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chelseeebe · 2 months

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jinx

18+ mdni. no smut but eddie is a grade a asshole to poor reader. mentions of weed and alcohol throughout. eddie munson x fem reader.

a/n: first off, anon i am sooo sooooo sorry it has taken me this long to fulfill your request!! i absolutely loved this request and am absolutely honoured that you came to me for it<33 i hope i've done it justice and that you still care to read this:') side note, i've updated my masterlist as i have slacked a bit but everything should be on there now ^.^

love me some chelseeebe angst—imagine fuckboy!eddie plays at the hideout right like regularly. reader starts frequenting his show days bc she likes him obviously but he starts noticing something. every time she comes in, something goes wrong. either he messes up a chord or cant see to flirt properly therefore no one ends up warming his bed as of late or something of the sort

his immediate first thought is ‘she’s a jinx!!!’ bc what other explanation could there be in his boy brain??? so he asks her to stop coming in. she does and yet he continues to mess up bc all he can think abt is her.

itd be so sexy if u added a moment of realization/angry love confession where in the middle of him being like you’ve bewitched me or something!!! he realizes hes the one obsessed with her.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

the party hums on in the background, a small group gathered outside to rob eddie blind, smoking away his entire supply.

robin giggles nonsensically into steve’s shoulder, too high for her own good.

“if you’re gonna smoke all my shit, the least you can do is come watch us tomorrow,” eddie had been nagging his friends to come down the hideout for months. they’d gathered a solid crowd now, not much but it was a start.

robin groans, nancy and jonathan shift in their seats, steve can barely muster enough energy to reply and argyle snores. hardly enthusiastic about his dreams.

“i’ll come,” you offer, bright-eyed as you smile politely at him from the floor.

a friend of a friend, someone robin met in class and had dutifully introduced to the group. he didn’t know you well, nor had he ever really cared to.

“i don’t think you’d like it, sweetheart” eddie retorts, flattered that you’d try and spare his feelings but he didn’t need your pity.

“why? you can’t be that bad,” chuckling quietly to yourself.

his eyes narrow, scoffing, “we’re not,” misunderstanding, or maybe just not caring to humour you back, “come if you want,” he shrugs nonchalantly, not as if any of his friends had offered to attend.

“okay,” nodding along, “i will.”

“alright,” turning his attention back to the embering joint glued to argyles fingers.

who cares if you come? eddie certainly doesn’t.

sure enough, the same couple dozen old drunks fill the bar, their glossy, zombie-like eyes stare back at him from the floor. he’d complain but beggars can’t be choosers and all that.

they’re partway through the second song when something reflects in his eye, a low-cut sequinned top that would definitely look better on the floor of his van.

it’s only when his eyes travel up that he realises it’s you who’s wearing that shirt, already looking straight back at him. a newfound look about you, thick lines of black line your eyes, worlds apart from the mousy girl who’d invited herself last night.

“and we’re-,” he sings, an abrupt case of dry mouth as the next line struggles to come out, “we’re.. uh,” the entire song erased from his memory within seconds.

he steps back from the mic, blinking rapidly in an attempt to trigger his voice though all he can see is you and that ridiculous top.

gareth’s head whips round, still strumming along before picking up eddie’s slack, continuing the lyrics on his own, not without a damning glare in eddie’s direction.

holy fuck.

he’s just, taken aback, that’s all. shocked that you’d even bother to come, less so put the effort in to actually look the part too.

his eyes don’t leave the back wall for the rest of the gig, practically stumbling through all of the songs as his head threatens to wander. trailing back to you only as they finish, walking off stage to down the harshest whisky the bar would allow.

you saunter over a couple minutes later, while eddie tries his hardest not to stare right down your shirt. he’s not certain that he won’t choke on his words if you speak to him.

“you were really good tonight,” you assure, smiling softly as his band mate turns to gawp.

“uh, yeah.. thanks,” eddie fumbles, gripping the neck of his beer bottle, “thanks for coming.”

there’s an aura surrounding you, like a wretched spell you’d evoked in him, turning him to a bumbling fool.

“i’m gonna head out..” gesturing to the door, “see you around,” waving your fingers coyly at him before disappearing.

his eyes linger at the door, wondering if maybe you’ll turn around and come back. not that he wants that. just curious as to why you’d come out just to see him play.

“now who the hell was that?” jeff ogles, receiving a swift elbow to the ribs from eddie and a loud oof as he clutches his side.

“a friend of a friend,” brushing him off, “don’t be weird about it,” jumping the gun to squash any sorts of ideas festering in his mind.

“you’re the only one being weird about it,” jeff retorts, grabbing his beer and shuffling off.

“i’m not being weird,” eddie calls from behind, “i’m not!”

okay maybe he was being a little weird.

who cares?

definitely not eddie.

this week, he feels more prepared to see you nodding along in the crowd, robin had joined you albeit looking less than impressed.

eddie’s killing it, at least he thinks. avoiding looking anywhere in your direction, keeping his gaze on the stumbling drunk at the back instead.

but the thoughts of you can’t help but creep into his mind, were you enjoying it? do you think he’s bad? why does he even care so much?

his hand slides down the neck of the guitar, playing the wrong chord entirely, his fingers curating a mind of their own.

fuck fuck fuck.

why does this keep happening?

gareth glares at him again, he had never been so frustrated with his idiot bandmate in his life. sure eddie liked to dick around in rehearsal but never on stage.

if eddie ever wanted a career in music, he needed to get a monumental grip on himself. weird girls he barely knew should not have the capacity to ruin his career.

after they clamber off stage, eddie makes a point of not going over to the two of you. no, you can come to him.

though he wishes you’d just be a little faster at it if he’s honest. too busy squished into a booth with one of the younger regulars to care about him.

heat rises in his chest, searing his cheeks a bright rouge, “-who is that?” gareth interrupts, bumping into his arm.

“who’s who?” eddie coughs, clearing his throat as his eyes snap back.

“that girl you’ve been staring at,” peering across the room to get a glimpse.

“i’m not staring at anyone,” abruptly turning his head in the opposite direction, proving to himself that he wasn’t staring, not really.

“you’re a liar,” gareth calls him on his bullshit immediately, “go talk to her! she’s hot,” scooting his friend along.

“no she’s not,” you looked good tonight, he’d give you that, “can everyone please just stop being weird about this? first jeff- now you? honestly, i don’t get it,” working himself into a frenzy over what really was nothing.

gareth’s eyes widen, scoffing at his melodramatic performance, “alright man.. calm down,” shaking his head in mild disgust.

eddie was totally calm, you know, apart from his heart pounding in his chest.

nothing major.

filthy, downright pornographic sounds fill his cramped van, certain that it was rocking side to side with the utter obscenity happening in the back.

chloe sits atop of his lap, tongues dancing around one another as she glides her hips back and forth. she was a regular, slightly older than eddie, at least he thinks, they’d made eyes a few times but only tonight had he gathered the courage to go and speak to her.

any other time, eddie would be rock solid, pinning her down and fucking her into the dusty floor. today, it’s just not happening.

his mind elsewhere, too preoccupied with nonsense to appreciate the opportunity at hand.

he's thinking about you and the fact you’d left the bar without ever coming over to him tonight. what the fuck was that about?

had he done something wrong?

he breaks apart from her mouth, heaving into the tiny gap between them, “i don’t know what’s going on..” he chuckles awkwardly, looking down at his useless dick, “normally something happens by now..”

she frowns, deep-set, showing her age more than before, “oh.”

he reaches down, furiously palming his cock through his jeans.

nothing. not even a twitch.

he wants to curl up and die. never in his three years of actually getting laid has this ever happened. eddie got hard at the drop of a pin, he’d only have to think about boobs and his jeans would shift.

so why the fuck wasn’t it working tonight?

“i’m gonna go,” chloe scowls, clambering over his legs, gathering her bag while not even attempting to hide her disappointment.

eddie shoots up, pathetically crawling after her, desperate not to let her go.

“it’s not me!” he screams out, watching helplessly as she crawls out of the van, “it’s you!”

no.

“wait no! shit, that’s not what i meant,” peeking out of the van to find the empty parking lot, zero women to be found, “fuck sake.”

left to wallow in his self-pity, alone, in the back of his dirty van.

just as he deserved.

if this was some karmic intervention, telling him to be a better person, he certainly wasn’t paying it any attention.

another party meant another night of eddie trying to understand why the hell you had such an effect on him.

it’s not even like you’re doing anything particularly riveting, sat with your drink in hand, nodding along to robin’s story.

he can’t stand it.

you have to go.

maybe not like that, but he had to put some distance between you. there’s no way he could keep his sanity while you were still a constant in his life.

eddie sidles over, feeling like the smartest guy in the room. he could do this, separate himself from you and your clutches and go back to playing as he once did.

you smile upon him appearing, sickly and sweet. it makes his heart thump in the weirdest way.

“oh.. hey,” playing this entirely nonchalantly, “i just thought i’d let you know that we’re not playing next week,” lying through his teeth, guilt ridden but really, it was necessary if he wanted to play a gig without fucking up the entire time.

“oh,” sounding somewhat disappointed, “okay.. how come?”

shit.

he can’t think of a single valid reason as to why they wouldn’t be playing.

“jeff’s sick.. real bad,” feeling even more guilty for lying about his friends health, wondering if he’s cursing jeff as you did him, “might even be a couple weeks off at this point.”

eddie was a terrible person.

but so were you.

bewitching him under some spell, forcing him to play terribly and embarrass himself in front of women

you’ve jinxed him. a bad omen cursing him to play like a fucking amateur. that’s the only logical explanation his pea brain can conjure up anyway.

that meant you had to stay away from the shows, from him preferably.

he couldn’t understand why you have this effect on him, why your mere presence has him becoming a floundering fool. you don’t intimidate him, not even close.

it’s almost as if he cares too much about what you think, to the extent that he overthinks it so hard that he fucks up.

a curse that could only be broken with some distance between you. that way he could focus on the show instead of you and your doe eyes reflecting off of the stage lights.

that’s what he’s praying for anyway.

eddie despises wednesday’s. itching to get his classes over and done with so he can get his small taste of stardom on that tiny hideout stage.

at some point over the last few weeks of you being an omnipotent presence in his life, he’d grown accustomed to crossing paths with you before the gig.

crossing campus with your chin tucked down, arms wrapped tight around your books. typically only sharing a smile or a short nod.

but this week you saunter over, resembling a frightened deer even more than usual.

he pulls his headphone from his ear, anticipating whatever nonsensical, vaguely cute thing you were going to say.

“hey,” he nods, a coy smile.

even now you have his palms sweating, overthinking whether he should’ve said hi or hello instead.

“you didn’t have to lie to me,” you start, brows furrowed, “it’s fine if you don’t want me to go to your gigs anymore, i don’t care,” a disappointed frown plaguing your normally cheerful face. “i thought i liked you eddie, really- but i don’t know anymore.. you’re not a good person.”

you turn to walk off before he can even compute your words.

oh shit.

“wait!” he calls but it’s useless, “i didn’t- i wasn’t- fuck.”

it was unthinkably cruel, he didn’t think you’d ever find out. and maybe that was his problem, assuming you didn’t care enough to find out.

guilt addles his chest, weighing heavy on his heart. for good reason too.

eddie was an asshole. a true, grade-a asshole that wayne would positively despise him for.

wait wait wait.

you liked him?

absolutely not. no way. that wasn’t what this was about.

or it’s not supposed to be.

no, this was some adolescent feud, a confusing, one-sided, friendship that he couldn’t get a grip on.

you didn’t like him. girls like you weren’t supposed to.

it’s not at all surprising that he plays like absolute shit tonight too.

guilt ridden for forcing your hand, for making you look at him like that. as if he were the worst person to walk the earth.

shit, maybe he was.

kind hearted people didn’t lie and deceive. no, kind hearted people came to gigs they obviously didn’t give a shit about. kind hearted people feigned interest in boring spiel about weed strains and whatever the fuck else eddie jabbered on about at parties.

you, you were kind. kinder than he deserved.

gareth slaps him harshly on the back the second they’re back behind the curtain, a scornful yet pitying scowl on his face, “look man,” he begins, “i dunno what’s going on with you but i don’t know how much longer they’re gonna let us play here if you keep playing like that.”

eddie sighs, because he knows this. he’s well aware that his performances have been lacklustre for weeks now. he just doesn’t really understand why.

at first he thought it was just because you were there, a distance friend who would feed back to his friends about how good, or bad, he was.

but that wasn’t it.

you were there, and then you weren’t. and he still played like shit.

somewhere entangled deep within his wretched heart, he thinks that maybe he just wanted to impress you.

a nice girl, cares about her studies way more than he does, pretty too and you didn’t look at him like he was just some out of touch stoner with crazy dreams of his band getting big.

you were polite, listening to his wacky stories and dreams of playing for thousands, in fact, you encouraged them, more than his friends ever had for sure.

eddie’s not sure if, or how, he’ll ever be able to make amends for how he’s treated you.

he’s making himself sick with worry. guilt wracking his brain.

you don’t turn up that night, obviously.

eddie’s eyes mindlessly search the crowd for any hint of you. his fingers failing to correspond with the rest of band, always playing a beat behind.

you had infected him, ruined his once masterful skill to just a shell of what it once was.

he doesn’t lay opportunity for the boys to speak to him again, rushing out of the bar as soon as his guitar is back in her case.

there’s only one place he can think about going.

a few months back, you’d hosted robin’s birthday party there and eddie had disgraced your bathroom with a girl he can’t even remember now.

his fist bangs on the door, hoping the light in the upstairs window was you and not one of your roommates he’d have to shamefully apologise to.

the orange light cascades over your face, peeking out from the barely cracked door with a frown that would scare any man off.

“what’re you doing?” you spit, looking backwards in hopes he hadn’t woken the entire house up.

“listen,” he sighs, “i’m real sorry about.. you know, lying to you,” his shoulders slumped over themselves, “but i just- i can’t fucking play when you’re there, can’t play when you’re not,” sounding utterly pathetic, begging for you to cure him from this sudden sickness. “i don’t know what to do anymore,” dragging his hand over his face.

rightfully earning his spot as the worlds biggest fucking loser, stood on your doorstep begging for an answer.

when he opens his eyes enough to look at you, you’re scowling back at him. nothing like how he had planned this situation in his head.

he’d hoped that miraculously you’d understand, accept his apology and somehow still feel the same as you had.

because that was it, really.

too terrified to face the fact that he liked you too.

somewhere in his heart of hearts he’d known it from the start. that’s why his heart fluttered when you’d volunteered to come or why he’d struggled to even touch anyone else.

“what do you want me to say?” shrugging, “i won’t come back, that’s fine,” he wishes you’d just follow the script he’d curated for you.

eddie doesn’t want you to stop coming, he never had. it’s killing him that you even believed that, twisting the knife in his chest further and further the more your bottom lip juts out and your eyes water.

“actually, maybe it’s best if we don’t talk anymore,” you suggest, throwing him completely off kilter.

woah.

that wasn’t at all what he wanted nor was he trying to say. he just couldn’t gather the actual words he needed to express that to you.

petrified that he’d admit to his feelings and you’d just turn around and laugh, how could someone like you ever like such a cruel man?

“wait no, that’s not what i meant-,” bargaining with you for a little time to explain himself, though you definitely didn’t owe him any.

“-thanks for coming eddie, i’ll see you around,” flashing him a crestfallen smile before abruptly closing the door in his face.

public humiliation was truly the only way eddie could think to make it up to you.

well that and maybe a little big nudge from robin.

he’d rather stupidly asked about you on saturday night, confused why you weren’t there alongside robin, who had very quickly got him in check.

“why do you think dumbass?” she snapped, snarling her teeth at him, “you were an asshole and now she’s doesn’t want to come anymore,” her glare powerful and harsh, "i'd say you were lucky she didn't punch you in the face."

he’d deserve it.

it had taken weeks of convincing to get you anywhere near the hideout again. not to mention the hundreds in free weed he’d had to bribe robin with to get her to help.

you stand in a dark corner, hands folded against your chest, puzzled and irritated by robin’s incessant begging to get you here.

“there’s someone here that i wanna apologise to,” his eyes don’t find you as easy this time, after weeks of missing your presence, he’s not used to you actually being in the crowd again, “if you know us, you know i can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, uh..” they find you, the lump only growing in his throat, “i’m sorry,” tunnel vision blocking out every other body in the room, “i’m really, really sorry.”

you blink, staring back at him like a deer caught in headlights. it makes him a little bit nauseous to recall how dreadfully he’d treated you, how you deserved absolutely none of it.

your gaze lowers, and eddie can’t decide how to take it. he wouldn’t blame you if you decided to never forgive him, but he also couldn’t take it if you didn’t.

his voice cracks a little as he speaks, “this is.. uh, we’re corroded coffin,” stepping back from the mic to gather his thoughts before the drum comes crashing in.

eddie plays the best he’s potentially ever played.

a force overcoming him to prove that he truly wasn’t as much as a loser as he’s shown himself to be.

usually, he couldn’t wait to be off that stage and to the bar but today he’s dreading it.

knowing that you’re somewhere out there waiting for an explanation.

or maybe you weren’t. he wouldn’t blame you if you’d decided to leave soon after he’d embarrassed himself with that shitty apology.

gareth runs up behind him, using his shoulders to launch himself into the air, “holy shit! that was amazing!” the boy presses a slobbery kiss to his cheek before continuing, “whatever the hell you did, keep doing it because that was insane!” running off past eddie to grab his weekly complimentary beer.

a sudden sickness fills his stomach, slyly hoping that he could slip out of here before anyone else noticed him.

you stand across the bar, waiting to catch his eye with your lips curled only ever-so-slightly.

eddie’s limbs go stiff, still entranced by your jinx. by you.

your eyes trail away to the door as his follow, shuffling your way through the bustling crowd.

his legs carry him without a second thought, out into the cool night as his eyes frantically search for you.

he finds you perched against the crumbling stone wall a few feet from the entrance, just far enough away from the prying eyes of the smoking patrons.

“i didn’t think you’d ever come back here,” is all he can say, feet trailing along the gravel.

the streetlight glistens orange from your eyes, staring up at him from your perch, “i didn’t want to,” your smile only growing as he nears, “robin made me.”

“oh,” it wasn’t as if he didn’t know that or that he didn’t orchestrated the entire thing, it just felt odd to hear it from your mouth.

“i’m glad i came,” you clarify, allowing him to finally release the breath held tight in his chest.

eddie dares to move closer, sitting back on the brick just inches away, “yeah?”

you nod, the great big smile he’d forced away making a return at last, “yeah.”

suddenly the air feels thick, it was easier apologising on stage, those people didn’t know him, they didn’t care. but now, sat here in front of you, it feels like he’s swallowing knives.

“i’m really sorry for making you feel that way,” though it sounds meaningless now the damage was done, “i don’t know if you still care about me at all, but i- um,” his throat runs dry, clamping his eyes shut. it felt easier that way, somehow, “i think the reason why i was such.. an asshole,” the light flickers through his eyelids again, deciding that you at least deserved to see him, “fuck,” he exclaims, staring back at your confused expression.

“it’s okay,” soothing even now, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” a twinge of sadness running through your tone.

“no, no i do,” eddie persists. he’d fumbled once, he couldn’t do it again. “shit man,” he sighs, “i’m trying to tell you that i like you too, or maybe not too, i know i was an ass and i don’t deserve your forgiveness-,” your lips cuts him off mid-mumble, surging forward to press them against his blathering ones.

he has to blink a couple times, taking in whatever the fuck was happening to him.

you pull back, disappointed that his brain had been to fuzzy to focus on kissing you back. too preoccupied with trying not to explode and paint you in red.

“really eddie.. it’s okay,” returning to your usual reserved self while his brain still struggles to compute.

“can we do that again?” he asks politely, keeping the bubbling excitement to a minimum.

you laugh, a real, throaty laugh, something he hadn’t heard in weeks, “only if you promise to stop talking,” leaning in once more, the rigid wall suddenly feeling like it was about to collapse from underneath him.

your soft, cherry-tinted lips press against his forehead a second time, allowing him to gather his brain from a pile of mush on the floor just enough to actually kiss you back. a tender hand reaching out to caress his stubbly cheek, sending shockwaves through his limbs.

you’re interrupted again by a loud whoop from behind, robin clapping wildly as she emerges from the bar, “now you two have kissed and made up, can we go home now?”

#eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #request #eddie munson x female reader

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worldlxvlys · 7 months

Note

ok hi hi hi i posted this but then i thought of dealer chris and came here but a smut w dealer chris based off the olivia rodrigo unreleased, i also realised as i was writing this that i can’t put vids here but it on my acc and i think if anyone can execute it well it’s you:))

prison for life

dwb! chris x reader

warnings: smut, p in v, cream pie, unprotected sex, mentions of blood, implied violence, death threats, cursing

a/n: i’m sorry this literally took ages to get to, i honestly wasn’t really sure how to go about it

hopefully you like it 🫶🏾

based on this

for @bethsturn <333

chris and i had been laying on my bed peacefully when i got a call.

INCOMING CALL: JAKE

ACCEPT? DECLINE?

“fuck” i said as i read the name.

“what’s wrong?” chris asked.

“you remember jake?”

“yeah, the psycho that laced your weed? kinda hard to forget”

“he’s calling” i said as i flashed the phone in his direction. “i’m just gonna let it ring” i spoke as i placed it down in between the two of us.

we watched as it went to voicemail, and waited to listen to his message.

(1) MISSED CALL FROM: JAKE

VOICE MESSAGE 1:15

OPEN?

we played the voicemail on speaker, listening together.

“what the fuck is wrong with this dude” chris spoke, his brows furrowing.

“i don’t know but this dude is all bark and no bite, i doubt he’s gonna do anything”

“you sure, ma?”

“i’m positive, i’m more worried about the fine ass man in front of me” i smiled at him as i crawled closer to him.

“yeah?” he smirked.

“mmhmm” i said as he pulled me onto his lap.

“nobody fucks me like you, baby. nobody makes me feel the way you do” i whispered as i cupped his cheek.

“oh trust me, i know” he spoke before crashing his lips on mine.

my lack of pants, due to it just being us here, seemed to please chris as his hands kneaded my ass.

i pulled my lips from his, gently biting it, making him groan.

“chris, i need you” i spoke as i felt the wetness between my legs.

“you got it, princess” he spoke, flipping us over, putting himself on top.

my elbow landed on my phone screen, making me push it off of my bed and onto the carpeted floor.

i pulled my shirt off as he kicked off his pants, revealing his hard cock straining against his boxers.

i reached forward, helping him pull his boxers off.

“ready?” he asked as he stroked himself a few times. i nodded my head in response.

he gently guided his dick into my entrance, pushing himself in.

my walls hugged and squeezed him, welcoming his veiny cock as he bottomed out.

“shit, chris. you’re so big” i moaned.

“look at that pretty, tight pussy. just for me” he groaned.

i nodded my head, silently giving him permission to move.

his thrusts started off slow and deep, and his hips started to move faster as he gained momentum.

“fuckkkk, chris! so, so good!” my moans started to increase in volume and my hands reached out for something to hold onto.

he swiftly moved his hands to mine, interlacing them as he continued to pound me into the bed.

“yes, yes, yes, chris! god, that feels so fucking good” i cried out.

his hips slowed slightly, just enough for me to notice, “you want me to stop?” he taunted me.

“no, no, no, don’t stop! please don’t- OH FUCK!” he suddenly moved faster than he had before.

his sharp thrusts pushed me farther and farther up the bed and my moans became wails.

he pushed my legs to my chest, hitting every sweet spot with the new angle.

“god, you take me so fucking well ma” he leaned down slighly, spitting onto my pussy.

he brought his thumb to my clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves feverishly.

“chris! chris! i’m cumming!” i yelled as i felt the coil in my stomach snap.

my body tensed as my orgasm crashed through me.

“so good for me, ma. fuck, gonna cum inside of that pretty little pussy” he moaned as he finished inside of me.

he thrusted a few more times, working us through our highs before gently pulling out.

we both took a few seconds to catch our breath, laying in silence.

i looked around confused as i heard a very low voice.

i moved to the edge of the bed, looking around when i realized where the sound was coming from.

i picked up my phone, which had been face down on the floor.

to my horror, i discovered that it was in a call with jake.

fuck.

i brought the phone to the middle of the bed and pressed the speaker button, immediately being met with strings of curses and yelling.

“- GONNA KILL THIS MOTHERFUCKER. HE’S FUCKING MY GIRL. WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT? I CA-“ i quickly turned it off of speaker and muted the microphone.

i stared at chris with wide eyes, meeting his amused expression.

“how the fuck did i manage to butt-dial him?” i whisper-shouted to chris.

“i don’t know, but he doesn’t sound too happy”

i looked at him in disbelief.

“how long has he been listening?” chris asked.

i looked down at my phone, checking to see how long the call had been running.

30 minutes

“30 MINUTES? WHY THE HELL DIDN’T HE HANG UP?” i yelled.

“his weird ass was probably getting off to it or something”

i quickly unmuted the mic and turned the phone to speaker again, needing to put an end to this.

“JAKE” i yelled, shutting him up.

i’m a feminist obviously

but i wouldn’t really mind him saving me

“you.” he spoke with venom. “i’m going to fucking murder your ungrateful little bitch ass” i blinked at the phone in shock.

chris immediately spoke up, comfortingly rubbing my shoulder.

“hey, you’re done talking to her. if you have something to say, you can say it to me” he said.

and i know that i’m fine without a man

but i wouldn’t really mind his protection

“aw, how sweet. you gonna protect her? listen here, you little bitch. i have your address, sleep with one eye-“ chris cut him off.

“hey dickhead, i don’t know what about this you aren’t comprehending, but i’ll say it slower for you.” he slowed down his words, “do not talk to her, talk to me”

“i don’t appreciate being spoken to like a toddler or being cheated on. i-“ chris stopped him again, “listen man, you need to get professional help. she’s not with you, alright? you need to leave her the fuck alone”

there was a pause. “i’ll see you later, princess” jake spoke before hanging up.

i looked at chris with wide eyes, becoming nervous.

“hey, i got you ma. i’m not letting anything happen to you, you know that right?” he asked me, searching my eyes for any sign of doubt.

i nodded my head, “yeah, i just don’t want to feel unsafe in my own home”

i’m just being honest can’t change what i like

i’ll never forget it, he told me one night

he got up, starting to get dressed.

“chris? where are you going?”

“i’m gonna go find him”

“wait, what? chris, how could you possibly do that?”

“don’t worry about it, i’m gonna handle it alright?” he cupped my cheek, running his thumb along my cheek.

“chris” i whispered, becoming worried.

“hey, your safety is my top priority, ok? i’ll be fine ma”

“ok” i whispered, giving him a peck on the cheek.

with that, he left.

“if anybody hurts you..

a few hours had gone by without any word from chris.

upon hearing rapid knocking at my front door, i quickly got up to open it.

when i did, i was met with chris, covered in blood.

“chris? what the hell happened?” i asked, pulling him inside.

“i handled it.”

…i’m going to prison for life”

——————

yup, kinda ate that

dwb! chris masterlist

main masterlist

tag list: @lovingsturniolo @lustfulslxt @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sturnsdior @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @chrisdevora @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @vib3swithanuk @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @rheaakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @abbie13sworld @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @sturns-posts @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf

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rinhaler · 6 months

Text

I Guess I Can't State My Feelings Too Soon

Your big brother is jealous and he hates himself for it :(

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ step brother!taiju shiba x f!reader

Genre: porn! (minimal plot) Notes: my first tokyorev fic since i moved blogs wheeee did NOT think it would be taiju but i cannot stop thinking about that man Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, stepcest!, jealousy ♡, possessiveness, co-dependency, virgin!reader, male masturbation ♡, sex toys ♡, porn consumption, panty theft ♡, unhealthy relationship, power dynamics. Words: 3.5k

He often wonders if you realise how ungrateful you come across, sometimes. Not only ungrateful, but disrespectful to boot.

Do you know how hard your big brother works? You’ll say you do, if he were to ask. But he’s sure you have no idea. He shielded you from the horrors of his world as you were thrust upon him out of nowhere. His new, beautiful step-sister who’s eyes would spill tears around raised voices. What choice did he have? You’d never understand or be able to comprehend his way of life or the world he had built for himself and his family.

As your other siblings grew up and drifted away, Taiju kept you dependent on him. He made it so you had to rely on him for everything. He’s putting you through fashion school while subsidizing your very existence. He keeps you fed and clothed all in the comfort of his beautiful penthouse.

You want for nothing.

And he’s never made you feel inadequate for your obvious dependency.

He doesn’t use it as a weapon or hold it against you. He just adores you, wholly. His beautiful little sister, the sweet little darling who needs her big brother to do everything for her. It motivates him, truthfully. When things feel hard, mundane, tedious, he reminds himself who he’s doing it for.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Takashi.” you smile, giddily, waving like a schoolgirl with a crush as you watch him leave.

He waves, too. A wide grin on his face as his eyes scrunch up with joy. It soon fades, though, as he finds himself accidentally walking right into your brother’s chest. Taiju’s expression harrows, though you don’t register it as you focus on the way Takashi smiles at you before excusing himself.

You’re ungrateful, and disrespectful.

His neck and jaw jerk as he tears off his tie. He’s visibly irritated, but you’re too naïve to realise. You greet him, excitedly, though you’re soon left feeling dejected when he opts to ignore you instead.

