#and shes always going out and never cones back by the time she says she will (WHEN she comes home)

[globodamorte]

she's not even home. what the fuck girl

[weeknd-ogoc]

LOOK AFTER YOU ✩ MAX VERSTAPPEN

SUMMARY: in which max and you have always found it really hard to move on from each other.

(inspired by the fray's song, look after you.)

FACE CLAIM: cindy kimberly

CONTAINS: reader!alonso, spanish!reader, angst due to past memories of your relationship with max, emotional cheating, use of y/n, could possibly trigger your daddy issues lols & kind of right person, wrong time trope!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: kinda felt like i rushed it and didn't go the way i wanted idk lol but hope you guys like it anyways! also i'm close to 1k followers, you guys are truly the best & ilysm !! 😭

yn_alonso

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yn_alonso as my father says class not ass 🎀 #26

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fernandoalo_oficial mi nina bonita, te queiro mucho 🥹🥹

yn.alonso i love you pa 🥹💓

username i aspire to be y/n when i grow up

username ate as usual, happy birthdayyy!

landonorris TAKE ME IM READY

yn.alonso lan please 😭😭 fernandoalo_oficial norris, i'll see you soon. username oop her dad is going to go after you

alexandrasaintmleux I LUV YOU BAE

yn.alonso I LUV UUU charlesleclerc 🧐🧐

username ah i love it happy birthday! 🥳

lilymhe 26 has never looked so good!!

lance_stroll 😍

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maxverstappen1 happy birthday! 🎈

yn.alonso thank youu! 💘 username lmaoo someone go check on kelly!!

posted on may 27th, 2023

✩

ever since you were born your father had been super protective over you, even at your grown age he was still meddling in your life whenever he possibly could but you couldn't complain about it because you liked to meddle in his life just as much too.

"if you don't quit eating that burrito..." you told your father as you took the burrito out of his hands just for him to snatch it back. "you're going to stink up my kitchen."

he rolled his eyes and put the burrito down. "which i paid for so technically speaking this is my kitchen too."

now here you were in paris on a date that your father had set up for you and on the phone with him.

"i'm with lance right now at an ice cream shop." you told your father through the phone while lance was picking at your ice cream cone. "no, lance is driving us."

he chuckled when you passed your phone towards to him and he put it up to his ear for a few seconds before speaking. "yes sir, i will drive carefully and she will be back in her house by eight."

once the conversation was done he handed your phone back. "he said i better be sleeping in the guest room and that he would see us tomorrow morning."

had it been any other guy, your father would've definitely flew out just to spy on the two of you but he actually liked lance and encouraged you to hang out with him — except the both of you only liked each other as friends so lance covered for you when you had dates with someone.

just a few years back your father pushed a few boys out of your lives due to them not being the correct fit for you.

"dad it's not fair, it's just one date!" you remembered your seventeen self yell at your dad. "max is a good guy and he even asked you for permis-"

he shook his head. "i don't care what he did, i am your father and you do as i say!"

then there was the time when you were twenty-two, there was pictures circulating of charles leclerc taking you out for dinner and also a video of him leaving your hotel room the next morning.

"you can do better than charles, he doesn't know how to settle down and that's not the type of guy you need in your life!" your father ended up calling you as soon as he saw those pictures. "i liked max better."

✩

maxverstappen1

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maxverstappen1 happy 22nd birthday to my baby! ❤️

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username mi mama y papa 🥹

username enjoy your day y/n!!

yn_alonso i love you 😚

maxverstappen1 i love you more ❤️

username why are they actually the cutest i'm cryinggg

fernandoalo_oficial look after her tonight, see you guys tomorrow!

maxverstappen1 always!

username 🎂

kellypiquet my favs, happy birthday y/n!

posted on may 27th, 2020

✩

max looked back at an old post he had posted for your birthday back when you guys were still together.

everyone loved you, your dad had been in formula one for the longest time so everyone basically saw you grow up but nobody knew you the way he had grown to know you — the two of you had been broken up for a few years now but remained friends, only greeting each other once in awhile whenever you guys had to.

"i don't understand why you haven't deleted your pictures with her." his now girlfriend, kelly told him. "we already take car of her ca-"

"it's our cat." max corrected. "so it is my responsibly to watch her just as much as it is hers."

during the short time that you guys had moved in with each other in 2020, he had gifted you a siamese cat and named her saturn which the both of you now co-parented for.

he had been playing with penelope when she rushed into the room talking about the comment he left on your post. "whose y/n?" penelope asked as she passed a tea cup over to max.

kelly let out a huff and sat down with them. "nobody important."

you were still important to him.

he had began liking you in his first year of formula one and you obviously liked him but it had been complicated to even see each other due to your dad being so overprotective over you.

"i really don't think we should sneak around..." max quietly advised as you pulled him into your hotel room but as soon as your lips reached his he changed his mind and just at eighteen years old, he did not really get how to do this boyfriend thing since you're the first girl he had ever taken seriously but he quickly learned because you had began to feel like home to him.

"her dad is a cool guy but when it comes to her he is kinda scary." daniel ricciardo told him as they walked to an interview. "better hope he doesn't find out."

max at the time thought you guys would not get caught — aside from your father not wanting him to see you, his father also didn't particularly like you because he believed you were getting in the way of his racing. "forget about seeing that little girl, you're not about to let some girl ruin your career that i helped you prepare for." he remembered his father telling him after seeing you guys kiss and max dragging you into his hotel room earlier that day.

you of coarse had been in the bathroom hiding, listening to their conversation and max was trying to defend his relationship with you but his father was not having it.

so it wasn't long before you heard a smack and his dad telling him he better not see you around again then max was saying everything his father wanted to hear to finally get him out of his room and be back with you.

as you heard the door close, you heard something being thrown at the door and you slowly walked out of the bathroom to see some tears coming out of max's face. "i swear i hate him!"

you had gone to wipe the tears off his face and as you hugged him, you saw the glass cup that was thrown at the door. "it's okay baby..."

in that moment max realized that every time he was losing his control and felt like the city was spinning around, you were the only one who knew how to slow it down.

"i mean we just won't get caught next time." you gave him a halfhearted smile while wrapping your arms around him while he nodded hugging you even tighter.

but during the last race of his first year your father had caught you guys after following daniel who was trying to cover for you guys.

✩

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by yn_alonso, maxverstappen1, and 1,122,342 others

fernandoalo_oficial i wanted to wish my little (not so little anymore) girl a happy birthday! i had you at only seventeen years old and it has been you and me since the very beginning, i wish i could go back in time to see you as a little girl one more time but those are powers i have yet to figure out. #26

feliz cumpleaños mi niña bonita 💛🌻

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username crying in daddy issues

yn_alonso pa i'm crying! te amo mucho!! 💛 (i love you so much)

fernandoalo_oficial i love you more!

username my dad could never

username does she want a step mother???

yn_alonso uh no i don't 🤺

mclaren happy birthday y/n!!

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username what! i remember when she was 6 first entering the paddock!

username not max in the likes!!

username well they're friends lol

username she's so beautiful 😭

astonmartinf1 happiest birthday to our favorite girl!!

liked by yn_alonso, fernandoalo_oficial

posted on may 27th, 2023

✩

everyone knew fernando's daughter meant the world to him.

as a single teenage father he remembered the moment he first laid eyes on you, he had wanted to quit racing because he knew his career was time consuming and he wouldn't be able to give you all the time in the world.

"no puedes, fórmula uno siempre ha sido tu prioridad número u-" (you can't, formula one has always been your number one priority)

fernando shook his head as he looked towards your crib, you were only a few weeks old and had just fallen asleep after about an hour of fussing. "ella es mi primera prioridad ahora." (she's my first priority now)

it took a good while before your grandparents could get him to continue doing what he had always loved doing and when he finally entered formula one, he had decided to bring you along to wherever his races were just so he could make time to spend with you — of coarse his mother could not stay away from her only granddaughter so she tagged along.

at eight years old, his little girl was beginning to do as she pleases.

"y/n, no more cand-" your father stopped as he saw you opening up the chocolate wrapper with a smile. "you better no-" you had finally bit into your snicker bar and gave him another toothy smile that he adored. "after that one, you better not have another."

you nodded and ran off with schumacher's kids, later splitting another chocolate bar with mick.

"crees que tengo algo de qué preocuparme?" he asked referring to what he was currently seeing, he watched mick and you chasing each other around. (do you think i have something to worry about?)

his mother chuckled and shook her head. "nando, solo son niños."(nando, they're just kids.)

at thirteen years old, he was trying everything in his power to make sure you stayed his little girl.

"no, find another dress that goes down below your knees." your father told you and continued going through the other dresses.

you shook your head and tried on another dress that you somewhat liked.

"now that's beautiful!" he nodded his head to the dress.

you gave your grandmother a look but she shrugged and you groaned. "papá, me gustó mucho el otro vestido!" (dad, i really liked the other dress!)

so after bickering back and forth about the dress, you had won and your father was now paying for the two hundred dollar dress and whatever else you had him holding throughout the store.

at sixteen years old, he had finally started seeing you as a beautiful young women and not his baby girl.

"escúchame..." he began and dangled the keys to your brand new car that he had just bought you in front of your face. "you will drive carefully! no listening to music too loud, no texting or calling and i want to know where you are every hour." (listen to me)

you nodded and kissed his cheek. "yes pa, thank you so much!"

"and no boys in the car!" he sighed and gave you the keys to the car. "i really wish you had failed your drivers test again."

at eighteen years old, he was now beginning to worry about the growing friendship you had going on with max verstappen who was on his first year in formula one so he had his eyes on the both of you at all times.

"have you seen y/n?" your father asked people around the paddock and they all shook their heads. "i swear when i find her..."

being the horny teenagers that you guys were at the time, the both of you had finally found a spot where nobody was around and he had gently kissed you but before the kiss could get any further there was someone who cleared their throat.

"your dad is looking for you..." daniel ricciardo said as he gave the both of you a look. "i sent him back into the mclaren garage so you have a few minutes to wrap this up before he figures out you're not there."

there was another person clearing their throat and all three of you turned the other direction where your father stood with an angry face. "hi pa." you mumbled as you walked into his direction and he looked at max who was walking towards daniel's direction.

"i won't tell you again to leave my daughter alone."

at nineteen years old, he had a received a phone call that every parent had dreaded to ever hear.

"i'm sorry pa, the car just drove past us and i did-" you cried as he carefully hugged you.

you had been celebrating your birthday with max verstappen and lance stroll, who you had befriended this year when he joined formula one — you had been driving when you hit another car leaving you in a neck brace, max with a sprained wrist and since lance was in the back he just had a few scratches but nothing too serious.

"shh, estas bien..." (you're okay)

even though you were now nineteen and officially dating max for a few months now, as usual had made sure it was fine with your dad that you guys would be going out together and after another talk about keeping his daughter safe, he allowed you to go out with him and lance.

"i'm scared..." lance whispered to max just before entering your hospital room.

max nodded but he knew he was going to probably get it worse from your father since it was his responsibly to always look after you. "me too, he's going to kill me."

just before they entered the room they heard you apologizing to your father about getting the car crashed and that you'd pay him back but he shook his head. "the car can be replaced y/n but you can not be replaced, do you understand that? when max called me about you being here i swear my heart dropped and i couldn't even think clearly." he kissed the top of your head. "i'm glad that you are okay."

✩

yn_alonso

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yn_alonso so we both had a little hangover this morning but he placed second anyways, proudest of you! 💚

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username BEST FATHER AND DRIVER

yn_alonso amen

username the cameraman had it out for you today

yn_alonso YES he were trying to catch me throw up in my little bucket i brought.

landonorris a king, congrats on p2 my father in law! 💚

fernandoalo_oficial oh shut up lando but thank you. yn_alonso 😭😭

username 🏆💚

username was it weird seeing your ex boyfriend on the podium with your dad?

username the real question was it weird seeing kelly after all the drama last year? 😂😂 username i'm new to f1 what was the drama??? username some video got posted during the fia prize giving ceremony a few months back showing kelly telling max not to speak to y/n username omg did you see the video of max going to hug y/n and fernando today? 🤭

posted on may 28th, 2023

✩

your father had invited max to the party he was secretly throwing that same night — he never had anything against max and he even still considered max part of the family so it wasn't awkward when max gladly accepted to go.

"a party for y/n? you are kidding right?" kelly asked as she saw max getting nicely dressed, it took her a good convincing to get him out of his usual red bull shirts so him wanting to look nice for this event was weird to her.

he applied his cologne and shrugged. "it's also for fernando so you can come kells if you really want to."

"they're not even your fami-" she shook her head with a small smile, after all max never gave her a reason to believe he couldn't be trusted. "i'll wait for you here."

so a few hours into the party he had found himself sitting outside on the porch with you and saturn on his lap. the two of you clearly had a bit much to drink since you guys were giggling a little too much causing people to look at the two of you whenever they walked by.

"twenty bucks they'll get back together by the end of this year." george whispered to his friends as they walked by for the fifth time in twenty minutes.

"thirty if they hook up tonight." alex then said.

"as if kelly would let that man go." lando responded with a laugh.

somehow you guys always ended up together at times like these or at least whenever kelly was not around, max really enjoyed these moments with you because it just reminded him of his past self with you.

"i need to go pee, come with me." you giggled as you dragged him with you but let him stay outside the door waiting for you.

he knew the two of you were perfect for each other but the two of you had constantly broken up and gotten back together so when kelly came around you had just broken up with him and he was looking for a quick fling — the morning after he had seen pictures of you and charles at the same hotel so he thought maybe you were looking for a quick fling also.

you guys had gotten back together a few weeks after and months after that, everything was going well between you guys so that was when he got you saturn as a gift also buying a shiny ring for you.

"of course i give you my blessing max!" your father told him giving him a hug. "took you long enough to finally propose to my little girl."

weeks later he had everything set up to propose to you but it was quickly ruined when kelly had been looking for him and even showed up to the apartment you guys shared.

"look my dad is waiting for me, let's just get this over with so just say what i know what you're about to say." he remembered you telling him with tears in your eyes.

you guys had plenty of breakups in the past but somehow this one felt different. "i'm not cheating on you if that is what you think."

you scoffed. "so where have you been the past few days? why is she looking for you at our apartment?"

just say it now max.

before he could continue thinking about how your last breakup went, you had came out the bathroom and held the back of your skirt.

"the zipper is stuck." you said turning around, letting him see the back of your skirt. "help?"

as he helped zip up your skirt, the three musketeers were giggling like little kids at what they were seeing and alex put his hand up for the money he was owed but quickly put it down at the next thing they saw.

you thanked him for helping you and he nodded. "it's my job to look after you." he quietly said as he finished zipping up your skirt, you had been looking through the mirror in front of you and seen the looks he was giving you.

"i'm glad you still wear the necklace..." max told you with his hand on your zipper then going to wrap his arms around your waist, resting his chin on the top of your head now looking at you through the mirror. "i would still be wearing the bracelet you gave me if it wasn't fo-"

"kelly." you nodded and just before you could shake him off.

he quickly shook his head and turned you around. "the chain broke and i haven't replaced it, would've fixed it sooner if i knew you still wore your necklace."

the two of you stayed looking into each others eyes and before anything else could happen your father walked in.

"i'm looking for my granddaughter!" he said and luckily for you guys he had been a bit tipsy he didn't realize how close you guys were. "ah there she is, hello guys we're cutting the cake c'mon!" he took saturn off one of the chairs she was resting on and quickly walked off.

even though your father hadn't seen that interaction there were the three men who did and were trying to decided who owed what to who.

