#has anyone else played three times so quickly?

[doveywovy]

tobiizu modern au in which the uchiha are a wealthy family that vacations every summer at a family beachhouse on a (Relatively) small island- and Tobirama drives the water taxi they hire to take them out to it every year.

the first time it happens, they're both only about 16. Izuna immediately hates it- and hates tobirama- because it makes him feel childish. Here he is, out on vacation with his family (lame) to go play in the sand (lame!) and maybe play in the waves (SOOOO lame, totally childish). and heres this teen the same age as him, not just spending the summer break working but specifically working alone, doing a difficult and responsible job like driving a boat! Izuna takes this as a personal affront to his manhood and spends the whole ride there and the whole ride back being absolutely insufferable to Tobirama and the rest of the family.

he spends the next summer working his own summer job (But something much fancier, like interning somewhere impressive) and the summer after that he spends at an intense sports camp. So the next time they see eachother, Izuna's 19 and- okay, well, he hasn't really matured. but his stance has changed to the viewpoint that HE'S clearly the winner here. Here he is, out on vacation with his family (Wealthy and impressive) to go relax in the sand (so wealthy and mature) and maybe swim in the waves (sooooo cool, totally mature and adult). Meanwhile Tobirama has to spend his summer working in a dingey boat serving the Uchiha and family like them! Since Izuna's won the competition they totally had going on, he can afford to be nicer to Tobirama. especially since hormones have kicked in and tobirama is unbearably fucking attractive to izuna. He spends the whole vacation having ridiculous daydreams about them running away together (fucking on the boat) living a life at sea together (fucking on a boat) and him showing off his better lifestyle to Tobirama (fucking on the beach.) He does exactly nothing about any of this except being mildly more polite to tobirama for the 47 total minutes they spend interacting.

The next three summers, however, he gets proactive. The Uchiha are a big family with a ton of stuff they need, and they always run through it quickly or realize they forgot something after they left. Someone has to go back to the mainland and get The Only Cereal Kagami Will Eat, or Shishui's Special Sunscreen (he has allergies to the rest), etc etc. In past years it's been one of the odd aunts or uncles, but now Izuna's taken it up as his personal mantel.

If anyone needs anything from the mainland, of course Izuna will make the trip out! No need to worry! He'll call up Tobirama's company and have the ride out within the hour, and he'll be back two hours after that. Sometimes he runs right out without bothering to change- Mikoto needs fresh lettuce for the dinner salad, there's no time for him to change out of his trunks or put a shirt on! Everyone's glad he's willing to make the sacrifice for the family, nobody wants to do it themselves- and so nobody points out that unlike past triptakers, Izuna never double checks if anyone else needs anything before he goes. It means he has to make a lot more trips, individual ones for Sasuke's fresh tomatoes and Itachi's eyecream and Obito's glasses cleaner, instead of all at once like he could if he just asked before going. But they're a wealthy family, they can afford it, and he's getting it all in the end, isn't he?

Now that izuna's upped his time with Tobirama from 24-ish minutes to the island and 24-ish minutes back home (shared with his entire family), to around an hour one-on-one every other day the entire two months he's out there...things change.

For one, the crush gets more genuine. He's talking to Tobirama constantly and gets to know him as a person and unfortunately he really likes him as a person. The fantasies get more focused on getting to actually date Tobirama in a normal person way, not whisking a mermaid tobirama off for beach-sex.

Tobirama, meanwhile, is finally starting to like this guy. He hasn't thought about izuna nearly as much as Izuna's thought about him. He hated him as a teen for being annoying and bratty, thought he was hot and annoying a few years ago, and now he's a nice sociable guy who lets him talk about boats for twenty minutes straight. Who's extremely hot and constantly shirtless, for some reason? Which Tobirama's not mad at.

so- izuna's fumbling his way towards something, but cautious not to fuck it up because he genuinely wants something serious with Tobirama and that makes him much more worried about ruining it. and then one day madara- well, the thing is.

To madara, izuna will always be somewhat five years old. He can't imagine him any other way. So he assumes, when Izuna constantly spends his summer vacations on the water taxi with tobirama- he doesn't consider it could be about tobirama. He thinks it's about the boat! Especially since Izuna can hold full conversations about boats with people now (Because of his conversations with tobirama about them, but Madara doesn't know that) and takes photos of boats (For tobirama)....All of this to say, Madara decides Izuna must want a boat.

So madara offers to help him buy one. Nothing too fancy (to the Uchiha perspective), but something nice.

Izuna immediately remembers the conversations he's had with Tobirama about his dream boat. He remembers his ridiculous fantasies at 18 years old about whisking Tobirama away for a life on the open sea. and he imagines, for half a second, trying to explain to madara that he doesn't want a boat despite seeming to be obsessed with them because he's obsessed with a guy instead. He is not having that conversation.

He's buying a boat. He's buying Tobirama a boat. Then he just....has to figure out how to give it to him.

[claire-is-6ft]

off topic but can you all believe Nicole Franzel played 3 times in 9 years

****edit: I’m dumb it was THREE TIMES IN SIX YEARS

[rodeorun]

love in the dark.

yandere pretty boyfriend x fem!reader.

cw: drugging, black-mail, non-con blowjob, degradation. Featuring @meo-eiru 's OC, Elias ❤️

MDNI.

“You better work,” Elias threatened the baby pink candle he was holding between pretty, manicured fingers.

One might even compare it to the young man himself. Long and more thin than thick, the pink wax at the tip molded into a heart shape, white wick sticking through the middle. Elias always had love on the brain, at least when it came to you. Pity he didn't have a fine white wick of logic to split his head in two, or rather, his heart. But, when you love the way he did, weren't those two practically the same thing?

He doesn't know how many hours he spent on the dark web to find this, some sort of ‘love candle.’ Whatever that bullshit meant. The description the seller left behind was short and to the point.

‘Ignite this candle in the presence of your desired person and watch them fall in love with you.’

Even Elias in all his lovesickness found it hard to believe, but it was that sickness itself that led him to purchasing the item. He hadn't gotten a gig lately so he prayed for the payment to go through, giving himself a headache for purchasing a mere candle that was six hundred and fifty dollars. God, the things he would do for you (or to you, but that's a completely different matter.)

You, the object of his affections. His sweet, sweet, sweet best friend who has saved him more times than he could count. You were entirely too good for him and he knew it.

A special knock on his door alerted him to your presence, and he knew it was you because you two had created that very knock in sophomore year of university. Long after he changed his name, you still had the heart to played with him like a child. Where others laughed at his girlish tears and overgrown sobs, you healed his inner child with every hug, every whisper, every time you'd look into his eyes and tell him, ‘it's okay, Elias. I'm here for you.’

And you always were.

No matter how bad his tantrums got, you never got sick of him. You were the only one who stayed. You practically conditioned him. How could he ever want anyone else after tasting a drop of your sweetness?

“Hi, darling!” Elias opened the door and pulled you in for a hug, kicking the door shut behind you. “Someone's mighty dressed up for a movie night in, hehe. Oooh, is this wine? Gimme gimmie!”

Taking the bag from your hands, Elias turned to put it on the table, laying a sweaty palm against his flushed cheek. Heaven, he couldn't do this much longer! Just a hug from you and a whiff of that perfume had him hardening in his yoga pants. He stayed faced away from you as he rocked side to side, subtly rubbing himself against the bottle you brought just for him. All for him.

“So, I was thinking we could start with a rom-com and then maybe a western, for variety, and after that there's a three hour long horror movie I found that-”

“Sorry, Elias.”

Glittering eyelids opened themselves.

“See, my boyfriend injured his arm in a game yesterday, so I need to go help cook for him,” you explained. Your sorry eyes seared into his back.

Ah, yes. That boyfriend of yours. Taller than Elias, bigger than Elias, handsome enough to be called a heartthrob and an athlete by profession. A real winner, that boyfriend of yours!

Elias wanted to spit on his corpse.

“Oh, your boyfriend!” He clasped his hands together and turned to face you. “The one who forgot to pick you up at the mall last week because he slept through his alarm, right? I remember him.” Elias fiddled with one of the bottles of wine now, snarling. So much for a ‘gift,’ you were just trying to buy his forgiveness.

“Yes, Eli, that boyfriend,” you chuckled. “But I forgave him for that, you know? Nobody's perfect.”

The illusion of bliss he was swept up in from hearing that sweet nickname quickly shattered.

‘Nobody's perfect.’ Elias knew that better than anyone else. Afterall, he was the last thing but, and yet you still treated him so preciously.

So, why? Why was it the very same thing he fell in love with you for, you were flaunting to just anyone? Don't you know that love isn't free? Especially not yours! How many bottles of hair dye, micro-needling appointments, collagen fillers, and waxing appointments did he go to for your love? By God he knows his deadname didn't deserve you, but didn't Elias at least earn a little bit of your attention?

How dare you, honestly. How dare you show someone else the kindness you won him over with? How dare you waltz in here just to stand him up for another man! How dare you fucking-

“Eli?”

“Yes, my beloved?”

You looked upon him tentatively, a testament to what a ticking time bomb he is. “Oh, alright, I forgive you.” He waved you off playfully and walked over to hold both of your hands in his. “But next time, I'll tie you up and keep you here forever, munchkin~”

Your laugh mingled with his. As if you thought he was joking.

“Ah, but, darling! At least have a drink with me before you go. It would be lonely to pop open a bottle by myself, hm?”

A single drink.

That's what you and Elias agreed on. One glass and you'd be on your way to that wretch. You didn't drive to get here and assured Elias that your boyfriend would drive you back home. As if.

“Oh, before we cheers,” Elias put his glass down and went to rummage for a box of matches, shaking his hips this way and that while humming in his search.

“Someone's in a good mood,” you grinned, watching him groove to imaginary music.

“Yes, with you around I always am,” he teased and returned to the table. He put the candle in the stand and lit it.

It was only a little unsettling that he watched you instead of the matches while he did so.

“That's a really cute candle, Elias. Where'd you get it?” you asked him as he sat down across from you, drink in hand.

“Oh, this old thing? It's just something I had laying around- Oh my god!”

Elias flinched as the candle suddenly exploded, letting out a small puff of wind that blew his hair back and left behind a plume of pink smog.

“Darling?! Are you- ack! You okay?” Elias wafted the air between hacking coughs until he could see your face again.

You looked shocked, as one would when a candle explodes in their face, but then you started laughing. Small titters that rang like a bell until it turned into gasps that made you grab your stomach.

“You're, hahahaha, so, so silly, Eli! Haha, where do you get these things?!”

Oh, honey. He couldn't stop loving you even if he tried.

“Oh, stop that, you! How was I supposed to know it would do that,” Elias played along, ears still tinged pink at his little blunder. You two looked at each other and then fell into joined laughter.

This light, airy feeling was a drug to him. No matter how boring he was, how flat his personality, you could always find something more in him. Something to talk about, to laugh about, to entertain him with. Something he couldn't find by himself.

It's like the universe sent you to him as if to say, ‘hey! This is the person who will make life worth living! The one who will take that mind numbing emptiness away!’

And who was he to deny the wishes of the universe?

“Worthless piece of junk,” Elias muttered when things settled down. The candle really was a sham then. “At least it smells nice,” he lit the candle again and waved the match to out it. “Anyways, I got a manicure today and the lady was way too rough with my cuticles. She should quit if that's the service she's going to give.”

He brought his nails up, inspecting the blood red polish.

He was met with silence.

“Darling?”

Your head was down, lip trapped between your teeth.

“R-Right. Well, it's pretty,” you shot him a sad kind of smile. “It's just, well, no. Hm, uh, no…I forgot, I guess?” Elias watched you scramble around until small tears dripped from your eyes. “I guess I just forgot that you see other women every day.”

His heart froze in his chest.

“And, I, I know she was just doing her job, but holding your hand while she did your nails- she did hold your hand, right? That's a little…”

You trailed off and wiped your tears, willing yourself to gather such thoughts while Elias looked on in shock.

His eyes flicked to the candle, to you, the candle, you. Always you.

“She did,” he said simply, cautiously, “hold my hand. Yes, she did.” Your face cumbled, making Elias shoot up. “But I hated it! I wished it was you! I want you to be the one holding my hand!”

“Really?” Those big, wet eyes pleaded with him. “Because, I get jealous, you know.”

Something below his belt started stirring.

“Is that so?” He hummed and pulled his chair over next to you, thumbing the tears under your eyes like you had done for him so many times before.

The light of the candle reflected in your eyes and when Elias glanced over, it had melted remarkably quickly. The leftover wax dripped onto the table but he couldn't care less.

First things first, he needed to make sure what he hypothesized was real. That this wasn't a ploy.

“You know, dear, I was very hurt when you started going out with that bastard. You hurt me, a lot. How do you think I felt?” He cooed like you were a child, soft and gentle in his palm.

“I'm so sorry, Eli. I'll break up with him, okay? I only want you! I'm really- mmph!”

Not the romantic first kiss he was dreaming of, but perfect nonetheless.

All this groveling and begging, over little ol’ him? It was too cute. He could just eat you up! But before that, it seems Elias was going to be devoured first.

“Darling? Ngh!” You were tangling your tongue with his, sucking his lips, his cheeks, his tongue, leaving little nibbles on his blushing skin. “Hold on, I need to-”

“Need to what, Eli? I need you right now,” you swallowed, “I feel like my body is on fire.”

Oh, god, the candle really did work. You were squirming on your chair, rubbing your legs together and giving him the absolute cutest puppy eyed stare. You wanted him. You wanted him.

“Yeah?” Elias said breathlessly, trying to keep pace with you, “well I think I need an apology for you cheating on me first.”

He stood up and pulled his oversized sweater up, letting you peek at the bulge growing underneath tight grey cotton.

“Oh, Eli! It's so pretty!” You weren't shy about rubbing him over his pants. “All of you is so, so pretty, baby. Can I…suck you?”

“Darling, I'm yours!” He said eagerly, the sudden onslaught of praise leaving him dizzy. “Anything you want to do, I'm yours!”

By the time you peeled down his pants and had his leaking dick positioned at your mouth, he was ready to burst. He was entirely ready to finally get his reward, but you hesitated.

“Wait, Eli. I think we should wait, um…my boyfriend. I should break up with him first.”

That goddamn candle should have come with a special feature to make you forget anyone but him all together.

Elias probably looked terrifying right now, fine features underlit by the glow of the candle, staring down at you harshly. For once, he didn't find your babbling cute. Not when every other word was your boyfriend's name. So, Elias kindly shut you up.

“There we go~” Elias cooed, thrusting his hips a little. “Ah, ah, darling. Don't run from it,” he giggled, “or I'll shove it down your fucking throat~”

You were choking on his cock, unable to pull away with how he had his fingers locked behind your head. More than you moving, it was Elias who was pumping himself in and out of your mouth, not stopping until his balls slapped against your chin every time.

“What a good little thing you are, angel. I love you so much! Hey, do you love me too? I asked if you loved me too!”