“Get me some wine from the cellar.” he demands. Without a please or even a glance in your direction, you know something is wrong. You’ve never been one to deny him, however, slinking away to the lounge to retrieve an aged red from the wall-built cellar.

He looks at you when you return, sliding the bottle to him across the marble countertop of the kitchen island separating you. It’s a brief look, that makes your heart throb with hurt. He’s mad at you, but you don’t know why. Soft yellow eyes that only offer gentle glances are showing you a side to your brother you didn’t know existed.

His pupils are almost slitted like a wild animal, eyes you’ve never seen before where your brother is concerned. He sighs, watching the cogs clank in your brain as you try and analyse who this man is before you.

Luckily for you, he doesn’t think he’s capable of staying angry with you.

“Would you like a drink, little sister?” he questions. It stops you from thinking, momentarily.

It’s a first. He’s never let you drink before, let alone his prized cellar wine. You take a seat on the bar stool regardless, nodding excitedly at the prospect of having your first real drink with your favourite brother. He twists off the lid and slides the glass he’d gotten for himself over to you.

Your heart rate quickens as his eyes, those same, predatory eyes, remain fixated on you as he pours. The wine spills like blood, sloshing into your glass until it’s halfway full. And somehow, without even watching what he’s doing, he managed to not spill a drop.

He takes off his blazer and sets it down on the counter. You watch him as he rolls up his sleeves and turns away from you to fetch another glass for himself. His muscles flex and you see his exposed, veiny arms sheen with sweat as he reaches up to grab the nearest glass.

“Pour it for me.” he tells you, setting it down as he turns to face you again. His eyes seem tired, now, but still unfamiliar to you. And so you find yourself nodding, doing exactly what your big brother has asked as your hairline begins to form beads of sweat.

You don’t look at him, not even briefly, as you start to pour. You’re slow and patient, but you feel him staring at you all the while. And it’s menacing. Even with patience and focus, you spill a drop onto the pristine marble.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him.

You move to find something to wipe it up with, but he stops you before you can even jump down from the stool. He presses his thick thumb into the cherry red liquid, seemingly absorbing it all before he raises it to his lips. You watch keenly as your brother’s tongue juts seductively from his lips before he meticulously licks over the pad of his thumb to taste it.

He clears his throat and leans across countertop.

You feel so small.

“Was that your boyfriend?” he wonders, eyes glued to you as he speaks with a low, gravelly tone. He sips soon after, making mental notes of your responses as you process his words.

“U-Um, no, Taiju,” you shake your head. You feel blistering heat in your face as you think about your classmate, and the intimate thoughts you’ve had about him for weeks now, all while your brother’s attention is entirely fixed on you. “We’re in the same class! He came to drop off some books he thought might help me.”

It’s a confession that is entirely the truth. He isn’t your boyfriend and you’re sure he never will be. Not unless he makes the first move, that is. You’re far too shy to even suggest that your feelings for him a more intense than they should be for simple classmates. Taiju nods, finally looking away from you as he takes another drink.

“Finish up and go to bed.” he commands.

You nod, too nervous to argue. You’ve never seen him like this or even heard him be so curt with you. It won’t bother you to go to bed, not one bit. Hopefully tomorrow he’ll be back to his usual, loving self.

He leaves you alone as he strides towards his study, finally giving you the chance to breathe. You knock back the remainder of your wine and pick up your book bag and school supplies, your pace hastening as you get closer to your room.

“Oi.” Taiju speaks, voice booming through the hallway before you can open the door to your bedroom. He leans against the doorframe to his office, arms folded as his eyes squint at you. “If you want to have people over, clear it with me first.” he demands.

“Oh,” you sigh, and it’s riddled with relief as you realise that is what the problem has been all along. He’s upset you’ve invited a stranger into his home without asking. It’s understandable, and you’re soon smiling again as you look at him. “Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d mind.” you admit, regretting it almost instantly as it soon feels irrelevant to have said.

“I don’t want boys I don’t know here alone with my little sister.” he tells you.

He approaches, and your anxiety soars once again as you sense a looming threat in the air and the shortening distance between the two of you. He smirks as he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, your breath hitching at the contact while he forces you to look into his saffron gaze.

“You are very dear to me,” he confesses, “If anyone were to take advantage of you… well. You’re going to do as I ask next time, aren’t you? We won’t have to worry about that.”

“Of course… I’m so sorry, I should have—”

“You should.” he snarls. “But I forgive you. Go to bed, now.”

You nod, feeling slightly more upbeat after hearing he’s accepted your apology. He stops you from retreating to your room, though. His large, heavy hand encasing your forearm in a tight grip whilst his thumb still caresses your chin. It drifts, though, pulling the fat of your lower lip before he pulls it away. He taps his own lip twice, his expression still unamused as he looks at you.

“A goodnight kiss, princess,” he orders. You nod, it’s not out of the ordinary to kiss him goodnight. You stand on your tip toes before leaning in to peck his lips. They’re soft, and fit against yours beautifully as both of your eyes close during the contact. It’s chaste, to the point, and yet you’ve never felt an intensity during a kiss from him like you have just now.

His eyes are gentle, again. And the smile he offers is earnest. He kisses your cheek before you go, whispering in your ear sensually enough for a chill to traverse down your spine.

“Good girl.”

He opens the door to your room, remaining in place until you go inside. He shuts it after you get inside, leaning his back against the nearest wall as his head thuds against it. The cold metal of his rings cools down his flushed face, though he finds himself breathless.

Not from the act of a simple kiss, it’s the shame. Feelings for you, his sweet little sister, bubbling to the surface despite trying to repress them for so many years. He’s jealous and he’s ashamed of himself for letting things go this far. But you are his.

His sister.

His responsibility.

His property.

“Jesus Christ—”

He catches himself. He kicks away from the wall and rakes his fingers through tousled hair as he decides to distract himself with work in his office.

It’s taken blood and sweat to reach what he’s achieved. From being a sixteen year old menace to society, he’s now a highly respectable businessman with a chain of restaurants under his belt. Among other, less legal sources of income, of course.

It’s all for you.

As he looks through business expenses and documents from his lawyers, all he can think of is you.

It’s all been for you.

It’s always been for you.

He pushes his hair out of his face, noticing how it’s starting to cling to his forehead as he sweats profusely. Thoughts of you plaguing his every thought. His cock begins to throb in his slacks. His eyes drift from the papers scattered across his desk to his computer monitor. And then, slowly, they sink to the locked top drawer of his desk.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He ignores the drawer, instead, deciding to ignore his responsibilities as he types Pornhub in the search engine. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he speaks, exasperated as the homepage is flooded with an assortment of trending step sibling videos.

His heart pounds as he scrolls for a while, but eventually finds the willpower to click away, opting to find something else. He’s a simple man with simple taste. He’s always been into rougher stuff, deciding something along those lines will be best to quickly rub one out and clear his mind so he can focus on what he actually needs to be getting on with.

He clicks on a video, immediately cringing at the corny plot and dialogue as he unbuttons his shirt and rids himself of his belt. He’s panting as he pulls out his cock. If he’s been honest, his cock has been leaking since you fetched his wine so obediently.

He hisses when he realises he’s thinking about you again.

And soon enough he’s willing himself to concentrate on the girl in the video getting fucked within an inch of her life. It’s loud, rough, aggressive. Just how he likes. He tugs desperately, a vein popping in his forehead as he eagerly tries to get off to what he’s seeing.

It’s your fault.

He’s wondering if you’d ever be into fucking like this. He’s sure you’re a virgin, so he’d have to be careful with you at first.

“Fucking stop,” he whines.

He wants to cum to her, the girl in the video. It’s a lie, though. He wants to cum to you. He wants to hear how gorgeous you’d sound if he were the one to defile you for your very first time. Your own step brother, infiltrating your walls and making you cum around his cock.

“Shit,” he keeps trying to concentrate on her. His eyes soon wandering to the locked drawer again. He glances one final time at the video, grunting as he continues to fuck his fist until ultimately giving up.

He searches something new. Something he’s never beat one off to before. Softcore virgin. He grimaces as his finger hovers above the enter key, he knows he won’t be able to finish otherwise, but part of him thinks it’s not too late to turn back. His eyes widen slightly, taken aback by the sheer amount of results that are step-sibling videos. He considers it, again. He really does, but as he continues to scroll, he starts to take an interest in the masturbation videos.

The soft, feminine moans immediately make his cock jump. It’s perfect, it’s so sickeningly perfect because he can pretend it’s you. And if he’s this far gone, he feels no need to deprive himself anymore. He lifts up his keyboard, sliding the locked drawer key from a hidden compartment underneath. His hands are practically shaking as he tries to slide it into the slot. He quickly turns, breathing heavily as he almost rips the drawer from its place as he opens it.

He scoffs as his hand flies to a clear fleshlight, yanking it out and setting it down on his desk before he retrieves what he’s really been avoiding this whole time.

You’ve never had to do laundry, and he doesn’t do it either. He hires staff to come through the week to do tedious things like cleaning the apartment and washing dirty clothes. It’s been about a fortnight since he saw an opportunity laid bare before him.

You were at school, a fact now he’s growing to despise as he imagines you flirting with Takashi Mitsuya during your classes. But he was working from home, too irritated to handle business dealings in person on that particular Thursday. And he happened to see a maid emerge from your room with a laundry basket, a frilly pink thong atop a pile of outfits you’d worn through the week to college.

He wrestled with himself, he did.

But it wasn’t too difficult to distract the maid for long enough to pocket them for himself.

The video continues to play, his cock gushing as he stares down at your panties. He’s too far gone. He’s too aroused and his mind is muddied as he thinks about everything going on in his life and yours. You’re too honest to lie, Mitsuya isn’t your boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean he’ll never be.

He snatches the thong and strokes his cock with it in hand. His eyes roll back, a broken moan leaving his lips as he continues to pleasure himself. He stops abruptly, though, as the woman in the video he’s watching stops teasing her clit. She shows off a dildo, slowly rubbing it through her wet folds until she eventually begins to push it inside of herself.

She’s cute, but she isn’t you.

If he closes his eyes, however, she is. He looks to his fleshlight, deeming this the closest he’ll get to fucking you no matter how desperately he yearns for it. He carefully guides his tip into the plastic pussy, moaning a little louder than intended as he bottoms out.

He bites his lip as he recalls the woman in the store squeezing her thighs together as she helped him pick the toy out. It makes him laugh, briefly, as he recalls how forward she had been. He fucked her in the changing rooms as she insisted she’d need to see what he was packing so that she could help him pick the perfect model.

She sent him away with the biggest size.

Your pussy won’t feel like this, though. He’s certain you won’t be so generous and accommodating. Your tight little virgin cunt will fight against him, but he’ll make it fit.

“Jesus, fuck—” he groans, admitting defeat for the final time as he brings your panties to his face and almost suffocates himself with the material.

His chest swells as he inhales, before it deflates with shuddering breaths as he savours the scent of your used unmentionables. He picks up the pace with his toy in tandem with the woman in the video. His moans are boisterous and uncaring, he’s lost the ability to feel shame as he imagines you bouncing on his cock crying his name and trying to become accustomed to his length.

He needs it more than air.

He needs it more than he needs to fucking breathe.

“Shit, ah—” he grunts, he bites his lip as he continues to pound into the fucktoy in his grip. He grunts stridently as he spurts into the fleshlight. He watches through heavy, lidded eyes at the clear plastic, watching how his balls tighten and deposit his creamy load into the faux pussy. “Fuck, Taiju.” he sighs, but laughs as he slowly begins to stroke himself with the toy. He hisses, feeling sensitive from his release as he milks himself of every last drop he can drain.

He exhales breathlessly once he’s done. His chest rising and falling as he allows his body to melt into his leather chair. He looks around the room, and he looks at himself. The crushing reality of what he’s just done weighs down on him. He’s spent, but finds enough energy to put your panties back in the drawer, locking it promptly.

The fleshlight, on the other hand, he leaves out after making space for it on his desk. He winces as it rolls and his sperm begins to drip out onto the glossy, chestnut tabletop. The comedown from is euphoria is like reaching a new low. He can’t even bear to look at the scene of his filthy indiscretion any longer.

But as he’s about to stand, the door swings open.

“Taiju?” you pout.

He scrambles to hide his exposed lower half under his desk and dump some of the papers littering his desk over the sticky fleshlight. He can’t hide the grimace on his face as the corner of one of his documents begin dampen from his cum.

“O-Oh, sorry, I forgot to knock… I should have knocked.”

“Yes, you should.” He says, gruffly, “What is it?”

You’re quiet, allowing your sock covered foot to glide across the wood flooring as you awkwardly look down at them. It’s not like you’re scared to talk to your brother, but you know he doesn’t like to be interrupted when he’s in here. And you don’t want to embarrass him.

“Answer.” his order startles you, his voice almost thunderous as he commands your attention. Your eyes fill with water, but you bat the tears away as you speak.

“I thought I heard you yelling. Or… in pain.” you tell him, voice below a whisper as you confess you’ve been unintentionally listening. “I thought you might have hurt yourself.”

Pink dusts over his face, you can even see it from only the light of the monitor. He looks around, suspiciously, though you don’t notice or comment on it.

“Why were you listening to me? Can’t you sleep?” he wonders. “… Don’t worry. I’m fine.” he assures you.

“I was worried. A-About earlier. I don’t like it when you’re mad at me… I promise I haven’t got a boyfriend and I’ll never bring anyone here without permission again.”

He smirks at that, all of his teeth bared and you still don’t understand what kind of sick depraved man your big brother really is. Maybe you aren’t as ungrateful or disrespectful as he thought; it was wrong of him to even assume that when you’ve been nothing but a doll the whole time he’s known you.

You poor thing.

You’ve been fretting over your brother’s wellbeing and state of mind since he sent you to bed so long ago. He’s been on your mind this whole time. You’re more like your big brother than you even realise, he thinks.

You’re so timid.

So obedient.

So good.

“You must be so tired, princess…” he coos, and you nod dumbly. He tuts, feeling sorry for your innocent nature and naivety, but sweet little you thinks he’s sympathetic to your exhaustion. “Do you want me to help you sleep? Shall I play with your hair like I used to when we were younger?”

“Really?” you ask, eyes lighting up at the proposition.

“Of course,” he nods, grinning wildly. “What are big brothers for?”

#🦋 — luxe writes #taiju smut #taiju x reader #taiju shiba x reader #taiju shiba smut #shiba taiju smut #taiju shiba #shiba taiju #taiju shiba x you #taiju shiba x y/n #tokyorev x fem!reader #tw jealousy #tw possessiveness #tw codependency #tw stepcest

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moneymasnn · 1 year

Text

Who Had A Cookie?

Blurb: One where you're the f1 drivers manager, and when all the boys seem to have eaten a 'magic cookie' you're the one who needs to clean up all the mess.

Notes: I was inspired by the one greys anatomy episode lol but I thought this was a funny concept. This is also my first fic I’ve posted in 6 months!! I found it in my drafts and decided to post! Enjoy xx

Warnings: well mention of drugs, might be some swearing but other than that nothing lol Platonic!reader x f1 drivers and a little bit of reader x Charles leclerc

Who had the cookies?

You loved charity events, especially f1 charity events. You loved your job for giving you the opportunity to attend these events. A very easy night if you say so yourself, babysitting twenty grown men, what could go wrong? Especially when cameras and fancy investors are around they behave all on their own, leaving you to relax, and indulge in some free champagne.

“Y/n.” your name was mumbled behind you, startling you as your attention now shifted to your assistant.

You knew something was wrong by the way she was twiddling her fingers, her black nails contrast to her white dress as she brings her left index nail up to hold between her teeth.

“Jenny? Spit it out.” You stood up straight, urging your assistant.

She stands up straight as if she's trying to muster up some sort of courage, she looks around before she leans in closer to you, you can almost hear her shaky breaths.

“There were some cookies… and erm, well they were placed in the drivers dressing room, and I don’t know how they got there. I mean, I certainly didn’t sign them off so this is no way my fault and-“ she was talking a mile a minute you couldn't even understand her.

“Jenny!” You took her hands that were waving in the air and bought them back down to her chest.

“Take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong?” you said sternly.

“Don’t fire me… please.” You could see the tears brimming in her eyes, but the anticipation was killing you, you windened your eyes and stayed quiet so she could carry on.

“There were compromised cookies gifted to the driver's dressing room.”

“And?”

“And- and now the tin is empty, as in they've all gone. The cookies have been eaten y/n. Cannabis cookies.”

Your hands ran to your mouth as your eyes immediately darted around the room to look for anything out of the ordinary.

The room was spinning as you whipped your neck around in different directions.

George russel was the first to catch your attention.

He looked fine…he was leaning against a wall, chewing…

He was chewing on a cookie.

“Oh my god.” You started to push through the crowd of people in the hall.

“George! Drop that cookie!”

George’s eyes lit up when he saw you, one of his many managers. You could see the cookie crumbs falling from his mouth as he smiled, chocolate smudged around the corners of his lips.

“Y/n, you have to try these cookies!” He desperately said, holding up his half eaten cookie. But much to his dismay you slapped it out of his hand, letting it fall right to the floor. George’s lips downturned and your name fell in a groan from his lips as he looked at his cookie on the floor.

“Spit.” You held your hand out, as gross as it was.

“I will not!” He sassed you as you pointed your finger at him, eyebrows furring trying to be as intimidating to the six foot man as possible. George sent you one of his signature smirks as he swallowed the mouthful of cookie in one large gulp.

“George, those are not regular cookies-“

“Tell me about it! Send from the heavens.” he smiled, almost robotic, like the smile didn't reach his eyes.

Your own eyes widened as you realised one of your clients was stoned.

Completely and utterly stoned.

You were fucked.

You could feel Jenny breathe behind you, she let out a small giggle at George's actions causing you to turn and scowl at her.

“Grab him and take him to the dressing room, and don’t let him talk to anyone. lock him in there and then come back to help me gather anyone else who had had a cookie.”

She nodded as she grabbed George’s arm, telling him they were going on an adventure, George happily complying.

You sighed as you looked for anyone else.

You were at a very high class charity gala in Monaco. This night was about to be ruined and you were about to be fired for letting your drivers get out of control and well, high.

You decided making an announcement on the stage was your best bet, walking through the crowds of people you felt someone grab your arm.

“Y/n!” Lando Norris.

He giggled as he said your name. Making him repeat himself.

“Y/nnnnnn.” He covered his mouth to stop the giggles. “Sorry, just, why does your name sound so weird?”

You had to try so hard to keep your face straight at the boy's child like giggles.

“Why are you laughing like that?” Carlos walked over, playing his arm over his wobbly ex teammate.

“Carlos!” you and lando both said in unison.

“Your hair is so soft, like fur.” Lando said as his hands made their way into Carlos's long brown locks. Carlos eyes widen as he looks at the boy then back at you, trying to pull Landos hands out of his hair.

“Carlos, did you have a cookie?” You eyed up the Spaniard.

“What cookie?” He frowned at you.

“Ugh, thank god! Landos had a erm.” You leaned into him so no one around would hear, “Some of the drivers have eaten cannabis laced cookies.”

Carlos’ head turned as he looked back at Lando, eyes widening.

“Take him back to the dressing room please, just lock him in there with George, and if you see anyone else take them with you.”

Carlos just nodded, letting his mate lean on him as he dragged him to the back of the room.

You let out a sigh of relief, that was three out of a possible twenty.

Only seventeen more to find.

You walked up to the stage, grabbing the mic, tapping it slightly.

“Hello, everyone. I hope everyone is having a good night, erm, could all formula one drivers that have eaten a cookie this afternoon please meet back in the dressing room, important meeting. Thank you.” You smiled at the crowd, you could hear the whispers as you stopped off the stage.

“Y/n?”

Max.

“I had a cookie, and I don't feel too good, like - like i'm not here, i've been over there.” He pointed to the corner of the room, “and I thought I was dreaming y/n. I dont know whats happening to me?” He looked panicked as he clutched onto your upper arm.

“You're okay max, you had some magic cookies.”

“Magic cookies?”

“Just come with me okay?”

He nodded his head vigorously as he followed you though the crows, clutched to your hand like a toddler.

You noticed Daniel on the way, opting to grab him too.

“Danny!”

“Hello.” he had, in a very nonchalant tone, unlike his bubbly self. He was definitely stoned.

“Are you okay?”

“I feel great.” he smiled, but his eyes didn't quite catch up to him.

You grabbed his arm and dragged him along with max.

“Y/n? Where are we going?” Max asked anxiously.

“To sit down.”

You dragged them both into the room, when you got in there you could see George sat curled up on the window seal, lance was sat back against the wall staring at the floor. Seb was giggling at Mick who had all of a sudden become hyper aware of his body, saying he could feel his ‘skin’.

Pierre was touching his face in the mirror while Yuki was at the snack table.

You let out a relieved sigh as Jenny had managed to capture some of the drivers, a few turning up after hearing your announcement.

“Okay boys go play.” You pushed Daniel and Max into the room.

“Dan, dan, danny, daniel.” Pierre called Daniel over to the mirror. “Why don't I look like me?” Pierre asked daniel.

Pierre gasped and turned to a very relaxed Daniel, placing his hands on his shoulders.

“Daniel, do you think I look weird?” Panicked.

“Coolllll.” Daniel replied as he smiled straight though pierre.

“You're right, I'm too cool to care.” Pierre nodded and turned back to the mirror to straighten out his shirt.

“This room is full of some very… high men.” Seb looked at you with raised eyebrows.

“Seb? Please tell me-”

“I didn't. Don't worry. I'm watching my weight.” he winked at you. “I'm happy to look after these guys while you get the others?”

You replied a quick thank you as you quickly shut the door, bolting back into the hall. Then you realised, opening the door back open and peering through,

Where were Lando and carlos?

You rushed back out, looking down the bottom of the hallway, choosing to search the rest of the building, you came to the fire escape stairs where you found a curled up charles rocking back and forward.

“Charlie?” you gently called out as you crouched down next to him, placing a hand on his knee.

“Y/n?” He quietly replied.

“It's me, it's just me. How are you feeling?” you gently asked him.

“I- i don't know, i've never felt like this before.” He said raising his head, his eyes bloodshot and skin pale, he had a cookie.

You smiled at him as you brushed his fallen hair back from his forehead.

“You're going to be alright, come with me okay?”

You pulled him up to his feet where he looked down at you, sniffing before a little smile climbed his face.

“You're so pretty y/n.” You giggled at the boy as you took his hand and made your way down the steps to the drivers room.

“Like a princess.” he added, his hands waving in the air.

“Thank you, charlie.” you giggled.

“Charlie,” he smiled, “have i ever told you how much i love it when you call me that, charlie.” he smiled and repeated the nickname again, leaning his head on your shoulder as you both made your way down the stairs.

Charles lightly sighed as you pushed him into the drivers room, “Where are you going?” Charles whispered, pulling on your arm.

“I'll be back in five minutes okay, Seb will look after you.”

Charles nodded his head to look for seb, you both grimace when you saw mick with his head in the trash can, seb rubbing his back as pierre and yuki giggle at him in the corner.

You walked back out the room when Jenny was running up to you, “Y/n! Huge problem, Carlos and Lando are on the stage!”

Ou barge past her and walk into the room to see Carlos with a mic in his hand, Lando leaning into him in fits of laughter.

“All I'm saying is, I race really fast cars, like that's super cool, right? There's only twenty of us that do that. So cool, im so cool, im a cool guy.'' Carlos giggled as he spoke about himself on stage.

“You could die? I could die? Imagine that! The world would be so sad, my smooth operator.” Lando giggled at the nickname and then started to sing.

And before you knew it they were two verses deep into smooth operator, Carlos opting to show off his opera skills at one point.

You jumped on the stage taking the mic out of Carlos' hands and putting your hand over it so you could whisper shout in his ear, “You said you didn't have any cookies!”

Carlos snickered as he looked at Lando who gasped and held his hand over his mouth.

“You lied to y/n?” Lando giggled. “Oh man you're in so much trouble.” Landos face dropped as he leaned into carlos’ face, “she looks mad, we should probably run.”

Carlos nodded along with the boy when you grabbed both of their arms, “Nope. No more running, you're coming with me.”

Carlos shook his head like a caught child and both men giggled as you pushed them off the stage, apologising to the crowd before handing the mic back to the dj.

“Y/n!”

You sighed as your name was called for about the fifth time that night, this time though, it was serious.

Zac Brown made his way over to the three of you, a scowl on his face and his arms crossed over his chest. Lando straightened his posture as Carlos crossed his arms and impersonated Zac, Lando caught onto this and all of a sudden the boys were in crying fits of laughter again. You winced as Landos cackle echoed through the hall, catching the attention of people around.

“What. The. Hell?”

“I can explain.” you winced at the man.

“What is going on here?” He eyed up his driver and ex driver, who he presumed had too much to drink.

“They're high. Someone laced some cookies and I'm so sorry, I have the situation under wraps, they won't be a problem anymore.”

But when Zac started to laugh along you realised maybe it wasn't just some of the drivers who had had some cookies.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.” You grabbed Zac as well as Lando and Carlos and dragged them back to the dressing room.

“Y/n, Your back!” Charles made his way over to you, engulfing you into a hug.

“Y/ns back!” Max screamed as he fell off the sofa, plunging his way into your arms along with charles.

“Hey get off her, she's my manager!” Max shoved Charles hand that was loosely placed on your shoulder.

“She's mine too!”

While the two men started to fight over your attention you scanned the drivers that were in the room. Jenny had managed to catch the majority and even some of the drivers that weren't high had opted to help.

Max shoved Charles in hopes he would let go of you, instead causing you to stumble back into the arms of someone else.

“Okay okay, we get it, she's pretty but you're suffocating her, and she won't be very pretty when she's dead on the floor.” a spanish accent can be heard behind you.

Fernando unwrapped both men as they both started to profusely apologise about ‘nearly killing you.’

You rubbed your hand over your head after smiling at Fernando in a thank you as he sent Charles and Max to the food table.

“You look stressed.” he said with a smirk as you both watched the men in the room.

“I need a cookie.” you joked, your eyes on mick who was still throwing up.

“I could always make you some.” he shrugged.

You laughed at the man before your eyes widened in realisation, you turned to him, face like thunder, “You!”

He threw his hands up in the air, “In my defence i didn't mean for anyone to eat them. It was a total accident.”

Your mouth agape you turned to look at the Spaniard ready to scream every curse word you know. He sensed your anger, “it was an honest mistake y/n, trust me. You think I would have wasted all of them cookies on these people on purpose.”

Your eyes darted daggers and Fernando understood you were really mad, in an attempt to lighten the mood he pointed at Yuki and Pierre who were having the time of their lives giggling like two school girls in the corner.

“You have to admit, it is kinda funny,” he said.

A smile crept on your face as you giggled, it was kinda funny.

Yours and Fernandos giggling soon stopped when you saw Max and Checo arguing in the corner.

“I think Max is about to punch Checo for taking the last slice of pizza.” you said.

“Shit.”

964 notes · View notes

sunlightmurdock · 5 days

Text

Ashes, Ashes | One | Bradley Bradshaw

masterlist | prologue | next chapter

Synopsis: In which Maverick didn’t make it home after the Uranium mission. He’s missing, presumed dead. There are things that have to be done — someone has to take care of the house, the bills.

So, Maverick’s daughter is back in Fightertown for the first time since she was in elementary school. There’s a gaping hole in both of their lives now, and somehow, the world’s supposed to just keep on turning without him.

Warnings: bradley bradshaw x minimally descriptive oc avery mitchell, age gap (23/33), smut, angst, hurt / comfort, mentions of character death, mourning, military inaccuracies. This entire fic and my blog is an 18+ space, minors do not interact. Do not repost.

…

Crossing the threshold into Maverick’s home doesn’t come naturally to either one of them. This place is something that they had both left behind. Outgrown. It’s solely his. It’s not their home and it has never been, until now. Now, Avery, at least, is stuck here until things are figured out.

On that fourteen hour drive down to San Diego, she’d had a lot of time to think. How long is a person supposed to wait for a body to turn up before they go ahead and throw the funeral without it?

Three paces into the hallway, brown wood floors and white walls, she is met with a smiling family picture. Only, she’s not in it.

Because, it’s not a picture of Pete’s family. Pete doesn’t have a family. Pete Mitchell has a daughter from a one night stand with a married woman.

This picture is of a real family. Hung on the wall opposite the front door is a picture of Nick and Carole Bradshaw holding their infant son. He’s bald and gummy. They’re grinning and showing him off like a prize trophy — so proud of him even though all he did in those days was drool and pee himself.

These days, their infant son is up to more important things. Their infant son grew to an upsettingly grand height and is carrying two of her bags in one hand behind her today.

“C’mon, Mitchell — these are heavy.” Bradley huffs softly from behind her, reminding her that she’s standing stationary and blocking his path.

The nickname stings. Avery’s last name isn’t Mitchell because her biological father had wanted it to be. It’s Mitchell solely because her mother’s husband knew she wasn’t his and would rather die before letting her take his name.

She shrugs her duffel bag closer to her body and turns left. Bradley huffs under the weight of her luggage, watching her walk her cute butt in completely the wrong direction. “Wait, where are you going?”

Not struggling at all under the weight of her single duffel bag, she turns slowly to face him and frowns slightly. “My room.”

Avery doesn’t remember Bradley. Not in her own memories, anyway. She knows he was around, she’s seen him in pictures but the image in her head doesn’t match. Not quite right. Like puzzle pieces bent and forced together.

