us want to risk bringing anything back to one another.”

“That sounds pretty committed to me.”

“Not really,” you dismissed.

“Then why are you even together?”

“How many times do I have to explain how we both benefit from this?”

“No, not legally, or socially or whatever. Why are you hooking up with him? Aren’t you scared you’ll mess up your friendship or something?”

“Well, the sex is really, really good. But I’m really not worried. There's no romance between us. We’ve been friends for so long that it’s just… weird to look at him like anything other than my friend. It’s basically a loveless marriage of convenience.”

Your friend shot you a skeptical look. You just shrugged her off. 

———

The moment you found out your afternoon meeting had been canceled, you reached out to your assistant to make arrangements for you to go to Patrick’s tennis game. He’d been on a winning streak, and though he insisted that you didn’t need to come to his games, you knew that he secretly liked having you there. 

Over the past few months of your marriage, you’d grown to realize that he often didn’t say what he actually meant. Like the time he told you that he preferred to live alone, before breathily confessing in your ear that he slept better by your side. Or when he swore to you that he loved the pancakes you’d served him, despite the food being some of the worst you’d ever put in our mouth and him being on a diet. You almost found it sweet that he tried to prioritize your feelings over his own, which was surely a result of overcompensation from the way he had treated you for the majority of your lives. 

You arrived at his match just in time to watch him take a break, making your way into the stands and finding a seat where you’d have the best view of your friend as possible. You didn’t expect him to scan the audience and find you until much later on, but you were pleasantly surprised when the two of you made eye contact and he absolutely lit up. You waved, then gave him a thumbs up in hopes to communicate your support from far away. 

While you couldn’t always make it, you liked to play the role of supportive tennis wife. Getting dressed up and making an appearance not only publicly legitimized your sham of a marriage, but helped you to reconnect with some of your former boarding school classmates, who were often in the stands supporting a friend or a loved one. You also just liked to watch him play, as witnessing the passion and ferocity he had out on the court was extremely entertaining, and even at times, mildly arousing.  

With their break ending, Patrick went back out on the court and played just as well as you expected him to, crushing his competition, and looking up into the stands at you to celebrate once he’d scored the winning point. 

At first, it was surprising how proud his wins made you feel of him, a feeling that you explained to yourself by arguing that if he wasn’t giving his absolute all to tennis, then your marriage had basically been all for nothing. Although that did still ring slightly true, the truth was that you were simply proud of Patrick. Whether you liked it or not, the two of you were a unit now, which meant that his wins were your wins and vice versa. In some ways, it was kind of nice to be part of a team. Or at least his team.

You met Patrick down on the court, where he paused from packing his bag to immediately greet you with a kiss to the forehead, a small act of intimacy that was typically reserved for situations far different from the one you were currently in. 

“Hey! I didn’t know you were coming!” he exclaimed, pulling you in for a half-hug. 

“I didn’t know I was coming either,” you instinctually wrapped your arm around him in response to his half-hug. “Great job out there. You kinda demolished him!”

“I did, didn’t I,” he said just loud enough for you to hear, still wanting to appear like a good sport. “I have to go get ready for the press conference. Do you want to meet me at my hotel?”

“Of course. You don’t mind me staying for the night?” you probed, despite knowing the answer. He wouldn’t have asked you to go to his hotel in the first place if he’d minded.

“You know I never mind you staying for the night,” he gave you a cheeky wink.

“You’re so sleazy,” you commented with fake disgust.

“You started it,” he replied, reluctantly pulling away from you and reaching into his bag to grab his hotel keycard. “I’ll text you when I’m heading back.” 

The moment you received a message about him being on his way to the hotel, you made a very lengthy phone call and request to the restaurant in the building. Technically, he shouldn’t be eating any of what you ordered, on account of him being on a strict diet plan, but you figured that he deserved it after playing the way that he did. Besides, Patrick liked thoughtful acts of service, and you figured that this would count as one.

“You know me so well,” he practically gasped as he stepped into the room, taking in the platters of food you’d laid out for him.

“What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t?” you teased, though your sentiment was somewhat accurate, and it was clear that the two of you had grown to know each other far better over the past few months, you hoped that your friend wasn’t interpreting your words in too serious of a way. 

The two of you laid out on the pristine hotel bed, eating the feast that you’d ordered without much dialogue between you, other than a comment on how good something was, or a request to pass an item to one another. It felt oddly domestic, and oddly enough, you liked it. Maybe you liked it even more than you’d been willing to admit.

“I’m gonna go shower,” he announced after tossing his napkin onto a cleared off plate.

“Want some company?” you offered, raising your brows at him in a playfully suggestive manner.

“Is that what this is all about?” he feigned offense. 

“Maybe,” you trailed off. “Or maybe I just wanted to celebrate the greatest tennis player of all time,” you purred.

“Come on. You and I both know that is far from the truth.”

“Well you’re the greatest player in my heart,” you praised, much to his chagrin.

“Ugh. Shut up and come shower with me.” 