Even under the effects of the candle, you looked scared. Elias was frantic now, not only his balls hitting your chin, but his toned abdomen smashing into your face as he fucked your entire head roughly. “Dirty fucking bitch! I trusted you! I love you and you left me for dead to go date that idiot! Do you know how much that hurt me?! How much I need you?! You were supposed to me mine, all mine, just like I'm yours! You dirty, dirty f-fucking whore!” Elias let out a wet sob, spilling down your throat with his eyes screwed shut.

Heavy pants left his mouth as he stumbled back to sit on his chair, chest heaving up and down. Even through your coughing, you couldn't help but worry about him.

“Eli? A-Are you okay?”

What a wreck your voice was, no doubt you'd be feeling him in your throat for days.

“It's not all out.”

“Huh? I don't understand-”

“Lift your shirt up.” He wasn't asking.

The smooth expanse of your chest was revealed and Elias used it as extra motivation to get the last few drops of cum out, fisting his tip roughly to pull out those last thick strings. It pearled on your skin beautifully and you didn't hesitate to stick your tongue out, cleaning him off properly with soft sucks that made him tremble.

“Good girl,” he sighed and eventually sat. It was like the devil was released from him. He was just Elias again, your Eli. “That was my first blowjob, you know,” he giggled cutely, like you two were mischievous kids sharing secrets in a treehouse.

Elias sighed and leaned in to hug you after lifting his pants back over his soft length. “Oh, my baby. I can't believe this worked. Had I known, I wouldn't have done this sooner. I can't believe you're finally mine,” he mumbled into your hair. “I love you, darling. And you love me too, right?”

Silence.

“Darling?”

Elias held you at shoulder length away, not wanting to let go of you completely yet. “Hey, why the tears, darling? Hehe, do you love me that much? Aw, well-”

“I'm sorry, Elias.” Your dark pupils met his.

There was no reflection from the candlelight anymore. In fact, the flame had blown out completely by now, leaving behind a sad little puddle of wax.

Your arms pushed his off as you stood up. “Shit…I- oh god, my boyfriend. What's wrong with me?! I'm sorry, Eli- I mean, Elias, um, I think the wine was a bit too strong for me. I really didn't mean to…”

What the hell was this?! Was this- did your love only last while the candle was lit?!

“What the fuck!” Elias cursed loudly, fingers gripping his silky tresses. The situation was beckoning a meltdown.

“I know, Elias, I'm so sorry, but I don't know what came over me!”

You were scared, he could see it. And he's sure part of that fear was from the ache in your throat, the names he had called you when he was at the peak of bliss. How he carried on when he was so sure you were his completely. Over what, a stupid candle? He was an idiot! He had to do damage control.

“It's…alright, darling. It's okay. Hm,” Elias hummed as he thought, standing up to pace. “It's okay. Your boyfriend is waiting for you after all, run along now. It's getting late.”

“Elias?” You weren't sure what was going on.

“Don't worry, dear,” Elias looked at you with warm eyes. “I can keep a secret. We just got a little overwhelmed, didn't we?”

He was giving you a way out, obviously. But why?

“Right,” you said, unsure.

“That's okay, we all have our moments,” Elias giggled and walked over, wrapping his arms around you, letting one sneak down to cup your ass. “Some more than others.”

“I don't think we should be-”

“Be what? You already swallowed my load, pumpkin. Let it dribble all down your chin and everything,” he mused, rubbing a finger against your lower lip. “Or did you want to come clean to your boyfriend?”

“No! I really don't know what happened!”

“Then it's a secret,” Elias whispered, pulling you in for a kiss. You were helpless to him, unable to pull away under the looming threat of him snitching on you. His tongue traced your lips before he pulled away.

“I won't tell if you won't, darling.”

Elias sent you off with a few more kisses and a slap on your ass, already hard again and humping you like a dog all the way to the door where you left with tears in your eyes. You were just too cute!

It wasn't much, but it was something. The only excitement Elias could offer you. Now, he had a personality.

He was your secret lover.

“Aha! How wonderful!” Elias twirled around in excitement. What an adventure!

Soon, he'd guilt your sweet soul into breaking up with that idiot and you'd be all his. He already had a foot in the door after all.

Bringing a hand to his lips, he recalled the way yours felt against his. Marvelous, absolutely marvelous!

Hmm..

Elias took his phone out and sent you a quick text.

‘I think I left some lipstick on you, darling. Clean that up before you see you know who ;)’

Not even moment later, his phone rang.

“Hey, Elias?”

“Eli,” he corrected.

“Yeah, can you not-”

“Eli.”

“…Eli. Uh, can you not send texts like that, please? Just in case he sees.”

A shiver ran up Elias’ spine at the secrecy of it all. You two were bound by sin.

“Of course, darling. I'll call you tonight then.”

“I'm spending the night with him,” you said nervously. “I can't.”

“Alright then, I'll just text you,” Elias inspected his nails casually.

“But-! Ugh, fine. I'll call you later.”

“Perfect. We'll talk soon then. Make sure your camera is on, I'm still throbbing over here,” he giggled.

“I have to go now,” you whispered.

“I love you, darling.”

“Yes, he's coming so-”

“I said I love you!”

“…I love you too, Eli. Bye.”

Elias waited for you to hang up with a smile. You were already cracking under the pressure of your unwanted affair. Sure it would hurt you now, but if this didn't last long then it would be him hurting later. Surely, you wouldn't be able to deal with that, not your kind heart. After all, his beauty is something that shouldn't be marred, you said so yourself.

It was only a matter of time now.

a/n: I actually finished this over a week ago but the Elias lore kept pouring in and I was scrambling to edit to make this as canon as possible but I gave up sooooo, yeah 😃 just imagine this as eli if he actually acted on half the shit he wants to do ig lmfaooo

Also can't believe I wrote unwilling reader because Elias is literally my baby muffin snuggly pie googlie bear and i love him, but i love men suffering more ig 💗

Divider: /animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Please do not ask for part 2. Thank you!

[ghostfacd]

𝙄𝙉 𝘼 𝙒𝙊𝙍𝙇𝘿 𝙁𝙐𝙇𝙇 𝙊𝙁 𝙈𝙀𝙉, 𝙃𝙀’𝙎 𝘼 𝙂𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙇𝙀𝙈𝘼𝙉

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x fem!slytherin!reader

genre: fluff, sweetheart enzo, brief suggestive content, enzo is a big softie basically

summary: in a world filled with men, there’s lorenzo berkshire, a sweetheart and gentleman

Lorenzo Berkshire was a sweetheart.

Everybody knew that the down to earth Slytherin couldn’t hurt a fly even if he wanted to, and weirdly did not fit the stereotypical mean Slytherin persona despite hanging with Draco and his friends.

In fact, a lot of things that Lorenzo did were out of the ordinary for his crowd of people. Whenever Draco would pull a first year by their backpacks so their bodies would fling back, Lorenzo always muttered an apology after, offering the first year a cookie the next day. It was just who he was; he was a sweet boy, and that often meant he was also very clueless.

Sure, he was smart in his classes, but in everything else? Lorenzo was practically the virgin of all virgins.

“Her eyes are up here Enzo,” Pansy teased, watching as Lorenzo’s eyes finally shifted off your chest to look at Pansy in the eyes.

“Huh?”

“Well I know they’re nice,” you tease further, “but it’s rude to stare, y’know.”

“Oh,” Lorenzo’s eyebrows furrow, clearly confused. He’s either great at playing the dumb role or he genuinely has no idea what you and Pansy are inciting.

“What do you mean?” Lorenzo then moves his hand over to touch the gold colored necklace on your neck. “I was just looking at the new necklace you got. It’s nice.”

Oh. You didn’t think anyone would notice your new necklace. You bought it over the holidays when you went back home with your family, and had just started wearing it now.

“Thanks Enzo,” you say, placing a kiss on his cheek. He pulls back flustered, but he mutters a you’re welcome under his breath.

“LO BOY!” Lorenzo is quickly pulled into a headlock by no other than Draco Malfoy, who seems to find his friend struggling hilariously funny. “Oh what’s wrong Lo? Got your head in a knot?”

“Boys.” You and Pansy mutter, rolling your eyes as you both get up from your seats, heading to the much more quiet Great Hall.

- - -

The next time you see Lorenzo is in your Potions class. He’s on the left of you, and you’re almost falling asleep at the boring lecture of your professor. He always seem to talk more than actually teach how to mix potions.

“Pssst,” Lorenzo mutters to your partner as he hands her a slip of paper. “Be a peach and pass it to Y/N?”

Your partner, who has developed a little crush on Lorenzo only blushes, accepting the piece of paper and tapping you on the shoulder.

“Here,” she says, “it’s from Lorenzo.”

Your eyebrows quirk up, slowly unfolding the crinkled paper.

Your hair is pretty today

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile. Lorenzo just knew how to swoon a girl over, didn’t he? He doesn’t even have to try and your knees would still feel weak.

So my hair isn’t pretty on other days?

You scribble down, passing it back to your partner who passes it to Lorenzo.

His eyes grow wide when he reads it, opting to shake his head quickly.

“Not what I meant,” Lorenzo mouths.

“I know,” you mouth back, giving him a smirk. “Thank you Enzo.”

And you both end up more pink than the potions that were made in class that day.

- - -

“What do you even do in your free time?” Theodore asks, poking Lorenzo’s cheek repeatedly to annoy him. “Like read?”

“Like read?” Lorenzo mimics back. “Yes, I read. You should too Teddy, it’d be good for you.”

Theodore rolls his eyes, “I don’t need to read. And don’t call me Teddy.”

When you arrive in the dining hall, Theodore and Lorenzo already make a space for you to sit in between them. Usually, Pansy and Draco would be sitting across from the three of you, but today, they were off doing Godric knows what.

“Pans and Draco not here today?” Lorenzo asks, still focusing on the assignment he was finishing up before dinner ends.

“Nope,” you say, popping the p. “No idea what they’re doing.”

“Oh,” Theodore chuckles, “I have a few ideas.”

That makes the two of you burst out laughing, and Lorenzo finally looks up from his paper.

“What?” He asks. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh Enzo,” Theodore places a hand on his friend’s back, “never change.”

Lorenzo rolls his eyes, shrugging Theodore’s hand off. “Whatever that means.”

When Theodore finally heads off to the Slytherin common room, you and Lorenzo are left alone, the small conversations of the other students surrounds the two of you.

“Working hard on that assignment,” you say quietly to Lorenzo, bringing up your hand to pull a few strings of hair that were poking his eyes.

“Well someone’s gotta be the smart one in our friend group,” he says teasingly.

“Oh, so you’re saying I’m not smart?” Your hands start to wander, coming to each of Lorenzo’s sides to tickle him. He was especially ticklish around his abdomen.

“H-hey! Stop that!” He laughs, pushing your hands away. “Okay okay, we’re both the smart ones.”

“And Pansy,” you add.

“And Pansy.”

- - -

When you walked out to the lake that sat across from the Slytherin common room, you didn’t expect to find Lorenzo feeding the ducks. He was crouching, softly throwing a few pieces of crushed up bread at the ducks that now surrounded him.

“What are you doing Lo?” You ask, walking beside him.

“Not too loud,” Lorenzo says, “you’ll scare them away.”

He continues doing what he does before he runs all out, deciding to finally turn to you and throw an arm around your shoulder. “Evening.”

“Evening Enzo,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It was out of habit, and you did it regularly, but it didn’t stop Lorenzo from blushing every time it happened.

“I was feeding the ducks,” he explains, although it was pretty clear what he was doing. “I like them, they’re nice and pretty. Draco sometimes throws rocks at them, so it’s kind of my way of apologizing for him.”

You ruffle Lorenzo’s hair slightly, giving him a small kiss on the cheek. “Oh Enzo, you sweetheart.” But he doesn’t hear you, instead, choosing to admire the scenery of the lake.

- - -

“You know what’d be funny?” Mattheo says, already laughing before he could get out the rest of his sentence. “If we pied the girls. Pansy and Y/N.”

Lorenzo’s ears perk up at this, but he keeps quiet. Why was his friends always looking to get into trouble?

“They’d totally kill us,” Theodore comments.

“That’s why we have to do it.”

The boys had already gotten two pies and their plan figured out before Lorenzo could stop them. He watched as they hide it behind their backs, approaching you and Pansy who were both engrossed in your conservation.

“Wait,” Lorenzo mumbles, quickly following his group of friends. When he sees their hand from their back move as they speak to you and Pansy, he steps in front of the two of you, getting hit straight in the face with the two pies.

“Huh..” Lorenzo says, wiping away the whipped cream that was covering his eyes. “Key lime.”

“Enzo,” you say, knowing that this was probably one of Mattheo or Draco’s dumb ideas again. “You guys apologize to Lorenzo right now.”

The three boys sigh defeatedly, muttering a quiet sorry to their brunette friend who’s still wiping the whipped cream from his face.

“Why’d you do that Enzo?” You ask him as the two of you sat down on the grass. You’d finally got all the whipped cream off his face with a towel, and although Enzo won’t admit it, he was kind of grateful he did end up getting pied. After all, a pretty girl was cleaning him up after all, and not just any pretty girl, his close friend.

“Cause you’re too pretty to get pied.” He shrugs, which makes you smirk.

“Too pretty?”

“Well yeah,”

You laugh at Lorenzo’s honesty, and finally, you lean in to give him a kiss on the lips instead of the side of his cheek.

“Did you just-”

“Shh,” you say, grabbing ahold of his hand. “Just let me appreciate you right now. In a world full of just men, you’re a gentleman Enzo.”

And Lorenzo only smiles, knowing he’s finally got the girl of his dreams.

[cordeliawhohung]

Whoa whoa whoa, why did you have to make mafiaunderboss!Simon sound so hot 😩😩??

Can we see what it looks like when Price’s wifey brings a friend around, and she’s nothing but heart eyes for him and vice versa? I honestly just love this au

mafiaunderboss!Simon has my whole fucking heart i have so many ideas for him it's not even funny. and you know what's even better than price's wife bringing a friend around??? being that friend she brings around..... (we truly are out here living our best y/n lives)

also, i've created a mafia!141 masterlist here <3 because i don't think i'm getting out of this phase anytime soon.

warnings: mafia!underboss!Simon x shy-ish!fem!reader, reader doesn't know simon's in a mafia lmao, sorta sexual tension, short-ish drabble

When your friend invited you over to a family dinner, you weren't sure if you should go or not. Family events always seemed more like a private and cut off thing, not something a friend should attend, and you were terrified about intruding. But when she insisted that her husband wouldn't mind, and how she would love it if you were able to meet the others, you begrudgingly accepted.

You arrived right on time wearing a cute little outfit that you hoped would keep you cool enough so that you weren't sweating all throughout dinner. Once you were led into the dining room of your friends home, you very quickly realized that this was not the type of family dinner you had expected. At first, you had thought of extended family, some brothers and sisters, maybe nieces and nephews. Instead, you saw your friend's husband, John, at the head of the table, along with three other men, none of whom looked related.

After a few quick introductions, you took your seat in between your friend and a kind, boisterous man with a mohawk who the others called Soap. Once dinner was served, conversation erupted throughout the table, and while you found yourself actively listening, you didn't add a whole lot to the conversation. Instead, you were perfectly content glancing around the table, watching the men around you curse and joke with one another.