He’s taller than he looked at his high school graduation, which sits pictured and framed above Mav’s mantle. Older, but that’s to be expected. Up close, he looks more like his mother than his father. A slight bump in his nose and scars, nicely healed, but jagged and raised nonetheless dusted his cheek and his throat.

Even with all those differences, there’s a very slight familiarity to him that makes this all feel a little bit less suffocating.

Bradley’s brows draw together. He gives a small nod in the direction of the spare room. “That’s… I usually stayed in that room.”

“Oh.” Avery realises with a hum. With Bradley being ten years your senior, the room was his long before it was hers. With him growing up so close by, it was probably his much more frequently than it was hers, too. It’s not like she had ever kept anything here anyway. It’s just a guest room that she would occupy every now and again.

There’s a brief quiet between the two of them.

“I just figured you could take the big room. ‘Til you get settled. I’ll go home once your car is fixed, if that’s what you want.” Bradley adds on. That sad little look on her face, right in front of him, is killing him.

The big room. The loft room upstairs. Avery thinks about it and finds herself pretty sure that she’s never even been upstairs in this house.

“You’re staying too?”

Oh. Yeah. He hadn’t addressed that point yet. Truthfully, he hadn’t even been planning to stay. He hasn’t even packed an overnight bag. But, from the second that she had stepped out of the car and looked up at the house with that look on her face, he hadn’t even considered leaving her here alone.

“Just ‘til we get your car fixed,” He offers with a small shrug. “I’ll be here to run you around until then.”

Like he’s doing this for her sake. Natasha has her own life to get back to and Bradley can’t stand the thought of going back to his apartment alone.

“Okay,” Avery agrees, turning to peer down the hall towards the spare room. It’s nothing special — it really never felt like hers, anyway. “Alright, I’ll take Pete’s room.”

Pete. She calls Maverick ‘Pete’ now.

Bradley just nods, shifting the weight of her bags and nodding for her to head for the stairs. All the floors in this house are tan oak. The entryway is now herringbone. With the help of a friend, Pete had done the entire thing himself.

Of course, as they walk silently across it, neither one of them would know that. Neither one of them was speaking to him last May, which was why he had needed a project in the first place.

Natasha’s outside on the phone. Bradley’s footsteps thud on the wood of the stairs behind her, following her up. She stops at the top, leaving just enough room for Bradley to stand there behind her.

The door to Maverick’s room is open. His bed is made. There’s a book thrown on top of it, the spine cracked and used, the pages yellow from years out in the sun.

“No way is he still trying to fucking finish War and Peace.” Bradley steps around her and heads straight for the book. Pete started this book before Bradley finished elementary school. Bradley twists and looks back at her. “He always gets bored and stops reading, then forgets his page and starts again.”

Another slow nod. One foot in front of the other, her shoes along the tan oak floors. Her fingers trail the white walls. Maverick wouldn’t have minded. This place was always messy before. It’s not now.

This house is vacant and quiet, but it’s far from empty. It’s filled to the brim, practically pulling apart at the seams with everything that Maverick was and planned to be. He was finishing War and Peace — he made it to chapter 253 this time; further than he had ever made it before.

Suddenly, Avery’s throat is thick with the knowledge that all she knew Maverick to be, is now all that he’ll ever be. An absent father, a fantastic pilot, a lousy cook. A thousand more things that she’ll never know.

Four days of knowing, a fourteen hour drive down here, and it’s a book that stings like a cold slap to the face, reminding her of why exactly it is that she’s here.

Fire burns behind her eyes, blistering and stinging as Bradley sets her bags on the floor with a soft thud.

He turns with his attention completely on the book, his fingers extending towards the peeling cover of the paperback. His fingers curl around its weathered pages and he lifts it tenderly, examining the front at first.

It’s too early to start this process bawling her eyes out, and Avery refuses to let Russian Literature be your downfall, again.

That thick feeling sits in her throat like a stack of weights as she sits down on the end of Maverick’s bed. The mattress is soft, taking her weight without a squeak of complaint. Maybe he finally listened to her and got a bed that wasn’t so harsh on his back.

It’s been almost two years since she had even set foot in this house last. If she had known that Maverick was going to be gone this soon… she sits and thinks to herself about if she would have maybe visited more. Probably not.

“I’ll change the sheets and stuff, then I’ll get out of your hair for a bit.”

Lifting her head, she blinks at him. He has already started to pull back the comforter and strip the bottom sheet from the bed, awkwardly forcing her onto her feet again.

Mobile once more, Avery turns slowly to take in her surroundings. This is Maverick’s room. It’s his house, she was prepared for that much — but this is his room. The last thing she wants is to be alone in it all night.

“Oh. Sure,” She nods, setting into motion to help take the sheets off.

He’s so methodical about it, like none of this phases him at all. But then, she hasn’t seen how he has been for the past few days.

“I was thinking of just ordering food tonight, since I’m kinda tired — and Pete never had groceries. Would you want… to maybe join?”

“Sure.” Bradley nods, tugging the pillows out of the cases. He glances up to her with a strictly polite, neutral smile. Quiet settles between the two of them until the bed is just a bare mattress and uncovered pillows.

Then, there’s a moment of total stillness between the two of them. Her gaze flickers up, meeting his, and the realization settles between the two of them.

Maverick’s favourite cologne was a French thing that some woman in the eighties had liked. Citrus in the shade of cypress wood. The scent fills the room like he’s standing between the two of them.

Bradley glances down at the white sheets in his hands. The snowy white peaks of those mountains, Maverick’s aircraft spiralling into them, engulfed in flames. In a sick way, Bradley hopes that he didn’t manage to eject. At least then, it would have been instant. Maverick wouldn’t have felt anything.

Avery watches his adam’s apple bob in his throat from the other side of the bed. The last you had heard, Mav and Bradley weren’t on speaking terms. She wonders if this is as weird for him as it is for you.

“I’ll put these in the washer. You can… unpack, or whatever.” He decides finally, already taking one step backwards, headed for the door. She stands there, blinking at him. Even with those steeped, broad shoulders, he makes it through the doorframe unscathed before he turns to check where he’s going.

He probably knows this house inside and out, just like he knew her dad. Once.

When it comes to wracking her brain and trying to remember Bradley Bradshaw, Avery can’t ever come up with anything. Maybe a glimpse, here and there. A blue t-shirt with green stripes. His school backpack accidentally left in the backseat of Maverick’s convertible beside her shoddily installed car seat.

Truthfully, her experience with Bradley Bradshaw is limited. He’s just as real to her as any of the other guys in the stories she grew up hearing about. Her very own Peter Pan is downstairs right now, trying to figure out Maverick’s ancient washing machine, just so that he doesn’t have to stand up here and stare across at her.

He can’t hide from her forever, though. Evening comes, and so does hunger.

He stares down at the pizza between the two of them as he chews through a bite, brows drawn together slightly. He hates thin crust pizza — it’s the worst kind of pizza. But, when she had suggested it, he had agreed with a tight-lipped smile.

Natasha has gone home. It’s just the two of them, now. Sitting in this unchanged, all too familiar kitchen. Avery has barely unpacked. She set up a couple of things in Maverick’s bathroom, but it doesn’t feel right to be in the big room upstairs. That wasn’t ever her space to claim.

She chews absentmindedly at the bite she had taken. The TV in the living room is off. The record player is coated in a layer of thin dust already. It’s dead quiet. The kitchen light is dim above their heads.

There’s a chip in the corner of the table on Bradley’s side. It’s there because Bradley was running through this kitchen when he was four years old and had tripped and knocked his front tooth out right here. His thumb trails the tiny mark, wondering how his teeth had ever been that small.

Wondering why she isn’t angry with him, too.

Maverick had picked him up that day, turned him around and held Bradley while he cried, stemming the blood and quickly introducing the concept of the tooth fairy. He had done all that he could, and Bradley still found a way to resent him for what had happened to his own father.

Bradley hasn’t ever done a thing for Avery. Except maybe pay for this pizza. And here she is, calm as can be.

The sauce base feels tangy and coppery, and the cheese makes him want to puke. He sets the slice down on his plate and wipes his hands on the paper towel beside him.

Finally, he lifts his head and looks at her. Her hair is up differently now, tucked out of your way after an afternoon of manual labour upstairs, tidier than it had been earlier. She’s wearing a stretched out old t-shirt. Bradley assumes she got it from a boyfriend.

Really, he doesn’t think she looks that much like her old man. He would really have to search for the resemblance. But, briefly, when she offers him a polite smile across the table, he knows that you’re Mav’s kid.

“I’m sorry.” Bradley blurts out. They both look across at each other, equally surprised that he has spoken.

“…For what?” Avery asks quietly, lips tugging into a small frown.

“I’m sorry that I’m here and he’s not.” He’s just got to say it. He knows she probably wouldn’t bring it up on your own, but there’s a big elephant in this room. Bradley knows what it’s like to sit in her spot, and not know how to talk about it.

It’s his fault that Maverick didn’t make it home.

She stops chewing. That last bite sits in her mouth, doughy and dry all of a sudden. She stares across at him, awkwardly making herself swallow down the last of her bite of pizza and picking up the paper towel to wipe at her mouth.

“We weren’t that close.” She tells him, like that’s supposed to make him feel better. It doesn’t. It’s like a blow to the chest. She’ll never get the opportunity to fix things, because of him.

But, he knows what it’s like to be told how to grieve. He just dips his head and nods awkwardly. “Right.”

“I got a call from an admiral the other day,” She picks up the slice of pizza and pick at its toppings. There’s no one here now to tell her not to play with your food. Mav never really cared anyway. Bradley watches her, unhungry. “Invited me down to Miramar. He said he was a friend of Mav’s and that he could talk me through… this whole thing. How it works.”

Bradley rubs a hand over the neatly trimmed hair above his lip. It feels like he has swallowed a golf ball, sitting here like it’s normal to be discussing the measures.

He knows how it works. It won’t be as simple as it was with his own father. At least Maverick had afforded him something to bury. For her, there’s nothing.

“I’ll have to be there around eleven.”

“Sure,” Bradley nods, scratching at the back of his neck. His legs tingle with stiffness. Clearing his throat, he shifts in the little wooden chair and stretches, knocking his foot into hers under the table. “Oh. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Her teeth press into the inside of your cheek. Maverick hadn’t ever described Bradley as this nervous.

“It’s fine.” She hums, pushing back in her chair and standing up from the table. “Well, I’ve been up since like… four, so I might just hit the hay.”

“Sure.” Bradley breathes out, hands braced on his thighs, eyes focussed on that tiny chip in the corner of the table. “Yeah. Goodnight.”

The downstairs bedroom seemed bigger when he was a kid. The twin-sized bunks on the carrier feel bigger than the wooden-framed bed that Maverick put in here. Bradley’s shoulder is practically hanging off the side, and the old frame creaks with each movement he makes.

It’s not like he would be sleeping much anyway. When he closes his eyes, the only thing he can see is the fireball Maverick’s plane had turned into as it fell.

Bradley’s hunched over the coffee pot by the time that Avery wakes up. He hears her coming down the stairs and straightens up like he wasn’t three seconds from throwing the stupid thing at the wall, clearing his throat and turning around.

It occurs to him that he should have put a shirt on. This isn’t his place. It’s hers, now, he guesses — either way, he hadn’t considered making her uncomfortable. He folds his arms over his naked torso as she strolls into the kitchen, hair mussed and rubbing at her eyes.

She’s wearing big socks and the same big t-shirt she had worn to eat the pizza last night. He can’t tell if she’s wearing shorts or not.

“Morning,” He offers up, making her lift her gaze from busily tapping at her phone. Her gaze lands squarely on his navel — more so, how low his shorts sit on his hips and the way a soft trail of brown hair ventures from there to his bellybutton.

Blinking, she finds his face.

“Coffee machine’s broken, we can stop somewhere on the way to base if you like.” He leans down a little bit, like an awkward teenager shrinking away from a family picture. She locks her gaze on his, trying not to glance back down at his muscles.

“Oh. That’s not broken — if you hit it hard enough, it’ll work.” She heads right for him, fuzzy socks padding across the floor so softly that it really does startle him when she grabs the copy of War and Peace that now sits on the kitchen counter, and slam the book right into the side of the coffee machine.

He whips around as the machine whirs to life. Avery the book back down gently, and look up at him. He sets his jaw, brows knitted together, searching her face.

Maverick never taught Bradley anything like that. In fact — Bradley always, always was taught the opposite. You never take the easy way out; if something’s worth fixing, then you fix it right.

Then you, you on the other hand, beat the thing with the heaviest book you can find? He just doesn’t get it.

“Well. Thanks.” He guesses, turning his bemused expression back to the brewing coffee.

He hadn’t been expecting you to do that. Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out, given the way he’s still glaring at the machine. That coffee pot is older than you are, and Mav never taught him that trick?

“So this guy, the one who called me,” Avery skims her fingers along the cool granite countertop, just to have something to do, “He was the guy calling the shots up there?”

Bradley blinks. He doesn’t know how much she knows about the way all of this works. He knew everything there is to know long before he ever enlisted, but that was because he wanted to know.

“Um,” Bradley grabs his mug and takes a step back for her to get herself one. “He was our mission command so, kind of. He gives orders — but, y’know, everything happens fast, it’s… it’s hard to call the shots from back on the boat.”

“Did he like Mav much?” She asks, head tucked inside the fridge door as you scan for anything to make her coffee a little less black. Nothing. A couple of beers and a block of good German cheese. She swings it shut with a resigned sigh, wondering if she’ll be here long enough to need groceries.

The thought flashes across her mind — what’ll happen to this place when she leaves it behind?

“Uh... No, not really.” After a routine training presentation at the very beginning of their attachment, Admiral Simpson had once become so agitated by Maverick that he snapped his own reading glasses in half. Mav got a good laugh out of it, at least.

“Great.” Agitation creeps into her tone as she curls her fingers around a plain white coffee mug. All of his kitchenware is plain white.

“What?” Bradley tilts his head, trying to catch a glimpse at the look on her face, stuck between whether she’s sad or pissed off.

It’s an easy answer, rolling off of her tongue with a shrug of her shoulders and a deflated sigh. “People usually put us in the same boat — if they don’t like him, they don’t like me.”

That’s something that he thinks he can understand. There’s not an instant dislike, but there’s a pity that he finds in the eyes of people who once knew his father.

He screws his mouth up, shaking his head and reaching for her without thought. His palm claps against her shoulder, platonic and soothing, but the first time he has touched you nonetheless. “I’ll be there. He won’t say a thing.”

Glancing upward, while his palm lingers on her shoulder, her eyes flit across his features. He doesn’t know quite what she’s searching for, or whether she finds it. His fingers squeeze softly against her skin before the touch is gone all together.

They drink their coffees in parallel, both subtly miserable in their silence but comfortable in it anyway. It’s difficult to prepare for a meeting like this — she doesn’t have a clue of what to expect.

Bradley wears black jeans and boots with a plain white t-shirt, which convinces her not to wear the more formal dress she had thought she’d have to wear. She slips into his passenger seat in a skirt and Mary Janes.

He drives a loud, blue vintage Bronco. It sparkles inside and out, and makes her dusty old car look even worse.

Bradley settles behind the wheel to the sound of chilled seventies music, the radio turned low. He drives with three fingers curled around the bottom of the wheel and the other hand resting absently on the stick shift.

Even though he seems calm enough behind the wheel, she watches him chew at the inside of his cheek for the duration of the drive. Gears tick away inside his head. His knee only stops bouncing nervously when it’s time to press his foot against the pedal.

He’s not as good at pretending as he thinks he is; she silently appreciates that he tries, either way.

Bradley, truthfully, spends the entire drive thinking about the last time he was face to face with Admiral Simpson. ‘Son, I’m doing this for you.’ He had sworn, face sullen, uttering the exact same words Pete Mitchell once had when delivering the words that had torn Bradley from him the first time.

Only, Admiral Simpson wasn’t pulling Bradley’s papers — he was just putting him on a month long bereavement leave. His protests had fallen on deaf ears once again, as they had fifteen years ago. He’s now a week into that leave, but it feels like longer.

It turns out that when sleep is cut from the equation, everything feels a lot longer. In his own apartment, his routine has been getting up at 2am after hours of tossing and turning, going for a run all the way down to the docks, coming back and showering, then waiting for the sun to rise.

Last night, he’d been awake in that creaky old twin bed, struck by the realisation that if he spent all night tossing and turning — one, he might actually break the old bed frame, and two, the squeaking of it would definitely keep Avery up.

All it had taken was the focus of trying to sit still for so long to finally knock him out. It was the best that he’d slept since the mission.

He kind of hopes that it’ll take him a while to figure out something to do with her car; at least that way he’ll be able to sleep at night.

“You ready?” His voice startles Avery from her daydream, the engine cutting out with a jingle of the keys as he stretches forwards in his seat to shove them into his pocket. “We’re headed just over there.”

“Yeah, let’s get this over with.” She’s stepping down and swinging the heavy door shut before she’s taking her next breath, leaving him to catch up to her.

His long strides have him at her side before long, reaching ahead of her to pull open the glass door to the post headquarters.

This process has already been easier with him at her side. He’d coolly handed over his service ID and greeted the guard at the gate by name, and he stops her from turning sharply down the wrong hallway with a soft bump of his shoulder against hers.

He catches her forearm as she tries to blow right past the front desk, his grip loose but firm.

“Rooster.” The woman behind the desk stands up sharply, looking sharp in her service khakis, her entire face creased with a deep worry. She’s older, maybe around Mav’s age. “I heard, I’m so sorry.”

Rooster loosens his hold on her forearm, his lips flattening into a line. He stands up straight, his interaction with the woman nothing if not totally polite. His thumb trails across the bend of her wrist as he nods his head towards her.

“Thank you,” He says softly, seemingly unaware of the way Avery has stiffened in the presence of this woman. “We’re, uh… we’re just here to see Cyclone, Lynn.”

Her warm, brown eyes whip towards Avery, widening. Recognition floods her features as she pieces together who the girl at Bradley's side must be.

Her boots hit the ground, Avery's lips parting slightly as she realises that this stranger is headed right for her. Bradley feels Avery's arm tug in his grip and turns his head, taking note of the way she's trying to shrink behind him.

Lynn is a hugger by nature, and she was a good friend of Mav’s for a long time. She means well, but Bradley isn’t going to let her touch Avery when he can see how unnerved it makes her.

“We’re a little late. I’ll catch you at the O-Bar this weekend?” His fingers uncurl from her forearm and his palm falls flat between her shoulder blades, giving her a gentle nudge and silent permission to avoid Lynn's hug.

The woman stops and there’s another polite, departing exchange between the two of them while Avery continues down the hall.

Bradley catches up to her as she raps her knuckles against the doorframe, fingers trembling when they come to settle back against her thighs.

“Miss Mitchell.” A chair scrapes along the tiled floor, Cyclone’s signature rumbling voice carrying out into the hallway. His boots tap across the ground, his face creased with sincerity and his hand outstretched when he notices Bradley standing behind the young woman he had arranged this meeting with. “Bradley Bradshaw.”

Avery checks back over her shoulder, glancing briefly at the man behind her, who has assumed his best bodyguard impression.

Standing tall, his uniform crisp and his greying black hair combed neatly, Admiral Beau Simpson slips his palm into hers and shakes her hand curtly. The sunlight catches on his shining name badge, his face heavy with lines and sharp angles.

Letting her hand go, he then reaches to her right to shake Bradley’s. Bradley’s chest bumps her back as he leans into the handshake.

Avery steps away from him, angling yourself closer to the doorframe. “He just gave me a ride here. Is it okay if he comes in?”

“Of course,” Cyclone is far more polite to her than he has ever been to Bradley. “Anything you need. Please, take a seat.”

It feels a little bit wrong standing before his boss in jeans, and sitting before him. Everything about this feels a little bit wrong. Bradley rests his chin against his fist.

Avery sits in the chair beside him, shoving your trembling hands under your thighs, straightening up and trying to look as brave as you can.

It shouldn’t be this stranger sitting beside you in this meeting — your mother should have come with you.

“Miss Mitchell,” The admiral takes his seat on the other side of his desk once again. “I want to first express my deepest condolences. Your father was a good man, and a… extremely skilled pilot.”

Bradley almost scoffs. Even now, Cyclone can’t manage to compliment him, not really.

“We are forever grateful for his service, and the sacrifices he made on behalf of our country. I understand that this is an extremely difficult time, and I’d just like to say that I’m going to personally make sure that this process is as easy as it can possibly be.”

Avery blinks at him. Jet engines rumble on outside of the window. People bustle on outside of the closed office door.

Cyclone glances towards Bradley.

“When a man is lost in action, our resolve is to initiate a search and rescue effort as soon as possible,” The admiral explains, leaving out the part where that search and rescue effort had been delayed by seventy-two hours after Mav disappeared. “We’ve been working tirelessly, and our efforts to locate your father are ongoing.”

Her brows knit together, lips pursed, unimpressed.

“But— he’s dead.” She frowns abruptly, rendering Cyclone suddenly quiet. “He’s got to be. It’s been a week. No food, no water, sub-zero temperature. What’s the point in looking?”

Bradley grits his teeth. He looks across at her, her words like a jolt of ice-cold water, the muscle in his jaw ticking. There’s nothing in her expression, no fear or sadness. Pete deserved more than that.

“The point is to bring him home.” He bites from her side, staring straight ahead at Cyclone.

She shoots him a look. When it’s clear that she isn’t going to say anything else, Cyclone clears his throat to continue.

“Miss Mitchell, we do have to prepare ourselves for the other outcome. If recovery efforts are unsuccessful, in two weeks time, he will be listed as formally ‘Missing in Action’. If that’s the case, we will honor him with a memorial service and all of his service records and personal effects are delivered to you.”

She drags her teeth across her plush bottom lip, swallowing hard and giving a small nod of her head. Closing her eyes for a moment, she pictures the moment that this is all over. She can get out of here and pretend it never happened.

“Okay. Two weeks?”

“This is going to be a longer process,” Cyclone warns her. He’d heard that she had come down specially for this, and he doesn’t want to mislead her about the time frame. “The recovery mission, if unsuccessful, will be suspended in two weeks’ time. After that, we’d like you to be local for the investigation.”

“Investigation?”

“Of ourselves. To ensure that the Navy had performed its due diligence, that kind of thing… I’d expect us to be here for a good few months.” He explains.

After that, it’s like Bradley can see a switch flip for her.

She’s biting at the inside of her cheek so hard that she must be tasting copper, picking at the seam of her skirt and breathing like she’s trying not to cry.

He’s still confused when he’s all but chasing her across the parking lot, listening to her try to control her breathing.

“Hey, hey, hey,” He tries, approaching her cautiously as she crowds herself against the passenger side of his car. “It’s alright. We’ll get through it, it’s just a couple of months.”

“I— fuck. I don’t want to be here. I-I— I’m going to have to find a job, and I’ll have to call my mom, and— and my friends, and—“

“Hey,” Bradley mumbles, resisting the instinct to throw his arms around her. His brows draw together as he reaches out and squeezes her bicep, bending his knees so he can catch her eye. “It’s alright. I’ll take care of it.”

Avery knows that he’s just trying to be nice, but really, she’s sick of nice. It’s all that Maverick ever was and it left her with no idea of who he really is. “Of what? There’s so much that I have to—“

He nods, closing his mouth, swallowing dryly. Thinking of what he can, feasibly, take off of her plate for her. The idea sparks in him.

“You need a job. I can get you a job. Um, your friends, we can call them and bring them down for a weekend?” He squeezes again at her bicep, nodding his way through his plans, trying to will the tears in her eyes not to spill over.

She sniffs, turning her gaze towards the ground. The lump in Avery’s throat burns and bobs as she tries to swallow it away.

Mav really is never coming back.

“I don’t want to go back to his house.” It comes out as a whimper, and really just reminds Bradley that she is in the same position that he was when he was just a little younger than her. It’s a scared kid type of feeling, being all alone in the world. Being in an empty house had made it even worse.

He licks his lips and glances towards the skies, watching the sun pass behind a cloud.

“You could stay at my place, for a night or two.”

…

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #bradley Bradshaw x reader #bradley Bradshaw x you #bradley Bradshaw x Mitchell!reader

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kirishima-eijirock · 9 months

Text

@katsuslover asked: Making katsuki jealous by talking w deku or something and he's all sulky and a baby and u show him why he's better

a/n: omg hell yessss I made it a little angsty but I hope he’s not too OOC

You narrow your eyes at the blonde sitting right in front of you. His eyes narrowed and his lips pulled into a deep frown that you’ve never seen before. Clenched fists that are slightly shaking, he glares down at the floor with such an intensity that almost frightens you. Almost.

He’s been that way for the past half an hour, with no warnings at all. It’s weird, how this morning he wasn’t giving two fucks about anyone or anything at all, and now he’s just… furious isn’t even the word to describe it. Neither is rage. This is something else, and you knew it.

“Kats, just spit it out already.”

You’ve been trying to coax an explanation out of him for the past twenty-seven minutes, and yes, you’ve been counting. He’s never hid his anger from you. Or anyone, actually. But definitely not you.

“Kats, I swear to god, if you don’t start saying anything then I’ll go back to my conversation with Midoriya—”

“Get that bastard’s name out of your mouth.”

It was a quick mumble. A short demand. A command, if you will. He’s never said shit about Midoriya with such pure hatred that it did confuse you, and you started to question if you really understood Katsuki in the first place.

His brow furrowed and his teeth gritted, his glare shifts from the floor to your shoulder, avoiding your direct gaze. He couldn’t bring himself to glare at you, no. The last thing that he wanted to do was to direct his anger at you. You were one of the most precious people in his life, and he wasn’t gonna risk anything, much less even glaring, to fuck it up. But looking down and glaring at the floor looked utterly pathetic, too. So his eyes dart from the wall behind you, to your shoulder and neck, but never your face. You didn’t deserve that. It wasn’t your fault, either.

He knew it’s not your fault, so why did it sting so much to hear you laughing with that bastard? He didn’t get it.

“Never mind. ‘M fine. It’s nothing.”

“Kats, you can’t be mad like that and not explain yourself.”

It’s true. He knew that he owed you an explanation, and a good one. Shame crept up on him as he realised that he snapped at you. That you were on the receiving end of his anger. The promise he made to himself— to never, ever make you upset, or to ever let you feel like the reason that he’s mad— was now broken in his eyes.

“I’m… sorry. For snapping at you. It’s not your fault,” he mumbled under his breath.

It wasn’t snapping, but he hated the fact that he still could have upset you.

“Kats, it’s okay. I’m fine, I promise. What’s wrong? You know you can tell me anything that’s on your mind, right?”

“No, it’s nothing,” he mumbled, though it’s clear that his snapping only made him more irritated with himself.

“It’s not nothing if you’re…” you trail off, not wanting to point out the current tears in his eyes.

“Huh? I’m what?” Still oblivious to the tears, he looked around and found nothing.

“Kats, seriously. Tell me, now.”

The firm gaze directed at him from your eyes made him freeze, and the gentle tone in your voice made him hesitate. He was surprised, to say the least, that you were still here, trying to help him while he stood there in front of you like an idiot. If you left now, he wouldn’t have been surprised. In fact, he understood why you would do that, and he couldn’t blame you. This emotional, vulnerable part of him finally showed for the first time in your relationship.

It surprised you, just a little. You knew he hated showing emotions besides happiness and the occasional happiness, but never tears. He never cried solely in front of you, at least.

He felt weak, so… pathetic.

And on the other hand, you were there, trying to help him and coax some coherent words out of him, before finally giving up with a sigh

“Kats, if you don’t wanna talk, then we can save that for another time. I won’t push you any further if you’re getting uncomfortable.”

He’s never felt comfort like this. Not warmth, or such gentleness either. It’s so new to him, but in the best ways that he couldn’t describe.

What was this feeling? His heart was bittersweet now. His loathing towards Midoriya was worsening, but the sweetness in your voice was making it fade away slowly.

“I promise I’m fine,” he rasped out.

“Okay, Kats. As long as you’re alright,” you murmured, not really pushing him to speak unless he really wanted to.

He took a deep breath, not sure how to address the issue.

“Look, I don’t know what to feel when you’re talking to that damn Deku,” he stated plainly.

“You don’t know what to feel? What are you talking about?”

“I’m not stopping you from having friends, okay? I just don’t like how giggly and shit you were with him,” he huffed.

“Well… why not?”

“It just bugs me, that’s all. Just feel like I should be the reason you’re laughing. Not him.”

Oh. It finally clicked in your mind. He was jealous. You wanted to point it out, but it could sour his mood further, so you decided against it for the time being.

“Well, if that was the case, you could have just told me. I wouldn’t have a problem with that.”

You were too sweet, too understanding. It was hard for him to believe that he deserved it. That he deserved you.

“Really?”

“Yes, really, Kats. You don’t need to worry that I’ll be upset, okay?”

He nodded slowly, still not used to this amount of sincerity and care from someone.

He was never this soft, or vulnerable to anyone. You, however, were an exception. He wasn’t afraid to show it to you, and even though he wasn’t used to it, he sure as hell wasn’t complaining.

“Thanks…” a soft mumble of thanks left his lips, happy how this confrontation went.