✩

yn_alonso

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yn_alonso 🤫

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fernandoalo_oficial delete this immediately

yn_alonso no 🥰

username ooh who are you looking at??

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username i'm ynsexual

username our girl is in love!!!!

fernandoalo_oficial no she's not

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landonorris she was looking at me

maxfewtrell i can confirm fernandoalo_oficial it's no times for jokes landonorris oh sorry father-in-law, see you at dinner.

username not her dad trying to do damage control and lando messing with him 🤭

username i hope it's lando he's always in her comments

username they'd be the IT couple!! username i dont think so cause he has said before that it's just for laughs, he loves seeing her dad get mad.

username she had a past relationship with max so could it be them?

username max and her are my endgame username don't forget about granny kelly

lance_stroll pretty girl 🤍

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username whoever it is will be the public's enemy 😭

posted on may 29th, 2023

✩

max had found himself panicking on the inside when he saw your name pop up on his phone for the second time today while he was streaming on twitch — the two of you never called each other so he worried for a second right before penelope came to the room to hug him.

"hey p." he quickly flipped his phone over when he heard other footsteps follow along.

username: lmao why does he look so nervous?

username: is he still wearing the pants from last night?

username: he said he just got back home so possibly

username: penelope is adorable 😭

username: that was y/n calling him!!!

username: oh here comes granny kelly

obviously nothing happened last night with you, he left shortly after they cut your cake without saying bye to you and he ended up crashing at charles's place but the way everyone was assuming it was him who took your most recent picture on instagram, kelly was a bit annoyed with him.

"y/n called, she said she's taking the cat to the vet because she was sleeping all morning and suddenly woke up to throw up or something like that."

"oh no! will saturn be okay?" penelope asked looking over to max which he nodded in response and assured her the cat would be fine.

he let everyone on his stream know he had to go due to a family emergency and quickly got ready to go.

just before he could leave kelly was still going on about last night. "you just got back home and you're leaving again? over that stupid cat? over that whor-"

"watch it." he quickly turned over to face her giving her a look. "i already told you that i crashed at charles's and had it been one of our cats i would've booked a flight home as soon as i could."

"but you are always putting her first.." he began walking towards the door but she blocked it with her arms crossed. "if you leave to go see her, i hope she lets you stay at her house because you will not be welcomed here anymore."

✩

yn_alonso

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yn_alonso for everyone who was concerned, saturn is doing much better! turns out she is pregnant and will be making max and i grandparents! 👵🏼💓

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fernandoalo_oficial upgraded to great grandfather! 👴🏼👍🏼

username i know those kittens will be spoiled just as much as she spoils saturn 😭

username imagine fernando? he's going to go crazy buying them things!

lilymhe ahh i told you!!

yn_alonso would've saved me a lot of money if i just listened to you lmaoo 🥲 alex_albon as if it actually hurt your bank account 😒 yn_alonso ugh you're such a hater, get out of here!!

username omg congrats saturn!!

username max is going to be a grandpa!!

posted on april 3, 2023

✩

you flicked max's forhead as soon as he arrived to your apartment and before he could even ask why you just did that, you were already carefully swooping saturn into your arms. "she only hangs around your cats so it's your fault this happened to her!"

in that moment max already figured out what had happened because his mind went back to finding saturn being real cozy with one of his cats one time.

"in my defen- ow!" you had just flicked him again and placed saturn back down onto your couch just to hit him with a pillow.

he stopped the next hit and he chuckled as he threw it at you. "she'll live but yes i'm sorry i should've told you when i saw them getting close."

so to keep you calm he did what he always did back when you guys were together and you were a bit mad with him, ordered your favorite kind of pizza and put on one of your shows you like to rewatch every now and then.

before the both of you knew it the sun had gone down and you wondered why he stayed as long as he did this time, he would never stay more than an hour.

"well i'll take these to sink..." you quietly said once you felt his head rest on your shoulder meaning he was starting to fall asleep. "i can bring you a blanket if you'd like or?"

"i can wash them." he shook his head and stood up, grabbing the plates from your hand. "but i do want to finish this episode with you so bring the blanket."

you nodded going into your room and grabbed one of the many blankets you had on your bed.

this was starting to remind you of every time you guys broke up, he'd show up buy you the pizza and watch the shows he swore up and down he hated then he'd somehow swoop you off your feet.

the both of you guys had always tried seeing other people in the short time you guys were broke up but it never worked and it resulted in finding your way back to each other — but the both of you had been broken up for three years now so you just always figured there was no chance of getting back together since he was now with kelly and he seemed genuinely happy.

when you brought back the blanket max was already laying down on the couch and just as you were about to hand it to him, he pulled you onto him and you tried getting up but he held onto you. "max, you can't do this to kelly..."

"she kicked me out, it's done."

even though you still felt a bit wrong about this whole situation, your arms wrapped around his neck and hid your head into the crook of his neck.

you had missed this feeling.

"you don't understand how much i missed you baby..." he found this as an opportunity to hug you tighter and place a kiss onto the side of your head. "i should've never let you leave me in the first place."

you groaned hearing those words and he chuckled. "it was a pretty dumb decision."

you guys were now locking eyes and he wanted to kiss you but he stopped himself before he could. "i want you to know this isn't a rebound thing, i want to make this work with you but for real this time. no more breakups."

"no more breakups." you repeated his words with a little nod. "but we're taking this slow max so no kissing right now."

he groaned and sighed. "fine but stay here with me so i can look after you."

✩

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maxverstappen1 good way to end the month!

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yn_alonso te amooo ❤️

maxverstappen1 te amo more ❤️

username bro is literally winning in life 🧍🏻‍♀️

landonorris i am up for adoption (just in case)

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liked by yn_alonso & maxverstappen1

username ah more kitties!!!

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username grandma is that you? 😂😂

username FINALLY!

posted on march 2, 2024

𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

© 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐧𝐝-𝐨𝐠𝐨𝐜 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤.

[enwoso]

i have a request for awfc x teen reader

basically reader is quite a shy and anxious person who hates getting in trouble so they never speak up and always do as they’re told, even if it negatively impacts impacts them in some way e.g. helping clear up at the end of training even if it means they miss their bus home and have to walk. r also doesn’t talk much and therefore hasn’t made any friends on the team as they’re so shy. one of the older players (maybe kim or viv?) notice this and take reader under their wing to try and bring them out of their shell. basically just a very cute fluffy fic

YOUR NOT ALONE — arsenal wfc

i feel like this doesn’t really flow the way i wanted it to so soz if it’s choppy but enjoy!

masterlist

north london was were you lived, but it wasn’t home. home was in the north, nearly four hours away from london in manchester. that was home.

not london where you didn’t know anyone, where you were all alone at a new team.

and it wasn’t that you disliked north london, the people were actually quite nice and some days it was actually a lot warmer than living in the north. but nothing compared to being home in manchester. where your friends were, your family, your childhood club.

you in some way felt like you had been abandoned, you’d been let to go by man city your childhood club. a club you thought you’d be at until you retired but they didn’t even fight for you when arsenal put the deal in, they let you go as if you meant nothing to the club.

meaning when your first day at arsenal came around, you closed yourself off to everyone. you were already a pretty shy person to begin with but now trying to talk to you was like trying to draw blood out of a stone — impossible.

you kept yourself to yourself, and made sure you stayed out of trouble. helping the coaches tidy up after training even though it meant you missed the last bus that went past your apartment which would mean you would have to do the thirty minute walk back.

you would stay and watch were you could improve your game even though it meant you were pushing your self far too hard and then getting frustrated when you didn’t see the progress you wanted to see.

the team had began to notice your behaviour and had tried their best to involve you in everything possible but you were having none of it.

the most any of the girls had heard you talk was a light hum just acknowledge the person so it didn’t seem like you were being rude.

“we need y/n to be fully apart of the team as i think she feels like she is still and outsider” kim said thinking out loud as they watched you help the coaches pack up for the evening. picking up the coloured cones as you hummed on to whatever the coach was saying. you weren’t much of a talker.

“does she always do that?” leah asked as she looked towards kim and beth who nodded.

“she always offers, just like she always offers to fill everyone’s waters and other little things around the facility’s it’s like she does it just so she can avoid us” beth raised her eyebrows as the three took another glance over to you.

“i’ve tried just talking to her but she not really full of words” kim sighs as leah nods she had tried too along with a few others but nobody could seem to get more than a hum or a small smile out of you.

“she’s just a kid, it’s gotta be hard for her getting let go by her childhood club like she meant nothing and then to be in a place miles from her family, it’s natural that she’s not gonna be comfortable around us” viv butted in after hearing the trio talk about you, a few sympathetic nods being done from the three.

viv had been amongst those who had tried to talk to you, she hadn’t gotten many words from you but instead of asking the usual questions of how you finding london which made you want to scream every single time someone asked you as you had run out of ways to lie and say you were loving it.

instead viv asked about you wanting to know you on a personal level not just on the outside and what would be the obvious to ask.

“like leah cmon imagine how heartbroken you’d be if arsenal let you go after being here for so many years-“ viv pointed out as leah hummed feeling her heart pang a little. her blood was arsenal and she doesn’t think her heart would be able to handle if she was playing for another team.

“okay first of don’t put that in the open, but i can’t even begin to imagine what she’s feeling” a sad smile rushed over leah’s features as viv nodded.

“exactly”

“why don’t you take her under your wing vivvy, she’s said in countless interviews that she looks up to you. so i’m sure if there’s anyone who would be able to crack her shell it would be you-“ beth put the idea into the open, now viv wasn’t opposed to the idea but she also didn’t want to overwhelm you cause that could push you further from the team.

“i’ll try”

the next day had came and gone, viv had been watching you throughout the day trying to pick the best time to chat to you but a good time never seem to come around. viv telling herself tomorrow she would do it

viv had stayed late to chat with the physio about her knee, the rest of the team long gone as training had finished already. well so she thought.

“hey kleintje what you doing here so late? training finished an hour ago?” viv asked as you looked up from your phone, you were watching your few minutes from the last match you played. analysing each pass, each touch, each movement to see what you could work on next.

“missed my bus” you mumbled very quietly viv almost missed what you said. viv nodded to herself as she took a seat next to you on the bench peering over slightly at what you were concentrating so hard on.

“that’s a stupid thing to do” viv blurted out, immediately regretting it when your head snapped up with a puzzled look on your face, a frown flashing across your lips.

“well cause all you doing is focusing on the negatives” viv shrugged as you still held the same look on your face, “like don’t get me wrong it’s helpful but i bet you, you have twice as many negatives in your head than positive things you did in the match” viv continued as you slowly nodded, she wasn’t exactly wrong.

“but how will i know how to get better if i don’t focus on what needs to be improved?” you asked quietly, your phone falling into your lap. viv was a little shocked, not by the question but by the fact that you hadn’t just hummed at her.

“cause you end up focusing on trying to get the bad better that the what was good starts to get bad and you enter a cycle that you can’t get out of” viv explains as you do your signature hum, you weren’t just thinking about football now.

you were thinking about how your life had changed in the past months and how much you had focused on the bad and never gave it a second thought about what was good.

“so your saying i should focus on the positives?” you trailed off staring into the distance in front of you as viv nodded, not that you saw it.

“yeah, your not alone y/n. we’re a team. we’re here to help you” viv pointed out, “and that’s not just with your football skills either” she lightly bumped your shoulder with hers a smile tugged at your lips nodding alone to what viv was telling you.

“thanks viv” you smiled sincerely, you felt as though your eyes had really been opened and you hadn’t have your self a chance at your new chapter, you hadn’t gave london a chance yet.

“no problem kleintje, now come on let’s get you home. it’s getting late”

it had been a few weeks since the conversation between kim, leah, beth and viv and progress had definitely been made. viv had managed to take you under her wing, showing you the ropes introducing you slowly to others so that it didn’t overwhelm you.

you had started to come out your shell more, you didn’t sit by yourself anymore at lunch or on the bus.

instead you’d found yourself sitting steph and kyra for lunch as you discussed your dream holiday of one day going to australia as they gave you recommendations as well as promising that when you do finally go they will happily be your tour guides.

and on the bus during away day you’d found yourself sitting with lotte quite a few times, the way she spoke was similar to viv it was wise words and someone you could listen to for a while as well as lotte being able to sit and listen to you and give you good advice if you truly needed it.

it was game day today, as you walked into the ground with viv. having gotten a ride from viv and beth to save you from having to get the bus. beth had spotted steph and leah in front, running off towards them.

“so do you think london could start to be home?” viv asked, her heart beating a little harder as she asked the question. the topic of london being your home still being very raw.

“it’s becoming home, it’s not quite there yet-“ you paused as some worry came over viv as she began to stutter.

“-but i think it will be home” you finished with a smile as you looked up at viv a sigh of relief coming over her as she swung her arm around your shoulder pulling you in a little tighter for a side hug.

“kleintje you had me worried for a minute but i’m glad your starting to feel more comfortable here, just remember your not alone. we’re a team for a reason” viv nudged you as you nodded taking in every word viv told you as you walked into the stadium.

“got it”

“anyways are you excited about your first start? imagine you score-“ viv said with a hopeful look as you slightly shook your head. you were happy about the start but scoring wasn’t the main focus of today. you were just happy to be getting minutes instead of the scrappy ten final minutes you were used to at the moment.

“excited, nervous? the goal won’t happen though so don’t get you hopes up” you dismissed as viv rolled her eyes playfully opening a door for you to go through.

“gotta have the belief kleintje!”

and maybe somewhere you had some belief cause that’s exactly what happened. you scored your first goal for arsenal, when the ball hit the net you froze. you were expecting for it to go over but when it didn’t you didn’t know what to do.

reality was brought back to you when you were surrounded by your teammates who were lifting you up in a circle as the crowd cheered. a big smile on your face as you looked around spotting vividly on the bench and sending her a knowing look as you tapped the your chest where the arsenal badge was. viv giving you a knowing nod that she understood.

your teammates lifted you down back onto the ground as they all patted you on the back or the head as you soaked up the moment a little longer walking back to your starting position.

“we’re so proud of you, our superstar!”

“get in y/n”

looking around and seeing the fans chanting and having a good time it felt for the first time since you made the big move you felt like you weren’t alone, these people that you were lucky enough to call your teammates and friends were your new family.

and maybe just maybe arsenal and north london was your new home and you weren’t mad at the idea.

in fact you loved the idea.

yourusername

liked by bethmead and 629,015 others

yourusername forever grateful for my found family❤️🤍

comments

viviannemiedema we love you kleintje!!

leahwilliamson our superstar ⭐️

kyracooneycross yeahhh for our very own 🌟

[azzibuckets]

Okay but can we get a blurb about Azzi being in Montana before her and she wakes up to P getting home and sliding into bed trying not to wake her

sappy and sleepy [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

a/n: anon i tried to incorporate as many of your requests as i could! thank you for this prompt it was super fun to write

word count: 1.2k

masterlist

As soon as her hand twisted the doorknob and the door creaked open, Azzi’s heart ached. She swore she could smell the lingering scent of Paige’s perfume, even though the rational part of her mind knew that Paige hadn’t stepped foot in the room for almost an entire year.

Although Paige hadn’t grown up in this room, her mom had it reserved for her when she came back during the summer, giving her daughter the liberty to decorate the space however she liked. And now Azzi appreciated it more than ever, because looking at the posters plastered with UConn greats and husky logos felt as familiar to her as home. Now only one thing was missing.