As you sleepily ran your fingers through his damp hair, you were surprised when he broke his silence with a comment seemingly out of the blue. It was more of a mumble than anything else, but you’d grown accustomed to his muffled words over the course of your marriage. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he randomly complimented you.

“You know you don’t have to compliment me to get into my pants, right?” you asked with a hint of laughter in your tone.

“I’m not trying to,” he pecked your arm–the limb he had the easiest access to at the moment–as if he was trying to emphasize his point, though all it did was bring heat to your cheeks at the reminder of the way he’d pressed slow and meaningful kisses along your calves and inner thighs while the two of you were in the shower. “You just looked so good today, I couldn’t not comment.”

“I don’t look good every day?” you asked facetiously, trying to deflect from the warm and fuzzy feeling his compliments and affection were making you feel. 

“Of course you always look good,” he reassured you rather than playing along with your game of joking instead of addressing your feelings. “I just don’t tell you that enough.”

You weren’t even sure how you could respond to that. Clearly, he wasn’t in the mood to mince words tonight, but you couldn’t bear to match his genuinity with cheap jokes. The only real, genuine thought to pop into your head were three ridiculous words that you immediately batted away. You couldn’t think of anything more embarrassing than randomly declaring your love to a husband who wasn’t really your husband in a marriage that wasn’t really a marriage. 

Out of ideas, you hit the lamp on your side of the bed. “I appreciate it. Goodnight.”

“Night,” he parroted back to you, remaining snug against your chest, despite the fact that your hands had stopped threading through his hair. 

Deep down, you knew that those three words had been on the tip of Patrick’s tongue, too.    

——

Being in the social circles of filthily rich people meant you often found yourself at random charity events, hosted by the nonprofits of families and business owners looking for a particularly large tax break for the year. Over the years, you’d felt that you’d seen and participated in it all: marathons raising awareness for a serious, but extremely rare disease, date auctions to raise money for a cause that certainly didn’t justify you having to go on a date with a man almost forty years your senior, or galas for nearly-extinct sea creatures that were essentially used as an excuse to stand around and network while drinking expensive alcohol and eating hor d'oeuvres.

You seemed to find yourself at a lot of events like the latter, including the one you were standing at now. The gala, which took place in the art exhibit it was raising money for, was a rather standard one, filled with the typical suspects who regularly attended those events. 

It was slightly ironic to be at the event with Patrick as your plus one, as this was the exact type of event he would’ve texted you about an hour before it began to ask if you would play his concerned partner for the night who told everyone a flimsy excuse about him being under the weather. 

It also served as somewhat of a reminder to you of the massive growth that your friend had undergone since the two of you became legally bound to one another. It finally felt like Patrick saw you as a true friend, instead of a reliable person who would do his dirty work. It finally felt like he cared. In some ways, your marriage was the best thing to happen to your friendship. 

Patrick returned to where you were standing, this time with two flutes of champagne and a delicious looking appetizer in his hand. 

“You’re too kind,” you said as he passed you your drink. 

“Anything for my wife,” he mockingly bowed in front of you and you chuckled and shook your head. Over the past year, the two of you slowly became slightly more comfortable with referencing each other as husband and wife, but only really as a joke. You guessed that in a lot of ways, that’s what your marriage was—a ridiculous inside joke.  

He was just about to feed you a hor d'oeuvre when you were approached by a wildly unwelcome figure: the man who had purchased a date with you a few years ago. Despite your one very awkward, stilted date, he never really seemed to get over you–which he made a point to prove at every event you both happened to be at. And unfortunately for you, his generous donations landed him on the guest list for the majority of these events. 

You were used to fighting him off on your own, as he seemed to come and flirt with you regardless of how inappropriate it was for the setting of the event, or even when he already had a beautiful young bombshell hanging on his arm. At this point, you’d learned to just tune his every word out and flee as soon as you possibly could. He was annoying, but he wasn’t dangerous.  

“Hey, honey,” he greeted you way too comfortably. You’d given up on asking him to call you by your name a very long time ago. 

“Hi, John,” you reached out to shake his hand and cringed internally when he kissed the back of your hand. 

“Oh honey, who is this?” Patrick immediately lept in, surprising you with his unsubtle passive aggressive tone and ridiculous use of a pet name. 

“You don’t remember me? I swear, we’ve met a few times.” John asked, trying to smile despite clearly being agitated by the presence of competition.

“Some people are more forgettable than others,” he said with a shrug. “How do you know my wife?” He emphasized the word and you pushed down the small inkling of pride you were feeling. Whether it was from watching Patrick try to scare this annoying man away from you, or being so proudly referred to as his wife, you couldn’t be sure.  

“Finally settling down, eh?” he directed at you, then directed his next statement to Patrick. “We went on a date back in the day.”

“It was for that one date auction thing,” you quickly added context, but paused when you took in John’s less than pleased look. He was a large donor at your own family’s nonprofit, and you were sure that your parents wouldn’t be too pleased with you if they found out he pulled out over you hurting his feelings. “We had a lot of fun, though.”

“We definitely did,” he chuckled and smirked. You wanted to punch him in the mouth. “We should definitely do it again sometime.”