@angelshimaa angst for you :)))

#kiri next and im gonna make two versions of this LMAO #bnha #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou

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holllandtrash · 1 year

Text

gone | daniel ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x driver!reader (part 3 to fragile line)

I just know You're not gone You can't be gone

The 2023 season is painful, its challenging and Daniel is still very much in your life in all the ways he shouldn't be.

word count: 9.9k (i dont even know how) warnings/tags: angst, heartbreak, all the painful stuff

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Do what?”

You exhaled a breath that made your entire body shake, “You know what, Daniel.”

Of course he did. For the last few months, he was experiencing the exact same things you were. The uncertainty, the tension, the sleepless nights, god you were so tired.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be you and him. You were supposed to be a team.

So much went wrong, too much. Daniel stood in front of you now as you asked yourself if you were too far gone.

And you both knew the answer to that one.

That first race back in Hungary…you were a mess. You probably would have been a little bit more put together had Oliver not pointed out the lineup for the driver’s press conference.

“You’re kidding,” your jaw dropped, staring at the list. “Who’s smart idea was it to put myself and Daniel together?”

“This is Formula 1,” Oliver sounded apologetic, he did feel bad about the situation. “The FIA doesn’t care if he’s your ex.”

The FIA didn’t care but the entire world watching did. Speculations on what would happen, where you would sit, what would be asked flooded social media.

When you showed up on Thursday, Lando patted your back and told you to breathe.

“Easier said than done, Lando. I don’t see you being forced to sit with your ex.”

He chuckled at that because you had a point. “Look, I love Danny, but don’t let him get to you, alright?”

Originally, Lando did try to switch the sessions. He talked to Zak, PR, everyone, just because he knew how much you were dreading it. But alas, it was you who was now standing outside the media room, leaning against the wall as you waited to go in and get these next twenty minutes over and done with.

Your plan was to just say as little as possible to everyone. You were banking on the fact that the attention would be solely on Daniel and his return, and that was made clear when he walked into the hallway, getting warm greetings from other drivers and those standing nearby.

He had absolutely no reason to stand next to you, not when there were about ten other people who would have been dying for a few seconds of his time.

Daniel cleared his throat, hands behind his back as he leaned against the wall as well.

You counted six seconds before he opened his mouth, speaking to you for the first time since the awards dinner months ago.

“Not even a hello?” He asked, but he wasn’t the least bit surprised that you were completely avoiding looking in his direction. You ignored him and Daniel laughed to himself at your lack of response.

The door opened again and you took a breath of relief when you realised you were about to be called into the press conference. Just get it over and done with.

Daniel didn’t have the same priorities and spoke up again, “I just want to know-”

You promptly cut him off, you had to. “Look I think it would be best if we just-” god this hurt, you couldn’t even look him in the eye. “Let’s just not talk, okay?”

You pushed yourself away from the wall when one of the media assistants handed each of you a mic and gave you the thumbs up that it was time for the five of you to head out onto the couch. Daniel quickly followed behind you, voice low enough that you could hear but it was unlikely anyone else could.

“So that’s it? You have nothing to say to me?” He asked. “For the person who got you into Formula 1?”

You as well spoke in a harsh whisper, “You may have fast tracked my career but I could have made it to Formula 1 without your help.”

You liked to believe that was true. Was it? You’d never know now.

“But you did take my help,” he pointed out, a groan slipping past his lips as he sat down on the couch. You made sure to distance yourself from him, leaving room for Carlos to sit between you. Even still, Daniel wasn’t done. “You took my help, my resources and then my seat.”

“And what did you do?” You hissed, arms crossed over your chest as different media personnel started to slowly trickle into the room, the lucky ones who claimed the first row were probably close enough to hear you and Daniel.

“Pardon?” He turned his head towards you. Carlos instinctively leaned further back, not wanting to be in the middle of this conversation, but watching and listening intently, as were the other drivers.

“What did you do, hmm?” You repeated, eyes scanning the growing crowd before you snapped your head in his direction.

For a moment, this feud didn’t matter. Your heart skipped a beat, like it had the hundreds, thousands, of other times when his eyes met yours. The same brown eyes that for months you allowed yourself to get lost in. One look from him and everything around you faded to black. Nothing else seemed important when Daniel was looking at you, giving you his undivided attention.

But this moment wasn’t like all of those other ones.

You snapped out of it, returning to your original thought, much to Carlos’ dismay as he thought you guys were done and had started to relax in between you.

“We both replaced a driver before their contract was up, Daniel.” You stated, wanting to point out the hypocrisy in his actions. “You are no better than me. We did the exact same thing.”

“It wasn’t the same and you know it,” Daniel retorted, not skipping a beat. He had those words lined up for weeks now, waiting for the chance to say them because there was no way in hell you weren’t going to point out the similarities in your actions.

But Daniel was right. It wasn’t the same. The biggest difference being, you were in love with Daniel when you signed that contract with McLaren, and he was in love with you.

It wasn’t just a driver screwing over another driver. You drove a wedge between the two of you.

You had the thought to stand up and walk out. The press conference hadn’t officially started yet, the last few reporters were just finding their seats. You could say you’re ill, something came up, really any excuse to get out of here and away from Daniel’s harsh stare.

Don’t let him get to you. Lando’s reminder floated to the front of your mind and you forced yourself to just sit back and look at the small crowd instead. It was clear to everyone who even glanced your way that you did not want to be sitting there, but thankfully Tom Clarkson got the session up and running.

Of course Daniel was the star. Tom had questions about his return, about his short break, about being back with familiar faces. Daniel answered them all with such ease, the familiar heartwarming grin on his face that you couldn’t bear to look at.

You zoned out, really, arms crossed in front of your chest as you tried to ignore the double standards coming from your right. You doubted Daniel was going to get as much hate online as you had gotten. No one was asking him how he felt about taking another’s seat, everyone was just happy he was back.

“And Y/N, onto you-”

You snapped your head up, plastering on your best smile.

“Last year you finished quite high in Hungary in Formula 2 and after your best finish out in Silverstone, you must feel quite confident going into this weekend?”

You lifted the mic up to your lips, “Yes and no, you know the car’s upgrades are proving to be paying off and we’re hoping to use them to our advantage this weekend but one can never be too confident. As a team we’ll be fighting to be at the front again but in the back of our minds we know that everyone else is doing the same.”

Tom nodded, content with that answer, “And is it nice to have another familiar face on the grid? Daniel acted as a sort of mentor for you during your time in F2, did he not?”

You tensed up and next to you, Carlos felt it. He nudged his arm against yours, a subtle move of encouragement. Carlos, like most of the drivers, knew how uncomfortable the situation was for all involved.

But you couldn’t process the kind gesture. Not when you could practically feel Daniel staring at you, burning holes into the side of your head as he waited for your response.

“I think, yeah a lot of people are probably happy to welcome him back,” you spoke quietly, and not at all convincing. But hey, at least you removed yourself from the answer and gave a general response. One that no one could flip on you.

Tom tried, though, “But personally, what’s going through your mind right now?”

You had so much media training. You knew the proper answer would be something along the lines of how Daniel is a great asset to the sport and how the grid is better with him. Nothing personal, but just facts the general public could agree with. You knew what to say.

But you scoffed instead, “Why aren’t you asking the other drivers how they feel?”

Max spoke up from the opposite end of the couch, “It’s great having Daniel back.”

You shot him a quick, yet thankful, smile. While he was good friends with Daniel, anyone on that couch could see how that question was only given to you because of your history with the Australian. And this press conference was supposed to be about motorsport, about the racing coming up.

You stayed quiet for the rest of it and as soon as it ended you bolted out of that room.

Unfortunately, so did Daniel.

He caught up to you with ease, “Hold up, Y/N, I want to talk.”

Daniel reached for your arm and you pulled it out of his grasp as you turned around to face him, “I don’t think there’s anything left to say. No, you said plenty last year. What was it, exactly? Something about how taking your seat before your contract was even up was the worst thing I could have possibly done? I’m not going to sit there and listen to everyone praise you for coming back when you dragged my name through the dirt for the exact same fucking move. I’m not going to listen to a single thing you have to say, knowing you’re the biggest hypocrite this sport has ever seen but won’t admit it.”

Daniel huffed out a short breath. For a second, you thought he was going to apologise, but that thought quickly left when his forehead creased, his jaw tightening, “Sometimes you gotta burn a few bridges in this industry, but you figured that out all on your own, didn’t you?”

You shook your head, taking a few more steps backwards as heavy sarcasm dripped from your tongue, “Nice to have you back, Daniel.”

It really was anything but nice. Not when that entire race was focused on how you and Daniel interacted in the paddock- or the lack of interaction was probably a better way to phrase it. Everyone knew you two to be connected at the hip. Now you were turning around and walking in the opposite direction to avoid him.

The next race was worse. Spa. It was a challenging track already, you knew this going into the practice sessions. You were prepared for a difficult weekend.

What you weren’t prepared for was leaving the garage towards the end of Q1 to set a lap time, only to be blocked by Daniel before you could cross the finish line. He slowed down before the straight, like many drivers did before giving it all they had on their way to start a flying lap.

But Daniel didn’t speed up like you expected him to. He kept you behind him for as long as he could before shifting gears and taking off. When it was your turn to cross the line and get your time started, you heard the call come in from the garage.

“Times up,” your engineer, Ronnie, said through the radio. “You didn’t cross the line in time.”

Once that timer hit 0, no one was allowed to start a new lap. Every other driver made it across in time, but Daniel’s little move kept you from throwing your hat into the ring for Q2.

You embarrassingly made your way back around the track, pulling into the pit lane to park in the garage. It wasn’t long before other drivers followed, but they had all set lap times. Climbing out of the car, you noticed that Daniel didn’t make it through either.

Serves him right, you thought.

God, you wanted to give him a piece of your mind.

Right on time, you watched on the screen as Daniel dove into the pit lane. You ignored the calls from Ronnie and Oliver, not a single thought in your mind except to ask Daniel what his problem was.

Oliver knew what you were doing as soon as you stepped out of the garage. You ripped your helmet off and shoved it into his hands as he hurried to walk at your pace. Your eyes were set on the AlphaTauri garage just up ahead and you could hear Oliver warning you, telling you to just turn around and go back to McLaren but the second you saw Daniel get out of his car, you snapped.

“What the hell was that?” You asked, eyeing him up from where he stood at the garage opening.

Daniel wasn’t the least bit surprised to see you, but he did stand up straighter, already anticipating whatever you had to say to him.

“You’re a prick, you know that?” Your insult did little to offend him.

“It's not my fault you left the garage late,” Daniel shrugged, taking no responsibility for your inability to set a lap time.

“It’s completely your fault for slowing down more than necessary.”

“I didn’t want to run into traffic.”

“You fucked up my qualifying, Daniel.”

You felt Oliver’s hand on your shoulder. He wasn’t trying to pull you away, but the touch was to get your attention. Aside from AlphaTauri crew members watching this interaction, there was also a camera pointed directly at the two of you, streaming live to F1TV and whatever else broadcast that chose to air it.

Daniel wasn’t as concerned about his media appearance, stepping forward the slightest bit so you were only inches apart.

“If I were you, sweets, I wouldn’t be blaming your problems on the person who got you into this sport.”

You were so close to losing it on him for that comment. You probably would have, had he not thrown in his old nickname for you. Only it wasn’t sweet anymore. There was a distaste on his tongue as he said it, you heard it. He only said it to throw you off, to remind you that he no longer cared for you the way he used to. He was using it against you now.

Daniel saw the way you froze, completely losing your train of thought and he used it to his advantage to walk away from this conversation. He was happy to get the last word in and all you could do was drop your head and walk as close to Oliver as humanly possible as you made your way back to McLaren.

The altercation was heavily split down the middle by all who watched. Some people agreed that Daniel slowed down purposely to keep you from crossing the line in time to start a lap. They also agreed that he should have owned up and apologised for it, saying that it wasn’t in his character to leave another driver so defeated after something that was clearly his fault.

Other people agreed that it was your fault for leaving the garage too late, taking Daniel’s side. They said that it wasn’t very mature of you to confront him like that, or to swear at him. It only added to the conversation of how women weren’t ready to have a place in Formula 1.

Your PR manager advised you to put out a statement about it, an apology. You ignored her advice. In your opinion, the only person who had to apologise was Daniel.

Of course he didn’t, though.

Which meant you didn’t apologise when after the summer, In Zandvoort, you braked a little early when Daniel was behind you. You played it off saying you anticipated the turn too early. Daniel happily complained about you in the media pen when he was forced into the grass and then ultimately the barrier, forcing his race to end early. Social media blew up, like usual, feeding into this childish feud.

That’s how it went for most all, of the races. It wasn’t as though you were purposely trying to ruin his weekends, nor was it his goal to ruin yours, but if you happened to be alongside each other during the race or near each other during qualifying, fans started to put their money on who would target who first.

You didn’t like that that was what your weekends turned into. It was one thing to want to know where the rest of the drivers were in comparison to you, but to be so focused on Daniel was taking it to the extreme.

But you were determined to prove you were a good driver without him, that you were a better driver than him. That taking that McLaren seat wasn’t a mistake and if anything, he should be regretting being so harsh on you. You wanted him to eat his words, and it helped your case that he was definitely struggling in the AlphaTauri.

You finished ahead of him a handful of times. You could try and convince yourself it was skill, but a determining factor really was how horrible Daniel’s car was. That was proven when you were struggling with an upgrade package in Singapore. Some analysts compared the pace of the McLaren to the AlphaTauri, and said that the upgrades were really more like downgrades.

When Daniel finished ahead of you, claiming sixth that race while you crossed the line in 17th, you were furious. You told the team that as a whole, you were much better than that. That the McLarens should not be finishing in the bottom five considering how successful you had been mid season.

Those closest to you knew what you meant. You shouldn’t be finishing behind Daniel.

Things weren’t perfect after that, despite going back to the old set up. You were back to fighting for points, but so was Daniel. And you hated it. You thought you could rely on the McLaren being better than the AlphaTauri, but you forgot to take into account that Daniel truly was one of the best drivers on the grid.

It got to the point where you and Ronnie had a code. If you finished ahead of him, on the radio, Ronnie would say way to go champ. If Daniel finished ahead of you and you weren’t already aware of it during the race, Ronnie would say there’s still work to be done.

Again, those closest to you knew how much it meant to beat Daniel.

You wanted to prove to him, and everyone but you wouldn’t lie to yourself it was mostly him, that you deserved that fucking seat. That you made the right choice by signing the contract, despite it meaning he was without a car for a few months. You shouldn’t have felt guilty for putting yourself first, your career first, if you were doing something great, which you were.

Plus, the better you did, the less of a reason Daniel had to judge you. How could he still be upset with you for taking that McLaren seat when you were doing what he couldn’t? Scoring in the high points, being consistent, for the most part. How could he say that taking his seat was the worst thing you could have done when ultimately, it would boil down to jealousy? Daniel struggled in that McLaren, and he assumed you would too. That wasn’t the case.

And deep down, even if you didn’t want to admit it, there was still a part of you that aimed to make Daniel proud. Even if you couldn’t get back to when you were each other's biggest fans, you hoped that he had moments when he looked at the driver standings and nodded to himself, smiling maybe, because even if you weren't on the best of terms, you were doing what he always knew you could do.

You had no idea, but moments like that did come for Daniel. They were far and few between, rarely caught on camera or at least, never brought to your attention. You had no way of knowing Daniel was leaving the AlphaTauri garage, conflicted about how he felt about your accomplishments. You were doing better than him, there was no denying that. He just chose not to admit it.

The only time that season where you knew he was proud was at COTA. One of his favourite races on the calendar.

You qualified well, P3. That hadn’t happened since Silverstone. The race itself didn’t produce anything too horrible, aside from a few drivers at the back of the grid collided early on and unfortunately Daniel was one of them, being forced to retire.

You, though, you were flying. Your biggest competition was Lando who had started P2, again, similar to Silverstone. For most of the race, your job was to defend Carlos who was aiming for that podium, wanting to take P3 from you.

Typically, you would have boxed first. That’s usually what happened to give Lando the advantage. And with Carlos most likely being on an undercut strategy, you expected the call to come in to box ahead of him.

But that didn’t happen. Instead, you watched Lando pull into the pit lane, giving you the automatic second place position. In your mirrors, you watched as Carlos pulled into the pits as well.

“What’s going on?” You asked Ronnie through the headset.

“Plan F.”

Plan F was one you joked about, but never actually executed. Plan Fight you and Lando called it, but both of you knew that you’d never actually be given the go ahead to fight it out for the podium positions, not wanting to risk damage to the cars.

“Plan F?” You repeated, the shock in your voice evident. That made for good content on F1 Twitter.

“Box this lap,” Ronnie instructed before going on to explain. “Carlos is struggling with his pace, we believe his main goal will be to defend.”

From what you knew, Lewis was behind him, and if Carlos was struggling with his pace he wouldn’t be fighting for a podium, he’d be fighting to keep that fourth place position.

Which meant you and Lando were also free to fight.

Pitting for new tyres dropped you back a bit, but it didn’t take long at all until you were right on Lando’s tail again. You stayed there for the majority of the last half of the race, the gap wavering anywhere between half of a second to three seconds behind.

You tried to pass, truly. But Lando’s defensive game had always been strong. You looked for the opportunities in the corners, along the straights, but it wasn’t until the third to last lap did the chance come.

You had closed the gap as much as you could, not needing to worry about whoever was behind you, you figured it was still Carlos. As you approached the back straight, you knew Lando was expecting you to dart to the left in an attempt for an overtake on the inside, you had tried it in five out of the last ten laps and each time you were still left eating his dust.

You veered slightly to the left, giving Lando the impression that was your goal and the second he made the move to defend, you steered the car to the right and gave it everything you had. It was a tricky move, vying for the outside overtake going into the tight corner, but when it seemed to work out, you had the inside line for the following turn and Lando was soon in your mirrors.

He tried to take that position back, but you took advantage of the clear air and set off, determined for your first podium, determined to finish ahead of Lando.

Lando ended up claiming third, crossing the finish line only a second after you did. After a victory lap, where he jokingly flipped you off, the two of you pulled into parc ferme. Immediately, you collapsed into Lando, arms tight around him because not only was this a success for you, but for the team. Both McLaren drivers on the podium for the first time this season.

Through the cheers, you could hear Lando yell something about making history. Whether that was in regards to both of you or the fact that you were the first female to ever podium in F1, you weren’t sure. It didn’t matter anyway. You just knew you were proud.

You jumped into the arms of your team next, those standing behind the barrier. Adrenaline was pumping through you, you just wanted to celebrate with everyone. When you eventually took your helmet off, a few tears were streaming down your face and you didn’t even think about the risk of turning into the new George Russell crying meme.

You were shaking as you stood in the cool down room, too amped up to sit. Max had been through this dozens of times before. Nor was this Lando’s first podium either, but you were on top of the world.

The ceremony went by in a blur. As did the post race conference. You really did try to take in each second of it, thankful that Lando was there at your side the entire time. This entire process was new to you and if Lando wasn’t in your ear telling you to breathe, where to go, to enjoy the moment, you would have been a mess.

There was so much that happened following that race, there was no way you could have known what was going on with any of the other drivers. It wasn’t until you got back to your hotel room at the end of the day with instructions to ‘get changed because we’re going out’ from Lando, did you see what you had missed.

It felt like hours since you even looked at your phone. You had called your parents, but you didn’t have much time for anything else. Now that you were sat on the edge of your bed, you were able to scroll through your texts and notifications.

You were able to see the clip you were tagged in way too many times, on way too many platforms.

It was short, but any longer and you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. You clicked play and watched the video of you crossing the finish line. Lando was following behind, but whatever broadcast this was from didn’t care about his finish. The shot switched to Daniel, from where he stood in the AlphaTauri garage.

Whoever was filming caught his live reaction of you coming second at COTA.

The nod, the faint curl of the corner of his lips because as much as he tried, he couldn’t fight the smile on his face as he watched you take your first podium position in F1, something that he once dreamed for you.

But you not being part of his dreams anymore didn’t mean that he stopped wishing you accomplished yours.

This brought you back to the first video you watched of him a few years back, before you even met him, where he spoke so highly of you. He wanted you to succeed so badly back then and he wanted to be at your side while you did so.

Now here you were, succeeding, but where was Daniel?

Maybe that’s where some of his hostility lied. You didn’t need him, clearly. Or at least, that’s what he thought.

The reality was, you wanted to prove you could do this without him, but you wished you didn’t have to.

You were conflicted, you both were. And it didn’t help that you weren’t speaking civilly to each other because my god a simple conversation would probably do wonders for both of you.

That was Lando’s thought, as he sat down next to you in the booth and handed you the glass of coke, no rum much to his dismay. You didn’t drink during the season, even if you had something to celebrate, Lando knew this. Champagne on the podium was the only exception.

Tonight, though, as you sat in your thoughts and replayed the image in your mind of Daniel smiling up at the screen, you figured that another exception wouldn’t hurt.

You turned down the coke and grabbed his drink instead, downing it in one gulp and instantly regretting it because you were fairly certain it was tequila based and tequila just wasn’t something you ever enjoyed. Lando laughed and handed you the coke to chase it down with.

“You’re letting loose tonight?” He asked, sitting down beside you. His arm stretched across the bench behind your shoulders. He didn’t even try stifling his chuckle as you struggled with the bitter taste left in your mouth.

“I need to,” you answered.

“You deserve to,” he corrected. Lando reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet and then a sleek black card. He didn’t say anything to you, nor to the server who came by and knew that by him dropping the card on the table meant he was asking for bottle service.

It wasn’t long before you had a row of shots to split between the two of you and a few others who had crowded the booth, some you knew, some you didn’t. Not that it mattered, you just wanted to drink, you didn’t care who you were with.

Lando being there was a godsend, though. He knew that you were a lightweight and told you that the glass in your hand was a vodka soda when in reality he asked the server for you to just be given water after a few hours of the most carefree drinking he had ever witnessed from you.

The music was blaring, you had gotten up to dance at one point, but you kept finding your way back to the booth. Clubbing wasn’t your thing and Lando, whether he liked it or not, was an anchor for you tonight. He kept you safe, kept you from drowning in the sea of people and alcohol.

He could do a lot that night, but he couldn’t prevent the inevitable storm that was Daniel Ricciardo making an appearance at that Austin night club.

Lando saw him first and turned to you with the intention of suggesting that you both called it a night. But no words came out when he saw the painful look of desire and despair mashed together on your features as you spotted the Australian driver.

You didn’t drink often, but if you did, you would know that feelings are often elevated under the influence. You’d also know that alcohol lowers inhibition, giving you a false sense of security to say what was really on your mind.

“I don’t get it,” you spoke quietly and Lando leaned in closer to hear you over the music blasting from all corners.

“Get what?”

You pulled your gaze off of Daniel before you could accidentally make eye contact and looked at your teammate instead. He seemed concerned for you, he always did when Daniel was involved.

Lando always did what he could to get your mind off Daniel and the past. He was a good friend, a good person to have in your corner but he wasn’t who you wanted there at the end of the day. You had grown to love Lando, not in the way you loved Daniel, though, so you couldn’t deny that you wished it was the Aussie sitting next to you in the booth, celebrating your podium. You hated that you wanted that.

“Do you miss him, still?” Lando prompted, knowing you had lost your train of thought.

When you shook your head, Lando gave you a look that clearly showed he didn’t believe you, but it was true. You didn’t miss Daniel. What you felt was much worse.

“I don’t miss him,” you answered, glancing towards him again. He stood at the bar talking to a girl that you envied because at least she was talking to him. “But I think he’s my missing piece.”

You hadn’t felt whole since the day you and Daniel split. You walked out of his flat but you left a piece of you there, a piece you desperately tried to get back through race weekends and training and distractions but it was no use. It would always belong to Daniel and you feared he had no intention of giving it back. You feared, that no matter how much time had passed, you’d always feel a little incomplete.

You stood up to leave soon after, thanking Lando for the drinks and assuring him you’d send a text when you got back to the hotel.

Lando tried to follow you to the door, wanting to tell you that he would go with you, the concerned friend making another appearance, but before he could get a word out he watched as someone cut him off, also making a direct line towards the door of the club.

It took Lando a second to realise it was Daniel who was walking after you now. Lando just stood there and raised his hand to the back of his neck, asking himself if he had just made a mistake by not stopping Daniel.

When Lando asked the next morning if Daniel spoke to you, you gave him a questionable look, telling him that you didn’t talk to him at all. Lando explained that he had seen Daniel leave the club right after you, but you just shrugged, chalking it up to getting into the uber before Daniel had the chance to catch up to you.

But Lando saw the photos. He, like everyone else, saw images of Daniel climbing into the car right after you. He wasn't the least bit surprised you lied about it.

You didn't want to tell Lando that Daniel had grabbed the side of the car door before you could shut it, pulling it back just enough for him to slide into the backseat next to you. You shuffled over to make room, but you couldn’t get a single word out. All liquid courage vanished and instead your palms were clammy, the car felt stuffy and you couldn’t even look at him.

Daniel as well, didn’t say anything. His legs were spread out slightly, knee hitting yours as his hands were folded together in his lap.

Why did he follow you?

This was the first time in ages you had been alone together, minus the driver.

The hotel was a short drive away, but it felt like ages, the two of you sitting in uncomfortable silence. You weren’t bickering like you often did if you were in the same room, but at this point you’d rather that than whatever this eeriness was.

You thought maybe, maybe, this was your saving grace. Maybe Daniel had followed you out of the club to tell you he was proud of you, to tell you he still loved you, to tell you he was tired of this feud and wanted you back.

But the longer you sat in silence, the more it sank in that that wasn’t the case.

You used to love each other. Now you couldn’t even hold eye contact.

Daniel waited until the driver pulled onto the street of your hotel before saying anything.

“Checo’s gone after this year.”

You turned to him, unsure if you had heard correctly. “What?”

“He’s gone,” Daniel repeated, more confident this time, still not looking at you though. “Marko told me on Friday.”

You had way too much alcohol flowing through your system to be able to process this. Checo’s contract wasn’t supposed to be up until the end of 2024.

But Nyck’s wasn’t supposed to be up in June and Daniel’s wasn’t supposed to be done at McLaren in 2022. These things happened in Formula 1, as unfortunate as it was for the driver getting the boot, these things often happened.

And Daniel…why did he know this information? Why didn’t the rest of the grid know it? Did Checo even know?

You inhaled sharply, “Does this mean-”

“The news is dropping tomorrow morning, but I wanted you to know first,” Daniel cut you off, his forehead creased with tension. His jaw was clenched, like he wasn’t happy to be saying this but felt the need to anyway. “I’m driving for Red Bull next year.”

The first thought that came to mind was he’s done it again. Taking another driver's seat before their contact ended. 2-1 now. He was officially a shittier person than you were and you so badly wanted to rub it in his face.

But you could see now that that was why he told you personally. He didn’t want to wait until you heard the news like everyone else, he didn’t want to give you an opportunity to attack him for this, to make him feel like the bad guy even though that’s how he made you feel this entire season so far.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t all that difficult to bite your tongue.

“Congratulations,” you settled on, quietly but you meant it and you caught him off guard because he truly was expecting some sort of lashing out.

The driver pulled up to the hotel right at that second and you thanked him before stepping out, not giving Daniel a second look, again catching him off guard because you always looked back at him when you were together.

Daniel waited a second. And then a few more before he bolted out of the car and into the hotel. You had made it to the elevator by that point and Daniel had to slide his hand between the doors to keep them from shutting. You watched as he pushed his way in and just like the car ride, said nothing.

You were on your way up to the twelve floor and Daniel waited until you arrived at the level before opening his mouth, waiting till the last second, wanting to cling onto this civil moment with you because who knew when it would come again?

“You’re not mad?” He asked.

The door opened and you had to brace yourself before standing up straight and walking out of the elevator, needing a moment to remember what side of the hall your room was on.

“I’m livid,” you answered, honestly. You were happy for him, but you were also angry about the situation. You didn’t know it was possible to feel both things at once, but in your drunk state, it was extremely possible.

“Livid?” Daniel walked behind you, trying to gauge the rest of this conversation because you didn’t sound livid.

“Enraged,” you said.

“Enraged,” he repeated.

“I want to wring your neck, Daniel,” you said, hearing him chuckle behind you because you didn’t sound the least bit threatening as you fumbled to unlock the hotel room door. The lock kept lighting up red and after your third failed attempt, Daniel took the card from your hand and unlocked it with ease, pushing the door open for you.

You didn’t thank him, instead relying on the wall once you stepped inside to lean against as you pulled your heels off. Daniel followed you inside, standing at a cautious distance until you dropped your shoes because part of him thought that maybe you would throw them at him. You were enraged after all.

You weren’t sure why he was still there. He had told you what he wanted to tell you and he had no reason to still be hanging around.

“What?” You finally asked, now sounding a little more on the annoyed side as you turned to stare at him. “What do you want? Why are you still here?”

“I want to talk.”

“About what?” You scoffed at him. “About the Red Bull contract? Congratulations, Danny. You deserve it. You deserve every fucking seat on this grid apparently.”

There it was.

“I knew you were mad.”

“I said I was mad!” You exclaimed, appalled that he was saying it like he discovered what you had already made perfectly clear. “I’m pissed, Dan. You have such a cult following that no one is going to bat an eye at you taking Checo’s seat, just like no one complained about you taking Nyck’s. Whereas I do it, I get offered the chance of a lifetime, to make history and I’m considered the villain? I didn’t end your contract, Daniel, I just replaced you and for some reason, no one cares about that narrative! They just care about you.”