Azzi flopped on the bed, tired from the plane ride over. She cursed when she realized she’d forgotten her charger at home. Hopefully Paige had a spare one, she thought as she started rummaging through the drawers of her beside cabinet. As soon as she opened the first drawer, though, a polaroid fell out.

Azzi’s heart doubled in size when she flipped the polaroid over to find a photo of herself from the Minnesota state fair from two summers ago. In it, she was holding a cone of ice cream, chocolate sauce dripping all over her fingers. Tucked under her elbow was the stuffed animal that Paige insisted on winning for her every year (and Azzi never got tired of it). She had been smiling hard, her eyes crinkled as she stared past the camera. Shaking her head, Azzi snapped a photo of the polaroid.

💗: You’re such a sap

💗: Attachment: 1 Image

bighead: ?? where did you find this.

💗: In your drawers

bighead: when did i give you permission to go through my things🤔🤔🤔

bighead: and im taking this as a sign you got home safe?

💗: You’re not distracting me from the fact that you creepily have photos of me all over your room

bighead: youre being so dramatic

bighead: and you can’t blame me

bighead: i always miss you so much

bighead: now you know what it’s like to be in montana all bored without ur gf

💗: Don’t say that. You have your family

bighead: you’re my family

💗: Tell me that when you put a ring on it

bighead: oh i will

Azzi bit her cheek, trying not to beam from Paige’s text. “Azzi! You ready for lunch, hon?” Amy’s voice called from downstairs. Azzi stuffed the polaroid back in the drawer and clambered down to the kitchen.

“Hey, Amy. Thank you again for letting me stay,” Azzi said, going in for another hug.

Amy airily waved her hand, leading Azzi to the dining table. “No worries at all. We‘ve got a lot of exciting stuff planned for this week. Mini golf tomorrow with the kids, then this new restaurant is opening up on Tuesday and I thought it would be a nice date night for you and Paige so I already made a reservation for the two of you!”

Amy continued talking excitedly about their stay at Montana, and Azzi appreciated it, she really did, but she was also exhausted from the plane ride and all she wanted to do was be in Paige’s arms after way too much time apart. The ESPYs photos that Paige had posted an hour ago didn’t help either. Her girlfriend had looked so damn good, her hair up in that style Azzi loved, and Azzi had spent more time than she was willing to admit staring at the photo, wanting to run her hands through that hair.

Later that night, Azzi put on Love and Basketball on her laptop as she got ready for bed. Paige couldn’t facetime because she was at a party, but Azzi still wanted a little piece of her girlfriend with her before she fell asleep, just a little something to make her dreams a little sweeter.

💗: Attachment: 1 Image

💗: Heard you liked this movie??

bighead: you miss me SO much

💗: I do

bighead: then i got some good news ;)

💗: What

💗: Paige?

💗: Helloooo

💗: I’m not gonna repost your espys post.

bighead: oh hey i’m back😁

💗: You’re a fucking idiot

bighead: wait can you repost the second slide i look the best in that one

💗: Tell me the goddamn good news

bighead: Attachment: 1 Image

bighead: flight leaves in 1 hour!!

💗: Wait I thought you had a morning flight?

bighead: well the shoot tmr got canceled and i missed you too much so…..

💗: You’re wasting all your money booking these last minutes flights.

bighead: you dont gotta worry about me baby

💗: 🙄 Text me when you’re home and I’ll let you in

bighead: no don’t stay up baby i won’t home until like 3 am

💗: I wanna see you

bighead: $10 you’re gonna be crashed out

💗: I guess you’re gonna be spending all your money today then

••••••••••

“She’s asleep, isn’t she?”

Amy wrapped her daughter in a hug. “Don’t you dare wake her up.”

Paige shook her head. She was slightly disappointed she wouldn’t be able to talk to Azzi tonight, but she was glad the younger girl was getting her rest. She slipped into the room as quietly as she could, her heartbeat speeding up as soon as she saw the lump on the bed.

Kneeling down, Paige brushed her fingertips over the crease in Azzi’s forehead, trying to smooth over the worry lines. Azzi looked ethereal in her sleep, the moonlight from the window casting a glow over her face and illuminating the sharpness of her jaw and the pinkness of her lips. Paige pressed a light kiss on her cheek, trying to be as gentle as possible, but before she knew it, Azzi was stirring.

Her eyes slowly fluttered open. “Paige?” she groaned, hands going to rub her eyes.

Paige smiled guiltily. “Hi, baby,” she breathed out. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, it’s okay.” Azzi reached for Paige, still half asleep, and Paige sat at the edge of the bed and let her girlfriend nuzzle her face into her stomach.

Paige ran her fingers through Azzi’s hair, marveling at how she managed to smell so good all the time. “Is now a good time to say that you owe me $10?” she whispered.

“Shut up,” Azzi whined, her fingers jabbing at Paige’s ribs but failing to do much damage with her sluggishly lethargic movements.

Paige chuckled before brushing one last kiss against Azzi’s temple. “I’m gonna get ready for bed,” she said softly. “I’ll be right back.”

“No.” Azzi’s voice was surprisingly demanding considering how sleepy she was. “You woke me up, now you’re staying.”

Paige rolled her eyes. She hated the idea of getting into her sheets while in her dirty airport clothes, but once Azzi’s hands clutched tighter around her waist, she knew she was a goner. Sighing, she slipped under the covers with her girlfriend. Azzi happily burrowed herself in Paige’s chest, weaving her leg between the blonde’s. Her hand slipped up Paige’s shirt and rested there, palm on her abdomen, and Paige shivered at the bare contact.

“I really did try to stay up,” Azzi whispered, already falling asleep again.

“It’s okay. Go back to sleep, hm?” Paige tightened her hold around Azzi. The last two weeks had been ridiculously fun, getting to see Nika again, going to partnership events, and presenting at the ESPYs, but this was by far her favorite part - when she and Azzi were so tangled up, every part of their bodies interwoven, their limbs and hair and even the beating of their hearts connecting, it felt like they were breathing as one.

[erwinsvow]

𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

summary: rafe's realizing how much better he is now, ever since he met you

word count: 1.6k

now spinning: love song by lana del rey

author's note: can't think about anything else but rafe being happy n content.... eeeee <3

part of this little universe

Rafe’s beginning to think you’re really good for him. 

It starts off pretty small—little things, here and there. The way he doesn’t go to bed completely angry and pent up anymore—that’s because you text him good night, every night, without fail. Even when he doesn’t say it first, even when he’s not on his phone and told you he’d be busy taking care of stuff with his dad all day.

After your first date, when you were sitting in the passenger seat of his truck—licking on an ice cream cone he’d bought you after dinner because the two of you were have a difficult time trying to find a reason to end the night—he opens up his phone to add your number to his contacts, and you hover over his shoulder, choosing little emojis to have next to your name and being very picky about it. 

When you finally decide on the perfect combination, he turns to look at your face, which is way too close to his. He decides then and there that you wanted to be kissed, because you’d never get so close if you didn’t. The truth was that you just couldn’t tear your eyes away from how the little blue heart and butterfly and flowers looked next to your name in his phone, but he doesn’t need to know that, not if he’s going to kiss you like that every time. 

And now whenever he picks up his phone and sees those little blue shapes, he feels better, instantaneously. 

So much so that he doesn’t yell at Wheezie and Sarah so much anymore. That’s another small thing— Rafe can’t even recall what he used to get so annoyed about, so angry that he’d pick fights over it. Sarah’s never home anyways, but when she is, you’re making conversation with her, smiling up at Rafe trying to involve him in the discussion about whatever the hell you guys talk about. 

Wheezie’s always home, and he actually realizes how funny she is, especially with you. He sits on the couch with his laptop, looking at things that you don’t understand and don’t really care about, while Sleepless in Seattle plays on the television.

You and Wheezie sit next to each other, half-eaten popcorn and candy scattered between you two, a box of tissues within reach because you told her they were absolutely necessary, even though she didn’t believe you.

Rafe only looks up when hears the unmistakable sound of you sniffling and crying—panicking briefly, trying to make sure he handles this correctly, properly, so he doesn’t scare you away—when he realizes it’s just the movie. 

He lets out a sigh of relief, of which you take note. You turn to hand Wheezie a tissue and then look back at Rafe, worried he’s going to be annoyed that you’re crying over this movie.

It’s silly, because he’s been nothing but nice to you, sweet as sugar all the time, but you remember what your friends used to tell you, the back-and-forth with Sarah, Wheezie’s comments about how much nicer Rafe’s been recently. How he’s been nicer since he met you. You look at him for a little, seconds passing by as your heart thuds in your chest. 

“I can’t believe this-” you hear Wheezie sob in the background, reaching for another handful of popcorn. “They just left!”

You almost turn away from Rafe just then, not wanting to see his reaction, when he closes his laptop and slides his body over to sit closer to you, one hand around your shoulder pulling you close and the other reaching to grab a clean tissue, holding it in his hand for you, for when you need it. You smile against his chest, clasping your hand around his. 

“You really cry over this crap, kid?” You whine, a muffled noise of protest spoken against his shirt, half-hearted. “We all knew they were gonna end up together.”

“Yeah, I guess we did,” you murmur, not paying attention to the movie anymore, eyes hyper-focused on the shiny metal of Rafe’s ring on his fingers. 

“Shut up, Rafe, I’m watching this-”

“You shut up, Wheeze, and pass the chocolate.”

It’s become a regular occurrence, actually, having you around at Tannyhill. You go through plenty of movies with Wheezie, occupying her time while getting to be with Rafe. You join them for their periodic family dinners, dolled up in your nicest clothes even though Rafe tells you it doesn’t matter. He wants you down there in his hoodie, but you refuse.

You want to make a good impression on Ward, you tell him, that it’s important to you if his dad likes you, if he approves of you, if he likes having you around. Rafe doesn’t get why you care—you’ll still be in his life whether Ward approves or not—but he plays along with it.

You wear pretty blue dresses and bring chapter books from the library for Wheezie and some history novels for his dad. You’re all smiles and conversation at their normally silent table, which he thinks is nice. Rafe still believes it would be nicer if it was just the two of you, but he doesn’t say anything. 

A picture constructs itself in his head—you and him at the dinner table of your house, the house you two will have together. You’d decorate everything all cute—he can picture it now—but he’s really focusing on when you and he can have these family dinners together, a couple of high chairs and pureed food and screaming toddlers running around. He doesn’t know where the image came from, probably from the sweet way you are with his family, but now it’s rooted itself like an infection that’s impossible to get rid of. He thinks of it, and feels better, and it must be obvious to everyone around him, but you never say anything.

It’s gotten to the point where even Ward notices it, though he refrained from commenting for as long as he could. Besides for dinner and the occasional Good morning sweetheart when you’re passing through the kitchen with Rafe, he doesn’t bother you two much. 

That’s why it really surprises Rafe when he brings you up one day.

“You seem… better, son,” his father says, and he wants to summon up some kind of retort to fire back, but nothing comes to mind. Maybe the impact you have on him is bigger than he thought. “It’s good. She’s good for you. Make sure you take care of her.”

He thinks for a second. There was a time where the first thing out of his mouth would be Don’t tell me how to treat my girl. 

“Yeah, I will. Thanks, dad.”

And then, suddenly, you’re everywhere, a part of everything. He can’t even sit in his truck without thinking of how you should be in the passenger seat. His house feels empty when you’re not curled on the couch trying to decide on what movie to rewatch for the millionth time. He can’t even find any insults for your stupid Pogue friends, because of course they want to spend time with you, when you make everything brighter like this. 

Rafe used to think it’d be humiliating to feel like this, actually being dependent on someone for once, acting and doing better because of you and feeling better even when you’re not there. He doesn’t feel humiliated at all though, he feels surprisingly content, despite everything that’s going on. It’s all background noise now. He feels even better when his door opens, and you make your way into his bedroom.

“Hey,” you say, setting down your bag on his desk. It lands with a thud, probably filled with your current read and another couple of books for his sister. “They all went down to the Chateau to smoke, so I just came over, I hope that’s okay-” You stop talking when you turn and see how he’s looking at you, getting up from his bed to walk up to you. “Rafe? You okay?”

You look at him real sweet, like you’re wondering what could be wrong and how you can help fix it. It’s precious, but he already knew that. His father’s words run through his head again—he has to make sure to take good care of you. 

“Perfect. Even better ‘cause you’re here now.” You shove your hand against his chest, letting out a breath of relief.

“You scared me,” you say with a laugh. You go back to your bag, rustling through it to produce three books, just like he guessed. He starts smiling when you turn around to offer it to him.

“Got one for you this time.” You're beaming, eyes looking at him expectantly.

“Thanks, kid,” he says, and he can’t help the smile that’s growing. He brings you in for a hug the way he always does, arm around your shoulder and guiding you to his chest, and you lean against him like that, holding on tight, breathing steady in his grip. Whatever anger and frustration was bubbling inside melts away with every passing second of touching your soft skin and smelling the scent of your hair. 

It’s no surprise when you two end up a tangled mess in bed hours later, your head resting above his heart, wrapped in his grip, while you start reading the book you got for Rafe aloud.

“Y’know what we should do?” he starts, quietly, interrupting you while you’re flipping to the next page. 

“Hm?” you murmur back, feeling your eyes fluttering shut without the book open and ready to read to distract you into staying awake. Rafe’s skin is warm and his grip is tight. You could fall asleep in seconds right now.

“Get married.”

[randombush3]

(extremely talented, creative) stalker

alexia putellas x reader

based on this and a poem from when i was little. i chose alexia because she fit the character more and i rushed this immensely because i was being pestered for attention by multiple creatures. oh and i went for something decently light-hearted bc these hozier fics have been affecting my soul and ruining my spotify daylists.

happy monday people x

p.s. not proof-read because it's lunchtime and i'm hungry (edit: i just did my proof-read now and i've realised that it was in fact not lunchtime??? it was past lunchtime and i was just zoned out!)

Alexia doesn’t care much for art. Sure, she admires the effort, the time such talent sits behind a canvas and marks something that was once blank until others begin to value it. She agrees with the masses about the beauty of quaint watercolour paintings of the coast, and she lets Mapi rave about charcoal and graphite and oils as if she understands what is so special about the varying media. 

She knows she is only here today because the art is about sports. The gallery seems almost reluctant to allow the athletes in, worried they have brought with them their football boots and cones to dribble around, but it would be bad practice to prohibit the muses from the collection. She isn’t an idiot, though, and she knows that no amount of forced reading about the artist and other sophisticated matters will slip her seamlessly into the crowd. 

There are lots of people; people she has never heard of, but make it clear they are far superior to her by the way in which their eyes politely drop to the tattoos inked onto her calloused hands. Their skin is soft, accustomed to the stems of crystal champagne flutes, and the drawings that hold so much personal meaning to the footballer are scrutinised to the point of silent… offence.  

So much for appreciators of art, she thinks to herself, counting down the minutes until it is acceptable for her to leave. 

With a huff and a vow to never – no matter how much she earns – forget where she has come from, Alexia staggers, uncomfortable in these particular heels, towards the painting she deems easiest to understand. 

It is the largest in the room: deep, crimson reds on top of familiar greens, streaks of gold falling out of a ponytail. 

Call Alexia egotistical, but anyone would be drawn to a painting of themselves. 

The artist has done a good job, she guesses, not entirely sure if there is a deeper meaning behind the grass stains on her socks or the crumpled shading of her Spain jersey. It is a little creepy that someone she does not know has captured her likeness so expertly, so practised. 