However, there was one man who caught your eyes more than anyone else. The others called him Riley, and he was almost too large to fit comfortably in the small, wooden dining chair. You swore you heard his knees knock against the table a few times. The simple black t-shirt he wore perfectly displayed the sleeve of tattoos on his arm, and you found yourself enchanted by the way the sinewy muscles of his forearm flexed as he raised his glass to his lips. It seemed impossible to tear your eyes away from him, until you realized his dark and alluring eyes had caught you. You quickly averted your gaze just in time to miss the smirk that pulled at his lips.

Dessert was served in what you assumed was the entertainment room. There was a dartboard shoved up against the wall and a billiards table towards the side of the room, both of which looked very loved with years worth of holes and scratches. While you and your friend indulged in the mouthwatering tiramisu she had made, the boys started up a game of pool, where they played long enough for John to get either too bored or too fed up with the others. They tried to get your friend to play so that they could continue playing doubles, but she quickly declined.

"What about you?" Kyle spoke up.

It took you a moment to realize that he was speaking to you. All three men had their eyes on you, including Riley. Swallowing, you shook your head as you set your dishware on the side table next to you.

"Oh, I don't really know how to play," you excused.

"That's alright," Soap said as he tapped his pool cue on the floor. "Riley's a good teacher."

Before you knew it you were standing next to the table alongside the others, your own cue in hand. It didn't take long to realize just how better at the game they were than you as they made shot after shot, and when your turn rolled around, you swallowed hard, not exactly excited to make a fool of yourself.

Still, you conjured as much confidence as you could as you leaned over the table, trying to line the stick up with the cue ball. Yet no matter how hard you tried to steady your hands, you couldn't quite get stable enough to make a good shot.

"Here," Riley spoke up as he leaned his stick against the table.

The warmth of him engulfed you as you found your back pressed against his chest. It took everything in you not to boil alive under his touch as he moved your guiding hand into position in order to strike efficiently. His hand engulfed yours as he helped you hold onto the stick, and you attempted to ignore the way his breath fanned across your ear as he spoke.

"Steady, yeah? Strike right here in the center, angle a bit to the left," he guided.

Eventually his hands slid off of yours so you could make the shot, but your brain was too overwhelmed to fully focus. Yet you tried anyway, striking the ball just like he told you and barely pocketing one of the stripes. A quick round of whoops escaped the boys as they congratulated you on your shot, despite the fact you were on the other team. Riley went for a more tame reaction, and he rested his hand on your shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze.

"Nice shot."

Heat rose in your face at his touch, and you tried to swallow the warmth back into your stomach as you tapped your cue against the tip of your shoe. "All thanks to you, Riley."

For a moment, he was silent as he leaned over the table for his turn where thick fingers guided his cue along the table. Pudgy skin and muscles forced his shirt to tighten along his shoulders, and you stood there speechless as he hit his shot. He easily pocketed yet another ball before he straightened back up and turned his attention to you. His dark eyes, the ones that had been sneaking glances at you all night long, gave you a quick once over before he tilted his head slightly.

"It's just Simon to you, sweetheart."

i am fucking feral for this man. also, unrelated but mafia simon has a dick piercing <3

[smuthospital]

⭐️Yandere Husband x reader⭐️

Premise: Your husband really wants kids, but you're not really all for the idea

Warning: Noncon, breeding, fem reader

Minors DNI

You prepared a cute little basket with bread, some homemade jam and a couple of sandwiches along with a delicious strawberry cake you baked just for today! You look up at the playground from where you're sitting, the breeze feeling just right. It's a beautiful day out. Kids playing, people walking their dogs, couples like yourself picnicking. You and your husband have been together for three years and married one. He's the sweetest man in the world and you couldn't feel luckier to be with him. Your mother introduced him to you. He was her close friend's son. His mother and yours just so happen to go to the same knitting class. Although his mother was of a higher class, your mother and his had a lot in common and hit it off right away. Your mother would have buried you six feet deep if you refused to see him, not that you would've. He's handsome, sweet and has a well-paying job. Of course, that's the side of him that he allows you to see.

He begged his mom to introduce you after he saw you sitting on your porch one day when he was picking his mother up from your house. You waved at him and smiled. His heart was about to pop out of his chest. Your beauty was nothing he'd ever even imagined before. Everything about you is perfect. Everything. He asked his mother about you as soon as he drove off. She was more than happy to tell him. She's quite fond of you and would choose you as a daughter-in-law over anyone else. She couldn't be happier that her beloved first son has shown interest in a jewel like you.

He couldn't help but fall even deeper in love when he got to meet with you. Your voice rings bells in his heart and your eyes speak to his soul. He knew from then on that you were made for each other. He would never admit it, but he's absolutely obsessed with you. He would prefer to say that he's in love with you. Dating was smooth. He quickly proposed as soon as an appropriate amount of time passed. It couldn't come soon enough to him. You're so sweet and understanding. So thoughtful and intelligent. You share interests and when you don't, you make the effort to try. So does he, of course. You're so perfect.

Once married, he was happy to go to work and come back to your loving embrace. He'd rather die than have you support yourself. Anything you want, anything you need is yours. You don't even have to ask, your husband is very observant. You might mention something in passing that he'll overhear. Something small, something you didn't even put a lot of focus into, but he'll remember. He'll remember and he'll get it for you as soon as possible. He'd do anything...and that means anything. If anyone made you cry, he'd comfort you...before beating them unconscious. Getting his hands dirty is a small price to pay for you. But dear god, if anyone dared to lay a finger on you... well...consider them gone. Consider them erased actually. Consider the fact that they won't be bothering anyone ever again. Consider people closely associated with them being severely injured.

He's a ray of sunshine. You love him and he loves you. He loves you very much. You've never had any serious arguments. The two of you got along so well that there weren't any disagreements, but there were, he'd just fold and let it go. The only problem is that now that you're married, he wants kids, but you're not ready. You've never been very good with kids. They make you anxious. The sticky fingers, their delicate little heads, the fact that they could become psychopaths if you don't raise them properly. Not to mention how expensive and time-consuming they are. You spend all that time and energy on them and get almost nothing in return. Don't even get you started on the effects it'll have on your body.

There's just too much that could go wrong and besides, you just font feel like you're mature enough to have a kid of your own when you still feel like one yourself. You're not ready to raise a human being. There's so much you want to do, want to explore and you can't do that with a baby. Your husband on the other hand is great with them. He's the eldest brother of six so he's used to taking care of kids. At birthday parties, you can find him carrying three kids at a time, one over his shoulders and two in his arms, even the older ones, which doesn't surprise you because he's built big and strong. Must've eaten his vegetables when he was a kid, you snicker, inwardly. Your husband pokes you every time he sees a cute video of a baby on his phone like a boy asking his parents for a puppy. "Just watch! Aren't they cute!? (Yyyy/nnnn)!" He sticks his phone in your face and makes you watch a bunch of videos. He has a severe case of baby fever.

You look over at your fiance. He's looking out at the swing set with a dreamy look on his face. A little boy is pushing his younger sister and they look like they're having a blast. You cringe, knowing your husband is gonna bring up the baby talk again when you get home. Just then, you feel a light tug on your dress and look over to see a little girl around the age of 4, wobbling on her feet, looking up at you. You at least try to be good with kids. "Hey, what are you doing?" You laugh nervously. You know you're in for it now. You can feel your husband's intense gaze on the back of your neck.

"...Mama said that if I'm good, I can have cake. I was good today, so can I have some,...please?" You look up to see a woman face palming and yelling at her daughter to come back and stop bothering the nice lady. You smile at her mother, letting her know it's okay. "Well you asked so very nicely, how can I say no?" You cut a small slice and plate it for her. You give her the plate, but she just looks up at you with puppy dog eyes. "I...I always let Mama feed me," she says as fiddles with her fingers nervously. So adorable. You look up at her mother, who seems to be busy dealing with one of her other kids and decide to give her a break. Although this is breaching your comfort zone, you just can't say no to that face.

You pick up a fork and begin feeding her. You just know your fiance has the most love-struck look on his face, if you were looking at him, you'd be able to see big hearts in his eyes. You peek over at him to see just that and roll your eyes. "Mm so yummy! Thank you miss!" She gets on her tippy toes and kisses you on the cheek. You must admit that was adorable, but your opinion remains firm. No kids. No way. You still have plenty more reasons not to have any so cuteness is not enough to sway you. The little girl waddles away back to her mom. You don't want to turn around. You sigh and look at your husband to see he is still swooning.

"Oh my god! That was beautiful. You be such a good mom!" He coos. You groan. "We talked about this so many times, honey. You know how I feel about kids," you pout, folding your arms. You could've sworn you saw his eyebrow twitch like he was upset. "You'd be great, I believe in you. I just know it," he beams. Oh, he's not mad. Must've been your imagination. You roll your eyes. He didn't listen to a word you said though. You love him so much, but he's a brick wall when it comes to things like this. He's been on your ass quite literally about kids ever since you got married. "I need more time," you say, looking away from his pouting face. He was a bit gloomy for the rest of your outing after that. Last night, you misplaced your birth control pack. You were worried about it, but you just brushed it off and decided to take two the next night when you do find them.

Soon, your picnic comes to an end and you head home. He's on you as soon as you shut the door, kissing you passionately. You return the gesture, hugging him close. "Don't take your birth control tonight," he whispers huskily in your ear. You stop and push his chest. He takes a step back and looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed. "We literally just talked about this! Respect that I don't want any dumb kids!" You shout. You expect him to apologize, to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness like he always does when he's in the wrong. Then he'd go and get you flowers, and cook for you, but this time, he looks down at you rage evident in his expression. He looks really pissed. You shrink in your spot. What?

"You're being ridiculous, (y/n)! It's time for you to grow up! You're old enough to be a responsible mother so stop acting like a child. I can support the both of you easily. You don't have to lift a fucking finger, just have my child already. I've been so fucking patient with you. My mother and yours have been asking us where their grandchild is. What the fuck do I tell them? I'm wondering too! I've been waiting for you to change your mind and be reasonable, but you're really getting on my nerves now," he grits his teeth as he finishes his sentence. Each sentence felt like a stab to your heart. He's never said such cruel words to you or even cruel words in general before. Your husband hasn't so much as insulted you. You never could've imagined your husband had this side to him.

He gripped your arm and began dragging you upstairs. "Hey! S-Stop! Stop it!" You cry, holding onto the stair rail. He looks back at you. That was the last fucking straw. You hear a loud clap and your head turned. Huh? Your cheek stings? Tears begin to well in your eyes as you hold your reddening cheek. He takes the time to pull you the rest of the way up and into the bedroom. He sets you on the bed and locks the door, taking his clothes off right there, his well-built figure casting a shadow over you. You begin sobbing in your place on the bed, covering your face with your hands. He walks over and gently hugs you, rubbing your back. You push at him, but he keeps you still pressed to his body. "Stop that," he whispers in your ear. His voice is commanding yet gentle, but you ignore him and continue fighting his hold. "That's it. I'm so tired of you acting like this. It's time you give me what I deserve, a family." He grips your dress and violently rips it off you, leaving you in your bra and panties. You've had sex before, but never like this. This is the first time your eyes held fear while looking at your husband.

He shoves you back onto the bed, climbing over you and trapping you beneath him, smiling. He traces a finger from your collar to the center of your bra, where it stills before ripping it off you. You know better than to scream so you whimper as he throws it to the side. He places a hand over your breast, squeezing it painfully. You grab his wrist, trying to pry it off. "You are gonna be a great mommy. Can't wait to watch these fill up with milk." His face takes on that dreamy look again. "Seeing you today in the park confirmed it. You're more than ready." You feel his cock rubbing your thigh. He yanks your panties down your legs, tossing them into the forgotten corner with his clothes and yours. With his other hand and rubs your pussy. You whine and struggle under him, but you know you're no match for him. He spreads your thighs open and lodges himself between them, his cock rubbing up and down your fold, taunting you. "I love you...so much," he says before slowly entering you. You are NOT having a fucking baby. You'll take your birth control and that'll be that. He smiles down at you, knowing what you're thinking and bucks his hips. He laughs like he knows something you don't, but the idea is completely lost on you.

He bottoms out, moaning as he does. He rubs the bulge in your stomach lovingly. "I want a big family, honey. Make me a daddy. Let me breed you," he says, rutting into you. Even though he's being so rough, it feels so damn good. He picks up your thighs and pressed them down beside your head, squishing your cervix with his cock. Your tongue rolls out your mouth as your eyes roll into the back of your skull. He kisses your neck and cheeks, giving you soft praise. "I knew you'd be good for me. Such a good little wife and soon to be mommy. You're gonna look so cute stuffed with our baby. God, I fucking love you," he chants as he rams into you again and again, your brain is far too clouded by the feeling of him spearing your guts to understand him.

You dig your nails into his back as continues bruising your poor cervix. You let out a choked whine. "It's ok, honey, you can cum. I'll allow it." As if on command, you do. He kisses your lips passionately, quickening his pace. Moans leave your mouth each time he pounds into you, the air and sound being forced from your lungs each time on impact.

His fists curled in the sheets, his eyes clenching. He slams his hips to yours, your body being forced farther before he grabs your hips and forces you back. He grunts as he cums deep inside you, your stomach filling to the brim with his seed. He sighs and kisses your cheek. You breathe heavily, waiting for him to get off, but he doesn't. He just starts going again like he didn't just fill your guts up.

"W-Whah?" You whine. "I need to make sure my seed takes, darling. We'll be doing this until I say we're done so don't complain now." You can tell by his tone that he's daring you to try something. You just clench your eyes and keep taking him. You're so bloated with cum. He's never been like this before, always stopping when you wanted to and treating you like porcelain. Now he's grabbing you and fucking into you like he's been holding back for years, which you now think he has. Your eyelids begin drooping after the sixth time he forced you to cum. You can't keep them open and he notices. "It's ok, take a nap. Warning, I'm not stopping. I guess I tired you out," he laughs.

You wake up to him hugging your back, spooning you. You look at your alarm clock. It's been hours and judging from the still-wet cum all over your thighs, he only stopped recently. You slowly and very carefully slip out of his hold and off the bed. You feel a soreness like never before in your stomach and almost fall to the floor. Oh god, your uterus. More cum slips out of you as you walk to your vanity. You open a couple of drawers where you think your birth control might be, but it's not there. Where could it be if not in your vanity!? You look around frantically, but you still can't find them! You begin looking everywhere. You check the bathroom cupboard, opening it slowly so it doesn't creak and wake up your crazy husband. It's not in there! You look down to see the crumpled package in the trash. You pick it up to see it empty. Every single slot, even the pink period pills. You begin tearing up as you see there are tiny white specs by the sink. No! He washed them away! How could he!? You clutch the sink as you stare at the empty package. You feel a presence creep up behind you. You look up in the mirror to see your husband right behind you, looking down at you with disdain.