You were yelling now. Daniel was probably regretting having followed you but it was too late for him to turn and walk out at this point.

“You know what the shitty part is?” You asked, stepping closer to him. Daniel could smell the vodka on your breath. That's how minimal the distance was between you. The last time you were this close you were wanting to rip his head off outside the AlphaTauri garage.

“What?” He raised his eyebrows. Daniel couldn’t even begin to guess where you were going with this.

“This news is going to drop and my name is going to be circulating in the media again. They’re going to compare this, you taking his seat, to me taking yours. I will never be known as the first female signed to McLaren. I will forever be linked to you, no matter what you do in this fucking sport.”

You shook your head at him when he stayed silent. Pulling your eyes off of him, the heaviest exhale passed through your lips and you turned around, wanting this night to end. After you waved your hand in the air you muttered something about how he could see himself out.

But he didn’t go anywhere.

And because he didn’t go anywhere and because you were drunk, you easily thought of more to say.

“You didn’t even like McLaren,” you sighed as you turned back around to face him, leaning against the wall. Your head was spinning. Maybe if you were lucky, this conversation wasn’t actually happening and it was a drunk figment of your imagination.

“No, but I loved you.”

You definitely didn’t imagine him saying that.

“I loved you,” he repeated, the past-tense admittance felt like a stab to your chest. “And I wanted nothing more than to race alongside you without feeling the need to prove something, to be your partner off the grid. I wanted to love you and race at the same time and you ruined that.”

All you could do was shrug your shoulders. You had said everything you needed to say at this point in defence of your contract, “I’m a driver, Dan. The race, the seat, it comes first, everything else second. You of all people know that.”

“We could have had both.”

Both. Love and a spot in Formula 1.

Clearly not.

“Could we have?” You asked, unsure if you even had an answer, but you needed him to really think about it. To think about it if that really was a possibility for the two of you.

Daniel and you held each other's stares for a minute, waiting for the other to say something. You were still waiting, hoping, for him to say he was proud of you, that he still loved you, that it didn’t matter what happened in the past, but it did matter. Daniel was still waiting for a sincere apology, but you had nothing to apologise for. Signing that McLaren contract was the best thing you’d ever done for yourself, despite the strings to Daniel you had now found yourself tangled in, McLaren was where you were supposed to be.

“I’m tired, Dan,” you shook your head and glanced towards your room down the hall. Physically, mentally, you were drained. And you weren’t ready for what was to happen tomorrow when his contract news came to light.

It didn’t even feel like you had gotten a podium a few hours ago. The last thing you wanted to do was celebrate. You just wanted to crawl into bed and forget that Daniel had followed you here.

He didn’t stop you as you walked down the hall. He waited for you to look at him, but again, you were past that. What was a second look going to do at this point? You wiped your makeup off as best as you could and slid under the covers of your bed, quickly falling into a dreamless sleep.

And sure enough, the news dropped of his contract, of his new seat, and it wasn’t long before people started comparing it to what you had done the year prior.

The first thing you saw when you woke up that morning, aside from the glass of water that Daniel had put next to your bed, was the news alert on your phone stating that Daniel was to replace Checo for 2024.

The second article you read was about you. Speculating how you would feel about Daniel’s permanent return. The article highlighted the moments of your relationship, starting from the day he signed on to be your mentor to the time in the AlphaTauri garage when you were fighting over the qualifying lap he ruined.

And then there was a photo of you climbing into the car from last night, followed by Daniel getting into the car shortly after.

His name was trending. Your name was trending. Half the people online cared about his return to RBR. The other half wanted to know if you two were getting back together.

No one gave a single shit that you made history yesterday, landing that podium.

You were the first female to score a podium position in Formula 1 and all anyone cared about was your connection to Daniel. Just like when you won the Monaco Grand Prix during F2, all anyone cared about was Daniel’s influence in your racing. When you were signed to McLaren, all anyone cared about was how you were replacing Daniel.

Daniel. Daniel. Daniel.

People didn’t care about your accomplishments. They only wanted to find a way to connect them all to Daniel.

You scrolled through the article and a new one was suggested for you at the bottom of it. Why Y/N Y/L/N Owes Her Career to The Honey Badger.

Instead of reading it, you threw your phone with as much strength as you had down the hall, out of your sight. You heard it hit the floor and slide across the hardwood.

You couldn’t remember the last time you read something positive about yourself without a hint of Daniel’s influence.

This wouldn’t have been as hard of a pill to swallow if he was still in your life the way you wanted him to be. If he really was still at your side, supporting you, cheering you on, you could look past the articles and speculations about how he was the only reason you were in the sport. It wouldn’t matter what people were saying if Daniel was in your ear reminding you of your potential, reminding you that you deserved that F1 seat.

But he wasn’t going to do that, not anymore. What you had was gone and you were left with the bitter memories and an unforgiving path you had to walk alone to prove yourself in this field.

You wanted to prove you didn’t need Daniel, but the entire world was making it their mission to remind you that at one point, you did. Maybe you still did, maybe you didn’t know who you were without him because let’s face it, everything you did on the track still revolved around him.

You cared about where he finished. You went out of your way to outscore him and only him. You didn’t do anything to relieve the tension in the paddock. You were very much playing into the narrative that he was still a key player in your life.

How could the world move on if you hadn’t?

Hearing footsteps make their way towards you, you sat up in bed, already knowing it was Daniel who didn’t leave when he should have.

You weren’t concerned about your appearance, he had seen you in a much worse state. He had better mornings as well, still wearing his clothes from last night, the bags under his eyes gave away the fact that he was about as tired as you were.

He had your phone in his hands, but he didn’t spend much time looking at the article on the screen. Instead, he dropped it to the table next to him and leaned against the doorframe, exhaling a heavy breath.

You didn’t move, content with the distance between you now because you had to be. Despite wanting nothing more than to be with him, you couldn’t have that anymore. Everything had to be at a distance.

Your phone chimed. Once, twice, and then about four more times. You knew it was people telling you about Daniel’s contract, not knowing that you had been given the inside scoop last night.

At one point, you loved being connected to Daniel. Now, it was a burden. It was haunting. Each time someone mentioned him to you, sent you something about him, asked you a question about him, you were reminded that the connection was gone.

Your lips parted and you had to take a quick, self-assuring breath before finally saying what had to be said.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Do what?”

Your entire body trembled as you spoke, “You know what, Daniel.”

Of course he did. He was as tired as you were. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this and yet here you were, staring at each other knowing that you were both too far gone to ever find your way back.

You thought, maybe, possibly, you could work things out. For a brief moment, when you knew he was proud of you, you thought you saw a silver lining amongst the grey skies. And maybe you did, maybe it was there, but it was way beyond your grasp. You couldn’t reach out and grab it, you could only dream of it.

There was one solution. One that broke you, knowing you were stuck with it. You didn’t want to admit it. You wished you could push it down and keep living the way you had but you just couldn’t do it anymore.

You were tired. This was hopeless. You both needed closure, but he wasn’t going to say anything which meant you had to.

“I’m stuck, Daniel. I’m stuck living in the moments between the day we met and the day I left because those are the moments that meant the most to me and I haven't been ready to let them go. I’ve never wanted to move on but you forced me to. You forced me to become the bad guy, to do this without you, to grow without you, to prove that I don’t need you but I do need you, I’ve always needed you. From day one, I needed you. My first time in the F1 car, I needed you. If I crashed out, I needed you. I always needed you, Daniel, and then after a five minute conversation you decided that I didn’t anymore. You made that decision for me, for us.”

You paused, you took a breath, you weren’t done. Despite being so painfully close to breaking down, you weren’t done.

“And now here I am, finally succeeding, finally making history in this sport, but it doesn’t mean anything because no one cares unless they find a way to connect it to you. I will always be in the shadow of the man I love and for this entire season, I’ve let it happen because it was the only way you’d still be in my life.”

Daniel cleared his throat when he heard that four letter word, standing up a little straighter, “You still love me?”

You glanced down at the duvet wrapped around your hips. It was heavy, suffocating, much like this conversation. “Truthfully, Daniel, I can’t imagine the day I stop.”

Daniel didn’t need to say anything for you to know he no longer felt the same. He had stopped loving you the day you signed the contract with McLaren. He may have been proud of your achievements, he may have appeared to have extended a short olive branch, one that gave you false hope, but he didn’t love you.

Because it always came back to that one question. How could he love you- how could he be in your corner when you had pushed him out of his own? You may not have been the one to initiate his leave, but you gave him that final shove.

That was a move you had to live with.

“I love you,” you repeated, your eyes then trailing towards your phone where that stupid article was still displayed on the screen. “I always will, but I can’t be tied to you anymore. I can’t do this anymore.”

Even though Daniel was the one that had broken up with you all those months ago, this hurt more. Hearing you finally cut ties, knowing you didn’t want to be done but had to be, broke him. There was no salvaging this.

“I think-” your voice cracked as you spoke, but for the sake of this conversation you did your damn best to hold it together. “I think we need to be done.”

We are done, Daniel wanted to say, but he knew there was more to your words.

Watching your bottom lip quiver made him want to pull you into his arms one last time. He wanted to apologise and hold you close before the tears could fall.

“No more comments to the media,” you stated firmly. Daniel nodded.

You were stronger than him, maybe you always were. Daniel could barely get a word out and here you were, laying down what had to happen moving forward.

“No more interactions,” you then said, raising your hand to your arm, a soothing gesture or maybe an anxious one, he couldn’t tell. “No more- no more following me out of clubs for people to see. No more giving anyone a reason to connect us. I don’t want you in my life as anything more than another driver on the grid. You’re not my teammate. You’re not my partner. You’re not in my corner. I don’t want to worry about what you think about me anymore. I don’t want to worry about where you finish and I don’t want you to care about where I’m at. I want you to focus on driving just like I want to focus on driving. That’s it. That’s who we are. We’re drivers, Daniel. That’s all we’ve ever been. Strip back every layer of us and racing remains. That’s how it should be. We’ve-” you sucked in a breath, your words getting caught in your throat for a second. “We’ve always known that, I think. That at the end of it all, we’re drivers first. We were foolish to think we could be anything more.”

You couldn’t have both. You couldn’t be in love while on the grid together.

You were only ever drivers. That’s why you signed the McLaren contract. That’s why Daniel didn’t think twice before replacing Nyck and now Checo. You both put your careers first. It wasn’t selfish, it was in your blood, and you couldn’t hold it against each other anymore.

And you couldn’t hold onto it either.

As much as you liked to think there would come a day where you would still be in love, both of you on the grid, you accepted now that it would never happen. It was a dream, one you had to let go of. You had to mend the hole in your chest that he created. You couldn’t let him be that missing piece.

You had to respect Daniel as a driver, much like he had to with you. But that was it. No more conversations. No more subtle comments made about each other or to each other. You needed distance. No more missed looks in the paddock, because surely someone with a camera would catch it. No more watching the screen if the other was showcased. No more petty feuds. No more interactions. No more caring.

You had to cut ties with Daniel. It was the only way you could focus on yourself and your career.

Surely, enough time would pass where an article would be written about you that didn’t mention his name and his assistance in getting you to where you were now. But that wouldn’t happen if you were still holding onto him. You had to let go for the rest of the world to.

Daniel pushed himself away from the wall without saying a word. You watched, tense, as he slowly made his way towards you and sat down next to you on the bed. Knees touching like they were in the car ride last night. As you turned your head and stared up at him, you could make out the details in his face that you used to cherish, that you had memorised so early on in your relationship.

But he had changed. There was a sliver of unfamiliarity in his eyes, a reminder that this wasn’t the Daniel who was in love with you anymore.

You had to look away.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” you whispered. You kept your hands folded in your lap, worried that if you unclenched your fingers you would reach out for him.

Daniel nodded, agreeing with you. He raised his arm up, tucking it over your shoulders and pulling you against his side. You inhaled a sharp breath at the gesture, knowing this would be the last time you’d feel his touch. He rubbed his hand over your arm, neither of you thinking to say anything else, because there really was nothing left to say.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

You were supposed to be in love.

And maybe, in another world, you would be. If you didn’t make the move to F1, you could still be in love. If you settled with F2, if you moved to a different series, he could still support you and you could still be his biggest fan.

But you were drivers. Career focused, determined, passionate drivers who wanted nothing more than to win. You both craved the honour and prestige of a Formula 1 seat more than anything, more than each other. You’d be lying if you thought otherwise.

You were drivers, so inevitably, it was always going to end like this.

__________________

is this the finale or is there one more chapter for these loveless drivers?

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for some reason im struggling to add anyone else to the taglist, i deeply apologise. i would recommend turning on post notifs but i know its sometimes annoying, but i rly am struggling with my mentions

#daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #danny ric #dr3 #f1 fics #formula 1 x you #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo au

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lululandd · 3 months

Text

mutual;

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x f!reader

word count: 1.3k+

warnings: stalking, drugging

note: i have nothing planned for the rest of the story so please bear with me and maybe go on this adventure together :3 (also on AO3)

summary: “it wasn’t supposed to make you sick, love.” he sighed as he knelt down, “just wanted to make you sleep.”

you woke up in annoyance that night, seeing that it was still dark outside when you opened your eyes. you had went so far as to order carb heavy food for dinner earlier, finishing it off with some medicine to hopefully, finally, at long last, get a good night’s sleep.

and yet here you are, eyes wide open in the dead of night. it had been a rough couple of weeks, your mind running circles and staying alert every night, leaving you irritable and unable to focus or function during the day.

getting some of your senses back as you lie flat on your back—staring at the ceiling contemplating all the good night’s sleep you had before all this happened—you shivered and realised something’s wrong with your body. you felt chilly, and when you touched your arm it felt damp. bile quickly came up the back of your throat when you tried to sit up, your eyes widening as a rush of adrenaline flows through you, giving you enough panic and energy to get out of bed.

making it only to the sink, you thank yourself for even being able to hold it back that long and not hurling everything out on the floor.

bracing yourself on the counter, you start to wonder what you ate that could possib—

click.

what was that?

you hunched lower towards the sink, expelling what looked like the rest of your dinner. the sound of your front door being opened and closed made your mind race and your nausea worse, coughing spit and phlegm into the sink. your hands shook as you turned the tap, all your energy spent on heaving and keeping yourself upright. large beads of sweat rolled down your temple as you watched the water swirl, shuddering as you feel the back of your shirt sticking to your skin.

mentally, you want to fight off the intruder. physically? you’re lucky to even be vertical right now. staring at the running water, you wish and hope it’s just a robber.

you wobbled towards the toilet—your legs felt like it would fold like a cheap umbrella if you stood any longer—and lifted the plastic seat before kneeling in front of it, bracing both sides of the bowl, the coldness from the tiles and the porcelain bringing some relief on your burning skin.

the bathroom door opened wider and something big stepped into the room with you.

“my bag is in the hallway. there’s—“ you dry heaved, “—cash in it. i haven't seen your face.”

“allright?” the man spoke.

“pl—“ nausea took hold again before you could speak. you chose to just wave and look away. but his footsteps came closer and closer, forcing you to screw your eyes shut to avoid seeing him entirely.

“offended you thought i was here for money.” he drawled, his deep and gruff voice sounding oddly calm. “im worried.”

your whole body jolted, involuntarily opening your eyes and turning your face towards him. through your tear filled eyes you could see a hulking dark shape of a man with a skull printed balaclava for a face.

“please just take the money,” you begged and sniffled, limp hand pointing at the general direction of where your valuables would be on the other side of the wall.

“the food wasn’t supposed to make you sick, love.” he sighed as he knelt down next to you, “just wanted to make you sleep.”

he helped hold your hair up as you threw up pure acid this time, making you cough and sputter harder into the bowl. his other hand holds your forehead, steadying you as you swayed. it brought you a sense of troubled comfort, being helped by a stranger that broke into your home.

seeing you no longer have anything in your system to force back out, he gently picked you up from the floor. you feebly try to push away from him—like a sickly wet spaghetti trying to push a concrete wall—as he makes his way to your room.

he had put you down on your bed and made his way towards your armoire when you realised something that made your body sit still.

your room was still dark. hell, the whole flat was practically dark. the only other source of true light other than the streetlamps shining through your curtains was from the opened bathroom door. there wasn't any hesitation in his steps when he brought you in. no glancing around or fumbling on his part.

you could only watch him in muted horror as he bent over your armoire, immediately opening the drawer that holds your home clothes. “you’ve been here before.” you half whispered.

“couple times, yeah.” he nonchalantly admitted as he rifled through your clothes, grabbing shirts and moving it closer to his face before putting them back and doing it again with another.

you wildly look around the room, wondering if you could outrun him. no, no, not through the door of course, he was closer to it than you are, but the window, yes, the window. that’s closer to you than it is to him. you eyed the window, prepping all the steps you would need to do before you could flung yourself out of it. if you’re fast enough, and quiet enough, you coul—

he straightened his back at that exact moment and turned towards you with one of your favourite shirts in his hands. you saw the peeling glitter font shimmered for a fraction of a second before he dropped it in your lap.

he then turned around and stepped away, giving you what little privacy he could while still keeping you close.

you changed at a sluggish pace, keeping your eye on his back the whole time with the perfectly rational fear that he’ll turn around, catching you mid change; as if you could do anything if he did.

thankfully he didn’t.

being dry felt nice. you’re still shivering a little and you felt like you’ve just swallowed an acorn after running a marathon, but at least you’re dry and no longer cold and sticky. you spent what little freedom you didn’t know you had left to watch his broad back instead of telling him you’re done. now that you have some space and a little energy to think, you wonder if you’ve seen him anywhere before; wracking your brain to try and remember if maybe you recognise his silhouette or imposing shape from somewhere. would paying more attention to your surroundings help? do you need to remember who you’ve seen and where you’ve seen them? where does the line for caution stop and paranoia begins?

you didn’t even notice him turning around and walking towards you, you gaze empty as you keep thinking about all the little things you should’ve noticed, how big of a mistake it was to not pay attention to large men, how—

a soft touch on your forehead snapped you out of your thoughts, the back of his hand reaching out to feel your temperature. the gesture felt so loving and familiar that you involuntarily closed your eyes, his touch on your scorching skin made the discomfort and ache a little more bearable.

but relief was cut short by a sharp prick on the side of your neck, your hand flying up towards the source of the pain to catch it but finding nothing.

something thin and shiny on his lowering hand caught your attention as your vision blurred and the edges darken. “wha—”

“don’t fight it.” he cuts you off as you try to speak, his voice commanding you from far away. you could only watch as the gleaming material disappeared into his clothes.

for the first time that night you voluntarily looked up towards his face, but he pushed you down on the bed and covered your eyes before you could remember anything worthwhile.

it’s getting increasingly harder to stay awake, mumbling something to him you couldn’t even remember as your eyelids get heavier; lashes fluttering onto his palms everytime you blink.

you could feel his breath on the side of your face, but when he spoke to you it sounded faint, as if from even further away.

“sleep well.”

even in your barely conscious state you could hear the smile in his voice.

#call of duty #call of duty imagines #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #scuffed writing #not yandere yet but maybe it will?

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lillsisamarshmallow · 5 months

Text

Hickeys, Houses, and Heated gazes (16)

Summary: Y/n confronts Jungkook and this new 'discovery', whilst dealing with confronting opinions an awkward 'family' dinner ensures. Y/n learns a little more about her hybrids and they begin the search for their new house, but Jungkook doesnt seem to be the only jealous Hybrids that she has to deal with.

Word count: 6.5k

Warnings: Marking, Let me know if I missed any!

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“Jungkook!”

I scrambled my way out of the bathroom as after I yelled out his name, my feet almost slipped on the tiles as I rushed out, but I was just able to catch myself by gripping onto the door frame. My feet swung out whilst the top half of my body stayed glued to the wall as I hung on for dear life before trying to regain my balance and pull myself up. As I looked at the man in question, he was still fast asleep on the bed with his arms now wrapped around a pillow that had taken my place.

“Jungkook! Jungkook! Wake up you idiot!” I stomped my way over to the bed and started trying to shake him awake, but he kept sleeping calmly, simply rolling onto his back, and lifting his arm up to cover his face. Frustrated at him, I wacked him in his stomach a few times, not enough to hurt, but hopefully enough for him to wake up. Finally, he groaned and reached one hand up to his eye and rubbed it before opening them and perching himself up on his elbows as he looked at me tiredly.

“Hmm? What’s wrong Y/n?”

“Did you seriously give me a hickey, Jungkook?” I fumed as I pulled back the hoodie so it was clearly insight, his faced warped into confusion until he caught a glimpse of my neck and his face dropped slightly as he realised what was wrong, he sat up higher and I leaned in closer so he could get a better look at the damage he caused.

I caught the slight change in his expression from the corner of my eyes, so I pulled back to look at him fully. He still looked tired, but I could see that his once concerned slightly upturned mouth had now warped into a proud smirk as he kept his eyes locked onto my neck like he was admiring his work. He smirked.

“Kook!'' I softly yelled and wacked his shoulder with my hand. I took a step backwards and stood up straight, turning to the side, placing my hands on my lower back before pulling them up to grasp my head on the sides. “Are you kidding me?”

I turned to look back at him as I asked him again, he was sitting up on the side of the bed now as he faced me. He just smiled innocently at me, closing his eyes as he reached back to scratch that back of his head, his hair was a mess, pieces stuck out in all directions and it was just as fluffy as his dark brown rabbit ears that sat up straight on his head, ones slightly bent forwards. I sighed out in annoyance as I walked back to the bathroom and leaned over the sink to get a better look at the darker patch of skin on my neck.

I poked and prodded at it for a while, it was definitely a hickey with Jungkook’s teeth marks denting into my skin. I can't believe he did that. My face heated up from embarrassment as I leaned down to rest my elbows onto the basin and my head into my hands, I let out a loud sigh at the situation. How am I supposed to cover that up?

As I looked back up into the mirror, I could see the culprit in question standing behind me and staring right back at me, his boyish grin showing his bunny teeth made it hard to be mad at him. I turned around to face him as he took a step towards me so we were standing in front of each other. I sighed out loud as I leaned my head onto his chest, I moved my arms from my sides and rested them in front of me, wrapping them loosely around my stomach and crossing them over each other. Jungkook’s breathing caused me to move along with his chest, the silence was loud as I debated on what to do. I couldn't explain the emotions swirling inside of me, i felt uneasy and embarrassed about it, but i couldn't just ignore the butterflies in my stomach or how oddly captivating it was to look at, how i could feel my heartbeat in my throat and my chest felt impossibly tight, like a boa constrictor had found its next meal. Most of all, I couldn't ignore the twang of guilt that pulled at my heart. I let out a jagged breath that I held in for far too long as I stared down at our feet whilst not saying a word.

I tightened my arms over my chest and around to my sides as I looked up at him, he towered over me, but I didn't feel nervous.

“I can't believe you.” I muttered to him in disbelief as he just seemed to chuckle at me, he wasn't taking this seriously. Was I taking it too seriously? I mean, it's just a hickey, it’ll go away, but… I grunted as I kept thinking about it.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” He said with a shy smirk still on his face. He was not sorry. I rolled my eyes and faced away from him. I felt him lean in closer to my neck, his fingers grazing ever so lightly over the spot, he seemed unexplainably happy as he admired his handy work until I swatted his hand away.

“How am I supposed to hide this, Jungkook?” I whined whilst pointing at the spot.

“Hide it? Why would you hide it?” He asked genuinely.

“Because-”

A knock on the door tore us both away from the conversation as I turned and balanced on one foot as I poked my head out of the bathroom to see the door. Jisoo’s voice came through the door as she started talking.

“Y/n? Jungkook? Are you guys awake? I just wanted to let you know that we’ll be having dinner soon. If you're still asleep, I'll set some aside for you both.”

I yelled out to let her know that we would be down soon, she said okay, then I heard her footsteps disappear down the hallway.

Abandoning mine and Jungkook's conversation, I moved away from him and began to grab out something more decent to wear rather than just this hoodie from my bag. I grabbed all my clothes and made my way over to the bed, but just as I was about to pull the hoodie over my head, I remembered the other person in the room.

“Out.” I said to him as I began ushering him towards the door so I could get changed in peace, he acted confused and wanted to argue with me as I tried pushing him to the door.

“What? Why? I was here last time.” He suggested, like it was no problem at all. My face went red as I remembered him showing up out of nowhere after I got changed before my nap.

“Yeah-well, this is ‘this time’ and I say, no.” I declared as I finally got him on the other side of the door. I closed the door as he stood on the other side with a cheeky grin, I huffed out before telling him that I would meet him downstairs in a bit.

I quickly changed and decided to tidy up my hair so it would sit over the mark, to cover it since it was way too dark to cover up with simple makeup and wearing a scarf inside would only cause more curiosity from the other people in the house. I spent way too long trying to make sure my hair was in the right place before I finally headed down into the kitchen. Everyone turned to me as I made my way over to the only spare seat left, I smiled as I sat down in my seat, Jungkook was to my left and Jimin sat to my right.

Me and Jisoo fell into conversation as we ate the food, the boys and Jennie and Lisa stayed quiet for the most part, occasionally chipping in to whatever we were chatting about something they found interesting, or that they knew about. Something was definitely off, all the hybrids, even Jennie and Lisa, seemed to be on edge about something, the boys looked almost nervous, and the girls appeared to be irritated at something.

I’ll have to ask the boys if they're okay later. I thought to myself.

The whole night Jungkook had kept messing with my hair, trying to pull it to the opposite side, which would have made his mark visible, I did my best to act calm and like nothing was wrong as I quickly moved one hand to cover my neck and the other to put my hair back in place, unfortunately, Jimin, who was sitting right next to me, had noticed the back and forth between me and Jungkook.

I could feel eyes on me, but whenever I tried to find who they belonged to everyone seemed to be doing their own things. I quickly whacked Jungkook on the hand as he tried it again, moving my hair to the other shoulder. I fully turned to face him as I looked up into his brown eyes.

“Seriously, Jungkook. Stop it!” I hissed quietly, only for his ears to hear, as I was becoming increasingly more annoyed at this game of his. As I was locked in a stare down with the bunny, who just looked back at me cheekily, I was shocked when I felt someone's fingers lightly brush over the other side of my neck. I jumped and pulled back before turning to face the other way, Jimin still had his hand held out from where he was touching my neck, his face said it all, he had seen it.

He wore a shocked expression with a slight hint of hurt and jealousy, his mouth was open, and I quickly signal to him ‘zip it’. I moved my hair back to the right side and tried to get back to having a normal dinner. As I turned to focus my attention back on the table, everyone's eyes seemed to be looking at the 3 of us.

My face heated up from embarrassment and I tried to play it cool. I coughed a bit to break the silence before starting up a random conversation with everyone to hopefully drag the attention away from me and the two men next to me.

“So…How was everyone’s day?”

Everyone was looking down at their plates of food, the only sound in the air after my question was the sound of knives scratching against the china plates and some people chewing. The silence was awkward, and the tension was thick for what was supposed to be a regular household dinner.

“Well, someone got run over at work today.” I heard Jisoo speak up from her seat, I stared at her for a second, trying to see if she was joking, she was not. She didn't say anything else, and the room quickly plunged back into the awkward feeling.

Desperate to escape this atmosphere I made another attempt to have a normal conversation. “Jisoo, this tastes great! Is it a family recipe?”

Jisoo smiled back at me before attempting to answer. “Thanks! Yeah, my parents taught me how to cook-”

“So, how did you guys meet Y/n?”

We all turned to the voice that had interrupted Jisoo before she could finish, Lisa sat in her seat next to Jennie with a polite and curious smile on her face, but her eyes seemed to hold an ulterior motive.

I swallowed the food I was halfway through chewing, and it felt like it made the loudest noise, before awkwardly looking around slightly at the others. That question was very out of nowhere and it wasn't mine to answer. I looked over to Namjoon, who sat next to Jin. He seemed taken aback by the question and did not appear to be interested in answering it as he looked down at his food and kept pushing it around on the plate.

“It’s a long story.” Jimin spoke up, sarcasm in his voice, he seemed overly annoyed and i was sure it wasn't just from the question.

“We have time, don't we?” Lisa asked innocently while looking between Jennie and Jisoo, while nodding her head letting Jimin know that she was more than willing to sit and listen to their story.

“It’s not all that interesting.” Jimin shot back, attempting to shoot her down sharply. “Why so interested?”

The room held an odd tension, I looked between the two, by eyes following whoever was talking. Lisa seemed to be digging for something, but I'm not sure what, and Jimin seemed to know as well, he was very quick to shut her down and her attempts to ask again. I was slow as I cut through my food again, but I couldn't bring myself to eat as I felt nervous.

“Well, what can I say? I’m just a curious person.” Lisa leaned forward and placed her elbow onto the table next to her cup and rested her face onto her palm, she tapped her fingers on her cheek as she stared with an overly curious gaze directed towards Jimin.

“Don't you know curiosity killed the cat?”

My knife slipped out from between my fingers and clattered onto my plate making a loud noise, I winced slightly at the sound before I, and everyone else, turned to look at the fox hybrid who had spoken, my mouth was opened in shock as I looked at the end of the table where he sat. He gave her a sharp glare which sent shivers down my spine, his face showed no signs of joking and the way he had spoken was warningly and laced with venom. I hope he never looks at me like that…

My jaw was slack as I watched the exchange between the two. Hobi played it calmly, but gave her one of the most dominating stares I had ever seen. Lisa’s eyes widened as she picked herself up from her relaxed position to sit up straighter, her ears twitched and her tail flicked up around her as her face hardened, no longer filled with her playful curiosity and mischief. I quickly glanced over to Jisoo, who was sitting across from me, and we shared a quick look of surprise and confusion.