“The nose isn’t quite right,” a voice says beside her. 

Alexia turns in surprise, amused enough by the stranger’s observation to examine her painted face, eyes not drawn from how majestic her image is beginning to seem. She sees no obvious issue, and so she replies, “I think it’s fine.” 

“Just fine?” 

She is still staring at herself, now impressed by the grandeur of the painting; its size, its quality. “Well, I am unsure how someone painted me so accurately when I was never called in for a… I don’t know, a consultation? And it seems a little weird to me that my hair is loose, because I tend to slick it back so it doesn’t fall out of my ponytail, and, you know, I always have something written on my boots, but otherwise, it’s fine. I doubt anyone here has ever watched a football match, so none of this will matter to them.” 

“It doesn’t bother you that someone might pay millions for a painting that you have deemed not-quite-right?” 

The voice is somewhat too interested, and suddenly Alexia swivels around to face its owner properly, worried she has spoken her mind to a journalist. 

“Those millions go to a charity that will improve women’s sports every–” 

You are definitely not a journalist, although once, when art really wasn’t paying, you had off-handedly typed out a few articles for one of the bigger galleries. 

Alexia knows you are not a journalist because you are dressed to be in front of the cameras, not behind them. 

Your hands hang by your sides, but in a rather unnatural manner as though you are itching to do something else, and she is briefly overcome by the horror that you seem elegant enough to be a potential buyer. Has she put you off? 

“Oh,” you interrupt, “don’t be so profound. Sometimes you footballers sound like change-making machines.” 

“There is change to be made,” she responds indignantly. 

“Hence the exhibition,” you allow with a little smirk, nodding towards the rest of the room. Although the biggest of the collection, you had asked for your painting to be displayed in the corner; a filter, in a sense, to ensure no one throws money at the largest thing in the room just because they can. “It creeps you out to be painted?” 

The question is curious, but Alexia no longer feels like she has been caged in an interrogation room. 

She thinks about her answer for a moment, torn between returning to gaze at the expanse of the scene in front of her or staring at you, wondering if you count as one of the works of art on display. 

“I have never met the artist,” she explains neutrally. You laugh, and it sounds infused with champagne and nervousness. “What? It’s like having a stalker. An extremely talented, creative stalker, but someone who studies me in secret nonetheless.” 

“No, I understand. She must have researched you until the ends of the Earth.” 

“The artist is a woman?” She isn’t sure she is surprised, but she asks you anyway, wanting to anchor you to the spot. 

“Alexia, this is an exhibition for women’s sports.” Your point is valid, but you have said her name and she is far more intrigued by the way that had sounded to praise you for your intelligence. You let out an airy breath and click your tongue. “I’d even say, given by the way she has painted you from the back, that the artist fancies you.”

“It’s the squats,” she easily replies with a giggle. “Who is the artist?” 

You take a step towards her, the sharp points of your heels clacking against the concrete floor. She follows your index finger to the white plaque beside the canvas, reading the name written in small, black letters. 

“I haven’t heard of her.” 

Alexia sounds so thoughtful that you have to hide your smile behind your palm, coughing to provide an excuse for the action. 

“Because you’ve heard of quite a few artists, haven’t you?” 

“I know the main four.” 

“The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?” 

“No.” 

Again, you laugh, and it is melodious and rich and Alexia wants to hear it for the rest of her life. Which is not normal, she tells herself, because you are some loaded stranger and she is only here for another hour before she can escape back to the pitch and her teammates who like her tattoos and admire her and respect her hard work without seeing her as some tacky social-climber who scrounged an invite to an area of society where she is institutionally unwanted. 

“Picasso,” she then offers, rather petulantly, looking at you with a childish frown. In her head, she estimates the distance between your bodies, noticing how you have not returned to your original position. 

“Ah, well done. He’s quite niche.” She doesn’t appreciate the teasing, and so she steps sideways to… put a stop to it somehow. Obviously, the plan had never truly been formulated, and it comes across as a half-lunge to push you away, but then you are swinging your arms as though the conversation is boring you and she desperately wishes you’d stay put. 

“What do you think about the painting?” she fires into the shortened space between you, the question wrapping around you like a rope that ties you to the spot. 

“It’s boring.” She scoffs, because after all, it is a painting of her. “The poor artist must have been tortured by the task, having to force her eyes to stay open while watching football matches.” 

And if Alexia were not so distracted by the way your swinging hand has begun to brush against her own, she would probably catch you out there and then. 

(But your touch is electric and she is otherwise engaged.) 

“Like, come on, can’t the sports photographers just get their pictures blown up? No one needs such an outrageously huge portrait of Alexia Putellas in their home, or stadium, or whatever. I reckon the artist is now regretting the angle she painted from, anyway, in case some pervert with more money than sense bids for it and hangs it up in his bedroom.” 

“Bedroom?”

The tips of Alexia’s ears go red, a stark contrast to the expensive silver hoops she sports, and you stop your fidgeting, hand resting on top of hers – perhaps unintentionally – as her misunderstanding wedges an awkward pause into the middle of your rant. 

“Sorry,” you apologise, “that was probably not the best thing to say, considering it’s a painting of you.” 

Alexia runs through what you have said, hoping her subconscious has caught it while her mind was preoccupied with what your sexual orientation might be. “Why have you come here if you are so against the principle of it?” 

“I was required to,” you explain, through half-gritted teeth and a jaw that tenses with leftover annoyance from a conversation you had with the coordinator. 

Seizing the opportunity to get a humorous punch back, Alexia quickly fumbles out a, “someone’s important.” 

She’d celebrate her victory over you, the way you blush in embarrassment, if you hadn’t started anxiously playing with her fingers. Suddenly, the air that bridges the gap between you is set alight and Alexia stares at where you are connected. 

You hastily pull away. “Sorry,” you say for a second time. “I have to sell this, and I’m nervous.” 

“Sell wh– The painting?” 

“No, Alexia, I’ve been sent by Real Madrid to hold you hostage so I have to sell this act.” Briefly, fear washes over the footballer’s face, tanned skin paling at the idea that you have a weapon concealed in the satin folds of your dress. Then, your hand makes a decisive movement and your fingers are intertwining with hers before she can run to safety. “I thought it was best to lure you in by flirting with you.” 

“You’ve been… flirting with me?” 

“God, imagine if I actually were here to kidnap you.” You hold up your joined hands so that she can see for herself. “Is your weakness women who bully you?” 

She blushes again, unsure how to handle what you have insinuated. 

Alexia grasps onto what little dignity remains and straightens herself, shoulders rolling back as she emulates the confidence she has been painted with. “Only pretty women,” she drawls. 

She is about to use whichever line appears in her mind first, completely unashamed by it because she has guessed you would tease her no matter what leaves her mouth, but some evil, cruel person clinks a small fork against their glass, clearing their throat, and your hands quickly return to your body, your attention drawn away from the conversation. 

“Thank you all for coming,” announces the event coordinator, clearly gearing up for a speech. “There will be time for more chatting later, but I cannot resist showing off our most talented artist any longer.” 

You roll your eyes. The expression is directed at Alexia, who chuckles privately, sunshine blooming in her chest that you have spared a silent comment just for her. 

“Y/n, darling, where are you?” 

An authoritative gaze searches through the crowd and lands on you.

The dots connect, Alexia begins to feel like an idiot, and you are sashaying away before she can ask you to stay.

[perlelune]

Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | iv.

Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

“Oh, do you mind if we take a little break?” Clemensia asks almost as soon as you’ve begun working on the task she gave you. You blink, a little confused as your gaze roams across the table. There’s still so much to do. You’re not sure if the girls are just that slow but it’s clear that it will take at least a few hours to get all of it done.

But Clemensia is in charge of the ball committee. You don’t picture yourself telling her what to do or how to do it. After all, you are an outsider. A foreign element infiltrating their ecosystem. You have to play by their rules.

If they want to take a break, who are you to argue with that?

You begin to rise.

“Oh, a break, sure…”

Clemensia’s lips pinch as you try to follow them. “It’s just that…we’ve been doing this for so long, all by ourselves. I even broke a nail.” She pouts, showing you her hands. “But it needs to be finished today.” She nibbles her bottom lip and sighs, eyes pleading yours. “If no one stays behind…”

You mull it over. While you’re not thrilled over the idea of working on the decorations by yourself, you did just get here. You suppose you could hold the fort while they stretch their legs…or whatever Clemensia and her friends like to do when they hang out.

“I guess I could stay,” you concede.

Clemensia flashes you a broad grin.

“You’re so sweet,” she chimes. “Thank you. We won’t be long, promise. Ten minutes tops.”

You shrug and return to your chair. Ten minutes. That sounds reasonable. You pick up the scissors and start cutting more of the tree shapes. 

“No problem.”

But one issue arises. 

The promised ten minutes expand into thirty. Then an hour. Then two. At first, you don’t let your mind dissect it too hard. It’s a stupid thing to overthink, isn’t it? A silly thing to chop into pieces until your mind bleeds with doubt and insecurity. You surmise it was more of an approximation. People do that all the time, say something while meaning another. At least you believe they do. Besides, you find ways to keep yourself busy, even getting started on the sparkly globes lying on the side of the room. You figure out how to use most of the tools on your own and get wrapped in your own bubble of quietness. 

Silence is a familiar companion, the one constant that never judged you, never asked for more of you. In your Silence, you get to be you. Nothing more; nothing less. So you let yourself sink in its warm, snug embrace.

Still, somewhere in the back of your mind, thoughts meander passively… What is taking them so long? You steal a glance outside the window. Orange and purple hues are already bleeding into the sky, a sign of the evening nearing its end. 

You retrieve your pocket watch from inside your skirt. A frown wrinkles your brow. At a time like this, you would usually be home, curled up with Walter on your bed as you go over your notes for the week. It often takes you hours just to decipher the course transcripts. 

“Wow, you did such a great job,” Clemensia whistles from behind you. 

You gasp and whirl. All smiles, the girls fill your sight.

They approach the table and examine some of the decorations you put together on your own. Realization sweeps through you as the fog of your thoughts clear. It didn’t hit you before, not until you absorbed the current state of the crafts table, brimming with the results of your solitary labor. You’ve been busy. Spinning crystal balls, pine cones, silvery garlands and a heap of snowflakes meant to hang on the walls and ceiling. Clemensia admires your handiwork, seemingly impressed. 

A little peeved, you point out, “I mean…had you guys even started? Most of the decorations needed to be cut, glued or assembled…”

“I have delicate hands,” Livia sighs, examining her manicured nails. 

“I’m very slow, sorry,” Ivy says apologetically.

Your frown deepens. Was this whole thing a setup? You sacrificed precious time to be here and you shudder to think the entire purpose of your presence is some kind of childish prank. 

Coriolanus’ words echo in your mind. He argued the girls weren’t like that and that they left the immature tricks back at the Academy. You truly want to believe that none of this is designed to embarrass you, that perhaps, again, all of this is in your head. But your aching fingers, sore from doing crafts most of the afternoon, suggestotherwise.

Unleashing a sigh, you gather your satchel and head towards the exit. 

Clemensia obstructs your path, holding up her hands in apology. 

“I know we should have been back earlier. I’m so sorry. We ran into the Dean and it turned into a whole thing.” She seizes your hands, remorse twisting her pretty features. “I feel so horrible. I invited you so we could do it together as friends.”

Your shoulders slump. As you soak in the look of genuine contrition on her face, doubts lurk inside you. Your confidence about being the victim of some prank wavers. Perhaps, you overreacted. Incidents happen. Besides, the chances of you joining Clemmie’s committee are slim, as you’re already swamped with assignments. A promise was made and you kept it. But this likely will be a one time thing. School dances are at the bottom of your priority list right now.

So you discard it all with a wave of your hand and a contrived smile.

“It’s okay. No apology needed. It’s not your fault.” You note how much darker it’s gotten outside. “I should go back home though. It’s already so late-”

Clemensia stops you again, her hand tightening around yours as she offers excitedly, “Wait, you should come to game night at Liv’s.”

“What?” Livia snickers. Clemensia shoots her a withering glare and the blonde clears her throat, correcting herself, “I mean…yeah, you totally should come.”

You fidget and adjust the strap of your satchel. You may have heard whispers of those game nights. Mystique surrounds them as only a few chosen people are invited to attend. You, of course, were never invited. And it isn’t hard to gather how Livia feels about you coming from her reaction. Why force your way into places where you aren’t wanted?

“I’m already behind on my revising for the day. If I don’t go over my Molecular-”

“Boring,” Ivy sings sarcastically.

“Don’t be mean, Ivy,” Clemensia scolds, elbowing her in the rib.

Clemensia tilts her head, her tone turning beseeching.

“Please…I really want to get to know you better.” She huffs out a long breath as she seems to sense your hesitation. The brunette leans closer, hands clutching your forearms. Sympathy twinkles in her onyx orbs. “You know, I used to be a lot like you. Always striving to be the best at everything I do.” A hollow giggle slips through her lips. “It’s how I got in trouble with your mother actually…I wanted to win so badly and she decided to teach me a lesson.” Sadness pinches her delicate features. “But by always striving for greatness, you miss out on life. I learnt that during the Games...”

“...Surviving isn’t living.”

She studies you before saying, “And it’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? Surviving.”

Eyes on the ground, you chew on your lip. You never imagined someone like Clemensia Dovecote - the most beautiful, popular girl at the University - could feel this way…let alone relate to you.

“Clemmie…”

She hunkers a little so your eyes meet.

“Come on, I really want to make up for today.” She laughs. “Show you I’m not a bitch.”

“I don’t think you’re a bitch,” you say.

She places her palm on your cheek. “See? You’re so nice. That’s why I want us to be friends.” She bends over your ear, the words she mutters almost too quiet to be heard, “I can barely stand those two on most days, but appearances must be kept.”

Your gaze swings upward, shock pulsing through you.

She beams at you. “It’ll be an intimate gathering of just a select group, close friends. We play cards, chat, and have a few drinks. That’s it.”

Your forehead creases.

“I don’t drink.”

Squeezing your shoulders, she assures you, “Then I’ll make sure not a drop of alcohol passes your lips. Promise.”

“It’s casual, I swear. You can even leave early if you want.” 

This grabs your attention, as you aren’t sure you’ll make it through the night without craving to return to the safe, familiarity of your apartment. The potential for escape makes the offer far more enticing.

Obviously, Clemensia cares about you showing up. While you don’t fully grasp why, you also never had anyone go out of their way to spend time with you. During the Academy days, everyone avoided you like the plague, either finding you odd or fearing you were as terrifying as your mother. The University doesn’t seem much different so far, groups having already formed from previous camaraderie. Bonds that were forged years ago and cemented over time while you endured in the back of the class. The forgotten one. And you always figured it is the most you can aspire for. Being ignored and left alone.

Until now.

“Really?”

Clemensia’s smile widens.

“Yes. You can stay as long as you want and leave.”

“I don’t have anything to wear to a party,” you muse, pursing your lips. Your tiny, limited wardrobe has always prioritized function over fashion. There are your Academy uniforms, a few loose, unflattering clothes you rotate between. A single formal dress more suited for a funeral than a game night. Nothing impressive because you never had anyone to impress.

You also have no sense of fashion, the trends shifting too quickly for you to keep up. So you’ve stopped trying to. 

“Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out,” she chimes. “The girls and I always get ready at each other’s house anyway. And you’re one of the girls now.”