"I knew you were going to take them after I told you not to so I got rid of them last night." He planned this!? "Let's go back to bed...Common," he says tiredly and grabs your arm, forcing you back into bed with him, your back to his chest. You feel his cock harden and you try to inch away, but he grabs your hips and rubs his cock up and down your folds before jamming it inside you until he bottoms out. You whimper with your hands over your mouth, knowing that if you annoyed him while he was tired, you'd get in real trouble. He lazily humps into you, rubbing your bulging tummy from behind you, his lips kissing your head. You pass out later from exhaustion.

You wake up to find him not in bed. You take the chance to get up and throw on a sweatshirt and sweats. You grab your wallet and sprint out of the room and down the stairs, ignoring the painful limp he gave you and the soreness in your poor tummy. Your wrist is caught mid-air..." Where the fuck do you think you're going, honey?" He asks, his sweet smile contrasting the bone-crushing grip he has your wrist in.

"O-Oh! Um...we...need-" He cuts you off in the middle of your lie, yanking your wrist and forcing you closer to him. "You were going to go kill our baby." You've never seen such darkness in his eyes. "Well, you can't. I won't allow it. The doors have new locks just for you, love. You're not going anywhere." He smiles down at you, that same handsome face you love, but now come to fear. You gulp as he leads you into the kitchen where he prepared a beautiful breakfast.

You soon accept what's to happen. Your husband is a loved man. Loved by all. His family, your family, his job, the community, everyone. Your husband is often described as charismatic, funny, helpful and friendly. If you told anyone of them what he's done to you, they'd call you a liar without hesitation or even better, take his side, agreeing that it's time you give him a child because it's your duty as his wife to do at least that for him. Be a little grateful for all he does. Providing for you and taking care of you. You'd rather keep your mouth shut. Nothing good can come of telling anyone. It only took a few days of brutal fucking till you woke up early in the morning feeling nauseous and ran to the bathroom, him hot on your tail, ready to hold your hair back as you emptied your stomach into the toilet. You sob as you hug your knees on the bathroom floor. He got on the floor with you, wiping your tears with his thumbs and holding your face. He smiles wide and hugs you tightly. "Yes! (Y/n)! I'm so proud of you! We're having a baby! I love you!"

Yandere husband with pregnant reader head cannons:

- You're allowed out of the house after a while of proving your obedience! Hooray! With the exception that he has to be there, of course. A man flirted with you a bit while you were shopping and your husband was within earshot. You still cringe when you remember the sound the man's nose made as your husband punched him. It took three security guards to get him off the guy.

- Your husband makes you eat so much! "Sit down and finish your food. You're eating for two, remember!? Or did you forget?"

- Paints the baby's room with non-toxic paint and will not let you help or hold anything. "No, it's too dangerous, (Y/n). Sit back down, I've got this, ok?"

- Spares no expense for you and the baby. Buys everything people recommend to him

- Watches youtube videos for things he needs to watch out for during your pregnancy

- Does pregnancy stretches with you and won't take no for an answer. "It's good for you and the baby so get to it! I'll do them with you so we look silly together!" You both still have a fun time.

- You once dropped a book on the floor and your husband burst through the wall to get to you, leaving a cartoon cutout of himself and all. "WHATHAPPENDAREYOUOK!?" He shouted all in one breath. You assured him that you were just fine and that you'd only dropped a book, but he still cradled you in his arms crying.

- Cooks all your meals and cuddles you every single night.

- You being pregnant does not mean he stops fucking you, no. He's just a lot more gentle with you.

- Has everything about your pregnancy and birth planned to the exact detail, even when you'll have the next one.

- He rubs his face against your tummy and kisses it, singing to the baby.

- Do you need to get up? "Here, take my arm...actually...I'll hold you!"

- He picks up the phone on the first ring...and you better too or he's racing home.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Coveted.

Pairing: Yandere!Geto x Reader (+Yandere!Gojo) [JJK].

Word Count: 1.1k.

TW: Set Two or Three Years Post KFC Break-Up, Intimidation, Prolonged Stalking, Future Dub/Con, Mentions of Non/Con, and Unbalanced Power Dynamics.

[Part Two]

“You’re Satoru’s date, right?”

The voice was masculine, deep and as rough as it could be without crossing the line into gravelly. You stiffened, squaring your shoulders and burrowing your nails into your palm as your eyes darted across the table – where a man with dark hair and an off-putting smile was currently sliding into the unoccupied side of your booth. He reached out, clearly planning to shake your hand, but when you failed to move, he only let out an airy chuckle, propping his chin on his fist as he went on. “I’m a friend of his – Geto Suguru. You can call me Suguru-chan, though. Has he already told you about me?”

He was dressed like he’d just rolled out of bed – his attire limited to a form-fitting black shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants in the same color, his hair pulled into a loose bun. His tone was friendly, light. You returned it with a dead-pan stare, hoping it conveyed the weight of your exhaustion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Is that what he told you to say?” Another laugh, somehow more blood-chilling than the first. Your attention shifted outward, to the late-night diner where Gojo had asked you to meet him. There were only a few other customers, the skeleton of a proper staff, but single other person would’ve been one too many. You didn’t need to make a scene, not again, not after last time. “That sounds like him. He’s always been a stingy bastard.”

With a pressed frown, you pushed yourself to your feet, but Geto’s grin only broadened. He snapped his fingers and as if it’d only been waiting for a queue, a shape manifested at the end of your bench. You couldn’t bring yourself to look directly at it, but you saw enough out of the corner of your eye; a bulbous torso, shrunken arms, too many eyes to resemble any living thing. Instantly, what little courage you still had was replaced with a knot of dread, a bolt of pure anxiety. You half-expected it to lunge, to bite, to attack, but it didn’t move, only standing guard at the foot of your table.

It didn’t move, but it didn’t have to. In a moment, you’d fallen back into your seat and shoved yourself against the wall, fighting not to shake. It was a sight Geto seemed to take a particular joy in, letting his head lull to the side as he watched you curl into yourself. “You can see them. I was starting to think I had the wrong person.” A pause, a glance towards his summoned monster before his narrowed gaze skirted back to you. “Don’t be shy, now. How much did he tell you?”

It took you a moment to find your tongue, another to swallow back the tremor in your voice. "He said he could protect me.” It was harder to admit than you’d expected – not so much that you needed protection, but that there was something you needed protection from. You’d spent so long writing off your monsters as hallucinations that it was still a struggle to act like they were anything more. But, for as unwilling as you were to confront your little monsters, the resounding ache in your right leg where that thing had dug its claws into you was impossible to ignore. “He… he didn’t mention anyone else, but we’ve only spoken once. He was supposed to explain—” You gestured to the monster. “—all of this today.”

A slight hum, a look of genuine surprise. “So, he’s got some self-restraint after all! I thought he would’ve cracked months ago, considering how long he’s been following you around like a lost puppy.” He must’ve seen your expression fall, your posture slacken, because he didn’t wait for a response before going on. “I mean, you must’ve known that, at least. Did you think he’d play knight-in-shining-armor for just anyone?”

“I…” You trailed off quickly, shaking your head. “I don’t care. As long as he can protect me, I don’t care why he’s doing it.”

“That’s a dangerous thing to say. You wouldn’t want to make Satoru feel so replaceable, now, would you?”  

At that, you met his stare. “What do you want?”

His eyes skirted towards the monster, who took an obedient step back. For a second, you considered running, trying to slip away before the man in front of you or your newly-realized stalker could make you regret ever showing up at all, but Geto was quick to cut off your escape route, filling the empty space beside you before you could so much as pick which door you would barrel through on the way out. “Well, now that we’re on the same page,” Unlike his monster, he didn’t give you the option of leaving him in your peripheral; settling close enough for his leg to press into yours. At this proximity, you could pick up the smoke on his breath, the scent of stale gore clinging to him like a second skin. As if he’d just stepped out of a blood bath. “I’d like to make you an alternative offer.”

“You’d protect me?”

“Oh, I’d do more than just that.” His hand fell to your thigh. “I’d have everything you’ve ever been afraid of bowing to you by the end of the night.”

You swallowed dryly. “You didn’t answer my first question. What do you get out of helping me?”

His answer was nonverbal, but clear enough. With that same idle grin, he nodded toward the streaked window, to the building across the street. Your heart fell into your stomach. It was one of those sleazy, by-the-hour hotels – the sign missing more than a few letters and the parking lot as empty as the diner. It was the kind of place that you only went to for one thing, and you had a feeling Geto hadn’t found some miraculous second reason to want to be alone with you in one of those bug-infested rooms.

You weren’t sure why you said it. Maybe to buy yourself time. Maybe because you couldn’t stand the idea of being left in silence as what was left of your rational mind screamed at you to get out of there. “I don’t have any money.”

“It’ll be my treat.”

“What happens I refuse?”

“I kill everyone here,” His nails bit into exposed skin. “And then fuck you on this table while their bodies attract flies.”

You might’ve cried, if you hadn’t been so tired.

You might’ve done anything, if you could bring yourself to care about anything but keeping those awful creatures at a distance.

Stiffly, with your eyes shut and your teeth grit, you forced yourself to nod. Geto rewarded you with an impossibly wide grin, a breath of a laugh. “Smart little thing.”

This time, he didn’t pretend it was an option; reaching out, taking your trembling hand in his own, and squeezing so softly, you could almost convince yourself he was being gentle.

“It’s only a shame Satoru isn’t here to join us.”

[mieczyslawsravenclaw]

Eidetic Memory Be Damned -Spencer Reid

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

•Pairing - Spencer Reid x FemFBIAgent!Reader

•Rating - 18+, Minors DNI - Smut - NSFW!!!

•Summary/Prompt - Spencer is tired of only having the memory of you to enjoy during his spicy times , so he just has to intrude into your hotel room after a case is finished…

•Warnings/Content - p in the v unprotected (hey kids- DONT DO IT) ; cursing ; Spence loves to beg to nut in you and does so ; creampie ; some pain play? (just a lil hand on the throat dealio and some hair pulling) ; LOTS of praise on both sides (good boy, pretty girl, etc) ; very mf horny lol ; (basically they do just about everything from first base to last bestie slay)

•Word Count - 3.3k

•Authorʼs Note(s) - Iʼm so mf rusty at writing smut so this is probs not the best, I just wanted to write some Spencer spice cause I had a spicy dream about him lmao RIP >_< Also this'll be my first official post of my writing on Tumblr slayyyyy

•Additional Tags - Switch!Spencer , Switch!Reader , Spencer is a needy brat LMAO , Team has ‘no ideaʼ you two are hooking up (Be so mf fr they do) , Good aftercare is so valid , Spencer loves being cuffed and teased muahaha

As much as this last case had taken out of me, I was more than happy to get to spend some time in my hotel room while the jet refueled and everyone got their bearings. Itʼs not home - far from it, Iʼd been missing my own bed for the majority of our time here in whatever state it was now - but at least it was something.

But of course, the reprieve wouldnʼt last long - a sharp knock on my door confirmed that, about 20 minutes after Iʼd laid down to sleep.

“What…ˮ I groan, frustratedly looking over at the clock.

The knock, again, more persistent this time. And I recognize its pattern now, three short tap-taps. Spencer.

My heartbeat, despite my minor annoyance at being woken up, is hammering now. Spencer seems to do that to me, from the moment Iʼd realized I have feelings for him, carrying into whatever it is that we are now. Secret trysts that Iʼm sure are no secret to our team members, especially Garcia, because sheʼd pried it out of me almost immediately and now waits in her dark little room with nothing else but excitement for the latest updates on us, it seems.

“Are you awake?ˮ A gentle but still much-too-loud voice asks.

I tumble out of bed, rushing to the door. I donʼt even have time to make sure I look okay - Iʼm much too worried about anyone else hearing him. The door is unlocked and pulled open in record time, a stunned lanky man quickly and semi-quietly forced inside.

“Spence, someoneʼs gonna hear you if you keep on like that.ˮ I chastise him, shutting and locking the door behind us. No sooner have I done so, than his lithe form overtakes me, nestling into the crook of my neck with a groan that seems both relieved and not relieved at all.

“Donʼt care,ˮ He pushes me back, until my legs meet the mattress and fold. Quickly following on top of me, he sighs, “Been too long. I miss you. You know I have an eidetic memory, yeah? Doesnʼt mean shit when Iʼm up late and even thoughts of you arenʼt enough to keep me satiated.ˮ

“Someoneʼs gonna-ˮ Hear, I want to say. He knows, of course he does. And Iʼm only half-complaining, with his lips at my neck and his leg sneaking up between mine the way he also knows.

“Donʼt care.ˮ He repeats, the low moan at the back of his throat breaking through into the silent room. “I told you I miss you. Should I tell you about what I use my memory for? And just how much that hasnʼt been enough lately? Or should I show you?ˮ

Itʼs clearly a rhetorical question, but still, he seeks the permission I am more than happy to grant.

“Tell me. Uh, show me. I mean-ˮ

“I can do both,ˮ Even in the dark, I know heʼs got that matter of fact smirk on his lips. He reaches down, holding me by the hip with one hand while the other slips into my pajamas, a practiced motion heʼs all too good at by now. “Usually this is what I remember first. The way your skin feels, how nice it is to make you tremble beneath my touch.ˮ

I buck up, and he chuckles.

“All too eager, arenʼt you? Clearly youʼve been thinking about it too, huh, pretty girl?ˮ A pointed question he knows Iʼll struggle to answer, with his hand and his voice torturing me so.

“No eid- identical- uh, no memory recall whatever for me.ˮ

“Still wouldnʼt satiate, I bet.ˮ He remarks, casually rubbing circles and patterns over my panties. This is how he operates, surely and with no warning. A gentle but firm kiss to my jaw, and he continues, “Itʼs like that for me, at least. I know no amount of recalling how you feel under me will be enough to match just how nice it is.ˮ

Heʼs right, and of course he is; I can barely handle the teasing, the tone his voice has taken in this short amount of time. And I currently dont care if weʼre heard, either.

“Spence-ˮ

“What is it, sweetheart? Too much for you? Not enough?ˮ

“Please?ˮ

“Words, honey. Youʼve gotta use your words. Or you can show me, Iʼm okay withthat too.ˮ He guides my hand down to his.

“More.ˮ I plead, working to undress myself before his hands take over.

“You only have to ask.ˮ

True to his word, Spencer pulls the fabric away, no longer allowing it to be a block between us. Itʼs lost somewhere in the sheets as he kisses me, his practiced hands no longer in the mood to tease. He slips a finger in, and when I let out a keening whine, another, his free hand going automatically to my mouth.

“Now as much as I say I donʼt care, youʼve gotta be a little quiet for me,ˮ He goads, knowing this will only make it harder for me to do so. His breath is hot in my ear, his fingers working a motion thatʼs both breaking pent up weeks old frustration, and yet causing more tension in my belly. “Much as I love your voice. Your sounds. The-ˮ

I rut up against him, my lips opening around his thumb. He works it into my mouth, his voice lowering even further.

“Cmon, show me how much you missed me, huh, princess?ˮ

I moan, words lost in my mind as it spins. Every tug of his fingers between my thighs is building a high Iʼm chasing, and when I get to this point, Iʼm not talking - he is. And he knows it, knows the right words to say to build and break me.