Dinner continued to be just as awkward as we sat in mostly silence for the rest of the meal, utensils scraping against plates, chewing and occasionally someone asking to pass something that they couldn't reach. Thankfully it was over soon, even though it felt like hours, the dinner only lasted around half an hour, we all helped put our dishes away and clean up afterwards, no one speaking, Lisa had stomped her way back up to her room leaving Jennie with her dishes.

Jimin had ushered me and Jungkook back into our room where he quickly turned the lights on before pulling me closer to him by my arm. He moved his hand off my arm and lifted it up to grip my hair and hold it up away from my neck, almost like a makeshift ponytail. He hastily lifted his other hand up to my neck where I could feel his finger linger over the area.

His fingers just barely touch my skin as they brush over the sensitive spot, I could feel his hot breath fanning down onto my neck and chest causing a chill to run through my body. Suddenly, a surge of pain ripped through me from my neck. Jimin had pushed his fingers hard onto the purple spot on my neck causing me to hiss in pain as I roughly pulled myself away from him.

My hand snapped up to cover the spot to stop him from doing it again. I gave Jimin a ‘what the heck?’ look, but he had already turned to face the younger man who was standing just a bit behind me. Jungkook seemed to have a mix of emotions on his face, proud, but also scared, Jimin walked a few steps over to him until they were standing right in front of each other with Jungkook towering over the older one.

“What the heck, Kook?” Jimin seethed as they looked at each other, now completely ignoring my presence. Jimin had this aura around him, like he was trying to intimidate the younger male, it actually made me feel a bit nervous.

“I had to!” The bunny hybrid whined, and he sulked and dropped his shoulders down. He didn't seem remorseful at all, he seemed 100% serious and almost proud of himself.

“You had to?”

“Yes!”

Jimin deadpanned as he looked at Jungkook.

“Hyung.” Jungkook dramatically threw his head back as he whined and laughed at the same time before taking small steps towards the older man.

Jimin tsked and muttered something through his gritted teeth as he looked away from Jungkook, the latter pulled himself up to stand properly in front of the short man.

“It’s fine, Jimin.” I said, hoping to calm them down and not have this escalate further. “Even though it hurts, I’ll be fine, it's just a hickey.”

I glared daggers at Jungkook as I emphasised on the word ‘hurt’ before looking back at Jimin. He spun around as he looked at me questioningly.

“A what?”

Before I had time to restate what I had said the door burst open as the other hybrids made their way inside the room with us, Hobi and Jin walked over to stand by me and Namjoon and Yoongi stood next to Jimin, I saw Taehyung make his was to the back standing next to Jungkook.

“What is going on?” Yoongi asked the younger blond male who stood in front of him, he seemed concerned, but still remained calm.

“He marked her.” Jimin grunted as he stood to the side and pointed at Jungkook who gave a cheeky grin showing off his bunny teeth. I saw the older hybrids face warp into one of shock at what they had heard. Before I could process what Jimin had said I was suddenly bombarded by the other hybrids.

I was beginning to feel like an art piece in a museum as I let them move my head to the side so they could see the unfortunate spot on my neck. I looked off to the side of the room with a bored expression as I let them ‘inspect’ the ‘oh so magical hickey’ that had somehow caught all of their attention. I sighed out loud hoping to convey the fact that I wanted this to be over with, I don't know why it’s such a big deal to them.

I yelped out in pain. I felt someone push their thumb a bit too hard into the dark, sensitive flesh on my neck, I pulled away and took a few steps towards the wall before I turned to face them.

“Okay, that’s enough.” I spoke as I crossed my arms over my chest and looked at the boys who all seemed to get the hint and moved back a few steps. I watched as Taehyung walked over to Jungkook and lifted his hand up for a high five, to which the younger man gladly returned. The older of the two smirked as they looked at each other and the younger gave him a cheeky grin and they seemed to have a very quiet conversation, one that I couldn't hear.

I rolled my eyes at the 2 youngest before I turned to look at the others who seemed to be talking about something before Yoongi broke from the group and walked over to Jungkook. He stood next to the bunny hybrid before raising his hand and whacking him on the back of the head. “Idiot.”

I tried to hold in my laughter at what happened, but soon after Jin walked over to them as well. He lightly hit Yoongi on the shoulder before saying something to him that I didn't catch. They fell into a discussion over the matter as they all came and stood in the middle of the room. I tried to talk with them and pitch in my thoughts, but they seemed to completely forget that I was even there.

“It’ll go away soon, it's just a hickey.” I spoke trying to diffuse the tension, finally they had heard me. They all turned to look at me with confused glances before they continued on with their conversations. Everyone seemed annoyed at Jungkook, and I watched as whenever he would suggest something he was immediately shut down, making him pout.

“Well, did you ask her?” Yoongi said to Jungkook, he looked away at the question and Yoongi sighed as he rubbed his face into his hands. “Kook-”

“If i didn't do it they would have, and you know it. Besides, she didn't mind. Right?” Jungkook looked over to me as he asked the question, I was confused and tried to answer, but I was cut off as Namjoon started speaking to him about me.

“She doesn't understand it! How could she be okay with it? She doesn't seem okay with it.” He called out. “You…You should have at least told us and asked her.”

“I think I know what a hickey is, Namjoon.” I expressed, slightly offended, that they didn't think I knew what a simple hickey was. I was beginning to feel a bit annoyed at how they kept cutting me off and talking about me like I wasn't there.

“Stop calling it a hickey! It is not just a hickey Y/n. He marked you!” Jimin yelled as he moved his hands around in front of him before lifting them up to sit on his forehead, his fingers shading over his face as he turned around and paced for a bit before stopping.

Marked me?

“He marked me?” I wondered out loud, I didn't really know much about marking, I knew it was something that hybrids did, but that was about it. “What does that mean?” I asked quickly, growing tired of not understanding things.

“It’s uhh, it’s like…” Hobi began to explain, but he kept fumbling over his words like he wasn't sure how to phrase it.

“He marked you as his.” Yoongi said bluntly. I scoffed because I had already gathered that much from what Jimin had said, but then Yoongi said more. “It’s telling other hybrids to back off because you're theirs, you already have a hybrid.”

I didn't say anything as I thought about what Yoongi had said. He marked me as his? Why? He wants other hybrids to ‘back off’, what does that even mean? My thoughts continued to run rampant in my mind as I was processing this new information, I moved my hand up to rest under my chin as I rubbed my lips with my index finger.

I moved my hand from my chin to my neck as I subconsciously covered up the mark while still in thought, I caught movement in the corner of my eye causing me to break from my thoughts and look over. Jungkook looked a bit agitated, and he flinched when I moved my hand to cover up his mark.

“Don’t.” I turned to face Namjoon as he grabbed hold of my hand and pulled it down away from my neck. “He doesn't want you covering it up, it's almost like you're rejecting him if you do. Marks are important to hybrids.” Namjoon spoke softly and clearly, he knew that I didn't understand, and he was giving me time to process it by talking slower.

I looked down at my hands, I watched as Namjoon let his grip on my hand lift away as he took his hand back, I dropped my hands down to my sides before pulling them behind my back, I looked up at everyone and smiled.

“Okay, I won't cover it up.” I declared as I grinned at Jungkook who seemed to be bursting with excitement. I told him that if he did it again, or something similar, he needed to at least tell me what he was doing, I didn't want to end up getting dragged into something that I didn't understand again. The boys gave Jungkook a form of silent treatment for the most part, they were petty and wanted him to feel guilty. I joined in too for the most part because I thought it was funny to watch him try get attention.

I was sitting down on the bed and Jin was sitting on the floor between my legs as I played with his hair, putting it up in a lopsided ponytail and attempting to braid it. I stopped when I started thinking about the dinner we had earlier.

“I’m sorry. I didn't realise that bringing you guys here would be such a problem.” I said aloud. Everyone turned to look at me, including Jin who had pulled away from my hands just as I was about to finish typing the hair tie. I pouted at him as he ruined the hair style.

“What? What do you mean?” Hobi asked me from his spot on the desk chair that he was sprawled out on as he used one leg to spin it side to side, I smiled slightly at his silly pose.

“Well, you guys don't seem to get along very well with Jennie and Lisa, which is fine of course!” I started while pushing Jin's head to face the other way so I could continue on with my masterpiece. “You don't have to like them obviously. If I had known I would've tried harder to find somewhere else. Is it just some hybrid thing that I'm too human to understand?”

I chuckled as there seemed to be more and more things about hybrids that I just didn't understand.

“No, it’s nothing like that, it's just-” Jimin started to explain when a random thought popped into my head and I couldn't help myself.

“Wait, are you guys… jealous? Of Lisa and Jennie? Is that what it is?” I asked almost jokingly, but the silence in the room told me that I'd just solved the riddle.

“What? No, Y/n! It’s not that-”

“Oh my goodness, it totally is! Everytime they get close to me, one of you comes and scares them away.” I exclaimed as I thought of all the times that they had done just that, I let go of Jin’s hair as I raised my hands up to cover my mouth while I smiled ear to ear and giggled at how red their faces were from me figuring it out.

“Uhm… we’re sorry.”

“It’s fine. I don't mind, really.” I said as I couldn't contain my wide smile as I felt butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Part of me wanted to push them back down to wherever they came from, but the other part of me relished in the feeling. I picked up another hair band before tying it and giving Jin 2 cute pigtails on either side of his head. “Besides, it's kinda cute that you guys get jealous over me.”

The house was quiet, Jisoo had gone out with Lisa and Jennie, so it was just the boys and me. I was sitting in the lounge room, a thick warm blanket wrapped around my shoulders as I sat on the floor, my back against the couch and my knees crossed as I leaned forwards over the coffee table. My laptop was open, and the many tabs were on clear display as I kept swapping between them all, the table and floor was covered with various pieces of paper with the details of different places that checked the boxes that absolutely need to be checked, I reached for my thermos filled with hot chocolate and took a sip from it.

A noise from the kitchen dragged me away from the house hunting as I turned and tried to make myself taller to see who it was, I couldn't see their face, but I did catch a glimpse of around black ears, I quickly swallow the hot liquid and put down the thermos as I yelled out trying not to choke.

“Wait!” I scrambled to stand up as I tried not to disrupt the papers on the table. I turned to face the panther hybrids as I spoke. “Perfect timing! Could you get everyone else to come down here?”

He gave me a small salute before turning the corner and walking away. I fell back down onto the floor and wrapped the blanket around myself again as I heard his footsteps echo through the house as he jumped up the stairs. Soon enough everyone had made it down to the lounge room where they did their best to find somewhere to sit without disrupting any of the somewhat organised papers.

“Okay, so…” I started as I grabbed a handful of papers that had what seemed to be the best choice of houses on them with all their information. I passed them to Namjoon who sat to my left and told him to pass them around. “I've been looking for houses, a new place for us to live, because as grateful as I am for Jisoo allowing us to stay here, if I get walked in while I'm changing one more time, I'm going to get ptsd.” I heard a few of the boys chuckle at what I had said, but I was only half joking.

“Since this is the first time that we’ve really spoken about this, I wasn't sure what you all wanted in a house, I did make a list of things that I think we need, but feel free to add to it or take something off of it.” I said again as I passed out a notepad and pen that had all the things I was looking for in a house.

I saw Jimin reach for my thermos in front of me, but I quickly reached for it too, snatching it out of his hands. He looked at me sadly and with confusion and I looked back at him. “It's hot chocolate. You can't have it.” He seemed surprised before he smiled back at me and whispered a thanks as he looked down at the piece of paper that had been handed to him.

“5 bedrooms?” Yoongi asked from beside Namjoon as he looked at me.

“Yes, I thought 5 bedrooms would be ideal. You guys get one big room to share to sleep in, and I thought you could have 3 other rooms to kind of do your own things, you know?” I explained to them as I pointed it out in my notes that I struggled to find amongst the other papers. “And then a room for me.”

“Sounds good to me, you've really thought this out, Y/n.” Hoseok beamed in gratitude as he passed the small notepad to the person on his left. I thanked him before talking about how it had been on my mind for a while and how 5 bedrooms made the most sense for what we needed.

I reached for the notepad as it made its way back to me, my eyes skimmed over my note and the small words on the sides until I read the new suggestions that the boys had written down. “Large backyard? That’s good, I should've thought of that.” I mumbled, thankfully most of the houses, except for one or two, had decent backyards already. “Trampoline? What? We don't need a trampoline.”

I heard someone sigh out loud at my last comment causing me to giggle.

“Won’t a house this big be expensive?” Jin mumbled from behind me.

“Yeah, but I got it covered, don't worry.”

“We want to help, Y/n.” Namjoon said. “We don't want you to have to keep paying for everything.”

I hummed at what he said, understanding the feeling of not always wanting people to do things for you, I understood that feeling all too well. I thought about what he said, and he was right, I had been paying for everything, I didn't mind but I didn't think about how that might have affected them. “Well, how about I pay for the house initially, but after that we can split the cost for everything between the 8 of us?”

Everyone seemed to agree with that. As we continued looking at the different houses that I had chosen, throwing some out and choosing our favourite, I made some calls and sent some emails so I could set up viewings. We had a few lined up for the rest of the week now, as we all decided who would be going with me to each viewing. After some time, everyone went back to what they were doing before, I was still in the lounge room along with Jimin.

I sighed as I flopped down onto the couch and instantly, I felt my muscles relax. I leaned my head on some cushions as my fingers played with the bottom of my shirt making it ride up and expose part of my stomach. A gush of cold air came through the room causing me to pull my shirt down further, I went to reach for my blanket from before, but Jimin stood in front of me, a smile on his face as his head tilted to the side, his golden ears folded over, one with a kink making it fold inside out.

I laughed at the cuteness of the man in front of me as he stepped closer. “What's up?” I asked him as I reached a hand out towards him, which he held onto.

He hummed, stepping closer to the couch before kneeling down on it, between my legs and flopping down onto my stomach. I coughed as the air left my lungs and I let out a breathless laugh as he wiggled himself to get more comfortable.

“Nothing.” He mumbled, he turned his head up to face me with a silly smirk on his face, which left my stomach feeling uneasy. I tried to play it off by letting a small chuckle leave my chest as I looked into his brown eyes, I could feel my face heating up as I gazed back at him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked him as I covered my face with my hands to hide from his alluring gaze. I heard him laugh out loud, I braved peeking through my fingers to hopefully catch a glimpse, as my fingers separated and the light reached my vision, I saw him staring right back at me, I couldn’t help the small yelp that left my chest at seeing him staring right back at me.

He chuckled and I felt him shuffle around again before I felt his hands wrap themselves around mine, he pulled them down and away from my face causing me to look right at him. His loving smile on full display as his eyes curved into crescent moons, my breath hitching in my throat at the view.

I kept staring at him as he opened his eyes to look back at me, my stomach felt funny as I watched him shake his head whilst smiling, his blond hair flopping around on top of his head as he leaned down to fully rest on top of me. I felt his arms wrap around my side and his fingers wiggled their way underneath my back as he pushed himself closer to me, I could feel his chest moving against my stomach from his breathing, he faced towards the back of the couch, and I could just barely see his face as he closed his eyes and nudged the side of his face further into my chest.

The uneasy feeling in my stomach didn't go away, it got bigger and harder to contain as it felt like it was bursting and filling with butterflies, I could help the deep blush that appear on my face or the wide smile that spread on it, the smile was so wide it started to hurt, but I couldn't bring myself to stop. I gazed down at the Dog hybrid as he rested, I move my hand up and snaked my fingers into his soft hair and lightly played with it as I looked up to the ceiling, my chest hurt from the strong feelings of happiness as I continued to play with Jimin’s hair while he rested in silence.

I stayed on the couch with Jimin laying between my legs for what felt like hours. His head rested on my chest as I softly played with his hair and his ears. The days were getting colder recently so I was happy to be around hybrids all the time. Jimin’s body heat covered me, and in turn, warmed me up. Slowly he moved his head so he was looking at me. I stopped with my movements as I stared into his eyes.

He shuffled himself around, so he was laying on his stomach and he moved himself further up and closer to my face without breaking eye contact. My breath hitched in my throat as he looked into my eyes, I studied his face as he was so close to me.

“You’re staring again.”

“I-”

“It’s okay. I don't mind.” He cut me off before I could defend myself, I smiled back at him before attempting to cover my face up again with my hand, but he intertwined his finger with mine, stopping me from covering my face. I whined and tried to pull my hand away from him, but he wasn't going to let go.

“You're so cute, Y/n.” He teased, moving his arms so he could sit up. His hair hung over his head along with his ears and he smiled down at me. I tried to break away from him as I saw his free hand move towards my sides, but his hold on me was strong. He kept spitting out compliments while poking and prodding my ribs with his other hand.

“Jimin!” I whined out the end of his name. I was embarrassed by his teasing, but I couldn't help the smile that spread on my face and the laugh that left my mouth as he kept tickling me. Finally, the torture stopped and I took a second to catch my breath. I looked up at the culprit, his teeth on full display as he had a wide smile on his face.

I stared up into his eyes as he stared down at me, I watched as his eyes moved down slightly before flicking back up to my eyes. My eyes caught onto his lips, plump, full, and dusted with a light pink, I looked back up to his eyes, but I could stop myself from glancing down at his lips every few seconds and I could see he kept looking down at mine as we shared deep breaths while looking at each other, we didn't say anything, just watching each other and taking in the others actions.

“Hey, do you guys know where the remote is?”

A/n: The long awaited, off schedule chapter is finally here! This chapter came out great and i loved writing it, sorry for the wait again, i wasn't sure how to finish it off, but i think it ended pretty well. 🤭🥰Also! I made a mood board for Y/n because i thought it would be fun, it'll be on my profile, probably the post before this one. I feel like Jisoo house is driving Y/n mad with all the jealous hybrids lmao. I hope you all have a lovely day or night and thankyou all for the reading! 💜

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jpmarvel90 · 11 months

Text

Sacrifice

Masterlist Natasha Masterlist

Word Count: 5148

Relationship: Sister Nat & Sister Yelena x Reader Wanda x Reader

Summary: Y/n has been haunted since she watched Natasha fall to her death on Vormir. Her own grief is only intensified when Yelena finds out and shifts blame to the one person that wished it was her who had made the ultimate sacrifce.

Y/n's POV:

Coming home from Vormir without Nat was the most heartbreaking moment of my life. Seeing our sister Yelena's reaction added to the pain that I was already feeling. When Clint, Nat and I arrived at Vormir, none of us thought we'd be leaving as a duo. As soon as the realisation hit, I knew it had to be me. Clint had a family and the world needed Natasha. I was the obvious choice.

But Nat had other ideas. She had to be the hero. Whilst her and Clint were fighting, I took the opportunity to go myself. But Nat stopped me at the last minute. My feet were off the ground as I jumped, I was content with my decision. But my stubborn sister had to be the hero. She was able to grab me at the last minute and use her strength to switch our position.

I still had a hold on her hand, but she was out of reach from Clint, so it was reliant on me to be able to pull her up. That was made even more difficult by the fact that Nat didn't even try. My eyes were filled with tears when I realised that I wouldn't be able to save her. "You can't leave us. Yelena needs you. I need you!" I begged her, a sob getting caught in my throat. "It's ok. You'll be ok." She tells me but I shake my head, tears continuing to fall. I try once again with all my strength to pull her back up. "Let me go." She whispers before kicking off the wall. I can still see her body falling as I failed to save her. The world lost a hero that day and Yelena and I lost our sister.

It never should have been Nat. She was the true hero that carried on fighting when so many gave up after the snap. She gave her life to rectifying the wrongs she was forced to do whilst in the Red Room. Her ledger was already clean, and she deserved the chance to be able to have a normal life. To not have to fight any more.

After the battle was over, we were reunited with our family and friends that we had lost five years ago. I hadn't only lost Yelena, but my girlfriend Wanda too. It had been hell, and it was the reason I stuck by Natasha and worked tirelessly with her to find a way to bring everyone back.

However, telling them both the news was almost as devastating as the moment I saw Nat die. Yelena was angry and couldn't understand it. Wanda was devastated too. Nat had been like a sister to her when she first joined the Avengers. She was hurting too. I tried to be there for them as best I could. I was still grieving myself, but I knew I had to be there for my sister and girlfriend.

It was hard as they both started to withdraw, spending more time together. They had a shared experience and found comfort in each other. I started to feel like an outsider and my relationship with Wanda was slowly becoming more distanced. Yelena rarely spoke to me. Until she uttered the most devastating words at Nat's funeral. "It should have been you." There was a venom to her words and I could see that Wanda agreed. It made everything more painful as they were true. It should have been me. No one needed me. But Natasha Romanoff, everyone needed her.

Life at the compound become more difficult by the day. Those of us left signed to work with the government to keep the world safe from another situation like Thanos. There were rumblings that Hydra had resurrected, so most of our missions focused on wiping out anyone who posed a threat.

During this, my relationship with Yelena became non-existent. Any words said in my direction were said with hate. It got so bad that Fury could no longer put us on the same missions as he couldn't guarantee my safety from my own teammate, my own sister.

Wanda never officially broke up with me, but she moved out of our shared room and no longer spared any time for me. If I walked into a room, she was quick to leave. The love we once had seemed to have vanished when Nat died. Each day, it just reiterated why it should have been me.

So, I decided that I had to find a way that I could bring Nat back. No matter what the consequences might be. I spend a lot of time in the library working out if there was anything I could do that might be able to make everything right again. Though one phrase keeps coming up. "A soul for a soul." It's what's the Red Skull had told us when we were on Vormir, could that be a replacement for a soul already sacrificed.

I decide that's where I need to start. A trip back to Vormir and a conversation with the Red Skull will hopefully set me off on the way to bringing Nat back. I just need a distraction for everyone here so I can "borrow" a quinjet and make the journey. "Hey Y/n, we're going to have a team evening together. Maybe go for a couple of drinks, want to join us?" Bucky calls out after knocking on my door.

"Are Yelena and Wanda going?" I ask as I open the door. He looks at me sympathetically and nods. The rest of the team have been a little distant with me too. Not that I blame them. They're closer to Yelena and Wanda so I don't expect them to insert themselves into the middle of whatever shit show of a relationship we have.

"I'll give it a miss tonight. Thanks, though Buck. Have a great time." I tell him with a tight lipped smile. "You ok Y/n?" He asks me, taking me by surprise. "Oh yeah. I'm good. Thanks for checking in. I appreciate it." I respond. He nods and goes to turn before stopping and looking back. "How about on Friday, you me and Sam all go out together. Make a night of it. I know you've been a little isolated recently. I'm sorry for that." He suggests. "Oh uh. Thanks Bucky, sure that would great." I agree and I see him smile. "Great, we'll sort something out." He smiles and heads off.

This gives me the perfect opportunity. If they're all out, I can start to bring my sister back. I take a bit of time getting everything in order just in case I don't come back. I leave a message for Nat, hopeful that she might be able to see it one day. I considered leaving one for Yelena and Wanda, but they won't care. They'll be happy that the right person is with them.

I hear them all leave about 6pm so I gather a few of my things and head out. One of the few skills I'm grateful for from the red room is my hacking ability. Hopefully, by the time Shield realise the jet is missing, I'll be long gone. I'm weirdly not nervous as I board the quinjet. I feel a sense of hope. I know this is the right thing to do and I just pray that I'll be able to pull this off.

When I finally reach my destination, I take the familiar walk up to the top of the cliff. I get flashbacks of the last time I was here. The last time I was with my sister. I can still hear the conversations we had as I reach the top. I familiar figure waiting for me.

I take a deep breath and make my way forward as the figure turns to face me. "Ah, Y/n Y/l/n, I wondered when I would see you again."

Wanda's POV:

This night out with the team was much needed. Since everything with Thanos, it's been difficult to find the light. We lost a lot and we're still healing. I was surprised when I felt a pang of disappointment when Bucky came to us without Y/n in tow. Not that I'm surprised, we've not exactly made a welcoming space.

I especially have been bad with her. She's my girlfriend after all, but I just let my grief consume me. Add on the confusion of missing out on five years of life, it's just been difficult to make sense of it all. Yelena was the only one who knew how I felt and it was easier to be with her than Y/n.

But now I realise what I'm missing. The support and comfort of the woman that I love. I was stupid to let myself become influenced by Yelena. I started to feel her anger, but mine wasn't directed at Y/n. It was the situation. It just became my outlet as I had nowhere else to direct it. Which is completely unfair on Y/n. She was grieving herself and lost Yelena and me on top of it.

"I'm going to check on Y/n." Bucky tells us when we arrive home, earning a huff from Yelena. "Why do you care?" She snaps. "Because she has become isolated and it's not fair. I shouldn't have let it go on for so long." He defends. "Maybe she deserves it! If it wasn't for her, Natasha would be here." Yelena bites back. "ENOUGH!" Clint shouts, stepping in front of Yelena.

"I promised Y/n I wouldn't get involved, but I can't stand here anymore and let you talk like this. Y/n tried everything to save Nat. She had to watch as she slipped from her fingers after doing everything for it to be her. Y/n had wanted to make the sacrifice herself. So please just stop. If you don't want to be around her or have her in your life, fine. But this bitching needs to stop." He scolds the young Russian. Yelena doesn't respond but lets her head hang low for a moment. "I'll join you Bucky." Clint responds, following behind Bucky.

I should go with them. But when I take a step, Yelena looks to me. "I need more vodka." She huffs, taking my arm and moving us into the kitchen to get a drink. But before she's able to drink the shot she's poured, FRIDAY makes an announcement. "Director Fury has request everyone's attention in the conference room immediately."

"Cyka." Yelena huffs, quickly taking the shot and making her way to the meeting room. I follow behind and see Bucky and Clint return but without Y/n. I don't question it, instead I take a seat next to Yelena. "Would one of you like to explain where the quinjet is?" He asks, his tone flat. "No idea. We've all been out for a team meal." Sam explains. "Was Y/l/n at this meal?" Fury asks after noticing her absence.

The silence provides his answer. "That would explain the encryption on the tracking." Fury sighs. "Wait, you think Y/n has taken the jet?" Clint asks, giving Bucky a worrying look. "Well, considering she's the only one not here and only two people in this team have that ability to hack the quinjet like that." He responds and we all know the other is Yelena.

"This is not good. Do you think she's actually done it? That she found away?" Clint whispers to Bucky who matches his concerned look. "Do you know where the jet was heading?" Clint directs to Fury who shakes his head. "No, she's hidden the location." He replies. "Shit." Clint mumbles. "Something you'd like to share?" Fury questions him. Clint doesn't respond but pushes a piece of paper towards him.

Fury takes it and I see a sadness flash across his face. My heart rate picks up a little and the regret of how I have treated Y/n these last week's grows tenfold. I selfishly thought she would always be there waiting for me for when I was able to get passed this grief.

"Ok, let's go. Hopefully we can catch her before she does something stupid." Fury moves to leave with no explanation. "Would someone like to explain what is going on?" Yelena asks angrily. "Considering you haven't cared about Y/n's wellbeing recently, I'm sure you don't care now." Clint snaps and I see a flash of hurt on Yelena's face. "We don't have time for this." Bucky steps in, bringing the focus back to the situation at hand.

Mindlessly, I follow behind the others towards the quinjet. I have no idea what's going on, but from the panic in both Clint and Bucky's eyes, I know it can't be good. "You're going?" Yelena reaches out to grab my arm and spin me around. "You're not? She's your sister Yelena. I know you're angry at her, but it seems like you might lose her too. It's a loss I know that I won't cope with." I respond, snatching my arm from her and running to the jet.

"Co-ordinates set to Vormir." Clint tells Fury as the jet takes off. Hearing those words sends fear through my body. Why would she be going there? This fear and sickening feeling just grows as we get closer to our destination. The rest of the journey is in silence before the jet touches down.

Cautiously we all disembark and my eyes instantly land on the quinjet a few metres away. "This way." Clint instructs, directing us towards a worn path up to the top of a cliff. As quickly as we can, we start off to reach our destination. Though I don't think any of us expected the sight that was waiting for us.

In this moment, I feel like my heart is in my mouth. My emotions overwhelm me as I see the person that I had been grieving for. "Natasha?" Yelena whispers in shock as our eyes land on a familiar red head in front of us. I wipe at my own eyes, not believing what I'm seeing in front of us. Nat turns around with a confused look on her face as she looks over us. "You're really here?" Yelena says as she rushes forward and wraps her arms around her sister.

My own gaze then moves around trying to find Y/n. She has to be around here somewhere. "What happened? How am I here?" Nat asks once we've all greeted her, plenty of tears shed between us. That's when I notice the sadness in Clint and Bucky's eyes. "Clint?" I ask, panic building within. All he can muster is a whisperer sentence. "A soul for a soul."

Natasha's POV:

The last thing I remember was being in this odd space between reality and wherever I was due to move onto next. I was aware I was dead, and it seemed like I was just waiting. For what, I'm not sure. But I certainly hadn't expected that I would find myself back on Vormir. I knew time had passed. I just don't know how much time.

I look over the edge of the cliff as flashbacks from that day replay in my mind. I jumped. I stopped Y/n from doing it and I jumped in her place. I died, making the sacrifice so we could get the soul stone and beat Thanos. Had we beat Thanos?