You peer down at you and Clemensia’s entwined hands. One of the girls. No one’s ever spoken about you that way. As if your mere presence made something better, uplifting it instead of leading it to its ruin. As if you were solid, more than a wisp of air, a waste of breath. As if you mattered. So, despite the sizzling weight of Livia’s blue eyes on you, you smile back at Clemmie and give a bashful nod.

Your eyes feast on every detail of Clemensia’s living room as you enter her home. Her parents’ apartment is every bit as large and opulent as you imagined. Every exquisite detail screams wealth. The unabashed, showy kind that stoked the embers of bitter unfairness in the Districts, leading the Capitol to where it is today. A city risen from the ashes. Your attention lingers on the expensive artwork exposed in glass cabinets. A lot of it appears to be memorabilia from before the war. You’re willing to bet the combined value of every overpriced trinket in the house could feed an entire District. Paintings of Clemmie’s illustrious ancestors hang over the damask walls, their stern stares seeming to follow you. Almost as if they were ready to leap from the eroded gilded frames and berate you for being an intruder in their family home.

Clemensia tugs you along.

“What are you dawdling for? Come on,” she urges. 

You trail behind her as she takes you to her bedroom. You smile when you see it. The somber, tasteful hues are so very her. The hinges of her wardrobe whine as she opens the large, wooden doors. A vertiginous row of clothes crowd your sight. You gawk, a little amazed but also slightly terrified. Who needs this many clothes? A sour expression scrunches her features.

“I know,” she sighs, placing a hand on her hip. “This is a little embarrassing. Most of these are soo last season.”

You tilt your head at her dizzying collection of shoes, clothes, accessories…the kind a legion of girls would kill for.

“Right,” you blindly agree. Nevermind you can’t even tell the difference. You glance around. “Shouldn’t Livia and Ivy be here too?”

Her brow twitches as she sits on her massive canopy bed. She pats the spot next to her and you awkwardly plop down. The plush silk and soft mattress dip under your weight.

“We decided to meet later,” she reveals. She pauses, a heavy sigh fluttering through her painted red lips before adding, “Besides, I told them to be nicer to you and they got upset and pretended not to know what I was talking about.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

She waves her manicured hand dismissively.

“No, don’t be. This isn’t your fault.” Clemensia licks her lips, her face etched with reflection, as if she were assessing the weight of her words before releasing them. Her hand settles on your arm.

“Look, here’s the thing. Livia’s had a crush on Coriolanus since he returned and they had a sort of fling.” Your mouth drops open. This is news to you. You didn’t catch any hint of lingering longing between the two back at their lunch table. But now that you’re mulling it over, perhaps…Perhaps, Livia’s eyes kept seeking Coriolanus’, while his treaded their own path, never crossing hers. “Things were going pretty well...for a little while. But then, you came along.”

Your brows furrow. “What does this have to do with anything?”

Clemensia’s bell-like laughter resonates in the room.

“God, you’re a sweet thing…just like Snow said.” She beams at you. “Don’t worry. Liv will get over it. She’s all bark and no bite, trust me.”

Her attention travels to the dark fabric peeking from your bag.

“What’s that?” she asks, pulling out the garment.

“The only dress I have.”

She inspects it with a displeased frown.

“Were you planning on wearing this?” She shakes her head as your mouth clamps shut. “Oh, this will not do.”

She takes your hand and drags you to her wardrobe. Brow wrinkled in concentration, she rummages through a numberless heap of garments.

“I have some clothes that my cousin left,” she explains while frantically searching. After a while, victory flares in her orbs. She unhooks a sleek, crimson dress with a tight bodice and flowing sleeves from a hanger. She holds it against your body, chiming, “She’s about your size so they should fit you.” 

“I can’t accept this, Clemmie.”

You attempt to push her hands away but the brunette shoves it in your arms, insisting on you at least trying it on. You press the soft fabric between your fingers. It’s more revealing and form-fitting than you’re used to. You gather it would cling to your body like a second skin…one you aren’t used to wearing. Still, you must admit that it’s a lovely dress. One that could look good even on you. Temptation claws at your resolve, digging deeper and deeper grooves, right into every insecurity you ever had. That thing other girls had that always eluded you. That little secret you were never privy to. The key to that door that never opened. The dress is the key. And you find yourself unable to resist turning the lock to find out what secrets lie beyond that mysterious door.

Beneath Clemmie’s eager stare, you remove your clothes and slip on the dress.

Smug satisfaction hovers on her lips as you peer at your reflection. Words fizzle out on your tongue. You are looking at a complete stranger.

Clemmie rests her chin on your shoulder. “See? I knew it.”

She then has you sit at her vanity to help you do your makeup. Do your makeup…The words sound alien even in the private confines of your thoughts.

As she draws a neat black line over your eyelids, she says, “It hasn’t been long since makeup’s returned to the Capitol again. It used to be near impossible to find.” When she’s done, she turns you towards the vanity mirror. “Those colors will bring out your eye shape and color.”

The air leaves your lungs in a quick rush. You lean closer to the mirror, once again in disbelief that you are truly looking at your own face.

Fingers twisting the delicate fabric of the dress, you pivot to Clemmie.

“Why are you so nice to me?” you blurt out.

Her eyes widen briefly before her expression softens.

“You remind me of me.”

Confusion surges through you. There is an ocean of glaring differences between you and Clemmie, one you couldn’t swim through if you tried. 

“What?”

“Believe it or not, I wasn’t always this confident.”

Your brows knit, Clemmie’s statement making little sense. If confidence wore a face and had a name, it’d be Clemensia Dovecote’s.

Gripping your shoulders, she turns your focus back onto your dolled-up appearance.

“Alright. Look in the mirror, what do you see?”

You blink. You see a girl playing dress-up, pretending, but you don’t utter those words aloud. They sound lame, even in your own head.

“Nothing,” you tritely respond, dipping your head.

She lifts your chin, moving her head to disagree.

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Her eyes twinkle. “I see infinite potential. So stop selling yourself short.” Covering her mouth, she laughs. “His jaw is going to drop.”

“Whose jaw?”

She smirks at you. “You know whose jaw.”

Heat sneaks inside your face.

You fidget in the chair. It’s not like what he thinks matters, right? He is no one to you, just that boy with the unsettling blue stare who won’t leave you be for some strange reason. 

So why is there a tiny shiver of excitement coursing through your veins when the thought of him seeing you like that permeates your brain?

A vigorous gust of common sense sweeps away your wayward musings. 

You don’t care what he thinks. Of course you don’t.

“I-It’s not really my style,” you stammer as you get to your feet.

The sparkle in her onyx orbs doesn’t waver.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have a style yet…so how would you even know?”

“Shouldn’t we be at Livia’s already?” you ask, hoping to steer the conversation in another direction.

She considers you as if you were the most endearing thing in the world. She grabs your hands. “Here’s another rule. Never be on time for anything.” A haughty smirk creeps upon her red lips. “Make them wait for you, not the other way around.” She cocks her head. “One of the things about confidence is knowing that you are the sun, and standing in your orbit is a rare privilege.” She scoffs, “People should feel lucky you even bothered showing up.”

 She approaches you and touches up parts of your hair, visibly elated with the result.

“Perfect,” she trills. “Like I said…potential.”

She herself finishes getting ready. As you absently meander about her room, the doorbell chimes. 

Clemmie pauses as she applies powder on her face. She sets aside her makeup tools and escorts you to the lobby, arm threaded with yours.

“Must be our chauffeur,” she states.

Your eyes round. “You have a chauffeur?”

She cloisters herself in cryptic silence, humming as she drags you along.

When the brunette swings the door open, a towering, familiar figure darkening her doorway, time hangs still for a few seconds.

Your mouth opens wide enough to catch flies.

A smug smile unfurls on his lips.

“Angel,” he greets, gaze locking with yours as he completely ignores Clemmie.

Her sharp irritated tone shatters the spell.

“You’re late, Snow.”

Coriolanus snickers. 

“As if you’re ever on time.”

You trail behind Clemmie as she and Coriolanus keep bantering, his presence still swaddling you in sheer shock. When she tries to take the passenger seat, he drapes a placating hand over hers.

She rolls her eyes and begrudgingly heads to the back of the car.

He opens the car door for you. Recalling the fruitlessness of arguing with him, you climb into the seat. Still, saying you feel awkward riding in the front while the brunette is sulking in the backseat would be a massive understatement.

Few words can accurately describe how peculiar all of this is for you.

“You look surprised,” Coriolanus notes as he takes his own seat and slams the door shut. Your heart misses a beat when his hot breath caresses your earshell. “I did say I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

You look down at your lap. Breathing is laborious, the air in the vehicle coated with the lingering smell of his pricey cologne. You are literally choking on Coriolanus Snow with every breath you take.

“Will you just drive, Snow?” Clemmie snaps, crossing her arms.

“Relax. Patience is a virtue,” he says, not sparing her a glance, zeroing in on you instead. The drumming of your heart swells to an uproar in your ears when he reaches across your body. You hold still while he ties your seatbelt for you. Blue eyes rake over your form in brazen appraisal, his deep voice lowering. “And good things come to those who wait.”

[chrisbesitos]

I need a blurb of Chris saying he never had a favorite color before he met younger reader

ex: Chris and younger!reader were going on their first date. It was all cute and great energy until Chris asked “what do you think my favorite color is?” Yn spent a while looking into Chris blue eyes and said “orange!” Was she right? No. Truth is Chris doesn’t have a favorite color, but ever since yn said orange he could never look at orange the same. Orange reminded him of yn and her beautiful smile as her eyes lit up when she said the color. Now it’s current day and yn bought Chris a gift (like an orange sweatshirt) and yn said “why is ur favorite color orange?” And Chris told her the story on why orange is his fav color

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀it made me think of you

"You have ice cream in your nose." Chris said, pointing to Y/N's nose, she crossed her eyes trying to look laughing. "Let me clean this." He rubbed her nose, cleaning the pink from the strawberry ice cream she was eating.

They went out to the movies, it was the first they hung out without Chris' brothers and their friends. Every time they hung out, they never could have some time alone, because Chris' brothers are always interrupting and being annoying. So, after a long time, Chris decided to invite Y/N to go to the movies, but only he and her, his brothers wasn't invited. So, it was a date.

"Is all gone?" Y/N asked, showing her nose to Chris, he denied laughing. She strained her legs to Chris' lap, biting the cone of her ice cream, the boy slightly caressed her skin with his fingertips. "What do you think my favorite color is?" She asked with her mouth full.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, dummy." Chris said, pinching Y/N's thigh. She giggled, kicking his chest. "Well, your favorite color is probably green, because you know, you wear this color all the time." He said, smiling. He's just joking, because he knows everything about you. "You know your soul is pink, I love when you wear pink."

"I wear pink all the time." Y/N said, Chris nodding with his head.

"My turn, what do you think my favorite color is?" Chris asked, throwing his napkin on the car dashboard, Y/N touched her chin thinking about the answer. She scrunched her nose, her lips leaning in a smile.

"You always wear orange, so orange is your favorite color." Y/N said, touching Chris' chin with her foot, she was only wearing socks. The boy held her foot and put it back on his lap, laughing. "Am I right?"

"Yeah, I like orange." Chris smiled, rubbing her legs passionately. Y/N smiled proudly.

But it was a lie, Chris didn't have a favorite color. He likes all of them, but he never had a favorite. But since this day, Chris's favorite color is orange. Every time he sees the color orange, he remembers the day of their first date. Y/N's pretty smile, her bright eyes, the pink sweater she was wearing. She's his favorite girl, so orange will always make he remember her.

When Y/N was shopping with Nick, she found it a orange hoodie and made her remember Chris, so she bought. Later in the day, when they were together in the room, Y/N was showing her new clothes and she gave Chris the present she bought.

"Did you like it? It's orange and you love orange." Y/N said, smiling and holding the hoodie. Chris nodded, smiling like her. He grabbed the hoodie and put it on his body. "Fits perfectly."

"Yeah, I love it." He said, Chris held her waist and pulled Y/N closer to him. He kissed her nose. "Thank you so much, babydoll."

"Why is your favorite color orange?" She asked, with her hands around his neck, inhaling his scent. He rubbed her waist, smiling at her question.

"Because of you." He touched her nose. "I didn't have a favorite color until the night you told me my favorite is orange, since then it is my favorite. Reminds me of you."

"Really?"

"Yes, make me think of you." He gave her a peck on her lips. "And because it fits me really well, don't you think?" Y/N giggled, nodding with her head. She loves Chris so much, he's the man of her life, definitely.

they're so babies 😭😭😭 i love write younger!reader

tags ; @lizzymacdonald06 @deliciousluminaryanchor @lushjunkie @sweetreliever @watercolorskyy @ivysturnss @brianna-grace12 @blahbel668 @gabri3la-sturns @strnlxlqve @stvrnzcherries @unknvhx @pvssychicken @all4l0vee @i4longhairchris @sluttybitchformattsturniolo @sophand4n4 @sturniololetstrip2

taglist | masterlist

[bouncybongfairy]

Caught Dead

The Creature x Fem Reader

Summary: Your homecoming date leaves you for another girl. On your sad and drunk walk home, you come across a memorial service for a Victorian man. Honoring his music, you wander in and play a score he wrote. The creature is so moved by your playing, he comes back from the dead and witnesses your talent first hand.

Word Count: 1.0k+

TW: Tooth Rotting Fluff

Not Proof Read

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Usually homecoming is a night that everyone raves about. Prom is always so pretentious and stressful. Whereas homecoming was more carefree; at least that’s how it’s depicted in romance novels and fanfiction. The guy you were originally going with ended up ditching you for another girl. Your best friend was with her boyfriend and third wheeling wasn’t something you're interested in. The best course of action was to walk home, stopping at a liquor store on the way. The old woman behind the counter looked you up and down, this didn’t offend you though. Mascara stained tears left streaks of gray lined down your face. Wearing a big pink dress that you used to feel really good in. Now it felt more like a cone of shame, drawing attention to what a hot mess you were. 

“Can I please get a dutch honey and small bottle of Skol,” you ask, setting a twenty dollar bill on the counter. 

“Normally I would laugh and send you away. You’re lucky I only have fifteen minutes until I clock out and how pathetic you look right now,” she said, taking your money and bagging the items. 

Even though it was a little back handed, you were grateful for her kindness. Chasing the vodka down with cigarettes as you walked. Humming tunes to yourself, enjoying the crisp night air. The sound of classical music caught your attention, a funeral home. It was one of the only places that had its doors open still. You sit outside on the steps, gutting your wrap before rolling the blunt. 

“Were you coming in?” a voice came from the doorway. 

“Oh um, yeah just give me a second,” you say.

“Take your time,” the older gentleman gave you a warm smile before heading back inside. 

You tucked the blunt behind your ear, shoving the half empty bottle into your purse before walking in. It wasn’t an open casket funeral but more of a memorial service. There was a piano in the corner of the room, a vase of red roses sitting on top of the beautiful wood. The funeral director explained that a bunch of this young man’s music was recently discovered. A museum recently bought the music and discovered he was never given a proper funeral so they wandered to give him a proper memorial. 

To honor him and the beautiful scores that were never showcased the way they deserved. Apparently the party from the museum didn’t stay for long, the director said they mostly took pictures for their website. After reading more about his story, you felt more connected to him. Apparently his girl left him for another man. Similar to what happened at the dance tonight. Grabbing one of the scores and sitting at the piano. It could be because you were drunk but as the sorrowful melody filled the room tears pricked into your eyes again. Imagining how his feelings of betrayal and grief probably poured through his pen while writing this song. 