It was clear that Patrick was not taking kindly to seeing you be flirted with so brazenly in front of him. Part of you wondered why he would be possessive, since part of your initial deal was that you could see whoever you wanted, even if that happened to be a creepy old man with a lot of money. The other part of you was enjoying seeing him so fired up. Particularly, seeing him fired up over you. 

“Our schedule is just so busy. Between work and us trying to start a family, I just don’t know when we’ll have time to see you again.”

Trying to start a family? That was definitely news to you. Although, the idea didn’t sound awful. Wasn’t it everyone’s dream to start a family with their closest, most dear friend? 

“Well, she knows where to find me, right, honey?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, looking into your glass like it was the most interesting thing in the world. 

“Now if you don’t mind, my wife and I are going to go check out the exhibit,” Patrick announced, grabbing your hand and taking a step away from John. 

“You two have fun,” he said before clapping Patrick’s shoulder and leaning in to begin a stage whisper. “Make sure you treat her right and cherish her. If you don’t, I might have to swoop in and do so myself.”

He winked at you and you bit back a gag. 

“Don't you worry your wrinkly little head. Nobody lov- cherishes her more than I do,” he theatrically patted his back much like he’d initially done to him. “See you around.”

Did he almost say what you think he almost said? Surely you misheard him, or he was just playing up your relationship to scare away that creepy man. It really wasn’t anything to think twice about. 

Once the two of you had walked away far enough to be out of earshot, you finally addressed what had just happened. “Thank you, bodyguard. You don’t even know how much I despise that man.”

“He seems like he’s the worst,” he agreed with you, looking back over his shoulder. 

“That’s because he is,” you emphasized. “This is so random, but did you mean what you said earlier?”

Patrick suddenly paused, his face going pale like he’d just seen a ghost. You were a little confused by this reaction, as he’d said nothing to warrant that level of fear. 

“Do you actually want to start a family? Obviously not now, while you’re still playing tennis, but maybe eventually? I know we don’t have the most traditional marriage, but, I don’t know. Neither of us are getting any younger, and it might be fun to co-parent with my best friend,” you were clearly rambling now, but luckily, Patrick came in to rescue you for the second time that night. He looked far less aghast now. 

“I would love that,” he said to you with a genuine smile. You matched his with one of your own. 

———

“Do you have any big plans for retirement?” a reporter asked for the final question of the press conference. 

“Mostly just eating a lot of burgers. And maybe learning how to play pickleball,” Patrick responded, never one to give a serious answer to questions that weren’t explicitly about tennis. 

It was a ridiculous note to end on, but it felt right. You’d found that to be the case with most things in your life that pertained to him–most notably your marriage, which ended up being far more than you ever expected it to be.

After the press conference had come to a close, Patrick met you outside by the car, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, then leaning down to peck your baby bump. 

“How does it feel to be retired?” you asked, ruffling his hair while he was still bending down.

“It feels like you might divorce me,” he joked. Obviously your marriage deal was only meant to cover the time that he was still playing tennis, but after years of a complicated marriage that suddenly became significantly less complicated once you finally confronted the fact that the two of you very obviously loved each other, it seemed unlikely that your union would end any time soon. 

You glanced down at your baby bump, then back up to him skeptically.  “I hope you’re not being serious.”

“Come on, I never know with you. You’re the one who friendzoned me the entire first year of our marriage!” he exclaimed.

“That was a lifetime ago,” you countered before taking his hands in yours. “If you’re really worried, I have zero intentions of ending our marriage.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear,” he grinned, stepping away from you. “Let’s get going. I don’t want us to miss our reservation.”

You nodded and obliged, passing him the keys before heading to the passenger side of the car.

Once you sat down, you were overcome with the urge to say something. You had spent so much time bottling up and pressing down your own feelings, that it was now hard to resist letting things out when they came to you. 

“I’m so proud of you,” you blurted. “And I love you. So much.”

Patrick smiled at you genuinely, before his look turned into a slightly more devious one. “I love you so much, too. One might even say I love you more.” 

“Don’t even start with that,” you laughed, not in the mood to have the kind of back and forth with him that you had at least once a week. Considering that you were carrying his child, you were pretty sure that you were the winner of the love competition.  

“Fine. We love each other equally,” he conceded.

“That’s more like it.”

You tried to think back to one specific moment where your marriage had crossed over from being one of convenience, into a union with genuine feelings attached, and realized that you weren’t exactly sure. It could’ve been the first night you spent together, when you’d finally allowed yourself to consider what your relationship might look like beyond a simple friendship, or maybe it was even earlier than that, when you gazed into Patrick’s eyes as you read off your vows. The look of pure adoration he gave you was one that you had grown familiar with throughout the course of your marriage, but you hadn’t realized at the time just how genuine he had been. Or maybe even the moment Patrick asked you in the living room of your apartment, when you’d been the first person he thought of to carry out his ridiculous scheme, and you’d said yes despite every logical part of your brain that screamed at you to say no. 

Whenever it began didn’t particularly matter. What mattered now was that the two of you fully intended to spend the rest of your lives together.