I don't get time to really take it all in as I hear footsteps behind me. I quickly turn, getting in my fighting stance ready for whatever might be coming my way. However, my question is soon answered when I see two faces that I've not see in five years. Within seconds Yelena has wrapped her arms around me and is holding me close. I take comfort in her arms and look around for our other sister, desperate to hold her too.

After greeting everyone, I ask what had happened and that seems to bring a sadness to Fury, Bucky and Clint. When Wanda pushes Clint, he simply states, "A soul for a soul." I don't understand what he means, we already did that to get the soul stone in the first place. "What do you mean? Where's Y/n? Is she back at the compound?" I ask, not getting a good feeling about my sister not being here for this reunion.

"Let's get back home and we can share what we know." Clint suggests, guiding us back towards the path. Yelena and Wanda both stick close to me. Yelena seems delighted, but Wanda has a darkness around her. A worry that I don't understand. But I fear it is related to Y/n. "How long has it been?" I ask, wanting to get some sense of the time that has passed. "Three months." Yelena responds. "It felt like we had only been gone for seconds but in that time, I had lost you." She adds on, turning to me and pulling me into a hug once again. I've never seen Yelena this vulnerable before, so I just hold her that bit tighter.

When we reach the quinjet, I notice that there are two which takes me by surprise. "I'll take this one back. Then we'll meet to discuss moving forward." Fury explains, to which Bucky nods. "Not that I'm complaining, but is anyone going to explain how I'm back?" I ask, getting a little frustrated. They all look at each other until Clint speaks up. "We actually have no idea, but we think it has something to do with Y/n." He responds, before turning to enter the jet, preventing me from questioning him further.

My mind is so confused right now. It still feels a little hazy as we fly back to the compound. I have so many questions and I can't quite make sense of what is happening right now. As grateful as I am to be with my family again, I want to understand why. Is this temporary? Will I end up back in the middle place again?

When we arrive back home, I aimlessly follow the others to the conference room. "You go and rest Natasha, we'll give you any updates as needed." Yelena instructs me but I shake my head. "I want to know how this has all happened, especially if it's got something to do with Y/n." I reply, continuing on my journey with the others. I hear Yelena mumble something under her breath and she doesn't look too happy, but ultimately doesn't stop me.

I take my usual seat in the conference room, and I realise that the others are in a state of shock. They are all staring at me as if I'm going to disappear at any moment. "Where's Steve and Tony?" I ask, noticing two very empty spaces in the room. They take the time to talk me through what happened after they returned with all the stones. Knowing that Tony sacrificed himself for the greater good brought a tear to my eye. But I'm grateful that Steve was able to get his second chance with Peggy.

Now we come on to the more difficult conversation of how I happen to be back on earth, very much alive. "Bucky and I went to check on Y/n but she didn't answer. FRIDAY notified us she had left the compound but that she had blocked her location. With the door unlocked we went in and that's when we found that note." Clint explains as Fury nods along. "That would work with the timeline of the quinjet going missing. She obviously waited for you all to be out of the compound so she could do what she needed uninterrupted." Fury responds.

"What note?" I jump in, still confused about what is going on. Did Y/n really steal a quinjet? Why would she do that? Fury moved his hand into his inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a note before handing it to me. I open it up and I feel both Wanda and Yelena peer over my shoulder.

Maybe this time I can make things right. I'll make sure it was me. Take care of Nat.

I look up from the note to the others. Wanda is full on crying when she sees the words on the paper. Yelena won't make eye contact whilst both Bucky, Clint and Sam look like they're grieving. "What does this mean? What does she mean by making sure it was her." I question, wanting to get some semblance of what is going on. This looks like a suicide note.

I start to get frustrated when no one answers me. In fact, they all make the effort to not meet my eyes. "Someone tell me!" I shout, banging my hand to the table making them flinch. "Yelena?" Clint speaks, raising an eyebrow at her. I turn to face my sister who looks as white as a ghost. "Lena, what is going on?" I ask calmly, but again she doesn't respond.

"Her and Wanda have spent the last three months telling Y/n that it should have been her and not you. I guess she finally found a way to make that true" Bucky finally breaks the silence and my heart with it. "What?" I gasp, turning to look between the two of them. "Did you really say that to her?" I ask, shocked that Yelena could do something so horrible to Y/n. They've always been so close.

When both of them fail to respond, I stand up ready to leave. I can't believe this. "Natasha wait." Fury tries to stop me. "No! From what I can work out, these two pushed Y/n so far that she has killed herself to bring me back. That's what you're telling me without actually telling me isn't it." I snap, tears filling my eyes. "We don't know exactly what happened." Fury responds but I just scoff. "She stole a quinjet and flew to Vormir. You found me and Y/n was nowhere to be seen. I think we all know what happened." I retort.

Quickly turning to face Yelena and Wanda, I feel my anger build. "I'm so angry at you. It was my choice! I decided it had to be me. I had my chance at living and making things right. Y/n still had so much of her life ahead of her. She was in there longer than us Yelena. She had you, Wanda and she was happy. I couldn't take that away from her or you! I made the decision to jump because I thought that if it was Y/n, you'd be left without a girlfriend and you your favourite sister." I yell, jabbing my finger in the direction of Wanda and Yelena.

"Fuck! It was my choice! It was meant to be me. But now I hear that she's spent the last three months without anyone whilst she went through grief, being told it was her fault and she should have died. Her last three months were probably miserable, and you can't change that. She's gone. Y/n is dead. Do you realise that? She's not going to magically rematerialize. And it's all your fault!" I rant, anger and an overwhelming sadness taking over me.

At my words, I see the realisation hit Yelena and Wanda. Tears start to fall down their cheeks. "I jumped so she could have the life you promised me she would have. A life where she would be loved and protected. A life where you would never hurt her. But it couldn't be any further from the truth!" I spit at Wanda, venom lacing my tone.

"And you. How can you even treat our sister like that. I don't think I'm ever going to be able to forgive you." I turn to Yelena, my heart aching knowing I've lost two sisters today. Not allowing them time to respond, I storm off to what used to be my room. Ignoring the calls from behind me.

When I reach the accommodation floor, I find myself stuck outside Y/n's door. My hand hovering over the handle. There is a part of me that is wishing this is some sick joke and I'll open this door to see her sat on her bed, drawing, or listening to music. That she'll actually be alive, and I won't have to face living in this world without my sister. The sister that gave me my humanity.

Slowly I push the door open, and I instantly get enveloped by her scent. Tears once again prickle at my eyes when I see the cold room is empty. Wanting to feel closer to her, I move further into the room and towards her desk where I spot a USB sat on an otherwise spotless desk.

Pulling her desk chair out, I sit and turn on her laptop. Letting out a teary laugh when I see the photo of her, Yelena, and I when we were drunk on a night out. We look the happiest we've ever been. It was one of the first times we'd been able to just forget about life all together and this photo represented that. I reach out and rest my fingers over her face. "Oh, moya malen'kaya sestra. (My little sister) I'm sorry I failed you." I cry as the thought of not seeing her again hits me.

Composing myself, I plug in the USB and open it to see there is only one file on it. A video file entitled "For Natasha." Hesitantly, I click on the file and let out a sob when I see Y/n's face appear on the screen. Straight away I notice that she's barely slept and there is a pain in her eyes I have not seen since we saved her from the red room.

Video message

Hey Nat. I really hope that you are watching this. If you are, it means that I finally did something right and managed to rectify the mistake that I made that day on Vormir. I never should have let you jump.

You see, the thing is about you Natasha, is you don't see your worth. You believe the trauma that you went through as a child is something that you must atone for, for the rest of your life. Despite telling Yelena, me and countless other widows how our actions were not our fault, you failed to allow yourself the same courtesy.

Since joining Shield and then the Avengers, you have done far more good than you ever did bad. Not that you had anything to make up for in life. You had every right to live a normal life, to try and move on from the horrors of your past. But instead, you set your mind to saving others who couldn't save themselves.

Don't tell the others, but you were the true hero of the Avengers. Your intentions were the purest. You were not blinded by money, fame, or righteousness. You were doing everything you could to try and drive out evil from this world. To stop others having to experience a pain like you did.

It's why I decided to jump. Why it should have been me that made that sacrifice. You had already given enough. It was your time to live your life in peace. If you had chosen to carry on your life as an Avenger, then so be it. But it would have been your choice.

The world needs Natasha Romanoff. Yelena, Clint, Shield, hell even my girlfriend, needed you more than me. It's why you never should have given your life that day. It's why I was the logical choice. The only choice.

Yes, hearing that being reiterated by people I love has been hard to hear these last few months. But it's the truth. It's why I tried so hard to find away that I could rectify that mistake and make the world right again. I think I finally have that answer now. A way that I might be able to bring you back. I pray that this works and maybe Yelena and Wanda can stop hating me. Not that I'll know, I guess.

I know that everyone will be able to move one without me in their lives. But you, well we know the world deserves and needs Natasha Romanoff. I just hope that I'm able to give it to them.

If you are sat watching this Nat. Please know how much I love you. You are the reason that I experienced freedom and free will for the first time. You gave me a family, a chance at love. All things that I thought I would never experience. You saved me in more ways than one and I will always be eternally grateful for that.

Being able to call you my sister has been the greatest honour Nat. I love you with everything I have, and I hope that one day, we may see each other again. In a life where there are no expectations of us. A life where we're free to live as we want. But before that time, live your life to the fullest. Enjoy it and have a vodka for me. Ya tebya lyublyu, moya sestra. Do svidaniya. (I love you, my sister. Goodbye.)

I feel the sobs wrack over me as the screen goes black. I feel grief wash over me in waves. It physically hurts to know that she sacrificed herself for me. For her to believe that this world needs me more than it needed her. She is a light that shone brighter than anyone I had ever met. But now that light is extinguished.

With my grief overwhelming me, I feel the sudden need to leave her room. Being surrounded by her things, knowing she'll never be here again is just adding to the pain. As I stand and turn around, I spot Wanda and Yelena crying in the doorway, clearly having overheard the video.

"Natash..." "Don't." I hold my hand up to stop Wanda straight away. "She needed you. Both of you. But you were selfish and put your own grief above hers. You could have supported each other. Grieved together, moved on together and had a life together. But instead, everything is ruined." I express, pain lacing my voice.

"Natasha please." Yelena practically begs, reaching out to take my hand but I'm quick to snatch it away. "No. As far as I'm concerned, I lost two sisters today." I state before barging past them both and to my own room. Quickly locking the door behind me.

I fall onto the bed, the whole day becoming overwhelming. I don't know where to go from here. How do I live a life that doesn't have her in it. How am I supposed to live like she told me to, when I can't share it with her. I feel at a complete loss. Of all the things I have sacrificed, my own life included, this was one I was too selfish to give. But have ended up losing anyway.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #avengers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel #avengers #romanoff #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #yelena belova #yelena belova x reader

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yeeterthek33per · 11 months

Text

In Your Head (And Out Of Your Heart) (Steph Catley x Caitlin Foord x Reader)

A/n requested

Also, I promise I've got others lined up. There was just a wave of Stephy and Cait lined up in my requests, and I'm just doing first come, first served rn 😅

Summary: Moments for the trio, complications, expectations, and satisfactory temptations. or all the times everybody but the three of you realise you love them a little more than friends do.

Sleek muscular lines run up the outside of her calves, defining themselves with every strain of the muscular legs belonging to the sweet and bubbly Australian.

Apparently, facing the treadmills away from the wall so that one could see the whole gym when doing their runs was what the interior designers wanted.

It also meant anyone doing hip thrusts was in your direct line of sight, facing off to the side.

The way her shorts ride up slightly, showing off toned thighs, was another problem.

You shake your head a little.

Why were you ogling... again..

Steph's your best friend. You don't want to make it awkward. Sure, all friends called each other hot and stuff, but they definitely don't check each other out in attempted subtlety.

The soft grunts as she lifts up the bar permeate through the music in your left ear leaving your cheeks to darken significantly.

Of course, in the midst of that, you make the mistake of taking a small sip from your water bottle whilst mid run.

Steph let's the weight settle back onto the ground away from her, but in the process of stretching out again, her shirt lifts slightly, revealing a sliver of the soft, newly tanned skin you'd been imagining feeling under your fingertips for months on end.

Water gets caught halfway down your throat as your breath hitches and with that a coughing fit that makes you end up in a piled heap on the ground.

A concerned hand patting your back, helping you regain your breathing, grabs your attention.

It's a familiar hand that you immediately recognise as belonging to the other call for your affection.

If your cheeks weren't already bright red from exertion and nearly dying, they would've darkened further at your treadmill buddy having been the one to spot you on the ground.

Though given the amount of racket you've just made, drawing attention from the whole squad and their trainers, Caitlin isn't the only one now watching you with a concerned look.

"You alright, Dahl?"

You nod, accepting the hand up from the brunette, brushing yourself off quickly.

"Fine, just water went down the wrong hole." You joke mildly.

A smile tugging at the corner of Caitlin's lips makes your stomach warm, and you have to fight every urge to run away in embarrassment as it quickly morphs into a smirk.

"Maybe don't drink water mid stride next time, cutie."

With an affectionate roll of your eyes, you quickly return to the treadmill once again, shooting the onlooking blue eyed striker a reassuring smile as she watches you return to position with a careful gaze, though doing so makes your heart beat a little faster in your chest.

With that, you resort to getting lost in thought instead of so blatantly staring.

You have to get your feelings under control and fast.

--------------------------

"Do you think she notices?"

Steph's head perks up from it's position resting on her propped up hand.

"What?"

Beth gestures to your shaking form, body rattling with laughter as you talk with your teammates during breakfast.

"Y/n."

"Does she notice what?"

Steph's confused look is met with a cynical one from the blonde.

"Does she notice it when you both give her 'fuck me' eyes?"

Caitlin just about spits out her food across from them, coughing to avoid choking, and then swallowing.

"What the fuck are you on about?"

Beth scoffs.

"Please, you both know exactly what I'm talking about. Steph, you were staring at the girl for exactly one minute and thirty two seconds before I had to call your attention away just then and Caitlin, don't act like you weren't ogling the poor girl while she was relying on you as her spotter when she was doing her squat sets yesterday."

Steph's face goes mildly pink as she shakes her head.

"Yeah, no. There's no 'fuck me' eyes. At all. I'm happily engaged to Dean. Beffy, I have no idea what you're seeing here."

"Yeah, Beth, this is weird, even for you. I'm happy as I am with Lia."

"You guys... seriously?"

They both nod, Steph quickly changing the subject with a final glare at Beth so she doesn't protest for the rest of the meal.

They both finish up their food swiftly, taking off separately.

Beth groans, sliding her hand down her face. This was gonna be harder than she thought. There was no way she'd be able to get one of you to admit your feelings, let alone all three of you, by herself. She needed help.

And she knew just who to ask.

--------------------------

"No."

"But I haven't even-"

The captain holds up her hand, silencing the englishwoman.

"I'm not getting involved with whatever you've got planned."

"But Kimmy!"

The striker whines, latching onto the older woman hoping she'll give in to the puppy dog eyes.

"Beth-"

"I need help getting Y/n, Cait and Stephy to admit they're in love with each other."

That makes Kim's brows raise.

"Hell no. I'm not getting involved in other people's love lives. That's a definite fucking no. Also what makes you so confident in this information anyways?"

"You mean aside from Y/n nearly breaking something tripping on the treadmill yesterday after watching Stephy do her hip thrusts? Or Caitlin being the first one by her side?"

Assuming her power pose, Kim gives her a sceptical look.

"You mean when she was drinking water and choked? Or when Caitlin, the closest person to her, checked on her?"

Beth groans.

"No! It's not just that. It's the constant staring at each other. You should have seen the eyes Y/n was giving Cait in the locker room the other day. Not to mention the constant teasing from Cait as well. Steph is a like magnet when it comes to those two. The serious heart eyes she had this morning during breakfast were so ridiculously telling. I-"

Kim sighs and puts her hand again, pointing a finger at the striker.

"No, Beth, that's enough of that, honestly, I will not be getting involved in that, and you certainly shouldn't either. If I see you interfering at all."

It's a silent threat, but Beth doesn't need to hear it. Unfortunately, much like a team mother would, Kim would very much ground her. And would very much enforce it, too.

Okay, so maybe Kim wasn't her best option. She'd try Viv, but there's almost 100% chance she'd say no. Steph would normally be her next best option but obviously that's out of the question.

So she resigns to sighing and nodding, leaving the Arsenal captain alone to do her stretches.

Maybe Jen?

--------------------------

"No, absolutely not."

"But Jen, it's imperative we fix this issue, otherwise, all we'll be stuck with is longing looks for the rest of their lives."

"Beth, there's no issue to fix. Steph is getting married, and Caitlin is in a relationship. You're forgetting Lia is our friend too."

Beth paused for a moment. Jen's right. She hadn't even thought of the repercussions this would have on Lia. She was one of her oldest friends, too. God, she was an ass.

But still, she'd be an ever bigger ass if she couldn't help her friends out a little, right?

"Beffy, I know what you're thinking. But the answer is no. It's not worth it. It'll just create more drama than it's worth, I won't entertain the idea. It's gonna hurt someone, and what, then?"

"I know, I know. But you've gotta admit, there's something there, though, isn't there?"

Jen sighs softly.

"If even there might be an astronomical possibility that they're all magically single and available to mingle, and also completely fine with this. There's an off chance that they might work, given they're all so obviously at least girl crushing a little. But even then, it would still hurt someone."

Her shoulder's deflate, and Jen wraps her arm around her.

"Come on, Beth, just let it go. If it's meant to be, they'll work themselves out. Leave it alone. Now, come on, help me with this cleaning."

--------------------------

Steph's eyes trail across the pitch, taking but a few mere milliseconds to analyse your next run before sending a cross your way.

The perfectly timed lead allows for a perfectly timed header and a perfectly timed goal, equalising in just the second last minute of reg time.

The crowd erupts, and you bounce over to the defender, arms wrapping tightly around the woman in elation.

"Let's go, babygirl!"

Her hands settle underneath your legs, holding tightly so as to not drop you while your hands hold her face, forehead pressing to hers as you yell victoriously.

The final was Arsenal's for the taking now, thanks to your brilliant header.

The moment only serves to heighten your energy, and you drop from her grip only to jump into the waiting arms of your favourite striker.

"That's my girl!"

Your grin widens, and you shake her shoulders in excitement. Normally, you wouldn't brush aside that sort of comment, but it's in the middle of a game, so it's swept away to never be heard from again.

Returning to positions, Man United get the game underway once more, now downtrodden that they have to get another goal too.

Your heart races when you're given but another opportunity in the second stoppage minute. Or really, it's not much of an opportunity, more like a hail mary.

The ball has left your boot in an attempt at a last-minute miracle to give Arsenal the win.

From nearly fifty yards out, the ball sails far over the defensive line, passing a caught off guard Earps, who you'd spotted off her line just moments ago.

When it ricochets off the woodwork and into the net, you can hardly believe it, dropping to your knees in disbelief that it actually worked.

The noise from the crowd is almost unbearable.

Bodies pile onto yours, forcing you onto the pitch. Screaming and cheers from your teammates leave you matching their excitement and disbelief in your limited wiggles underneath the pile of Arsenal players.

The pile eventually pulls off you, and with several hugs and hair ruffles, you immediately feel the tightest hug between your two favourite people. You throw an arm up at the crowd from between Steph and Caitlin, both of them singing your praises into your ear as loud as they can.

The crowd cheers louder at your gesture, the feelings wash over you finally.

Relief. Happiness. Mild disbelief still.

"You fucking beautiful woman!"

"That's our fucking girl right here, baby!"

You grin up at the two women, squeezing both of them tightly and running back to position with one final wave to the crowd.

Two pairs of eyes watching the interaction exchange looks.

The moment play is restarted, the whistle blows for full time, leaving you and your teammates screaming in celebration.

Steph is the first one to you, jumping into your arms, wrapping tightly around you, and legs wrapping around your waist as you quickly grab them to avoid dropping her.

Your heart beats hard and fast, not sure whether it's the win or Steph's hands grabbing your face and kissing your forehead that does it.

A part of you wants to assume it's the win.

A part of you knows it's both.

That doesn't stop you from relishing in the moment, though, thoroughly enjoying her hands on you, which are now squishing your cheeks adorably.

The moment is gone the moment she leaves your arms, but it doesn't last long.

Caitlin is quick to pile on you next, fingers threading through your hair. While unintentional, it makes you buzz just that little bit more.

When her grin makes your whole body warm, you realise at that moment just how screwed you are.

And if anyone were to ask about your blush at them both kissing your cheeks in a pose for a photo with the trophy, well, you'd just deny it to the ends of the Earth.

--------------------------

Steph doesn't think about the little things too often. Moments here and there that aren't even so much as waved off, they're that insignificant.

Small touches. Friendly hugs. Little gifts. Every little detail that she normally ignores.

She doesn't think about all the times she's hugged you just that little bit tighter than she does with Beth or Lia.

She doesn't think about the bag of her favourite lollies being left in her cubby after practice that was most definitely planted by you.

She doesn't think about the way her eyes drift to you naturally, watching your form move across the pitch gracefully.

She doesn't think about the way her mood always brightens when she sees you, even if you'd already seen each other five times that day.

She doesn't think about the kiss she leaves on your forehead or cheek when you say hello or goodbye.

Except she does.

At least now that Beth's pointed it out to her.

Truth is, as much as she denied it that day at breakfast, her eyes were locked on you in every spare moment.

Realising just how much you actually invaded her thoughts and senses, well...

It's a startling revelation.

It scares the crap out of her.

She loves Dean and would do anything for the man she's planning to marry. He's a sweetheart. He keeps her on her toes. He takes care of her better than all of her previous partners ever could.

It's a startling revelation when she realises how much time she spends with you and Caitlin over him.

Caitlin.

That one comes out of left field. It definitely worries her, though, her best friend entering her trail of thought, too. That one catches her a little more off guard than she likes.

So, she leaves that one for another time, shoving it back into what was supposed to be a deadbolt box of intrusive thoughts in her head.

She hates how much you invade her head.

When she thinks back on what started it, she can't pinpoint it. Just that you'd always been the sweetest friend to her. Friend. She hates that her stomach turns at the term.

It'd always been you to comfort her in moments of doubt. It was always you she wanted beside her when victory came the team's way.

Steph feels helpless when she realises how much she actually cares for you.

She feels helpless when she realises how screwed she truly is.

"Babe, dinner's ready!"

Dean's voice brings her out of her head, echoing from the kitchen of their shared flat in London.

As she makes her way over to the table, the plate already set out for her, a small kiss pressed into the bearded cheek of her fiance, her mind wanders back again.

What the hell is she gonna do?

--------------------------

Beth doesn't leave it alone in the end. She's determined to at least get something out of you if she can't get something out of Steph or Caitlin.

Though with Kim now watching her like a hawk during training, she has to be subtle about it, so getting you alone during a night out without Kim or Jen is a little too difficult, especially since you're glued to Caitlin and Steph's sides constantly.

Viv being there is out of the question, so she had to come up with an excuse to get you out with her, on your own.

"N/n pleeeease, I need you to come with me, shopping."

You groan into the phone in annoyance at the blonde. You'd just wanted to enjoy your day off without the stress of having to socialise like an adult.

"Why can't you go on your own? Or with literally anyone else but me? Steph or Viv, or literally any one of the 23 other women in our squad?"

"Because you've got the day off, Steph is busy, Viv is out of the question because I'm shopping for a gift for her, and I want it to be a surprise and you're the only other one that knows her almost as good as I do."

You can hear the pout from your side of the line, and when you sigh softly into the receiver, Beth knows she's won.

"Fine, but I really wanna be back home as soon as possible. I have some serious me time planned, and I wanna get back to that as soon as possible."

"Gross Y/n, I know you're single and all but-:

"Shut the fuck up and get over here."

It doesn't take her long to come kidnap you and drag you around to nearly every store in the shopping centre, and it's a miracle you're only stopped once for pictures.

"Beth, why are we here? Why do you need my opinion on this? Why am I even here?"

Apparently, her final chosen store was a lingerie store. It also means she's trying to get you to purchase something as well. Why? You don't know.

"Because you're the next best judge for me. Also, you need to get out. You've been way too busy lately and need to do some shopping for you and for you only."

"For god sakes, I'm literally you're only single friend, I'd be the worst judge for this."

Punctuating your sentence with dropping into your seat once again with a tired groan.

"Also, I know I've been way too busy, that's why I was at home in the first place. Now, can we please hurry up and go, Beffy?"

You whine, now getting fidgety under the pile of bags you've been made to carry around for her.

Tossing another pair back over the curtain to you, telling you to toss her the next pair, she chuckles at your exasperation.

She's been stalling as long as she can to try and get the opportunity to talk to you but hasn't found the right words this whole time. She knows if she doesn't ask soon, she'll up losing her only chance.

"Just give me a couple more minutes to try these on, and I'll take you to go get some nando's?"

Huffing softly, knowing she's got you with the offer of food, you sit back down again, waiting for her to finish browsing.

"Fine, but hurry up or you'll be dealing with hangry Y/n, too."

"Got it, Sweetpea. Now, pick out a set, too."

Your loud groan of annoyance makes her laugh.

It's only in the car on the way home that she finally manages to ask.

"So, Y/n, I've been noticing some things over the past couple months."

Swallowing the mouthful of chicken, you look over at her suspiciously.

"And what would that be?"

"You've been giving Stephy and Cait eyes."

Turning your head, you roll your eyes at the same time, though there's a sting in your eyes as you fight back the oncoming rush of emotion.

"Beth, you're gonna have to be specific. I kinda have to look at them to converse with them. Ya know, best friends and all."

Giving emphasis to the word friends, you're hoping she'll let what you know she's about to say go. Of course, this is Beth, and of course, that's not happening.

"N/n, that's not what I meant, and you know it."

It's said a little softer this time, with the hopes you don't scare away entirely.

"It's not happening, Beffy. There's nothing there, and nothing will ever be there."

Her heart breaks for you at the crack in your voice and she can see tears peaking out of the corners of your eyes.

She pulls over in an isolated carpark, so she can fully look at you.

"Doesn't mean it hurts any less."

"If it means I don't lose them, then I don't care how much it may or may not hurt. I can't lose them."

You've fully curled up in her passenger seat now, legs pressed to your chest as you pick at the cuticles on your fingers.

"I can't do it. I can't let them see it."

She sighs, resigning to letting you work this out for now. She knows you're stubborn. She knows you won't let her intervene under any circumstance.

"I'm serious, Beffy. You can't tell them, they can't know about this. I won't lose them."

"I won't tell them. If that's what you want, I won't tell them. They still deserve to know, though. It's not fair on you or them to keep this bottled up. It'll kill you in the end if you don't tell someone."

"So be it... I'll figure something out. Maybe take some time away. The only way to get over someone is to get under someone else, right?"

It's said in half joking tone, but Beth knows otherwise. She's seen how you coped with your previous relationship ending. You nearly killed your reputation entirely with the constant one night stands.

How you cope is up to you, and she still respects you as a person, but she also wants you to be happy, both with yourself and your life.

She never judged you. She never seriously complained at having to come get you every other night for three weeks straight every time you called her for a lift home.

She did get sick of it though, and she finally managed to get you to leave that behind fairly swiftly after your position on the team was threatened by the incessant news articles with leaked images of you with a new girl on your arm in every single one.

The others hadn't entirely seen that side of you, you pushing them away to avoid scaring them away too.

Beth was the only one who didn't take your attempts at pushing her away.

"Just, take it easy, alright? Don't let it risk your career as well. I'm not letting that happen again. You're my family, sweet girl."

She punctuates the sentence by pulling you to hug her over the console, and you let her, letting the tears fall finally, holding your best friend tightly.

"It's gonna be okay, Y/n. It might not feel like it, but you'll make it out okay eventually."

Would you?

--------------------------

Caitlin, to her credit, doesn't acknowledge what Beth had said until much later. It takes a whole two months until she even realises her heart had been elsewhere.

Until her current relationship with Lia becomes a past one.

When she realises she should feel more devastated than she does.

When she realises that she feels way more comfortable about the breakup than she should.

Her thoughts don't fully drift to you until she feels her heart race when you hug her after she tells you about the breakup.

It's not that she never thought about you, really. It's more that she never realised she was thinking about you a lot more than was acceptable.

The gifts she'd get you, whether it be fresh coffee in the morning or even flowers after your previous breakup just a year ago.

The small cheeks kisses she'd get from you in return that make her cheeks flush a little.

She begins to wonder in that moment.

Had you noticed the way her heart sped up a little when you hugged her, ear pressed to her chest as you both embraced?

Had you noticed the pink hue her face took on when you smiled that gorgeous smile that only appears when you're genuinely happy?

Had Lia noticed any of this?

It makes her feel both guilty but also flustered at the thought of being so dimwittingly obvious.

In the final conversation between her and her ex, Lia had cited her lack of presence in the relationship.

"You're just not in it anymore, Caitlin. I can't be with you when you aren't here, with me."

She does feel guilty for it. Knows how crap Lia must have felt not having her girlfriend there for her, but she knows it's for the best.

What she does notice is your sudden absence. She sees a lot less of you than she'd like. You disappear from rooms that she's in. If you're forced to be in the room, you're seated far from her and Steph.

Training is much the same, only interacting to keep it professional. It makes her heart ache more than anything. Had she done something? Was she too telling?