“This is what Iʼm after, this is what I canʼt just remember. Because itʼs all too much to remember how good it feels to destroy you.ˮ

Please, please. I canʼt hold off much longer.

“Now are you gonna cum for me, sweetheart?ˮ

I nod, lips opening and letting his hand free from my mouth as my breaths grow heavy. “Canʼt - Please, Spence, please-ˮ

He presses me further into the mattress, murmuring sweet and dirty nothings into my ear as the dam breaks and I ride my high. Iʼm far too sensitive following, and when I try to push him away for a moment, allow myself to collect some sort of reprieve before we continue, he chuckles lowly.

“See, I can recall that clear as day. But itʼs so much sweeter to have it happening in front of me, you know?ˮ He nestles in beside me, turning me to face him.

Nigh immediately, Iʼm reaching for his belt buckle. Of course he wouldnʼt have changed into comfortable clothes, not even this late- Iʼm sure this was his plan all along, and he tried to fight it as long as he could.

“Someoneʼs eager.ˮ He quips, the smirk growing.

“Youʼve got me thinking about it,ˮ I sigh, letting him maneuver himself out of the constricting clothing. “Coming over and getting me all hot and bothered. I really ought to…ˮ

“Ought to what?ˮ He goads, pulling me onto him with a low noise as we brush together. “Hmm? Are you gonna say…you ought to punish me?ˮ

I nod, rubbing back against him. He lets out a moan, hands gripping my hips tighter.

“I remember how that feels,ˮ He pulls me closer, voice dropping. “But for your sake, maybe you should refresh me.ˮ

When he reaches for me again, I pull back, pinning his hands down above his head. I know he could get out of it if he really wanted to - Iʼm strong, but not stronger than him - but he most certainly doesnʼt want to get out of it. And Iʼm enjoying it far too much to stop myself now.

“Whatʼre you gonna do, cuff me?ˮ He snaps, the bratty attitude far too practiced and already making me a soaking mess.

“I might.ˮ I reach for my pair, knowing all too well that heʼll absolutely lose it once I let go on him. I can hardly stand the anticipation. “Scared, Reid?ˮ

“Terrified. Please, donʼt. Iʼve been a good boy, I swear.ˮ

I push him back while he pleads, tightening the metal around his wrists. The look on his face, muffled as it is by the darkness of the room, is more than enough to spur me on.

“Not thinking about this at all, huh?ˮ I shed my top, if only for the knowledge that his inability to reach for my breasts drives him utterly insane. “And Iʼm sure you havenʼt spent many late nights with the memory of me riding you, have you? Havenʼt had your hands on that pretty cock of yours, thinking about how it feels when itʼs me, yeah?ˮ

“N-Not at all.ˮ

“Itʼs a shame, then.ˮ I tease, feeling him harden beneath me with every word. “Iʼll have to make you confess, I suppose.ˮ

His eyes follow my every move as I back up, slotting between his legs and bending down to kiss along his hips.

“Youʼll never get it out of me.ˮ He groans.

“Is that a promise or a challenge?ˮ I ask, not breaking eye contact as I place a kiss on his sensitive head.

“Challenge? Would I…challenge you?ˮ He still holds onto a moment of sanity, until I take him in my mouth, and itʼs lost with a sigh of, “Oh, would I.ˮ

I bob my head, my practiced motions coming in handy now. The usually-full-of- remarks Spencer Reid folds under my touch, soft deep moans and babble of confessions and wish I could pull your hair passing his lips while I work him out.

After a few moments of this, I let him free - at least from the torture of my lips.

“Where are you going? Please, I wanna cum for you, Iʼll tell you everything I did while I couldnʼt stand to wait for you.ˮ He keens.

“Oh, Iʼm far from done with you, Spence.ˮ I slowly, agonizingly slowly, climb back on top of him, making sure to back right up against him as he tightens against the cuffs. “Donʼt you worry, Iʼll have every measly confession pouring from you. You know I will.ˮ

“Please, let me out- Gotta touch you, I just gotta-ˮ

“Shh, be good for me, wonʼt you?ˮ I lift myself over his face, pressing my folds to his lips. “Unless you wanna stay in those forever.ˮ

He shakes his head, vibrating a ‘noʼ against me.

“Good. Now youʼre gonna pay your dues and clean up the mess youʼve made.ˮ

Eagerly, he laps at me like heʼs never had it before. His utter submissiveness overwhelms him, letting me ride his face to my hearts content. Words are muffled and entirely lost in it, and I know by now that the sounds Iʼm making alone will be heard, but I donʼt really care. Iʼm too far gone in how good it feels to finally have him making me cum again.

“Can I touch you now?ˮ

I slide back onto him, teasingly letting myself rest with just the edge of him pressing into my folds.

“Can you?ˮ I look pointedly at his wrists.

“I-oh, my god, clearly not, but-ˮ

“How about this?ˮ I amend. “You give me a confession, you get a reward. Sound fair?ˮ

“Yeah, sounds just fine. I couldnʼt get off without coming here, you realize that, donʼt you? Youʼre the only thing that gets me off anymo-Oh-ˮ His confession is cut short as I slide him a bit further in, just enough to spur him further. “I mean, I get off, donʼt get me wrong here. But nothing feels as good as when itʼs with you. Nothing.ˮ

“Keep going, youʼre doing good.ˮ I praise, sinking a bit deeper.

“Goddamn you feel so good.ˮ He moans. “Like, my hands canʼt even come close to this, are you kidding? I can try all I want, and believe me, I have - Oh, my god, please donʼt stop - Iʼve been trying all the time, I admit that, canʼt hardly stand being around you and not being able to just fuck you whenever I want.ˮ

I push down further, the stretch he gives me loosing my own moan. “How much do you wanna fuck me, Spence? Tell me, please.ˮ

“God, all the time. Itʼs all I can think about when I get down to it - baby, can I please touch you now?ˮ

“Punishment is a bitch, isnʼt it, Reid?ˮ I smirk, starting to push him in and out of me, slowly and with a devious grin that falters at just how damn good it is.

“Baby, Iʼm gonna get outta these and fuck you so good-ˮ

“Try it.ˮ I raise an eyebrow, stopping my motions.

“Oh- No, Iʼm sorry, please donʼt stop. Iʼll be good, I promise.ˮ

“Yeah, you will.ˮ I drop as far as I can take him, savoring the stuttered animalistic groan he lets out as I press down onto him, pulling his hair and moving my hips around him. As he is want to do, heʼs thrusting up into me, even if heʼs unable to reach me with his hands held up as they are. “Eager, sweet boy. Iʼm gonna ruin you.ˮ

And ruin him, I do. The tension and heat in my belly rides and breaks several times, with him unable to form real words except for the continuous begging of please donʼt stop repeated on a loop until I feel Iʼm satisfied with his demeanor.

Once Iʼve tortured him enough, I reach for the cuffs, ready to let him off the leash - knowing that once I do, the balance will shift. Truthfully, Iʼm just eager to let him be true to his word and fuck me like heʼs been dying to.

“You donʼt need any more confessions from me, then?ˮ He huffs, sweat slicked across his brow from the effort of holding back - though heʼs not really done so, has he?

“One last one, I suppose.ˮ I pull off of him, and the pout he gives nearly makes me sit right back down on him again.

“Alright, Iʼll be good and honest with you, then.ˮ He continues while I set to unlocking the cuffs, “You know the other day, just after we got the final piece of evidence put together?ˮ

I nod.

ˮI was so psyched, I couldʼve taken you right there. I donʼt care that everyone would have known, would have seen. Itʼs just something you do to me.ˮ He finishes, his tone light. Oh boy, Iʼm about to get railed. “I love you. And now Iʼm gonna fuck you like Iʼve been wanting to for weeks.ˮ

No sooner is he free, tearing off the shirt he was wearing and looming over me with the hungriest of looks at my body before pressing himself into me. No wait, no teasing - heʼs not got the control for it, clearly, and Iʼm not complaining one bit.

“Next time, you get the cuffs, pretty girl.ˮ He promises, his hands all over my body now that he can manage it. Hard, precise thrusts, his voice heavy and fucked-out.

“And Iʼll show you just what Iʼve been wanting to do that Iʼm gonna savor in my mind after.ˮ

My nails are leaving deep trails in his back, surely leading to marks that would raise questions if anyone else saw. Heʼs so far in me, almost bottomed out, and itʼs almost too much and yet not enough all at once. I pull him closer, and his hand tangles in my hair while the other clasps around my throat.

“Youʼre all mine.ˮ Spencer growls - truly, thereʼs not other word for it, the purely animal drive taking him to a world where itʼs just us, just this. And Iʼm there too, crying out with the ecstasy his body causes my own.

“All yours.ˮ

“Thatʼs right, pretty girl. Say it for me, I wanna hear you say it.ˮ

“Iʼm all yours, Spence- oh, my god-ˮ

“Good, thatʼs good. My pretty girl. Youʼre so tight, you feel so good wrapped around me, donʼt you? God, what a sight.ˮ Here he is, in his rambles now, and I can hardly contain how close I am. “Wanna tell everyone this is mine. Iʼm the only one that gets to have you, gets to fuck you like this. See you break for me. Only me.ˮ

“Only you, Spence, only you-ˮ

“Cʼmon, I know youʼre close, I can feel it. You get so much tighter, god, if itʼs even possible-ˮ

“Spencer-ˮ

“Thatʼs my girl, cum for me.ˮ

“Donʼt stop-ˮ I can feel the cord in me ready to snap, chasing my most intense orgasm of the night with his words and the feeling of him slamming so deep inside me. “More, Spence, you can give me more-ˮ

“Sweet girl, of course, I know you can handle it.ˮ He pushes himself fully in, my breath catching at the slight pain, yet itʼs still so good, I canʼt stop it, I donʼt want to. “Want me to fuck you so good with all of me, donʼt you?ˮ

I nod against his grasp, and he loosens it a bit, kissing me fervently.

“Please, please cum for me, I wanna feel you all over me, beautiful.ˮ He reaches down, his thumb rubbing circles on my clit. Itʼs the last thing I need to send me over that edge, and I cry out, his name slipping past my lips unwarranted. “Oh, baby, love how you say my name. Like itʼs a prayer, like Iʼm a god.ˮ

“Donʼt stop, Spence-ˮ

“Iʼm close, baby- Oh, I wanna cum in you-ˮ

Another orgasm follows near immediately after this one, and Iʼm grasping at him while heʼs chasing his own, his hands fumbling and his thrusts getting sloppy. He grips the sheets, his breaths stunted.

“Cum in me, please-ˮ

“Iʼm gonna, god, Iʼm so fuckinʼ close-ˮ He tightens around me, muscles shaking as he lets loose, and now itʼs his turn to moan my name a lot louder than he should while he cums. Heʼs so pretty when he does, too - the crease that works between his brows, the round pucker to his lips. Partly through, he kisses me, hard. And when heʼs done, his grip loosens, falling slack on top of me with a contented sigh.

A few moments pass where he just holds me, peppering soft kisses across my face and telling me you did such a good job, baby. Then, he pops up with a smile and comes back with water and a towel, cleaning up after himself.

“Satisfied?ˮ I chuckle, slowly pulling my clothes back on.

“Almost.ˮ He dips his head down, capturing a nipple in his mouth for a few moments. I groan, overstimulated, but still too happy to appease him. “Now, Iʼm satisfied. Iʼm staying in here, okay? Donʼt care if someone sees at this point.ˮ

“Spence?ˮ

“Mmhm?ˮ

“I love you, too.ˮ

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ i ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: not beta-read. not edited. enjoy reading.

masterlist.

You are not surprised when Max Verstappen won the 2023 Formula One season. Given how he dominated each Grand Prix in the season, except Singapore but we don't talk about Singapore, you kind of expected the results already. This is Max's third time winning the WDC title and that makes you the manager of a three-time WDC title holder now. As someone who worked with the guy the last five years, you are immensely proud of Max. You’ve been working as his manager ever since 2019—you, twenty-three, a fresh graduate of Mechanical Engineering and he, twenty-one, an aspiring world champion but you've known each other since 2018—so you knew better than anyone else, better than Christian Horner even, just how much it took from Max just to reach the place where he is standing right now. Furthermore, Red Bull Racing also won the Constructor’s Championship so everyone in the team cannot be any happier. Celebrations are in order, of course, but you have excused yourself to retire early in the evening instead. Max has asked you why. You replied that you're tired and that's the only truth you can offer him.

You draft your resignation letter whilst everyone at Red Bull is partying in some place else in Abu Dhabi. Good for them honestly. What better way is there to celebrate a victory than with alcohol? Fortunately, there's canned beer on the mini fridge so that's your share of the victory alcohol tonight while you're hunched over your laptop on the couch. Rihanna is playing from your laptop speakers in a Youtube playlist in another Google tab while you work on the letter on a separate Google Docs tab.

Dear ________,

Please accept this letter as my formal resignation from my position as the manager of Red Bull Racing first driver, Max Verstappen, effective seven days from today’s date, November 26, 2023.

I appreciate the opportunities for growth and development you have provided me during the five years I worked for this amazing team. Leaving is not an easy decision for me but in order to further my career, I have to spread my wings and explore. Please let me know if I can help with anything to make my resignation easier for the company staff.

Thank you, Red Bull, for giving me wings and the courage to fly. Now, I believe it is time for me to soar new skies. I will cherish the time I have spent here in Red Bull Racing.

Sincerely,

[First Name] [Last Name].

You read it over and over again, checking for errors in the spelling or the grammatical structure.

“Thank you Red Bull for giving me wings and the courage to fly….” you mutter. What Red Bull gave you was five decades worth of stress. One decade's worth of stress for each year since you were accepted in the team. “Cringy as fuck.”

Your phone abruptly rings and you jump in surprise, dropping your phone and your beer and oh shoot, you almost dropped your laptop, too. You scramble to pick up the canned beer, hissing slightly when you see the liquid form a pool on the tiled floor. Your initial response is to avoid it so you sidestepped and kicked your YSL heels away from the puddle. The heels are previously placed next to your feet neatly but now they're thrown haphazardly on the floor a few meters away. Your eyes quickly search for a towel, or anything you can use to wipe that shit off before it reaches the expensive hotel carpet, but there is no towel in your vicinity and the liquid is moving fast so you take off your Red Bull shirt—haha, you’re resigning anyways—leaving you in only your sleeveless undershirt. You throw it on the floor. Then, you crouch down and hurriedly wipe the beer.

Crisis averted! Beer - 0. You - 1. You pick up the call after, already knowing it's from Max even without reading the caller ID because you have set a separate ringtone for him, using that catchy Super Max sound, “Hello, [Name] here. Anythin’ I could help?”

Daniel’s voice is not something you have expected to hear, not from Max’s phone anyway, but then again, they should be together right now at the afterparty, “Hi [Name], we kind of got ourselves stuck in a situation here.”

Your brows furrow, forehead creasing, “Danny? Somethin’ wrong?”

“It's Max.”

You stiffen before slowly rising to a stand. Your head begins running at a speed of 300 kilometers per hour, the pace of a Formula One car, coming up with different scenarios where Max is in danger and a list of things you can do to get him out of those situations, “What's wrong with Max?”