Not being able to shake the fact that you just learned first hand how being left can feel. Bitter because deep down your biggest fear for the night came true; lonely from being too embarrassed to admit you were someone's second choice. Tears rolling down your face as you let yourself drown in sorrow. Unbenounced to you, The Creature not only heard his music so beautifully remastered but your cries. So moved by feeling and hearing your broken heart crying from your chest, he begins to stir. Pushing himself out of the ground and making his way towards the music. 

Lighting your blunt inside the room, you were tipsy and didn’t care if there were repercussions. Letting it hang off your lips and you played, trying not to let the smoke in your eyes. Meanwhile the creature was getting hung up on the mechanics of his body. Slowly stumbling towards the illuminated building, stopping dead in his tracks once seeing you. The light above the ceiling was casting down on you. Highlighting your eyelashes and flyaways, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. How expressive your face was while playing the notes, looking up every once to let tears run down your face. Showing how the mascara ran down your neck.  His daze was broken once he saw the worker coming back in the room, pointing his finger and yelling. This enraged him; stomping over there to stop the man from approaching you. Having some trouble with the stairs but after finally made his way in. 

Grabbing the sides of his old man's head and snapping his neck. You gasp, the blunt dropping out of your mouth and onto the floor. Going to pick it up but being taken back but The Creature. He stepped over the body and slowly inched towards you. You pull your knees up to your chest and press your back against the wall. He was now hovering over you, staring at you before leaning down. Getting on one knee and picking up the blunt, standing back up. 

Now closer, his lower stomach pressed against your knees. Putting the dutch between your lips with one hand and brushing the hair out of your eyes with the other. You put your knees down and pulled him onto the bench. Starting to play his score, focusing on keys and not his… appearance. As you played he grunted at a specific measure every time which led you to investigate why, 

“What? This part?” you replayed it a couple times. He pointed out a certain note and then to another, shifting his finger back and forth. In your interpretation, he was prompting you to switch the notes. Him humming in satisfaction at the change. 

“Yeah that does sound a lot smoother,” you point out. 

Remembering the body, you both leave in order to avoid responsibility. Walking home together, playing your music out loud for him to enjoy. Before the dark felt scary and daunting but now you were enjoying the night air. Completely ignorant to reality but never feeling better. 

[adventuringblind]

Fair Play

Oscar Piastri x Reader x Logan Sargent x Liam Lawson

Genre: fluff and crack (Look! I can write fluff!)

Summary: The quartet try to have a fun night out which lands them a trip to the emergency room.

Warnings: a hospital trip and Liam being an absolute menace

Notes: For @bad268, I hope you like it! I would like to point out that I've been to maybe two fairs in my life so this might be inaccurate.

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

Going to a fair is not something the group gets to do often. The racing season keeps them all busy. The quiet moments are few and far between.

But it's summer break, and they have time to indulge themselves for a night. A nice relaxing night to forget about things and just enjoy each other's company. Like nothing could possibly go wrong.

How wrong they were.

"Haven't been to one of these in forever." Logan pulls his sweatshirt over his head. The colder air of the night breeze ruffling his hair.

Oscar, determined to stay in his eternal summer, is in his usual attire. "Have any of us ever been?"

"I've been a couple of times when I was younger." Says the female. Liam is spinning her around as they attempt to walk forward. "I was terrible at all the games and never won anything, though."

The three boys stop in their tracks. There is a playful smirk on each of their faces. "I swear, if you three make this a competition, I will lose it."

Liam drops his mouth open in feigned exasperation. "What if the intent is to be corny and win you a prize or something!"

"Well then, that's fine. I won't say no to being spoiled."

Liam hands her off to Logan as they make their way inside. The American is the gentlest of the three. He always makes himself available for comforting hugs.

The boy's beeline straight to where the games are. Not even sparing a glance in the direction of anything else. Typical competitive spirits. Three weeks with no racing means they have to get it out somehow.

She looks at Oscar in a desperate attempt to get his attention. Liam and Logan have launched themselves into another game and are not currently paying attention.

"What do you say to ice-cream, Osc?"

"I say lovely."

The two signal to the other boys and say they'll be back. Already wrapped up in their activity, they pay them no mind. Liam is gesturing wildly with his hands. A good indicator they won't notice they are even leaving.

"I feel like this is a bad idea."

"What is?"

"Leaving them on their own."

Liam and Logan are staring down some kind of bebe riffle shooter game. Not because of the game itself, but because of the prize they could potentially win.

The massive teddy bear sits behind the counter, taunting them. It's begging to be in the arms of another. Specifically, in the arms of their girl. It's begging to be cuddled by her.

"This should be easy for you, Lo!" Liam snickers and takes up a spot. "Being American and all."

Logan rolls his eyes, face completely blank. "Yes Liam, your over used joke is so funny and I'm laughing so hard." He can't keep the straight face for long and both boys end up laughing at themselves.

Liam picks up the rifle and is instructed to take a test shot. He attempts, with nothing to show for it. Logan descends further into laughter.

"Would you like a hand from someone who knows guns?" Liam groans as Logan takes a step forward.

"Maybe it's jammed-"

The plastic gun makes a clicking sound. Logan lets out a yelp and clutches his wrist. "Liam..."

"Logan, listen, we can talk this out!"

"You asshole! You shot me!"

In the distance, the other half is carrying back ice-cream for them. The sudden yelp causes the female to startle and nearly drop the two cones she is holding.

Oscar is somewhere between a laugh and a pained sigh. "I told you it was a bad idea."

She takes another lick from her ice-cream and look directly into Oscar's eyes. "I regret nothing."

Liam is trying desperately to fight back a laugh as the group converges together.

The female ditches her ice-cream in Liams hands and inspects Logans wrist. "You hurt the baby, Liam! How could you?”

“Y/n, he’s the oldest.”

“Doesn’t matter! Liam hurt the baby.” She begins to walk away with the boys in tow. “We’re heading to emergency because I don’t feel like hearing about this from Alex if Logan is hurt.”

Liam is trying to drive while Oscar sits passenger side still holding ice-cream. It’s dripping down his fingers at this point. An entertaining sigh to the two in the back.

Liam looks over at a red light, leans in obnoxiously close, and wiggles his eyebrows. “Hey Osc, can I lick it off your fingers?”

“Liam, I swear to god-“

The light turns green and Liam is once again speeding off to the nearest A&E.

The wait inside is long enough for them to actually finish the melting treat. People give them weird looks, but they are wrapped up in their own little bubble and couldn’t care less.

The nurses all giggle as they retell the story of what happened. The injury is hardly serious, but they wrap it all nice anyway. They ask if Logan would like a band aid at one point and he just groans (he whispered yes right before they left).

“You realize nobody is ever going to believe us, right?” Oscar looks towards Logan’s hand with raised eyebrows.

Logan groans again. “Do they have to? Could be our secret.”

As the female lifts Logan’s hand to her mouth to ‘kiss it better’, she leans over to whisper to him. “I don’t we can hide this one, babe. You have a crayon band-aid on.”

“Yeah, no, I’m telling everyone about this.”

“It was your fault!”

[vivwritesfics]

To The Gallows

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw had been hiding the fact that he's a pirate from his wife. She finds out just before he's taken to the gallows

Warnings: smut, p in v

His fingertips were soft against her shoulder. His eyes were fixed on her face as she slept against him, fingers laced through his.

Bradley loved her so damn much, but he knew he'd lose her one day soon. For the time being, he kept her close, savoured every moment with her. His lips met the top of her head and she shuffled back, a smile gracing her features.

"Good morning," she said as she turned in his arms. Her lips met his jaw and Bradley let out a hum, tightening his grip on her.

He was so damn content in her arms, and he never wanted to leave. He captured her lips against his own, body moving against hers as he rolled her onto her back and climbed on top of her. "I don't want to go back," he mumbled between kisses.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and ran her fingers through his hair. "It's only a short voyage, right?" She asked, tugging on his hair.

At that, Bradley's teeth nipped the bare skin of her shoulder. "God, I hope so," he mumbled as his hips rutted against her own. He wasn't inside of her, not yet anyway.

Her legs were wrapped around him and Bradley groaned as he slipped inside. He'd never get enough of this, of being this close to her. "Do I need to come down there and speak to your captain?" She was trying to be funny, but her breath was shuddering. Fuck, she was just so full of him.

It was slow and sweet, his forehead pressing against hers, occasionally kissing her lips. He drew things out, kept them gentle. He wasn't fucking her, he was making love to her. His rhythm faltered as he looked down at her. "I love you," he whispered as thehead of his cock pushed through her spongy walls for the final few times.

When she came, she went limp beneath him. The sweetest noises left her lips as her fingers slipped out of his hair, as her legs fell from around him. But Bradley had her, and that was all she cared about.

He finished inside of her, breaths coning out ragged and arms shaking from holding himself up. His softening cock was still inside of her. If he got her pregnant from this, he would be so damn happy.

Finally, he pulled out of her and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, eyes still on her face. As if he wanted to commit every detail to memory.

But Bradley had to pulled away from her. He got dressed and pulled his boots onto his feet, all while she sat there with the blanket pulled up to her chest.

Bradley looked at her as he laced his boots. He touched his chest, touched his necklace and looked at her. His ring was on that necklace, kept save as he travelled the seas.

Saying goodbye was always difficult. Bradley was never sure whether he was going to return to her or not. He took her hand in his and kissed the ring on her finger. "I'll be back before you know it," he assured her, his heart burning.

The blanket was still wrapped around her body, protecting her modesty as she walked him to the door. "Stay safe for me, Bradshaw," she whispered and pulled him in.

His hands were on her waist. She had no idea. No idea what kind of danger he was getting himself into. His smile was so sad as he gave her a final kiss goodbye.

***

Bradley had been on his voyage for a week before the posters went up around town. The first few days without him were always hard, but they got easier. Missing him got easier.

The voyage wouldn't last forever, she knew. He was doing good work, catching fish and providing food to small towns in land. She was so proud of him for the good work he did.

Basket in hands, she headed into town. Her ring was so comforting on her finger as she used the few coins in her pocket to get what she needed. The summer seasons would be over soon, and she couldn't have her Bradley getting cold when he came home. She bought what she needed to sew him something warmer.

The first poster was of a pirate. Pirates. They came through this port, but they were easy to spot and stay away from. Before Bradley placed the ring on her finger, he had nearly gotten into a fight with a pirate.

They were out walking late and the pirate had bumped into him. He made one comment that she couldn't hear, and that was enough to set Bradley off.

'Hangman'. That was the name of the pirate on the wanted poster. He was grinning, winking in his sketch. The Dagger crew. She'd heard rumours about them, about how awful they were. Bradley had encountered them before, and begged her to stay away.

She looked at the next posted, gave it a brief glance as she moved onto the next market stall.

But that posted had her pausing. 'Rooster'. She didn't recognise the name, but the face was undeniable. The moustache, the scars on his cheek, his lips pulled into a hard line. That was her Bradley, and he had a high price on his head.

Dropping her things, she ran back home.

***

The voyage wasn't very long. Bradley stepped off of the ship and made his way back through town under the cover of darkness. He was the only member of Maverick's crew to get off at this port, a fact he was happy about.

It was too dark to see the posters with his face printed across them. He wasn't paying attention, anyway. He just had to get back to his girl.

The house was normal when he walked in. Her shoes were by the door and dying embers were in the fireplace. Slipping off his boots, he walked towards the bedroom.

The door opened slowly. There she was, sheets wrapped around her body as she slept, face pressed against his pillow. Bradley tried to be quiet as he got dressed. He was careful and gentle as he pulled the blanket up to slip beneath.

Two seconds later, a pistol was pointed at his face. Bradley held his hands up, chest heaving as he stared at her. Where on earth did she get a pistol.

"Baby," Bradley breathed, his eyes wide and concern written on his face.

"You're a pirate."

Shit, how had she found out? She was supposed to believe he was a fisherman, not find out he was a thieving pirate.

Tears gathered at her waterline, ready to fall. "Why didn't you tell me?" She pressed, pistol shaking in her grip.

"Baby," he tried again. Her hands trembled more. "I was trying to keep you safe, I swear." He was gentle as he grabbed the pistol and lowered it. "I'm that same man you married," he said gently and stepped closer. "I know it's not good work, it's not honest work." There was a knock at the door, but they ignored it as they stood chest to chest. "But it's all I know how to do. It's how I got you this." He held her hand and moved his thumb over the rock on her wedding ring.

"I love you," he assured her, wrapping his arms around her. "I never want to lose you."

A sob left her lips, but she nodded. Face pressed against his chest, she let the tears fall. "I love you too, Bradley," she mumbled, gripping him so tight.

But it didn't last long. The door was thrown open and men came running into the house. They grabbed a hold of Bradley and ripped him away from her. "No!" She shrieked and struggled against the arms around her. "Get away from him!"

The man in the doorway read out the countless charges against Bradley. "Baby," he said, chest heaving. "Baby stop. Stop struggling, please."

She wasn't listening.

"She doesn't know anything!" Bradley insisted to the men holding her. "She thought I was a fisherman!"

The men let go of her and threw her into the corner of the room. Bradley struggled away from the men holding him and ran to her. He collapsed to his knees beside her and pushed her hair out of her face. "You're gonna be okay," he whispered and kissed her. "Go and stay with your sister. She'll take care of you."

"I'll wait for you," she gasped through sobs.

The smile that crossed his face was so sad. "Don't wait for me, baby," he whispered. "Don't wait for me."

They gripped his arms and pulled him away from her. Bradley looked at her face one last time, committed her features to memory before he was dragged off to the gallows.

[ts1m1kas]

Original Ask: the main concept is that the reader was hired as an intern in the media team for barca, she’s young, has a fiery tongue and can handle herself around players, and gavi ( who’s known to be a hot head cause he’s sergio ramos’s long lost son lol ) cannot help but melt everytime he sees her, pedri tries to nudge his best friend into talking but a funny incident happens that causes them to admit their feelings to each other. (@findingnemosworld)

Word Count: 904 words

(author's note: another request from @findingnemosworld whose ideas never fail to amaze me 🩷 apologies for the lack of fics, my inspiration seemed to disappear on me !!)

Being hired for a media internship at Barcelona Football Club was the best thing to ever happen to Y/N. Every day was different, and she had developed close relationships with the players.

Y/N had a reputation around the Barça office for being brutally honest with a fiery tongue. She voiced every thought that came into her head and never lied to anyone.

She had been tasked with setting up the training equipment for the session on that day. She walked through the corridors of the training complex, heading towards the equipment cupboard.

Pablo's coach had also sent him to retrieve a clipboard from the same cupboard that, unbeknownst to him, Y/N had been sent to.

What Y/N didn't know was that Pablo had been admiring her from afar for a while. Every time he saw her, he flushed red with embarrassment. He thought she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.

Pedri and Ansu were walking through the same corridor. They saw Y/N collecting cones and balls to take out to the field for the team to use during their training session.

When Pedri saw him enter the same cupboard as her, he took his chance. He locked the door behind Pablo and ran back to Ansu, laughing.

Pedri was sick of hearing his best friend talk about Y/N. Every time the pair saw her, Pablo would try and drag him away in fear of making a fool of himself. In an effort to finally get the pair together, Pedri resorted to locking the pair in the cupboard. If that didn’t work, he didn’t know what would.

Hearing the door close behind him, Pablo spun around. His eyes widened when he saw the doors were shut.