Her stomach drops at the thought.

What if you knew? What if she was too obvious?

What if-

"Hey, you alright Cait?"

Steph's hand on her shoulder is comforting, and it sends soft tingles through her skin beneath the fabric of the training jersey.

She has to avoid jerking away from the feeling.

"Fine. Do you..."

She pauses, trying to work out if she wants to even bring Steph into this.

"Is there something up with Y/n?"

Steph hesitates at that, an unsure look on her face.

"Have you noticed it too? She's been avoiding us a bit. It's like that time a year ago. When she..."

Caitlin nods, understanding saturated on her face now.

"Maybe something's happened?"

"It's weird, though. It feels like it's just us she's avoiding."

Steph nibbles at her lower lip nervously, looking around the pitch. She notices, though, that they're not the only ones keeping a close eye on you. Beth is looking over to you every so often, concern laced in her gaze and the way her eyes follow your movements.

It makes sense, though. You'd always been closest with the blonde striker. You'd clicked the moment you'd joined Arsenal four years ago, right before the other two aussies had.

"It's probably just something going on. She'll work it out. She's got Beth looking after her, it seems."

The striker nods and moves to continue the drills, though the worry doesn't ebb at all.

In fact, it only increases the closer to the world cup they get. What were you going to do once the World Cup came around? Maybe they would have to keep an eye on you themselves.

--------------------------

Steph, it turns out, is right. It is just them you're avoiding.

It's the why that has them worried.

Their best friend, their favourite person, was now actively avoiding their presence.

You seemed fine chatting away to everyone else in camp. In fact, they'd found you in cuddle piles with some of the youngins more often than not. Something you'd do with Steph and Caitlin without hesitation normally.

She finds herself missing you more often than not, her heart wrenching itself at the thought of them losing you now.

She thinks back on what she'd realised just a month previously.

It becomes clear that she just has to ignore it if she wants things to go back to normal.

Plus, it has to go away. It's already had her second guessing her own relationship. And Dean's starting to notice her hesitation, too. It has to stop. If not for her sake, then for his and yours as well.

It's just a silly little crush. She has Dean, and she has Caitlin and you as friends. Well, only if she can work out why you're avoiding them.

Meanwhile, you're doing everything you can to push down the pain of not having properly spoken to Caitlin and Steph.

It hurts like all hell to not be near them but you need the time to settle before the opening game, which is creeping ever closer with every hour you spend working out what the fuck you're gonna do.

You can't avoid them forever. You aren't sleeping properly anymore and it's affecting your performance.

Beth has been messaging you constantly, checking up on you, but she hasn't been able to see you at all, given she's still in London doing her rehab. Though she does promise to fly over for a few days to come see you and the girls when she can, knowing the other England girls would want to see her as well.

Unfortunately, she knows you a little too well as well, and she calls out the tiredness in your voice one day, it's 9am and you've not trained for the day, so she knows you have no excuse to be tired yet.

You brush her off, but the mild scolding you get in return is enough to have you spilling the beans.

"Just not sleeping too well is all. I'm fine, Beffy. I'm just adjusting to the environment again. It's been a while since we've been in camp."

"You and I both know that's not the reason. How are coping over there? And be honest with me. I have my sources."

Rolling your eyes slightly, you huff down the phone.

"Your sources need to mind their own business. And I'm fine, I'm serious. I'm taking my time and everything, just like you said."

"I didn't mean to explicitly ignore them altogether either. Steph's worried about you. She's already messaged me asking if you're alright and that you'd been acting weird even before international break started."

"Shit."

"Caitlin, too. Said you've been distant but doesn't wanna scare you away. Y/n, please, for the sake of your sanity and theirs. Just talk to them."

"Beth...."

"I'm serious lovey, you need to talk to them, even if you don't outright say, 'I'm in love with you both', just tell them you're dealing with feelings at the moment. They're missing their best friend, not just you missing them here."

There's a soft knock on your door that grabs your attention.

"Look, I'll think about it-"

"No. Talk to them. I'm serious. I can't play buffer when I'm not there. You need to talk to them. Not me."

"Alright, I'll do it at some point. I have to go, someone's at the door."

"Y/n-"

"Love you, bye."

You hang up with a soft growl of frustration, the knocks on the door getting more persistent now.

"For the love of- I'm coming, calm down!"

Swinging open the door, you're met with a sheepish looking Steph and Caitlin.

Not who you're expecting. But at the same time...

"What's up?"

You keep it calm, not wanting to totally panic now that the exact people you were avoiding are at your door.

"Can we talk?"

Shuffling your feet slightly, you step aside, gesturing for them to come in.

They stand there awkwardly for a minute before you walk up to them, poking Steph in the shoulder lightly with a small smile.

"Stop being weird, y'all can sit down ya know."

A slight smile tugs at her lips and they both chuckle softly, conceding to sit on the edge of the single bed while you pull up the chair, resting one foot on the set, knee pressed up to your chest.

"So what's up?"

They exchange a look for a moment.

"We were hoping you'd tell us that."

Feigning ignorance, you tilt your head slightly.

"About...?"

Steph sees right through you though, a raised brow in your direction.

"You know what about. You haven't spoken a word to us since before we even left london. What's going on? Is something happening?"

You scratch at the back of your neck slightly, head ducking to avoid eye contact that you know will probably mess you up in trying to not confess your undying love.

"Just a small thing... it's not really major. I just figured I had to deal with it on my own for a bit."

"And that includes completely avoiding us and only us?"

Caitlin's words have a bit of bite now, frustration leaking through.

Swallowing softly, you look up at them.

"It's not- You guys know me better than the others, figured if I avoided you both, it would be easier to avoid having a conversation about it."

Steph moves from her spot towards you, kneeling to take your hands, which are now propping up your head on both knees.

"Talk to us Sweetheart, what's going on in that head of yours?"

Feeling tears well up in your eyes, you tilt your head back slightly, not wanting them to streak down your face in front of them.

It hurts so bad. You want to tell them, but you can't risk it.

What you don't see but hear is Caitlin moving to crouch by your side, hand resting on your leg, concerned look making it's way onto her features.

"Talk to us darlin', we just want our friend back."

There it is, the word you hate so much. It makes your stomach drop, and the tears flow freely down your cheeks. Looking down at them, you shake your head.

"I can't tell you that."

A shaky breath wracks your chest and you turn your head away, avoiding the worried blue and brown eyes of the women in front of you.

A hand settles on your chin, bringing you back to look at them.

"Why not? You know you can tell us anything. Please, we just want to make you're alright."

The feeling of their hands on you is overwhelming. Between your heart and your head, everything is racing and feels so heavy.

Standing abruptly, you step back away from them both, moving away from their outstretched hands when they reach for you.

"I just can't."

Cutting Caitlin off before she can say anything else, you move over to the door, opening it.

"Just please leave. I can work it out on my own. I can't tell you just yet, alright? I love you both, but I need to get my head straight before I can talk about it. I'll be fine, just... please...."

Sighing softly, Steph moves towards the door, but not before cupping your cheek softly and kissing your forehead.

"We're here for you. Whenever you feel like talking. Don't forget that."

You nod softly, and she steps out the door.

Caitlin does the same, hand lingering a little longer on your shoulder, though, squeezing softly.

There's something in her eyes you don't quite recognise, but you don't question it as she she leaves, muttering a soft goodbye to you.

Shutting the door behind them, your form slides down the wooden panel, sitting knees to your chest as you rest your head on your knees, listening as their footsteps echo further down the hallway in synchronized steps.

You are such a coward.

Why didn't you just tell them?

Everything would be so much easier.

It would hurt too much to lose them, though.

They'd hate you forever.

You'd ruin everything.

The thoughts running through your head are loud, and they don't leave room for much else, so you do the only you know to try and calm yourself.

You pull out your phone, dialling Beth's number and wait with bated breath.

The moment she picks up, its like it all just blurts out at once.

"Hello?" It's said in a tired voice.

"I couldn't do it!" Choked sobs from your end immediately make the blonde shoot up from her spot in bed, her girlfriends arm suddenly moved from its position around her waist.

"What? Y/n, talk to me."

"I tried to tell them, and I just broke down and told them to leave! They're gonna hate me!"

There's a concerned hand on her arm from a half asleep Viv, and she gives her an apologetic look, mouthing your name to her.

"Oh sweet girl, they could never hate you. God they lovd you way too much to hate you."

"That's the problem. They'll never love me like that. Not the way I do. They'll hate me if I tell them. It's basically a lose-lose situation either way."

It's loud enough that the dutchie hears it from her position behind the englishwoman, and her brows furrow. When had this occurred?

"Babe, what is she talking about?"

"Uhhhh.. gimme a minute." She turns back to the phone.

"Alright, it's okay, you couldn't tell them. I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay? You're gonna send yourself into a serious hyperventilation if you don't breathe for me, alright?"

You take a moment to let your chest muscles relax, trying to keep them from constricting in your chest too much.

It doesn't quite work, though, and everything just comes crashing down around you, your sobs just becoming harder.

"I c-cant. It hurts!"

Shit.

"That's okay, I want you to do something for me, okay? Put a hand to your chest for me."

Doing so, you set down the phone, putting it on speaker, knowing the drill by now, having done this many times before.

"Five things you can see?"

Squinting up into the now dark room you scan the place, trying to focus on the various items in the darkness.

"Uh, c-curtains, a chair.... my bed, a pile of clothing... myself in the standing mirror."

"Good, that's it. Four things you can hear."

"You, Viv, my pulse in my ears, the cleaner down the hallway."

"Good, three things you can feel."

Swallowing lightly, you rest your head against the cool wood of the door, allowing it to ground you a little better.

"Cold, the carpet is cold. The wood of the door. Sweaty, and snotty. I feel gross."

Ignoring you joking softly, she continues.

"Two things you can smell, sweets."

Taking one more shaky breath, your pulsd starts to lessen off from its incessant beating in your eardrums.

"Uh, carpet cleaner and Steph's perfume."

"That's it, one more. One thing you can taste."

"The peanut butter cup I ate earlier."

"There you go, take a few more breaths for me."

"Someone want to explain whats going on now?"

Viv's voice sounds from your phones speaker, and you sigh softly. Now another person probably knows.

You hear some muttering over the line followed by a small hum.

"Ah, so you're finally admitting it then?"

Huh?

"Wha-"

"It was kind of obvious, really. You really weren't subtle about it."

Of course, she's right. Who were you kidding? It was so blatanly obvious. It was painful to anyone observing it. You couldn't imagine what the other two might have seen.

"I can tell what you're thinking, sweetheart. As obvious as it is to the rest of us, those two knuckleheads have no clue. Thats on them for not noticing you're struggling."

"That's the problem. They know something up. They came to my room to work out why I was avoiding them, Beffy. They're gonna work it out sooner or later, and I don't think I wanna be stuck around them if they do. I don't want to think about having to witness that. The disgust on their faces because they're own best friend is in love with both of them."

On the other side of the line, Beth and Viv exchange a look, Beth sighs softly, her partners fingers carding through her hair, helping relieve the stress headache she can already feel coming on.

"Love, you need to tell them. I know you're struggling. They could never hate you or be disgusted by you. They love you. And they just need to realise it."

"You and I both know that's not true, though."

The frustration bubbling up in Beth's chest has it spilling from her lips before she can really stop herself.

"It is. You're just too blind to see it. Those girls are obsessed with you. The love in their eyes for you is honestly kind of sickeningly sweet. Too bad you're all too dumb to see it, though. It's so damn obvious to everyone but you. You literally just need to talk to them, please, for the sake of your mental health and ours. Talk. To. Them."

"Okay? Even if that were remotely true. Steph's getting married. There's no way in the world she'd even consider leaving that behind. The man treats her better than I ever could. We're just better off as friends. It needs to stay that way."

"Y/n-"

"No, Beth, I'm done with this. Look. I have to go. I'll talk to you later."

Beths protests are cut off by the click of you hanging up.

Even if she was right, so were you. Steph wouldn't leave Dean. She loves him far too much. He's her safest option, and she knows it.

Caitlin wad a whole other story.

Sure, she's single now. But what makes her any more available to you than Steph? She's still your friend. There's no way she'd want you the way you want them.

Letting your head hit the door once more, you sigh, wondering how the hell you'd fix what you're already damaging.

--------------------------

It starts off slowly. She doesn't even realise she's doing it. Little things here and there.

Picking at the little issues she finds.

Poking and prodding at the soft spots, pushing buttons she wouldn't normally push.

Apparently, it's pretty easy to start fights when you know what buttons to push.

Why? She has no clue.

In her head, though. It's staring her right in the face.

The little comparisons she makes.

You'd never get upset over her leaving her boots in a heaped pile beside the door.

Your cooking was always so much better whenever she went over to your place.

You'd never have left her to find travel home on her own after a World Cup.

In fact, you'd actively made sure she had a ride home, her reassuring (lies) left you feeling relieved that she wouldn't be on her own after the exit the Matildas took at the World Cup.

Whatever it was that had you avoiding them, you'd figured out how to deter it. Returning to conversing with the two brunettes like nothing had happened.

It was a little unsettling how much she noticed you putting on a mask with them.

As hard as you'd tried to fake being fine, she could read you like an open book. Or at least to a fair extent.

For one, your smile never quite reached your eyes, save for the one or two times of victory during the games. The most honest one you give is the win over France.

It was another thing she noticed. She found herself breathing a little easier with you by her side, even with a shell of a smile.

She doesn't push you, though. Not wanting to scare you away again.

Caitlin was very much of the same opinion. Even though you'd stopped avoiding them, you still weren't your usual cheery sunshiney self around them.

The striker doesn't bring it up, though. Only encouraging you with silent smiles of encouragement and occasional soft brushes of her hand against your back, shoulder, or arm when she's next to you.

So Steph does the same. Seeing you both tense but also relax under their, although gentle, not so subtle ministrations.

In the early hours of another chaos filled weekday, mainly filled with silent frustration built up between her and Dean. The latter not knowing what's going on with his Fiancee, he eventually has to poke and prod her enough to spill it.

Though, stubborn as the Australian is, she doesn't give too much, only snapping that she's fine and to let it go.

It sparks an argument that ends up with him storming out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

It started over a simple question over that nights pumpkin cous cous salad.

It takes her but five minutes of seething to realise what she's starting and why.

She feels sick to her stomach.

She was sabotaging her relationship with Dean.

And for what? A silly crush on her friend?

What the hell is she doing?

It's in the early hours of the evening that she gets a text from Dean saying he's at a friend's place for the night and that she needs to cool down and work out what her problem is before he'll return home.

With a defeated sigh, she sends him a sincere apology, telling him she was just frustrated at everything lately and to take the time he needs and that she would work on herself in the meantime.

Not that she does, really. Apparently, she doesn't learn her lesson, instead pushing down the already bottle necked emotions she's experiencing.

She knows it'll blow up in her face eventually. But what can she do? Admit she's secretly in love with you and destroy an already sinking ship of a relationship?

Probably.

But why do that when can sabotage ever having a more peaceful break up.

It seems like she's doom spiralling at this point.

It was a petty fight that blew up. Not that uncommon or that bad that it would suggest either of them should be ready to give up on everything they worked for together.

But that's the thing.

It's taken until she's blown up at him to realise how much they're fighting for it here. All of that pressure to be together. To work out.

To be the perfect it couple.

To want to work out.

It feels like they're both constantly giving 110% but when does the relief come? When do they get their due release. When does it get easier?

She'd thought love was supposed to be easy between two people. For couples to know each other. To read each other without even really trying.

Yet here he was, struggling to realise his own fiancee was falling for another woman.

And that she was letting it happen.

Like an idiot.

The more she ruminates, the more she sees the signs herself.

She's been pulling away from him more and more. Avoiding talking about you, unlike before when she'd bring you up at least once a day to him. Always eager to gush about her best friend like a teenager.

Now, even the remote mention of you leaves twists in her guts, and she has to try and subtly change the subject without letting on that she's hopelessly not in love with him anymore.

Oh.

She's loves Dean.

Right?

No.

Yes.

She loves him.

But she's not in love with him.

Not anymore.

It scares her.

He's always been her safety blanket.

But maybe that's the issue.

He was too comfortable. Too much of a safety blanket. Shielding her from what she should have been acknowledging this entire time.

Maybe. Just maybe.

She's been in love with you this whole time.

That's what scares her the most.

And now that she's finally realising it, she realises there's a conversation to be had.

And feelings she needs to communicate. Even if it hurts both of them. Because in the end, it'll hurt worse if she tries to fight it anymore than she already has. She's already hurting Dean too much by leading him on like this. She can't take it anymore, she has to tell him.

Any fairytale story would tell you that it went surprisingly well. That Dean says he knew all along. That he knew Steph was secretly gay and had been waiting for her to tell him so he could comfort her and encourage her to go for the girl. To go for you. To finally acknowledge that those lingering stares from you might mean something.

Unfortunately, this isn't a fairytale.

And he doesn't take it well.

In fact, he's pretty furious when she timidly brings it up.

She doesn't blame him though.

"Are you fucking serious right now, Steph?"

She winces at that.

"You want to ruin what we have because of that bitch?"

Anger flares up in her chest at that, and she shoots to her feet suddenly, coming to your aid despite you being blissfully unaware and not present for this.

Yes she fucked up but he has no right to call you that.

"Don't fucking call her that. This isn't her fault. She didn't do anything wrong. Yell at me, blame me, call me the bitch but do not insult her. Ever."

He chuckles darkly.

"I should have fucking known. How did I not see it? We've been fighting an uphill battle this whole time. All we do is argue, argue, argue at this point. And you don't even try anymore. Fuck, you had a go at me over pasta the other week. You've been finding excuses to insult everything I do. Everything I've achieved. Apparently, I can't even get dinner right anymore. Nothing is good enough for you. Now I know you've just been comparing me to your teammate this whole time."

Her head falls at that.

He's right.

She's been the worst partner to him. There's no excuse.

"Now I know that you've just been lying to me this entire time. And by the looks of it, yourself too."

The following silence as she tries to gather her words only serves to tick him off more.

"Fuck you Stephanie. I hope she treats you well."

The slam of the front door as he grabs his packed luggage and walks out the door with it, taking the last of the relationship with him, makes her collapse back onto the couch.

The tears, the frustration, the anger, at herself more than anything for letting it get this bad. All of it just crashes down on her and for the first time in a long time, she let's her emotions take over and she just cries.

Grieving the loss of a relationship doomed from the start. Grieving the major fuck up on her part.

Crying because she knows it's gone now.

Crying because even if she does end up with you. She's lost a friend in the man she once thought she loved. And that's on her. She knows that.

For now, though, she allows herself to cry it out, knowing the acceptance will take a while to come before she can fully move on from that.

--------------------------

Giggling as you shove Caitlin lightly, her arms tightly wrapping around you and wiping her sweaty forehead all over your face, you blush as she presses a kiss to your cheek with a small wink as she jogs off to the locker room, you following behind with a shake of the head.

It seems you'd finally started to let go a bit. With Caitlin now doing everything in her power to get you to smile daily, you start to let your guard down at your own behest more and more.

It seems easier, though, considering the sudden icyness from a certain defender that has you being pushed into the arms of the striker instead, literally.

It feels like she's latching onto you every minute she can. You can feel the stares from the other side of the training grounds. Feel the burning stare as she watches you with her best friend. The one she's now also trying to grapple whether or not she's falling for too.

You don't pay it much mind during training, but you do attempt to pull Steph out of whatever has her this down suddenly.

Leaving her little notes of encouragement after particularly gruelling sessions where Jonas had let his frustration out pretty badly on her after some major mistakes on her part.

Making sure she's always hydrating during the particularly warmer sessions.

Making sure she's been eating correctly by leaving her homecooked meals on top of her car when she goes to leave for the day.

Making sure she knows you're there even though she never stopped knowing that in the first place.

She'd tried pushing you away to sort everything out, but in the end, you make it a little difficult with the loving you're unknowingly (or maybe knowingly, she doesn't know) giving her. Even in a time when she's trying to make it clear, she wants to be alone.

You and Caitlin don't let her, though.

The forward always grabs the girl by the arm to pair up for training, forcing her to chat way about what's been going on.

She doesn't tell her that she's harbouring feelings. She does tell her that her and Dean have broken up though.

That was a shock to the striker.

She'd thought the woman was perfectly happy, but it seems everything was just bubbling away under the surface.

Caitlin does feel a little guilty for being happy about it, knowing the girl is going through heartbreak and all she can selfishly think about is how she's single now too.

She tells the forward not to tell anyone for now, not wanting to affect the rest of the team with more drama than what usually occurs. Even you, much to the younger brunettes protests.

She doesn't tell you that session.

In fact, it takes her a whole month before you manage to break her walls down enough again to spill the filthy secret she's been harbouring.

"Oh, Steph, I'm so sorry."

Your hug after she tells you is warm. Warmer than she'd realised. The feeling of your arms around her brings a surprising amount of comfort for something that, although she was still grieving, was mostly over with the thought that it's over, that's that.

"S'fine, it was a mess anyways. Both of us were struggling to keep it civil in the end. It was my fault anyway. I just stopped loving him and refused to acknowledge it for so long. It blew up on me."

"Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt either. You're allowed to be upset about it. Sometimes, we can't control how we feel, Stephy."

But oh how right you were.

Despite her scrambling to lock down her feelings and keep her heart from latching itself onto you, it had done so with an eagerness to rival Katie in a no rules match. (Which after a couple weary tackles, had to be vetoed by Jonas and the medical staff).

"I know, jus' can't not feel guilty. I treated him like shit towards the end."

"Steph, from what you've told me, he only fired right back, too. Think about it. He got pissed when you tried to communicate that something needed to change. Maybe it hit a little closer to home for him, too."

What?

Wait a minute.

Oh god.

It wasn't entirely her fault.

It all makes sense now.

That's all it takes for her to finally pick up her phone again to check social media.

And what do you know. He's suddenly got a new girl on his arm, not even a month later.

Now she's pissed. She has every right to be.

Why, you ask?

The new girl on his arm was the clerk at his gym that he ran. The one that he said was only being friendly when Steph got mad about her being flirty.

That asshole.

You can see the thought process play out in her facial expressions, from the moment of realisation to the reaction to it.

"That lying cheating dick."

The evidence?

'Happy Six month anniversary baby'

One title on one post.

She feels so much pressure on her chest drop off with the discovery. Despite the anger, she feels freer than before. The crushing weight of the breakup is now firmly off of her shoulders, and she feels like she can breathe again.

Well, now she can let it all go and not feel guilty about wanting to move on.

Now, all she has to do is work everything else out, too.

"Oh god, he didn't."

Your face is one of concern, and frankly, she just about laughs, the ridiculousness of the situation almost bubbling over. So when she does laugh, you only look more concerned for the brunette.

"He did. I've never felt more relieved, to be honest with you. I felt so damn guilty for ending it the way things did. Turns out he's been screwing his work admin for the past six months. I hope that dick is happy. Those two are perfect for each other."

Despite the situation, you laugh with her, her arm slips around your shoulders.

"So I'm ready to get over it, dunno 'bout you, but I feel like celebrating."

"Ice cream and movie night."

"Absolutely, mind if I let Cait come too?"

"You better."

She grins at the smile that crosses your lips at the mention of the striker.

--------------------------

"Oh my god, I can not believe she let him do that. I swear these chicks are so stupid romance movies."

You groan out at the main character once again, falling for lover boys' false apologies, and Steph and Caitlin chuckle from either side of you, ceramic bowls in hand.

"Babe, it's a romance movie. What do you expect? It's gonna be cheesy and stupid."

Despite your cheeks flushing in the half lit up darkened lounge room in your house, you shake your head.

"Damn, if only she actually knew how to be treated, she might not go back to his dumb butt every time. Woman needs to learn to love herself more."

The pair exchange an amused look over your head, your form slumped into the cushions as they sit sideways on the lounger, arms holding up their heads as they watch you criticise the movie more and more.

What you miss is the shared look of affection over your head, a silent agreement as they both move to press themselves onto either side of you.

Cut back to this afternoon after training.

The pair of them had been chatting away, Steph having told Caitlin about your movie night when the striker got a look on her face. Like something clicked.

"So we were thinking- what? What's that look?"

"I just remembered something."

Steph gestures for the girl to continue.

"So.. when were you planning on telling me you ARE in love with Y/n."

Her cheeks flush bright red, and she stumbles over an explanation.

"It's still so fresh.. a-and I wasn't entirely sure and..."

The laugh that escapes the forward has her a little confused.

"Thank god. I thought I was imagining things. You're not the only one, Stephy. She's pretty great, huh?"

"You're not... I don't know, upset that I love her too?"

"Hell no. Steph. Puddin'. Babe. You can't control how you feel and if I'm being honest. I don't mind at all. Like, I kind of like that you do."

Caitlin's cheeks warm, and she looks down, scuffing her boots slightly against the turf.

There's a small pause as Steph observes the forward. She looks around and sees that everyone else has already made their way back towards the change rooms.

"Caitlin..."

The girl looks up again, finding dilated pupils staring back at her and she whines at the look.

"Steph..."

"Can I...-"

"Please."

That's all the indication the older woman needs to tug her into a harsh kiss, hands finding her cheeks.

Hands tangling in her hair make her whimper into the kiss, and a flush creeps up her neck to her ears as their lips slot together easily.

It feels so much softer, but also more passionate than anything she'd ever shared with that piece of garbage.

She practically melts when she feels the other woman's tongue lazily drag across her lower lip, knees just about buckling as the hands move to slip under the edge of her shirt, trailing across the skin of her stomach.

Eventually, they both pull away, gasping and air intermingling their puffed breaths.

"Oh. My. God."

Caitlin chuckles, hands moving back to settle on the woman's jawline.

"You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that."

Both of them are pressed tightly to one another, allowing their shared warmth to wrap around them, cocooning them for but a few short moments.

"I kept denying how much I realised I was falling for you both."

"Both?"

The hopeful glint in the striker's eye makes her melt further into her, lips grazing hers once again.

"You both made it so ridiculously hard not to. You've always cared more than anyone. And you do so much more than you realise for me, too."

The grin that crosses the strikers face as she leans her forehead against Stephs is mirrored by said woman.

"I may or may not have fallen for you both, too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"What do you say we go put the girl out of her misery, too? I hate to say it, but we totally missed the way she's been pining this whole time."

"That's an ego boost and a half."

"Like you need it."

An affectionate eye roll.

"Shush you."

And she slots their lips together again once more before sneaking back to the locker room.

The feeling of the two of them cuddling into suddenly makes you jump slightly, two hands resting on your stomach, shirt riding up slightly underneath their touch.

"I-... can I help you both? Are you okay?"

Both of their eyes on you makes you shrink in on yourself a little, worried something might be wrong.

"Perfectly fine gorgeous."

"Doing pretty, thanks, baby."

Your cheeks are glowing beneath the light of the television and both of them are still watching you intently.

Swallowing softly, you turn to meet Steph's eye.

"I- Can I tell you two something?"

"Of you can, babygirl."

A nod of affirmation from the striker has you nervously picking at your cuticles.

"It's about why I was avoiding you both back in camp. I was... nervous. I didn't want you to know something so I was trying not to spill it."

A soft chuckle from Steph.

"We know, sweetheart, that part was obvious."

Your cheeks flush a little more.

"And, I might have realised something and I've been scared to say anything. Because you're both my friends, and I don't wanna ruin what we have-"

"We know gorgeous."

"We could tell. You weren't overly subtle. It just took us a while to see it."

You duck your head a little, but a set of two fingers lifts it up by your chin again to face the older of the two.

Immediately, you whimper, spotting the way her eyes have darkened significantly.

"Kiss me. Please."

"With pleasure sweet girl."

And so they do. First Steph, claiming your bottom lip between hers, sucking at it, tugging it and letting it go with a soft pop, before pressing back to you again, hand sliding up under the fabric of your tshirt.

A pair of hands gently pulls you away from the defender, and another pair of soft lips quickly takes your own again, leaving you whimpering into it.

Parting your lips at the now hasty swipe of Caitlins tongue, she slips it into your mouth, moulding with your own, leaving you a forever breathless, whimpering mess. Literal putty beneath their fingertips.

Pulling away enough to speak, your chest rises and falls harshly, but you're beaten to it by the forward.

"We've fallen for you as well, sweet girl. We put off acknowledging it for so long, I don't know about you, but I dont feel like wasting anymore time. Be ours?"

Without a single moment of hesitation, you nod eagerly, quickly pulling Steph back into you, allowing your hands to rest on the nape of her neck and as Caitlin's hands trail up to the hemline of your sports bra, you subconsciously breath a sigh of relief, feeling the weight of several tonne trucks fall off your shoulders again.

They loved you too.

You could cry right now.

But you dont. Instead, you focus on the way they touch you like they'll never get to feel you ever again. You focus on the way they kiss you, stealing your breath away with every lock of their lips to yours.

In the end, you're so glad you listened to Beth for once. And she's very glad when she's you walk into training sporting new hickeys and two hands in your own, followed by mild regret now that you're all disgustingly in love, too.

Deep down, she loves it, though. She loves you, and she's glad you've finally got what you deserve.

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She's done, but I'm delirious, so I'll come back and edit tomorrow 😭

#woso #woso imagine #woso imagines #woso x reader #caitlin foord imagine #caitlin foord imagines #caitlin foord x reader #steph catley imagine #steph catley imagines #steph catley x reader

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