That's how you found yourself in the middle of the Red Bull afterparty, navigating through the sweaty and drunk Red Bull employees with your eyes actively searching for a tall, broad-shouldered, blond-brown-haired, blue-eyed Dutchman. You find him nearly ten minutes after entering the party, in a corner, on the floor, next to a yellow puddle of disgusting liquid with his head hanging low and the two Alpha Tauri drivers, Daniel and Yuki, standing right beside him. Thank God they did not leave Max.

The fact that they are in a party full of Red Bull employees and none even tried to help Max bothers you greatly. Jesus, what is wrong with these people? You lower yourself in front of him, hand coming up to his nape while the other is on his forearm before gently guiding him away from the vomit pool just in case he accidentally touches on it. If he did, you know you're the one who’s going to clean him up and frankly, you aren't in the mood for dealing with that. Max follow your hands like it's second nature for him to follow your guidance, leaning into the warmth of your palm.

“What happened?” you finally voice the question you've been dying to ask once Max is a good distance away from the pool of vomit. Daniel is the one who answers you, “He asked for you.”

That doesn't answer your question. Thankfully, Yuki decides to be more helpful, “He broke up with Kelly this morning.”

Oh.

He raced while shouldering a broken heart and still won? Poor Max. But also, you are not surprised. Not even a bit. It's very much like him to prioritize the race over his feelings because Max Verstappen only wants one thing in the world and that is to emerge victorious at the sport he loved. To prove to the world that he is top one, to prove to Jos Verstappen that he is top one and that he will go down in history as top one and the world shall remember it even after he leaves the F1 racing scene for the young ones.

“Thanks, Yuki,” you turn to Daniel and nod. “Danny, I’ll take it from here.”

“Are you sure you don't need help?”

You shake your head and offer a tight-lipped smile. Dealing with a drunk Max is no biggie. You have worked with the guy for five years already, four as his manager. That's over a hundred podiums and defeats and in each defeat and each podium, alcohol and Max become the best of friends. You’re used to this; cleaning him up, picking him up, tucking him into bed, calling his girlfriend to deal with his drunk ass, and helping him nurse the hangover in the morning with an Advil and a good breakfast.

You roll the sleeves of your champagne-colored button-up to your elbows and in one swift motion, you lift Max in a fireman’s carry. That volunteer work you did at LAFD back when you're still in university paid off in these moments.

It was a comedic sight. A 5’5” woman in heels carrying an almost six foot drunk racer who is at least two times broader than her on her shoulders. The media has already caught a picture of a similar-looking moment one time in 2019 and another in 2021—such times are the beginning of those annoying dating rumors that involves you and Max—and you can say that Twitter is mostly impressed that the Red Bull manager was strong enough to lift a high-performance athlete. Some made memes of it. You'll never admit that you saved some of them, especially the ones that made fun of Max so you could put it above his head. Some even claimed that your YSL heels must be some sort of superhero power up because you do a lot of athletic things in those heels like running through the paddock as if you were just wearing a pair of Nikes, kicking a door down, driving a motorcycle around in Monza to buy Max's morning coffee, and getting in a physical fight with Max’s anti-fan back in 2022. In theory, you can and will absolutely kill a god in those heels and honestly, it's about time YSL sponsors you because you're giving their Opyum heels so much promotion.

What the public doesn't know is that Max is lighter than he looks and paired with your capability of lifting heavy equipment and people due to your history as a volunteer firefighter, it is incredibly easy to lift him without breaking a sweat and yes, even while wearing heels. People are too easily impressed nowadays.

You ignore the confused stares that are sent your way as you hurriedly walk to the comfort rooms. In a matter of seconds, you are power-walking yourself inside the male comfort room, sending an unimpressed look at the two Red Bull rookie employees making out inside. They are horrified when they see you. You can tell with the way their eyes widened and how they scrambled away from each other and hurriedly fixed themselves while muttering a thousand apologies. You don't even need to say anything. They are out before you could even tell them to.

You lock the door behind you before heading towards the bathroom sink and placing Max there. You put your hands on the back of his head and shoulders to support him until he's leaning against the mirror and sitting fully upright. You wish he won't topple over and accidentally hit his head on the tiles.

“Hey, hey,” you tap his cheek. “You good, Max?”

You sincerely hope he won't pass out. Unconscious people are heavier than conscious people when you lift them.

Procuring a water bottle inside your tote bag, you hand it to him. He accepts it wordlessly and down it in one go. You pull out an extra shirt from your bag, “Off with the shirt, big boy.”

Obediently, Max does what he is told and he peeled his shirt off him. You have to help him midway because he got it stuck around his neck. You toss the stinky shirt somewhere on the sink and hand him the shirt you brought. Again, you help him put it on because drunk Max has seemingly forgotten where the holes of the t-shirt are and which limb should enter a specific hole. Oh wait, that sounds wrong.

“You're taking good care of me.”

His voice sounds so small when he utters those words that it almost got swallowed up by the silence of the room and the muffled sound of the party outside.

“Aren't I always?”

You are paid to take good care of him after all.

“Always.”

You wet a towel in the sink and squeeze out the excess water in the wool. Your fingers gently cradle Max’s jaw as you wipe his face. He has a little vomit on his cheek.

You're used to looking at Max’s face up close but you still cannot help but be amazed by the beauty of it, you know? Some people will not consider Max as a conventionally beautiful man. Different people have different preferences. Honestly, you used to be one of those people. You met Max when he was twenty-one and that time, he looked like a fetus and greatly resembled Sid the sloth from the Ice Age movies. You used to tease him all the time about it, calling him a kid and pulling the age card when he needed to be reigned in or to annoy him until he submits into obedience, when you are only a year older than him. The stress of racing caused Max to age quickly but thankfully, he does not age badly. No, instead Max transitioned into an absolute daddy. Thank God he is more like his mother than his father, too. His mother’s genes saved him. Thank you Sophie!

You would have fallen for him, too, like the gazillion women all around the world who'll fall at his feet, but it’s hard to do so when you know he doesn't even know how to peel his own oranges. Drives a car going 300 kilometers per hour and can’t even peel a damn orange.

Twitter is always having a field day when they manage to snap a picture of you peeling oranges for him. Orange Peel Theory or whatever that is. Ludicrous bullshit, to be honest. The only theories you know are the ones taught in Physics class.

“I wonder if you know how much I need you,” he mutter. “I wonder if you can tell.”

“Very poetic,” you say flatly because Max has the tendency to say the most out of pocket yet soul breaking things when he's drunk and you are too tired to rationalize all his musings right now. We love a trauma-dumping king.

“You talkin’ ‘bout Kelly?” you ask, brow raising slightly. You continue to clean his face before proceeding to wipe his arms and his hands.

“I don't know.”

“Okay.”

He probably is talking about Kelly anyway.

Now that Kelly is gone, you’re beginning to get worried for Max. Earlier, as you wrote that resignation letter in your hotel room, the worry of leaving Max was not present. He has Kelly after all. Kelly can easily do the things you did for Max, not that she should do the work of a Red Bull manager because honestly, if she plans on taking up your job now, you’ll tell her to run and save herself. You mean the support you gave Max. You mean going all-out in protecting Max whether from haters or even his own father and especially his own darkness. You mean standing with him, inside that open cage that he can walk out of anytime but chose not to because Jos Verstappen still had his claws on him. You mean not leaving Max, no matter where he stood, may it be at the top of that glorious podium or at the end of the line. You mean taking care of Max the same way you did, even if he insists that helping him is nothing but rotten work.

But then, she left. Now what?

“I want to tell you something.”

You lift your eyes and met Max’s glazed blue ones.

“It is in my will that if I die—”

“You're not dyin’," you cut him off, not even the least bit amused about the idea of Max dying.

“Shush,” he playfully glares at you and you roll your eyes, itching to pull that I’m older than you so don't shush me card just to annoy him. “Let me finish. It is in my will that if I die, my cats will be taken care of by you. Oh come on, stop making that face. You look like you're having an aneurysm.”

“Shut up,” you swat his forearm with the damp towel, causing him to laugh at you. “Why’d you even do that? Give them to your Mom or somethin’.”

“But nobody is better at taking care of someone than you,” he says and his voice bled with rawness and honesty and so much sincerity that you're taken aback. “I want someone to take care of them like how you take care of me.”

You blink, mouth slightly agape. What can you even say to that? Thank you? I’m honored? Dude, what the fuck? Are you confessin’ to me or somethin’? You doin’ big shit over there by putting me in your will.

Now, you’re even more worried. Who will take care of Max after you're gone? The same way you took care of him?

Nonetheless, on December 13, you submit the resignation letter to Christian Horner. He reads the letter with a deep frown marring his face. It's funny how he had the same expression on his face, too, on the first day you met him when you were applying from Red Bull.

“Have you told Max?”

The guy is sleeping in his hotel bed as you speak and will probably be awake in a few hours with the world’s shittiest hangover. So no, you have not told him. Not yet, at least.

“No.”

“He wouldn't be happy with this.”

You know Max does not bode well with goodbyes, especially from the people he closely worked with leaving Red Bull. Look at what happened with Danny in 2018. Now, it is your turn. Two of his biggest friends in the Red Bull team, leaving in search of careers outside his shadow. Being in Max's shadow..... They are right after all. It is a curse.

While you love Max, platonically of course, being his manager is not what you wanted. You did not suffer through four years in engineering school just to become an errand girl for a racer. This is not what you applied for when you sent that application letter in Red Bull and Renault back when you were twenty-two. Renault didn't have an opening in their engineering team so your future with that team was quickly erased. Red Bull had no opening in their engineering team either but they had an open spot on the team as Daniel Ricciardo's manager for a whole season. You accepted their offer, naturally, hoping that their engineering team will have a place for you soon. When Danny left, you contemplated following him to Renault.

Then, Max told you to not go to Renault because they're a shitty team and perhaps he was right because in that sucky car they had, Daniel barely won podiums, but if Renault would give you the position you wanted and worth your student loans, then you'd take it.

"No, stay."

Demanding little prickly ass, he was, "I will win next year. When I become a world champion, I'll ask Horner to move you to the engineering team."

You did not know why you believed him.

2021—Max became world champion. You hoped he would ask Horner like he told you back in 2018.

2022—Max became world champion again but you're still stuck as his manager. You reminded him of his declaration in 2018. He told you he was already on it. Two rookie engineers entered the team that year, taking the spot that should have been yours years ago and you were stuck wondering if Max was really putting truth on his words.

2023—Max became a third-time world champion and you wouldn't even ask anymore.

“I know," you say, voice barely above a whisper. "I'll deal with it."

"I'll trust that you'll be the one who'll tell him?"

It amuses you how no one wants to deal with Max or drop him the big news. Everyone knew how crazy he could get when Max does not like something. He's a menace. He'll terrorize everyone. You're the only one who could hold the menace down.

"Of course, Sir. Leave it to me."

“Are you transferring teams? Are you still going to stay in Monaco near Max?”

Monaco is not home. Home is desert and heat. Home is Texas.

“Nah, goin’ back to Austin.”

Everybody knows Texas was your home, your accent and your manners spoke of it. Some Europeans look down on it, calling you a country bum and a cowgirl mascarading as a sophisticated sidehoe of a champion. Fuck 'em all.

“Everyone in the team is given two weeks off now that we’ve won so your resignation is immediately effective of today,” Horner says. “If the US GP is held at Austin next year, make sure to come by. Max would appreciate it.”

Christian Horner is an asshole but he is at least good to Max and that's what's important.

You get a text from Max an hour later.

him: i feel like shit

him: thanks for the advil and the soup

him: also im flying back to monaco tonight, fly with me

Tonight, you're flying to Monaco with Max Verstappen. Seven days from now, you're flying home alone.

[inuyashaluver]

Hi lovely I love ur stuff 🩷 I have a little request/idea - obviously feel free to ignore it

I was thinking R has a really thick accent (English - either Scouse (Liverpool), Geordie (Newcastle) or West Country (Devon/Somerset/Farmer) or Aussie or something really thick like hard to understand from native speakers let alone anyone else) but R plays in Barca and has a crush on a Spanish player (Maybe Patri? maybe Ona? Maybe Alexia?) and is tryna talk to them more and maybe ask them out but they just get looked at funny and they walk off and she goes to Kiera and Lucy and is like what have I done? Do they all hate me? And [Crush] overheads them and goes round to their house after training and is like I really wanna get to know u, I think you’re really pretty etc but I cannot understand a word that comes out of ur mouth to the point where I am questioning whether it’s English

qué? - alexia putellas

alexia putellas x reader

description: in which your accent proves to be difficult to understand

warnings: LONG!! swearing, misunderstandings, spanish in bold italics

a/n: i love this woman, your honour!! i was writing alexia angst but had to put out the fluff haha!! thank you so much for the love and request, lovely!! ily and enjoy ❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you never thought your accent would get you into trouble but you were entirely wrong. and we’re not talking about trouble like criminal, we’re talking romantically.

—

you’re from liverpool, your thick, scouse accent distinct in your dialect. at home in england, the accent was understood most of the time, with an occasional person asking for clarification about your words but you didn’t mind.

even some of your england teammates had to ask you to repeat yourself occasionally when you got overly excited or stressed, your accent proving to be the hardest to understand at those moments.

you often needed a translator for even native english speakers if you spoke too quickly, lucy and later grace helping out when people were truly confused.

when lucy and keira moved from manchester city, you moved with them, having played in the club for 2 years and desperately wanting a change. and so, when the contract arrived from barcelona for the three of you, you accepted it without a second thought.

you had supported barcelona in liga F, having a huge appreciation for the way the spanish players moved, the quick passes and the goals that came out of nowhere. you were excited to pick up those skills to adapt to your own play.

and through your extensive research, you grew a special appreciation for alexia. in your eyes, alexia was the definition of perfect, not only her football skills, but her as a whole.

you would watch her interviews and videos for ‘research purposes’, claiming it was to practise your spanish. and it was, until you zoned out hearing the gentle hum of alexia’s voice, getting distracted entirely but you weren’t complaining.

when you got caught making heart eyes at your phone during england camp, the teasing was so relentless it wasn’t even funny.

—

“our little (y/n) has a crush on la reina! (the queen)” lucy exclaims in the change room, you immediately turn off your phone and look up at her with an icy glare, only making her smile at you affectionately with a pinch to your cheek that you were quick to swat away.

“you’re not much older than me” you glare, “5 years is 5 years” she shrugs, moving away when you launched an empty bottle at her.

“go on, tell us about your crush” leah smiles, millie and rachel pretend to kiss each other while looking at you and you heat up in the cheeks.

“i’m only watching so i can pick up spanish” you defend, lucy laughs loudly, out of the three transfers, she was definitely the one who picked up the most spanish.

“excuse me, lucia, and everyone in here,” you scoff, “is it such a crime to watch a video of my future captain?” your accent was so heavy at this point, everyone cracked a little smile at you.

“so you were watching videos of alexia then?” leah smirks, you let out a frustrated groan, “leah, shut up man” everyone laughs, the teasing continuing until keira and alessia told everyone to stop.

during the whole of camp, it wasn’t uncommon you got caught looking at photos or videos of alexia, the teasing was so bad you thought you would explode.