"Hello? Who is it?"

Pablo recognised that voice. He'd know it anywhere. It froze him to the spot. He didn't want to believe what was happening to him at that moment.

"Pablo, is that you?" He heard Y/N ask. He finally saw her walk into view.

"Yeah, it's me. I think the door's locked itself, so we might be in here for a while." He replied, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

"Oh no. The team won't get their training equipment on time then."

She frowned. The idea of losing her internship made her sick. All she wanted to do was get the equipment and watch her friends train. 

“It’s fine, I’m sure they’ll notice we’re gone soon.”

Y/N let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding in. 

“How come you’re in here anyway? I thought you just had to turn up to training?”

Pablo laughed and shook his head.

“Coach wanted a clipboard, and I knew they were in here.”

Silence descended over the pair. Pablo wracked his brain, trying to think of something else to say to Y/N. His fear of embarrassing himself was growing larger by the second. 

“You look pretty today. Not that you don’t look pretty every day, just you look really-”

Y/N cut off his bashful rambling, “Thank you, Pablo, that’s nice of you.”

Since starting her work with the football team, Y/N had always liked Pablo. As she got to know him more over the years, she noticed herself falling for the young player rapidly. His humour and kind nature drew her in, and before she knew it, she was hooked.

Being locked in the equipment cupboard wasn’t where she thought she would finally confess her feelings for the Spaniard. However, she wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip through her fingers.

“Pablo, I have something I’ve been meaning to tell you. Before I tell you, I hope we can remain friends afterwards.”

His face dropped. Assuming the worst, he nodded at Y/N’s words, urging her to continue.

“When I first started my internship here, I didn't intend to form such lovely connections with anyone. But since we first met, I’ve found myself liking you more and more; what I’m trying to say is that I like you. A lot.”

Pablo was dumbfounded. Through his shock and disbelief, his heart began to beat faster.

“Are you serious?” Pablo’s mind was running at 100 miles an hour. “I feel the same, I have since I first saw you walk in through the front doors.”

Y/N’s face broke out into a grin.

“I don’t think we can remain friends, though. Pablo commented. “I would like you to be my girlfriend, though?”

Nodding ferociously, Y/N’s smile got impossibly bigger.

The pair moved closer together and Pablo wrapped his arms around Y/N. Just as the pair were settling down, they heard the click of the door handle and then footsteps. Looking up at the sound, they saw Pedri poke his head around the corner.

“I knew it!” He exclaimed, “I’ve been waiting for this moment for ages. You two were made for each other. I’ll finally be rid of Pablo talking about his ‘crush’ on you”

The trio laughed and Y/N and Pablo got up, making their way out of the cupboard. 

The three of them headed to the training field, laughing at the unusual events of the morning.

Pablo knew Pedri had locked him and Y/N in the cupboard, but he didn’t feel anger or resentment. Instead, he felt grateful for his friend and appreciative of the road ahead of him.

[mingiiwingii]

Masterlist. Chapter 1. Chapter 2.

SUMMARY | Hes your baby daddy but he’s also part of the mafia- the boss at that. He left you without saying anything but leaving a note explaining how it was the best for you guys and he would miss you. Then disappearing completely out of your life never being seen again a month before you found out you were pregnant.

PAIRINGS | mafia boss father!Bangchan x mother!female reader

RATING | 18+

WARNINGS | 1 suggestive line, Idek what else honestly SORRY.

NOW PLAYING | back to black: Amy Winwhouse

LENGTH | 1,072 words

It was nothing but a normal Saturday afternoon. You and your daughter were on your way to the ice cream shop. Your daughter gets happy as you guys get closer to the huge ice cream shop in the mall. You finally reached the entrance of the shop and asked her if she knew what she wanted already, you already knew what ice cream she had in mind since she got it all the time but you just wanted to see if it would be different, it wasn’t per usual.

You took her in the ice cream shop so she can get her ice cream. She begged for you to let her order it herself and let her put it under her own name. You didn’t see any reason not to so you let her put it in on her own. •Yerim Bang: 2 scoops of chocolate ice cream on a cone and 2 scoops of cookies and cream on a cone• is what the reader where you would order said.

You turnt around with your daughters hand in yours to go sit in the waiting area and as you turnt around, you couldn’t believe what you and your daughter were seeing the man you dreaded to ever see again. Christopher bang known as bang Chan A.K.A Yerims father. Still short as ever but still scary in a sexy way, black suited pants, a long sleeve white dressy button up shirt, and a black suited jacket buttoned over it with a black tie, his hair was styled completely different. It was blonde and boy did it complement his face so perfectly.

Of course he still wore the same Rolex from when you first ever met him, the Rolex that wrapped around his wrist like a snake everytime he put his hand around your neck as he fucked you. Oh what you’d do to go back to that time and take it all back but then again your glad that happened because you were blessed with your beautiful daughter.

You happened to finally look down at at the short mans hand and you happened to see him holding a little girls hand she looked about the same age as your daughter but she also looked very familiar. She looked like a child you have seen before but she also looked like your child’s father very similar to him. Same eyes, same nose, same lips worse of all, she shared the same features of Christopher’s that your daughter did and that made the two look almost like twins.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you seen the little girl charging towards you and your daughter and your daughter charged back towards her. The little girl yelled out her name as they hugged each other “Yerim what are you doing here” with a huge smile. Yerim smiled back and said “I’m getting ice cream with my mommy like every Saturday.”

The little girls smile became a little smaller as she put her head down and said softly “I sometimes wish I had a mommy to teach me how to be a good girlfriend and how to act as a women, but Im very glad that I have my daddy he says that ‘I should just wait to grow up and later worry about that stuff but that I should also be the type of girlfriend who knows how to let go and isn’t disobedient’ but he’s a man so what does he actually know.”

Those words broke you and and you daughters hearts. It then hit you she was the little girl to always get dropped off by this very beautiful woman. You only every caught a few glimpses of her and the little girl that’s why you didn’t know who it was right away.

You felt that the girl must’ve been Christopher’s current women since she was the one dropping off his other said daughter but you could also tell she wasn’t her biological mom because they didn’t share a single feature. You patted the little girls head and said “yeah your right your father is a man they wouldn’t know anything about that kid of stuff” as you then rolled your eyes at him.

Your daughter then put her head down and said “I wish I had a daddy to teach me about how boys should treat a girl and the right boy to and to not date.” She then raised her head and said “but my mom told me the exact man or boy to not date.” With a huge smile on her face.

The little girl lit up and said “what type of guys does she think are bad to date” your daughter snickered and laughed saying “the bad type-“ she starts to say as she put her hands on her hips. She then continues “the type of guy who does bad things because it will never last that’s what happened between her and my d-“ you were shocked at the little girls words but the only thing that stopped that last word from coming out of her mouth was her order being called.

“An order for yerim bang” the lady behind the desk yelled “well that’s me I’ll see you at school “ yerim said before hugging her bye before pulling you and running towards the desk to get the ice cream. Christopher stood there puzzled wondering was that his daughter but he already knew she was since the last names aligned and she looked like his twin flame.

As you guys were walking out past them the little girl tapped your arm making you stop and look down at her with a smile. The little girl then asked “how do you know those are the types of men to stay away from because I always wanted to date a man from the mafia because they seem super fun.”

You laugh at her words she reminded you of yourself “I know because I have great experience with them and trust me you don’t want to date one because one day they’ll say they love you and the next their leaving a not on your kitchen table saying how your not good for each other.”

You smile at the girl who is clearly listening to you then look at Christopher and your smile drops as you roll your eyes. Yerim waved the little girl and her dad a final goodbye.

[sanguineterrain]

Somebody to You - s.h.

Summary: You've never been kissed. Steve changes that.

Pairing: best friend!Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: first kiss, sweet soft Steve (lub him <3), inexperienced!reader, fluff fluff fluff. A reminder that Steve and the reader are always 18+!

divider by s-tarksintern

Follow @sanguine-stranger for all my Stranger Things fics updates!

"You're gonna get sick."

"No, 'm not," Steve insists petulantly, ice cream smeared on his chin. 

"It's fall," you sigh. "You didn't even zip up your jacket. You'll get a sore throat."

"I won't. I'm a trooper."

"You're an idiot."

"Yes," he agrees solemnly. "An idiotic trooper. God's bravest soldier."

"Brave or stupid?"

Steve licks his cone. A smudge of chocolate lands on his nose. 

"It's a fine line," he decides. 

You crumple your napkin, wiping away the ice cream. He grins, too goddamn cute for his own good. 

"How do girls like you? You eat like a toddler."

"I eat like a man." Steve thumps his chest. "This is how men eat ice cream."

"Definitely an idiot."

"Yeah, but who's hanging out with me, hmm? Riddle me that, Y/N."

"What was I thinking?"

"Hard to say."

"At least wear your scarf properly," you say, stopping in front of him. "Doesn't do much hanging like that."

"It makes me look cool."

You ignore his protests, handing him your own cup of ice cream so you can fix the scarf. It's nice: a ruddy red color, made of angora wool. You'd borrowed it many a time, but Steve is pretty horrendous when he gets sick and it's important to nip that prospect in the bud as early as possible. 

You wrap the scarf once, twice, then tuck the ends. Steve's neck is warm, jaw slightly rough with stubble. Plumes of breath fade into the air between you. When you meet his gaze, Steve is looking at you funny, lids heavy. You nearly trip on the sidewalk as you turn. 

"Your cup," he says, nudging your shoulder. 

You take your ice cream back without meeting his eye. Steve falls into silence beside you, matching your steps so he doesn't leave you behind with his longer strides. 

"So," he clears his throat after a few minutes. "You gonna tell me why we went for ice cream?"

"What do you mean?" you ask, scooping another bite of your treat. 

"Do I look like a sucker to you?"

You open your mouth. Steve hurriedly covers the lower half of your face with a big hand. It's cold from the ice cream, rough with calluses. You want it there forever. 

"Nevermind," he says. "Don't want you answering that."

"Mmfph!"

You bat his hand away. Steve's fingers dance across your arm. 

"The answer is yes," you say anyway. 

"Walked right into that one."

"Sure did."

Steve unlocks the car door, swinging into the driver’s seat. As soon as he turns the key, you blast the heat. 

"You're gonna eat up the gas," he groans over the roar of the heater, turning the knob.

"I'm cold."

"Who wanted to get ice cream in the first place? And who lectured me about wearing my scarf properly?"

"Dunno but she sounds really smart," you say, mouth full. "Maybe you should listen to her more."

Steve's cone is down to a nub because he inhales everything he eats. You take your time on your cup, stirring the melting ice cream with your spoon. 

"Y/N."

"Yes, Steve?"

He fixes you with a look.

"Don't yes, Steve me. You think I forgot? You had that big date planned tonight."

"It wasn't that big a date."

"Oh, I disagree," Steve says, turning in his seat. "Very much so. You were gonna pop your first date cherry. If that's not a big date, I dunno what is."

The entire week had been test prep for your first ever date. Steve and Robin had both lectured you on first date protocols, trying to soothe your nerves. In the end, it didn't matter. You hadn't gone through with it. 

"First anythings mean nothing," you mumble. 

"Did this guy do something? What's his name? Phillips, Philly, Philbin…"

"Fuller," you correct. "Jake Fuller."

Steve snaps his fingers. "That's the one! So, what, do I need to defend your honor and go rough him up?"

"And lose another fight?" you shoot.

"Oh, now you're gonna get it.” 

Steve puts his cone between his teeth to free his other hand and leaps over the console, sliding both cold hands under your shirt. You squeal, trying in earnest to bat him away. He lets you take his wrists, one knee perched precariously on the edge of your seat. 

"You're a menace," you declare.

Steve finishes his cone in one bite, crunching obnoxiously in your ear. 

"I'm a what?" he asks. "Come again?" 

"A menace!" you laugh, shaking his hands. 

Steve sinks back to his side. His hair is slightly tousled from his antics. 

"Seriously, Y/N." And this time, he really is serious. "What happened?" 

"Nothing!" Truth. "I don't even care." Half truth. 

"Did he cancel?"

You wince. "No. I did." 

"What? Why?"

You shrug one shoulder. 

"That's not an answer," he pushes. 

"I don't know, okay? Just didn't feel up to it. I—it would've been awkward. He's one of Nancy's newspaper buddies and I'm sure if she hangs out with him, he's probably not, like, a serial killer. But the more I thought about it, the more I decided I couldn't do it. I wouldn't have anything to say."

"But that's everyone's first date," Steve reasons. "My first date ever wasn't amazing."

"You? Steve Harrington? That's who we're talking about?" 

"The sass is unnecessary," he says with an eye roll. "Yeah, my first date was awkward just like everyone else's. But then you go on second and third dates and it gets better. You get practice. Like kissing, y'know?"

You sink into your seat, scratching the bottom of your cup with your spoon. 

“Right,” you mumble. 

“Wait.” Steve leans in, arm draped over your headrest. “What is that?”

“What is what?”

Steve’s so close. He smells like lemon shampoo and the expensive cologne you’d been clueless about buying for his birthday. He wears it everyday. You cross your arms.

“Why’d you respond like that?”

“I acknowledged your statement, Steve.”

You feel his eyes boring into the side of your head. 

"You've kissed people before, haven't you?"

"People? Am I planting one on everybody at the A&P?" 

“Holy shit," Steve says. "You've never kissed anybody?" 

Oh, this is torture. Spending the night locked in Family Video with Keith would be less painful.

“You don’t have to say it like that,” you huff. “Like I’m a spinster with eleven cats.”

Steve gently plucks the empty ice cream cup from your hands, setting it down in the cupholder. You tuck your hands under your thighs.

“I didn’t say it like that,” he says, softly earnest. "I just… I'm surprised, y’know?"

"Surprised that I'm a freak of nature? Well, you wouldn't be the first, Harrington."

"You're not a freak, Y/N. There’s nothing wrong with not kissing anybody.”

“Easy for you to say. Girls fall over themselves wanting you. Nobody's ever wanted to kiss me and–and I don't know. It felt like something that should be special."

"I seriously doubt nobody's ever wanted to kiss you, Y/N," Steve says quietly. 

You scoff. "What then? I'm just clueless?"

Steve shrugs. "Have a little confidence in yourself is all I'm saying. You're pretty, y'know? Guys would love to take you out." 

"You're serious."

His brow scrunches. "I said I was.”

"I'm not like you, Steve. Jake would’ve tried to kiss me and it would’ve been weird and gross.”

“That bad? You hardly know the guy."

"That's the point!" you groan. "I don't know him. You can kiss girls and it's fine, it's cool." 

"Well, I’m a great kisser," Steve smirks. "I've had a lot of practice to make it fine and cool."

“Great kisser, huh? That hair is getting a little too big, hotshot."

“Oh, baby, I only get five star reviews,” he grins, looking and sounding very much like the King Steve you remember and could hardly stand. The Steve who's good at this, good at making girls melt and kissing the air out of their lungs. The Steve who renders you shy and too quiet; who, despite his throne, has always been a pretty boy with pretty lips. 

“Hey.” Steve taps your temple with one finger. “You still there?”

“Yeah,” you say in a breath. "Still here."

"Okay. That's good."

You pull your knees in, fingers curling around the seat cushion. Steve slouches against his seat. His fingers lazily drum on the steering wheel. A sliver of freckled skin peeks underneath his jacket. You tear your gaze away. 

"Are you actually that good at kissing?"

Steve glances at you, brows raised slightly. 

"Haven't had any complaints. And most girls have no problem letting you know."