—

when the time finally came for you to join barcelona, you were incredibly nervous. the fear of underperforming playing on your mind, only becoming worse at the thought of embarrassing yourself in front of a certain blonde you couldn’t take your mind off.

lucy and keira assured you everything would be fine, but you weren’t convinced, unsure of how you’d react when you finally saw alexia.

when you all walked to the change rooms, it was shocking how welcoming everyone was. hugs and kisses to the cheeks had you feeling so accepted amongst your new team.

and funnily enough, the last person to greet you was alexia, sending you a charming smile that had your stomach erupting with butterflies.

“(y/n), yes? bienvenida! (welcome)” alexia grins, her arms pulling you into a warm hug, her scent enveloping you and making you borderline dizzy.

“(y/n) is a big fan of you” lucy teases as alexia lets you slip from the hug after you mumble a quick hello. alexia gives a surprised smile, looking between a cheeky looking lucy and a sheepish looking you.

“you’re very good, too, I look forward to playing with you,” alexia’s hand moved to give your bicep a gentle squeeze and you swore your heart stopped, your cheeks were tinged with pink and you could barely formulate a sentence.

“yeah, i’m excited to play with ya” you breathe out, you move to your new cubby and get changed into the barcelona kit, feeling at home already even though it was your first day.

due to you busying yourself with avoiding alexia, you missed the way her gaze lingered on you as you changed, she was intrigued by you.

what you didn’t know was alexia had done her own forms of research. she had heard your name countless times in the media, a rising star in the making.

she respected the way you played, a midfielder who wasn’t afraid to take risks but also managed to avoid fouls frequently.

she wanted to get to know you as much as you wanted to get to know her.

—

weeks and months fly by and it was easy to say you felt comfortable amongst the team. your spanish was surprisingly getting better, being able to go through training without a translator most of the time.

the girls reciprocated you well, you’d go to team bonding nights and laugh and joke around with them. it was obvious to everyone except alexia that you were harbouring a crush on the captain.

the ways your eyes would follow her every move with pink cheeks honestly exposed yourself. and what made it harder was that alexia and you were growing closer each day.

—

one day you were chatting with mapi and ingrid, more like you getting teased while you begged them to stop before you were interrupted by a certain someone.

“do you want to be my partner?” alexia questions from behind you suddenly, making you choke on your own spit as she looked at you with a kind smile. “really?” you breathe out, she nods, nodding her head to the pitch for you to follow her.

you’d both been able to converse easily as the months went by, she’d have to ask you to slow down a couple of times when you both talked about something you had in common but it worked.

as you both trained together, you chatted and laughed, talking about random topics.

when you both got to shooting practice, alexia analysed your every move. she would give little nods of approval when you touched the ball, sending you an encouraging smile if you made eye contact, your heart was fluttering around her.

“you should put more weight into your hips when you kick” alexia corrects, you look at her questioningly, she huffs out a little laugh and comes to stand behind you.

her large hands place themselves on your hips and she turns them slightly to the front. her front was pressed against your back and you certainly weren’t breathing. she noticed you tense but chose to ignore it.

“focus here before you kick so it’s stronger” alexia says next to your ear, squeezing your hips gently before letting go of you. “try again, vamos! (let’s go)” she exclaims, you do as she says with her corrections and it was a much better result.

she smiles proudly, “buena niña! (good girl)” she laughs, coming up to you to squeeze your shoulders encouragingly, your cheeks were burning.

the entire team watched the interaction with big grins, ready to tease you for how sheepish you looked.

“gracias (thank you), ale” you scratch the back of your neck with an embarrassed smile, she shakes her head, “it’s nothing, thank me with a goal next game” she jokes, pinching your cheek teasingly before walking off to get some water.

you’re left there in shock, lucy and keira approaching with cheesy grins. “you’re in love” lucy coos, poking your shoulder teasingly while you shielded yourself in a hug from keira.

“i���m so fucking stupid, why can’t i be normal” you groan, keira laughs, her hand rubbing up and down your back. “you’re just shy, which is weird to see because you’re the complete opposite” she laughs, you pull back to throw her a glare.

“it’s cute” lucy chuckles, “i can’t wait to tell everyone about the development” she grins, her and keira share a hearty laugh seeing your face go pale, while you attempted not to scream.

“don’t you fucking dare” you grit out, “i won’t” lucy winks, unfortunately she did and by the time training was over, your phone was blowing up with text messages talking about the interaction.

you looked at lucy with a stone cold glare while she blew you a kiss, alexia watched how angry you were, she could practically feel it radiating off you on the other side of the change room.

“estás bien? (are you okay)” alexia walks up to you, holding a cold drink out to you. you take it after a moment of hesitation, “uh, yeah, sí” you smile, “lucia is annoying you?” alexia grins, looking over at lucy to see her and keira whispering while looking at you. “yes, she’s very annoying” you grumble, your eyebrows furrowing.

alexia smiles fondly at you, her hand moving to your face, her thumb smoothing out the crease between your eyebrows. “wrinkles” she tutts, your breath caught in the back of your throat as you looked up at her.

“are you coming tonight?” she says like she didn’t just make you flatline. she’s talking about a team bonding session at her house. “yeah, i think so” you smile at her, “think or know?” she teases, was she flirting with you?

“know, i’ll be there” you mock, she nods with a pleased expression, “hasta luego, lindura (see you later, cutie)” she winks, moving to grab her bag from her cubby and leave, making sure to look back at you another time with a soft smile before walking out.

you get pulled out of your trance once you hear your phone blowing up again, checking it to see lucy had recorded you watching alexia leave. you throw your head back in frustration but chose to avoid letting the older girl feel your wrath, you were still on a buzz from the thought of alexia flirting with you.

—

when you arrived at alexia’s house, you brought her a bottle of wine with a sheepish grin. when she opened the door for you, she pulled you into the warmest hug, both of you fitting together like a puzzle.

“finalmente! (finally) i was waiting for you!” she grins as she pulls away, taking the wine out of your hands and grabbing one of yours to drag you into the living room where everyone was.

her hand was so warm against yours, soft against your skin and you really didn’t want her to let go. “you look beautiful” alexia smiles before she ushers you to sit down, you barely had the time to tell her how breathtaking she looked, dressed casually but still looking like she could be on the front of a magazine.

you sit next to mapi and she immediately bombards you with questions, “have you kissed yet?” she questions, you slap her knee, “ingrid, your girlfriend is a bully” you huff, ingrid laughs, nodding along with you with an apologetic smile.

everyone was watching a movie while eating, alexia sitting beside you, the two of you would chat back and forth with small giggles and smiles shared between you.

by the time the night was ending, alexia’s arm was resting behind you on the couch, basically over your shoulder while you were in your own little bubble.

when you left that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about all the interactions you had with the catalan, you needed to do something about it. fast.

—

on a match day for barcelona, you decided it was time for you to tell her about your feelings. it was clear you were flirting with each other. confirmed during the game.

in the second half, you managed to get a goal, using the technique alexia had taught you a couple of days prior.

she was the first one to you after, the loud roar of the crowd drowned out when you felt alexia’s strong arms wrapping around your waist.

you both smiled so brightly as she congratulated you, placing you on the ground, giving you an affectionate kiss on the forehead and squeezing your shoulders. this told you everything. it wasn’t just her being friendly, it was alexia making a move.

at the end of the match, the two of you lingered in the middle of the pitch, you were fidgeting so much alexia was worried.

“(y/n)?” she dips her head to make eye contact with you, “estás bien? (are you okay)” you nod, opening your mouth to speak but nothing came out. “take a deep breath” she smiles, a hand on your shoulder offering you comfort but also stressing you out.

“ale” you start, she nods with an encouraging smile, “i really fancy ya, ale, i’ve been wantin’ to tell ya for a while” you blurt out, alexia’s eyebrows furrow, she looks a little confused.

the silence was loud, why hasn’t she said anything back. if this was her rejection, it hurt more than anything she could have verbalised.

“you know what, forget i said anythin’” you run off before she could say anything. “qué? (what)” she was about to ask you to repeat yourself, one - because you were speaking too fast, two - she didn’t know what fancy meant.

you heard her call out for you but you ran into the change room, knowing keira and lucy were in there. “keira!” you yell, “fucking check my pulse!” you shove your arm in her face and she looks at you in shock. only a couple of people were inside, and the ones that were were shocked at how you tumbled into the room.

“jesus, your heart is going so fast” keira says as she presses her fingers to the inside of your wrist. “fuck, why couldn’t you tell me i’m dead and this is a nightmare” you groan, your hands running over your face frustratingly.

“what’s wrong with you?” lucy says as she walks out of the shower to see you in absolute shambles. “everything!” you explain each and every detail and they look at you sympathetically, understanding now why you were so upset.

what you didn’t know was alexia was outside, ear pressed to the door as she heard you explain that you were trying to confess. she feels her stomach tighten, cursing herself for not understanding what you were saying.

“whatever, i’m going home, don’t follow me” you grit, tears pooling at your waterline as you rush out. alexia had moved out of eyeline when she heard you, quickly going into the change room and drilling lucy and keira for your address that they happily gave her with sly grins. happy to know it was all a misunderstanding.

—

that afternoon, you hastily wiped your tears away thinking about alexia. you had misunderstood her intentions clearly, you were disappointed with yourself.

you heard the banging from the front door and groaned, knowing your fellow england teammates were probably on the other side with ice cream and apologetic smiles.

“i told you both not to follow me-” you huff, the door opening to see alexia standing there, a bouquet of bright flowers in hand. “hola (hello)” she smiles, “what are you doing here?” you ask softly, “can i come in?” you nod, moving back a little so she could step inside. she hands you the flowers and you take them with a confused expression.

what type of rejection was this?

“i heard you speaking to lucy and keira before” she starts nervously, both of you walking to the kitchen so you could put the flowers in water, they were beautiful.

“it’s fine if you don’t feel the same” you shrink into yourself, brushing the petals of one of the flowers between your fingers.

“hermosa (beautiful)” she calls out, moving around your counter to stand directly in front of you. “me gustas mucho, y quiero estar contigo (i like you a lot, i want to be with you)” she says earnestly, speaking in her mother tongue and hoping you understood because she was speaking from the heart.

you freeze, each and every word quickly translated in your head. “amor (love), you’re very beautiful and nice but you speak very fast, i did not understand a word you said before” she laughs, you can’t help but laugh too, shaking your head at how fast you fled the situation.

“i’m sorry, ale” you grin, “don’t be” she dismisses, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, relishing in the blush she just produced on your cheeks.

“me gustas mucho (i like you a lot), alexia” you smile, she gives you a dazzling expression, appreciating how you spoke her mother tongue to her so she really understood this time. “muy bien, preciosa! (very good, precious)” she coos affectionately, her hand cradling your cheek as she directed your eyes to hers.

“we will teach each other, sí?” she grins cheekily, you hum along with her words, “sí”.

she pulls you closer to place a sweet kiss on your lips, your stomach lurching at how soft they were against yours.

you both smile into it as she drew you closer, your arms wrapping around her neck while her free hand came to rest on the small of your back to press you against her.

she pulls away, not without pressing a few more kisses to your lips through the giggles and the small chatter between the two of you.

—

when you both came to training the next day hand in hand, sighs of relief were heard from everyone. lucy whipped out her phone as quickly as she could and sent pictures to the england group chat, your phone blowing up more than ever.

now that the team saw you interact, the teasing somehow got worse every time alexia would kiss you, or even hold your hand.

the pining drove everyone insane but the loved up versions of the two of you were insufferable. you were attached at the hip, just how you and alexia wanted.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill, just pretend it’s you xx

liked by keirawalsh and 44,232 others

alexiaputellas: mi niña (my girl)

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yourname: mami

↳ alexiaputellas: i didn’t teach her this

↳ marialeonn16: sureeeee

lucybronze: the most annoying couple ever

↳ yourname: shut up man

↳ leahwilliamsonn: there she is!!

↳ keirawalsh: she went soft but is still a shit head

↳ yourname: @/alexiaputellas bebé! defend me!

↳ alexiaputellas: you are soft

↳ yourname: the betrayal is unreal

[hellodropbear]

chosen.

mapi leon x ingrid engen x daughter

isabel is finally adopted

new chapter!!!

as always, hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think (good or bad lol) and anything else you want to see :)

~~~~~~

It was something Isabel had been nagging Mapi about for months. Maybe even longer. 

Isabel wasn't stupid anymore, she knew that Mapi had not planned to be her mother. There were other people, and half of her was made of who was supposed to be her father, the man that Mapi spoke so highly of despite getting choked up every time he was brought up in conversation. 

She knew they had died right before she was born and she knew that Mapi was left with a baby that she hadn't actually asked for. 

Isabel knew Mapi stopped playing football until she was older, taking a long chunk out of what would have likely been the peak of her career. 

She knew Ingrid came along later, which is why she had grown up calling her Ingrid. 

She didn't call her Mami, she didn't call her Mama. She called her Ingrid which just seemed so wrong. 

Because Ingrid was her mother, as much as Mapi. 

Mapi had given birth to her, she was a single mother for the first two years probably, until her relationship with Ingrid started getting more serious and both Isabel and Mapi became more and more reliant on the brunette Norwegian that they had fallen in love with so quickly. 

Isabel looked like Mapi, and she carried a few of her personality traits around with her. Outgoing, funny, chatty. 

But Ingrid also raised her, which meant she carried around the Norwegian's calmness, her kindness and her emotional nature. 

She was practically a carbon copy of Mapi on the outside, but anyone who knew her on the inside would say she was the perfect blend of both women. 

So how come she only called one of them Mami? 

Why was it that if she was seriously injured, only Mapi would be called up?

And Isabel wasn't stupid, she knew that Ingrid wished she had been there from the beginning, that her name was written on all of the important documents. She knew that Ingrid wished she was called Mama. 

Not Ingrid. 

When she was younger, Isabel would call Ingrid Mama when she was tired or sad, if she wanted a hug or if she was just feeling emotional. 

It would be in those tender moments and Ingrid's heart would melt every time. It was always in the apartment, hidden away from the rest of the world and just the three of them there together. 

But it never really stuck, and Isabel continued to call her by her first name everywhere else. Her teachers would ask about Mami and they'd ask about Ingrid, her friends would get confused because who is Ingrid?

They all just had a Mami and a Papi. 

Ingrid always thought that Mami and Mama would make more sense. 

So when Mapi knocked on her bedroom door, an official looking document held securely in her hand, Isabel had a very large suspicion that she knew exactly what was in that plastic slip. 

Mapi could tell she knew, the way her eyes lit up and she immediately placed her guitar to the side, sitting up as Mapi moved to sit beside her. 

"Is it them?"

Mapi smiled, tears in her eyes. 

"Yeah, it is."

"Mami!" Isabel practically jumped on her trying to hug her, tears springing from her eyes as well. "Thank you so much!"

Mapi just shrugged. 

"She's your Mama and has been for your whole life, this just makes it official."

"We have to plan something so special! Mami, I can't wait to tell her!"

Mapi laughed softly, planting a kiss on Isabel's head and hugging her in close. 

"We'll just have to make sure she says yes! She might not want to be officially related to a little rodent like you."

Isabel laughed, whacking her mother's side in mock offence and rolling her eyes. 

They both knew that it wasn't true, that Ingrid loved Isabel more than anything else. 

"She loves me more than you, Mami, you're just jealous."

Mapi laughed, silently agreeing. 

She would never admit that though. 

"You wish."