"Is it, um… fun?"

What a silly word. Fun. Like you're talking about a new video game. Why can't you be like other girls about it? Other girls make out with guys in their cars and then brag about it the next morning. I hooked up with Steve Harrington. He's so hot. Jealous?

"Yeah." Steve laughs a bit, not unkindly. "It's kind of my favorite part, actually. They become addictive when you're with the right person."

"Like Nancy?" 

Something flickers across his face. Nice, Y/N. Way to go. 

"At first," he replies quietly, because Steve never gets cross with you, even when you're the idiot, bringing up his ex. "Then it changed. Some things do." 

"Oh," you breathe. "You don't love her anymore?" 

"No," he says, staring at you. "Not sure if I ever did." 

You bend and pretend to tie your shoe. Steve sits up and unravels his scarf, tossing it into the backseat, then does the same with his coat. You steal a glance and watch his biceps shift under his pullover. Golden sunlight catches the outline of his Cupid’s bow. Your chest tightens. 

"Wanna get food? We did the backwards thing eating ice cream before dinner," Steve chuckles.

You sit up and lick your lips. Steve digs through the center console for stray cash. His long, long lashes fan over his cheeks. You flex and unflex your fingers.

"Hey, Steve?" 

"Hmm?" 

"What's, uh, what’s it like? Kissing, I mean."

He stops, lifts his head. You swallow. He squints slightly, like he can see every thought in your brain. You shake your head when he’s quiet for too long, nerves nosediving. 

"N-nevermind. Stupid question, forget it."

"It's not stupid," he says gently. "I was just thinking about how to explain it. It's kinda hard to. But you feel… connected? With your mouth. It's warm and a little wet but it shouldn't be that wet or you're probably doing it wrong."

You scrunch your nose. Steve grins. 

"But it's good. Really good. And you can put your hand on their face. Like this."

Steve shifts in his seat so he's facing you. Then his palm slides onto your jaw, thumb resting on your cheek. Your heart knocks against your ribcage. Steve has that half-lidded look again. He draws tiny circles into your cheek. 

"It’s—it’s nice,” you squeak.

"Yeah?" 

You nod. Steve glances at your lips. The leather groans as you squirm. 

"Steve." Your voice is barely a whisper. 

"Uh-huh?" 

Your brain is sludge. The longer you look at him, the hotter you burn. 

"Are–are you going to kiss me?" 

Steve goes very still. His hand doesn't move from your cheek. 

"Not if you don't want me to."

The light makes his cheeks glow, hair framing his face like a halo. Steve's hair always looks so soft. You ache to run your fingers through it. 

"I want you to."

Steve inhales sharply. He leans in, his other hand coming up to gently hold your jaw. 

"Tell me if I do anything you don't like," he says. "Okay?" 

"Okay," you promise, eyes closing instinctively. 

Steve tastes like chocolate ice cream. He kisses you with his whole being. You fumble against him, trying to follow his lead. And Steve—sweet, best friend Steve—is forgiving, patient, hungry. He presses you into the seat. You make a soft noise, grip tight around his bicep. Your arm curls around the back of his neck and you tug him in a little too hard. Steve grunts, catching himself on your hips. 

"S-sorry," you sigh into his mouth, eyes fluttering open. 

He shakes his head lightly and the mistake is forgotten. Steve sweetly squeezes your hip, drags his hand up your ribcage like he needs to be everywhere at once. Then his teeth graze your lower lip. Addictive. The word slips from his tongue to yours.

Steve pulls back first. He seems to know instinctively you both need air. But he doesn't go far, hands clutching your waist. You breathe on his shoulder, clinging like he might disappear if you don’t. And what if he does?

But you know Steve. You know he won't.

“Wow,” is the first thing you hum.

Steve’s laugh is shy. He pushes a lock of hair behind his ear, looks at you through his lashes.

“Did you like it?” he asks.

There’s a million things you can say to that. You settle on:

“I don’t want to kiss anyone else.”

Steve’s grin is blinding. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confess. “Will you do it again?”

Steve can only oblige.

[buckys-little-belle]

Chapter Three - Raindrops and Goodbyes

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SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW. 

Warnings - Talks about past (bad) Caregivers, talks about fear of abandonment, some heavy negative feelings, comparing oneself to others, fluff but ends in some angst, Bub eats, food mentioned, Bub cries 

Word Count - 1751

Note - Sorry this took so long to get out! Things got hectic, and crappy, and I haven't been able to edit, or format, or really write lately! Luckily things are going well and I won't start school till the 16th so I'm hoping to get some stuff out in the next week or so! Part four will be posted tomorrow! I can't leave us on a sad note for too long! I just can't!!

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Y/n always hated wearing her yellow raincoat, the material feeling odd against her skin, and the crinkle of the fabric was never music to her ears. But on days like this, grey skies and heavy raindrops falling to the ground, she had no choice but to suit up. Her matching rain boots on, allowing her to splash in any puddle she felt needed to be played in. 

As she neared the Cafe she got excited, Bucky said they would go to the park today, and although it’s running she has hopes that he’ll let them go anyways, her umbrella overhead creating enough of a dry patch to maybe, at the least, run around in the mud without catching a nasty cold. 

“Mr!” She cheered as she walked in, something she did every time she saw him sat at his usual table, early as always. “I has something for you!” She smiled big as she unzipped the front pocket of her backpack “Here.” Her smile grew as Bucky’s mirrored hers, the small baggie with flowers printed on it full of chocolate chip cookies her pride and joy. 

“You made these?” 

“Yes!” Y/n says still standing, ready to leave for the park wherever Bucky is ready. Shifting her weight from one foot to another, growing impatient. “All on my own!” She cheered, proud of her baked goods. “Park now?” Bub asked, her smile still huge, both hands grasping the straps of her bag, now back on her back. 

“It’s raining, Bub.” Bucky frowned, causing Bub to mirror his expression. “But we’ll go next time, okay?” He asked, his hands immediately helping Y/n out of her raincoat, the buttons soon undone. 

“But you promised?” Y/n frowned, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “I wanted to go to d’park.” Y/n held back her tears, though she wished to stomp her foot and throw a small fit, she didn’t know Bucky well enough to truly let him see her little side completely. So instead she fixed her clothing after her coat had been taken off and sat in her usual seat. 

“I know I promised, Bub.” She smiled at the nickname. “But I brought us a fun game to play today.” He was quickly making her forget about the park trip altogether, now excited to see whatever game he had brought. She hoped it wasn’t UNO, she sucked at that. “Here.” He said as he placed a game on the table, the pink and blue of Candyland making Y/n let out a small squeal. 

“I love Candyland!” She grabbed the box and bounced in her seat. “Can we play now?” She asked, her eyes turning to Bucky, him already looking at her. “Please?” She added on for good measure. 

The moment he nodded his head she opened the box, pulling all the pieces out. “Why don’t you set it up, and I get us some snacks?” Bucky asked, Y/n didn’t even look up at him, but nodded her head. Too busy pulling out the different characters. 

Y/n didn’t know how long it took Bucky to get snacks, but by the time he got back to the table she had created a whole plot amongst the characters and their kingdoms. “Here, Bub.” Bucky said as he placed a plate on the table. It was more than the usual cake pop he got her, though one still sat on the plate. This time he got vegetables and dip, some goldfish, and a cup of juice. 

“Thank you, Mr.” Y/n smiled up at him, grabbing a celery stick and dipping it. “Can I be the ice cream cone?” She asked, showing him the character she had in her hand. Bucky nodded but stayed sitting. “You need’a pick a lil guy.” She pointed to the characters situated around the board. 

“Right.” He said, his expression growing serious as he looked each one over. “I’ll pick this one, he looks tough.” Y/n broke out into a fit of giggles, the marshmallow definitely not a ‘tough guy’. 

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They got to playing the game, Y/n winning two times in a row. She wasn’t surprised, while she knew it was all down to luck, she had played the game a ton of times so clearly the Candyland gods liked her more than Bucky. “Are you cold bub?” Bucky asked her, making her realise she was shivering slightly.

She knew not bringing a sweater might be a bad idea, but she thought they were going to the park. “Um, yeah.” She nodded then shrugged her shoulders. She hoped he wouldn’t make her go back home and get one, she only had so much time in a day to spend at the cafe. “Bu’ I’m all good, can we play again?” She asked, moving their pieces back to the star. 

“Yeah we can play again, just wait a second.” Bucky stood up, she wondered where he was going, but instead of leaving to grab something or go to the bathroom he stood at the side of her booth with a black sweater in hand. “Hands up, Bub.” He said, holding the sweater out. 

“I don’ need your sweater, wha’ if yous get cold?” She asked, not sure if her being so comfortable around Bucky her little side couldn’t help but come out now was a good thing or a bad thing. While she was 100% sure Bucky was a safe guy to be around, she didn’t want to get too attached to him just in case. 

“I won’t get cold.” He answered in a softer voice. She knew he was special, that’s what everyone in the newspapers said, that he’s indestructible. But she’d hate to be the person who gave a super soldier a cold because she took his sweater. “Bub.” His voice drew her out of her worrying. He was now crouched down so they were eye level. “I won’t get cold, but you’re shivering.” He didn’t wait for her to put her arms up, instead just putting it over her head and waiting for her to put her arms through on her own.

“Tanks.” Bub murmured, looking at Bucky with a small smile. She was thankful for the sweater, now warm, but she still worried that she was too much to handle. He had given her a lot, crayons, colouring pages, so much of his time, and now his sweater. She hadn’t given him anything but cookies that she hoped tasted okay. 

“Why don’t we play again?” Bucky asked as he settled back into his seat. “I can feel it, I’m going to win this one.” He teased, she shook her head, he had no clue that the Candyland gods were on her side, and she hoped he would never know. 

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Y/n frowned as she saw Bucky pacing around outside. It had stopped raining but he said that they should wait till a sunny day to go out, because ‘everything would be slippery’. Buck’s phone had rung five hours ago, well maybe two minutes ago, but it felt like forever as she just watched him pace with an unhappy look on his face. 

She grabbed the last few goldfish and got back to her colouring, when she had won for a third time Bucky had to quit, saying his ego couldn’t handle anymore. Y/n giggled at the memory. 

The doorbell rang out and she quickly turned, though her smile turned back into a frown when she saw Bucky’s sad expression. “I’m sorry, I have to go, Bub.” He said, his sad words said in a kind tone. 

“Oh, otay.” Y/n answered, watching him pack up his things. “Will you be back tomorrow?” She asked, her crayons laid on the table instead of in her hands. 

Bucky sighed, then sat down, his hands clasped on the table. “I’m going to be gone until next wednesday.” Y/n’s back straightened up, he’d be gone for nine days. That was a lot of time to be gone, and a lot of time for him to think and change his mind about her. 

“Oh, do you, do you wan’ your sweater back?” She asked, wiggling her hands out of the sleeves before Bucky got to her. His hands covering hers, a painful smile on his face. 

“You can keep it, I’ll get it back when I come back okay?” Y/n nodded. “I’ll put my phone number in your phone, and I’ll text you if I’m going to be back later than wednesday, okay?” She nodded her head, at least he wasn’t just up and leaving, he was giving her a point of contact if needed. She handed him her phone, watching as he took forever to type out his name and number. It was a little silly to watch. “I won’t be able to text or call you while I’m away.” He admitted. “But you can text me all you want and I’ll read them when I’m back.” Bucky offered, though she knew she wouldn’t do that, she wouldn’t bother him while he was away, she knew people hated that. 

She just nodded her head, watching him as he put his coat and backpack on. “Stay safe.” She whispered as he stood in front of her, ready to leave. 

“And you be good, Bub.” Bucky whispered back, and then he was gone. She watched him get into his jeep and drive away. She knew her mind was being silly when she couldn’t help but think he wouldn’t come back, but it didn’t mean it stopped that train of thought. 

She knew deep down that he had to leave, he didn’t want to, but he had to. She knew he wasn’t like the other people who became her friends and then left and never came back, she knew that, somewhere in her mind she knew that. But she still couldn’t help it as a few tears slipped down her cheeks as she cleaned up. She couldn’t help but let out a small sad noise as she put on her coat, and she couldn’t help but sob the moment she got home and into bed. 

“He had to go save people, he was needed by the world because he's a good guy, that’s why he left.” She whispered to herself all night, but she still felt as though he had left because of something she did.

[lassieposting]

Okay but. For anyone who's unfamiliar with the UK. Pop-up street funfairs are kind of a Thing here - they show up for carnivals and village fetes and shit and when you grow up in the middle of buttfuck nowhere like I did they might be the only entertainment you'll get all year, so you really come to love the atmosphere and the strobing lights and the pounding music and the nostalgia of better, easier, safer times.

And every year, in London, they have the Hyde Park Winter Festival, which is hands down the biggest pop-up funfair I've ever seen.

Anyway hc that the year Lucy runs away to London, Lockwood and George take her to the festival. It's George's idea - she is from the Barbarous Wastes Oop North, Lockwood, she's probably never seen a funfair before, and she does gasp and go all wide-eyed every time their taxi drives past it - and Lockwood pays, because his house might be mortgaged to the hilt, he might be practically a serf, but he's the boss and he's pretty sure he still owes George a tenner anyway for those beers, so, whatever -

And it's just a whole thing for Lucy because she's never really been treated before. Everything she's needed since she was thirteen came out of her Jacobs' wages. Her mum never spent a penny on her that wasn't absolutely necessary, and begrudged her even that. So she's always had to be a penny-pincher, always had to deny herself fun things because her wages were being spent on essentials or frittered away on pints of Fosters, and being able to do whatever she likes purely for her own pleasure is utterly foreign to her.

And he doesn't make her feel bad for it. For wanting to have fun for once. Neither of them do. George spouts useless facts about when rides were invented and the origins of ice skates, and sometimes puts his fingers in his ears with a grimace, but when she grins at him, he grins back. Lockwood plays the yes-man for her all evening, eyes twinkling when she hangs off his arm or pulls him over to see something by the wrist. He stumps up for candyfloss, for sweetie cones, for fresh donuts and hook-a-duck and the shooting gallery, because "You were looking at it like you wanted it." She has three goes on a claw machine trying to get a particular stuffed dog, and then Lockwood has a go, before George finally wins it for her. And she loves them so much, these boys who put her first more than her own family ever did.

She falls asleep on Lockwood's shoulder in the taxi on the way home. Mostly. She dozes, at least. She's still vaguely cognizant of what's going on around her - the low hum of the radio, the pulse of the taxi's engine, George's voice when he leans around her and says, "I didn't realise you noticed that thing she does."

She's been faintly aware of Lockwood's arm around her shoulders since he put it there, when she started listing drowsily into his side, but she hadn't noticed his thumb idly petting back and forth until it stills. "Thing? What thing?"

"The thing," says George helpfully. "Where she looks at things like she wants them but she knows she can't have them."

Lockwood snorts. It's a small, derisive sound, probably accompanied by an eye roll. "I'd make a pretty piss-poor agent if I hadn't. She does it at lots of things."

"Oh." George seems to muse on that for a second. Then, "Just you never seem to notice when she does it at you."

Lockwood goes very still, for a second. Clears his throat, just quietly. His arm jostles her a bit; she thinks he's fussing with his cufflinks, which he seems to do a lot ever since he started wearing them in the first place. His voice is warm, though. "Shut up, George."

"Yes, boss." Irreverent. Grinning, probably.

With her face tucked into his shoulder, Lucy smiles, and lets herself drift.