~~~~~~

Isabel spent every minute of the next two weeks planning what would be the perfect surprise for Ingrid, only requesting advice from Mapi a few times. 

It was a photo album that she was creating, filled with just pictures of them as Isabel got older, Mapi only featuring at times that Isabel deemed it absolutely necessary.

Birthdays, christmases, family barbecues, trips to Norway. Summer holidays on the beach. 

Skating competitions, Isabel stood there proudly with the gold medal hanging round her neck, a giddy smile on her face as Ingrid had picked her up despite her rapidly growing figure. 

She had scrolled through all of Mapi's old photos, printing out the good ones and sticking them in the page with stickers and little notes until it was completely full. 

She wrote a letter, enlisting Caro to help her perfect her Norwegian, making her swear to secrecy - the contents of the note were strictly confidential. 

She came up with a plan, something she knew Ingrid would love. A walk to their park was nothing worth being suspicious of, not even when the 10 year old pulled out Bagheera’s carrier. 

It was a family affair, she told Mapi. It would be mean to leave the cat out of it just because she didn’t usually go on their walks. 

It was a nice walk and a nice picnic, planned out to the T by Isabel, down to what colour lined the paper plates and how the fruits on the fruit platter would be cut. 

Everything she did was for Ingrid and if the Norwegian had asked her, she would have been able to explain every single decision in a way that related back to how much she loved Ingrid. 

Perhaps, for that reason, it was best that the papers were forgotten at home, because Ingrid would have been inconsolable if she saw the papers, the photo album and then was explained every single little decision made by her little girl. 

Isabel was disappointed, but Mapi reassured her that the Norwegian would not mind, that her reaction wouldn't change whether she was given those papers on the top of the eiffel tower or in a dump in the middle of the city. 

So the 10 year old waited until they got home and finished eating dinner, only heading up to her room to collect the file once Mapi and Ingrid were sat on the sofa, waiting for their child to return and choose something to watch. 

She couldn't help the nerves that filled up her stomach, the anxieties that began to attack her as soon as the file was in her shaking hand. She almost felt sick as she walked downstairs, spying the back of Ingrid's head, hearing their voices chatting and laughing. 

It took one last push of confidence to walk and stand in front of them, the file held tightly in her hands as she anxiously rocked back and forth on her heels. 

She took a deep breath, realising that everything she had planned to say was long forgotten, instead just brandishing the file towards Ingrid, who took it with an air of confusion as she glanced between Isabel and Mapi. 

"What's this, Is?"

Isabel cowered under her glance, suddenly full of insecurity and self doubt. Would Ingrid even want to be her mother?

She had spent so much time thinking about how much she wanted Ingrid to be her mother, that she sort of ignored the possibility that the Norwegian didn't want that. 

And that would completely break the 10 year old. 

"Just open it." Mapi smiled reassuringly at Isabel, noticing her nerves, before looking over at Ingrid who had completely frozen as soon as she read the first few words on the top of the first page. 

She immediately broke down in tears, her body racking with sobs as she realised what she had just been given.

~~~~~~

"Isabel Leon! We're going and we're going now!" Ingrid was beyond frustrated, the 8 year old not listening to a word she said. Mapi was out of town for the week so they had been left alone together and the child was experiencing a severe case of 'I miss my mum' and it was materialising as disobedience and ignorance of Ingrid. 

"No!" She slammed her door closed for effect, throwing herself on her bed and willing herself not to cry. 

"Isabel, this is important and I can't leave you here. We have to go, you can sulk in the car."

The Norwegian was stood right outside the door, her hands massaging her head in frustration at the girl. 

"No! I'm not coming."

Ingrid huffed, shoving open the bedroom door and picking the ever-growing child up from her bed. 

"Ingrid!" She screeched loudly, almost deafening the brunette. "NO! Put me down, Ingrid, NOW!"

Her words dissolved into sobs as Ingrid continued to carry her until they had exited the apartment, the door locked behind them, Isabel left with no way to get back in. 

"I want Mami, Ingrid, I miss Mami!"

She shook her head, using her hand to guide the child into the lift. 

"Well Mami's gone, so you're stuck with me for now. You're just going to have to make do."

The child lashed out at the words and the contact, flipping around and facing Ingrid as the elevator doors closed. 

"There's a reason you're not my Mami!"

Her vision was blurred by her tears so she couldn't see the hurt that flashed over the woman's face. She only realised later that night that what she said was wrong, that she had been horrible to someone she loved so much for no reason. 

And Ingrid would never admit the reason that she was in tears as Mapi called her that night, alone and wrapped up in bed. 

As she put down the phone, tears still dripping down her face. It wasn’t often that her insecurities returned, but when they did it was like wildfire, quickly spreading and destroying everything good in it’s path. 

Because Isabel was right, Ingrid wasn’t her Mami. She wasn’t her Mama either, she was just Ingrid. 

She was Isabel’s Mami’s girlfriend. 

But if she asked either of the Spaniard’s, they would assure her that she is so much more than that. 

It was with desperation that she tried to wipe her tears away as her bedroom door creaked open, Isabel creeping through the door and silently climbing up onto Mapi’s side of the bed, curling herself up in Ingrid’s side. 

The Norwegian didn’t realise she was crying until she heard the sniffle, her shoulders shuddering subtly.

“Is.” Ingrid’s voice was a whisper and Isabel turned around to face her, eyes puffy and her cheeks stained with tears. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, Ingrid.”

She took a deep, shuddery breath and nestled her head into Ingrid’s chest. 

“Please don’t leave me and Mami.”

Ingrid frowned, wrapping her arms tighter around the girl. 

“Why would you think I was leaving you and your Mami?”

Isabel shrugged, her voice breaking as she replied. 

“I said that you’re not my Mami, but you are. I was naughty and you were angry and I don’t want you to leave me, Ingrid, because I love you.”

The Norwegian’s heart broke but she took a deep breath, closing her eyes and responding. 

“I will never leave you and your Mami. Never ever worry about that because I will always be here. And you were just upset today, you missed Mami and you were angry and sad and said stuff to me that you didn’t mean but it’s ok, Is, because you know it was naughty and you’ve apologised. But please, never ever worry about me leaving. I love you way too much to not see you every single day.”

~~~~~~

“Where is Ingrid, Mami?” 

She had woken up confused, her head sore and her arm in a cast. 

All she could remember was dragging Pina and Patri to the skatepark, showing off her new tricks. They were impressive, for a 9 year old and Mapi worried every day about her little girl flying around the skatepark with little to no concern about her own safety. 

When Pina and Patri had offered to babysit, she specifically told them that if they went to the skatepark, Isabel had to wear all the protective equipment that Mapi had purchased. 

Which she did, the two women making sure everything was on tight, equally as nervous as Mapi tended to be whenever she had to accompany Isabel to the skatepark. 

But whenever Pina or Patri turned their back, she would discreetly shed another protective item, embarrassed and humiliated in front of all the local skaters who wore nothing but their normal clothes and a helmet. 

They noticed, of course they did, but Isabel was too quick on her board for them to catch her and put them back on.

“Pequena!” Patri had yelled, her voice stressed and somewhat angry. “Come back here right now and put this all back on!”

It was rare Patri yelled at her, so the harsh words came as a shock to Isabel, who tried to pull off a spin at the top of the bowl so she could turn around. 

Except it was a trick she hadn’t quite mastered yet, and instead of landing it on two feet, she plummeted to the base of the bowl with a sickening crunch, immediately bursting into tears. 

Pina swore as Patri jumped down to her, scooping her up in her arms and giving her a quick once over. 

Her heart sank when she saw the wonky arm. Broken, easily. 

Pina grabbed the board and followed quickly, jumping into the drivers seat as Patri carefully slid into the back, nursing Isabel’s arm as the 9 year old sobbed in pain. 

“Please, Patri!” She had sobbed, tears streaming down her face. “Don’t tell Mami, she will be so mad at me.”

Patri sighed quietly, knowing that Mapi’s anger would be directed entirely at Pina and herself. 

She didn’t tell Isabel that, instead kissing her head and soothing her, whispering quiet Spanish in her ear until her cries weakened and she fell asleep. 

The doctors in the hospital had confirmed the broken arm, as well as a very minor concussion that required monitoring for 24 hours. 

But she woke up, her mother’s familiar tattooed hand resting on her leg, her eyes full of worry and stress as she stared down at her daughter. 

Ingrid, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen.

Mapi had been so caught up in her daughter’s injuries that she hadn’t even considered where Ingrid was having not seen her since that very morning. 

“I’m so glad you’re ok, my lion cub.”

The discipline about her gear would come later. Even if Patri and Pina had disregarded it, she had told Isabel time and time again about it’s importance. Today, unfortunately, Mapi had been proven right. 

She had yelled that to the two younger Spaniards as they waited in the hallway, sending them home with their heads bowed and tears in their eyes. 

For some reason, they didn’t tell her that they had been extra careful all day, Isabel only getting hurt after they had told her to come back to replace all her knee pads. Mapi was so angry, which they had understood. 

They were just upset because she had told them they would never see the little girl again, mapi couldn’t trust two people so irresponsible.

It was dramatic, of course, but Pina and Patri had never seen Mapi so angry before. 

“Where’s Ingrid?”

Mapi sighed quietly, stroking Isabel’s hair back. 

“I’ll call Ingrid, she can come in.”

She did just that, easily dialling the Norwegian on her phone, only having to wait through two rings before she picked up. 

“Is has been asking for you, Ingrid, do you want to come over to the hospital?”

Mapi hadn’t really known where Ingrid was, but her concern about why her girlfriend wasn’t there was sort of pushed to the side as she worried about her daughter’s wellbeing. 

She didn’t expect Ingrid to sound so frustrated, so upset. 

“I’ve been here this whole time, Mapi! They won’t let me up because I’m not on her documents. You’re her mother, not me.”

The Spaniard’s heart dropped, immediately filling with guilt. 

“I’ll be right there.”

She was practically flying down the stairs, grabbing Ingrid by the arm and pulling her into the lift. 

“I’m sorry, Ingrid. I’m so sorry.”

It was hard for the Spaniard to keep her tears at bay, the emotions of her day catching up with her. But Ingrid broke down in her arms, silently crying. 

“She’s my kid too, Mapi. She’s my kid too.”

Isabel didn’t know why both Ingrid and Mapi were crying when they entered her room again, but she did finally feel at ease with them both on either side of her, swiftly falling asleep as their hands rested on her smaller form. 

~~~~~~

Her first day of school had gone well. Better than well, really, she had loved everything about it. 

Her teacher, her friends, the food, her new pencil case and backpack. 

Everything had been perfect. It was still perfect as she spied her mother standing by the gate, Baloo’s leash in her hand as the young golden retriever stood steady by her side. 

“Mamiii!” 

Her backpack was dropped on the floor as she raced towards Mapi, throwing herself into her open arms and sighing contentedly as she was picked up, her head fitting easily on Mapi’s shoulders. 

“Oh hello there!” 

Mapi smiled, walking over to the abandoned school bag and skillfully bending down to pick it up with one hand, her daughter and the dog’s leash being held securely in the other. 

“How was your day, Is?”

Her question caused the girl to burst into excited chatter, eating Mapi’s ear off with her words as she recounted every possible story from the moment she was dropped off the the moment she was reunited, her words so quick that she was all finished by the time they arrived back to the apartment. 

“I made a friend, Mami!” 

She skipped beside her mother as they walked towards the lift, a grin settled on her face. 

Mapi was impressed, but not remotely surprised. It seemed that her daughter had inherited her own chattiness and confidence, but she was also an inherently happy kid who practically radiated sunshine. 

Mapi never had to worry about the girl making friends. 

So she listened as Isabel told her all about her new friend Sofie, about how she wasn’t even from Spain. 

“She’s from the same place as Esmee, Mami!” 

Dutch, Mapi thought. She wondered what a Dutch family was doing in Barcelona.

She continued to talk about Sofie’s older brother, her mother and father. Her grandparents and her cousins. 

But a small frown settled upon her face, as she looked up at Mapi with an inquisitive gaze. 

“I told her that I have a Mami, but no Papi. She asked who else looks after me because her Mami needs her Papi’s help all the time, so I told her I have an Ingrid, but she didn’t really get it. Because Ingrid isn’t a Papi.”

Mapi sighed, unclipping Baloo from his leash and moving to unpack Isabel’s backpack.

“Come up here, Is.” She patted the kitchen bench in front of her and the girl raced over, pulling herself up onto the bench with a practised ease. 

“You don’t have a Papi, no. But you have a Mami, don’t you?” Isabel nodded her head eagerly, wriggling slightly in her spot. “And who else do you have?”

“I have an Ingrid!” 

Mapi nodded, but gave her a look that prompted her to continue. 

“And an Ale, a Frido, Esmee! Pina, Patri. Leila, even though she lives all the way in England.”

“Who else?”

“Abuela and Abuelo! And tio and tia!” 

Mapi nodded proudly, placing her hands on Isabel’s shoulders. 

“You don’t have a Papi, Is, but you do have so many people here that love you, Ingrid more than anyone. We can’t even remember life without Ingrid, can we?”

Isabel shook her head, frowning. 

“I miss her when she’s away.”

“So do I.”

It was true, the house always seemed so much more quiet whenever the Norwegian had to return to Norway, even though she made by far the least noise out of all of them. She was a popular presence and one that made life so much more enjoyable for the two of them. 

Of course on the other side, Ingrid missed them equally as much and she was absolutely devastated that her national team duties were pulling her away from Isabel as she started school, one of the biggest days yet in her short life. 

But she had missed yet another milestone, just as she was cementing her place as a mother in Isabel’s life. 

“But Is, she’s your Mami too. You know this, she’s Mama.”

Isabel nodded. 

“I don’t think Sofie knew that it was ok to have no Papi because she looked sad when I told her.”

“Well, tomorrow you can tell Sofie that you’re ok! You don’t need a Papi because you have a Mama instead. Tell Sofie that families always look different but that doesn’t mean we love each other any less.”

She grinned, her head bobbing up and down happily. 

“I love you Mami!” 

Mapi smiled, reciprocating her words without hesitation. 

“Do you want to call Ingrid and tell her the same thing?”

“Let’s call Mama!” 

Mapi smiled with pride, scooping Isabel up in her arms and walking them over to the sofa as she dialled Ingrid. 

And that is where they sat for the next couple of hours, on the phone to their Ingrid, cuddled up in each others arms. 

It was Mapi’s favourite place, only made better when the Norwegian was right there too, her soft skin providing that extra love and warmth that both Spaniards desired so deeply. 

Ingrid was family now. Irreplaceable and incomparable. 

But if you asked Mapi, she would say that Ingrid had been family from the moment she first held Isabel in her arms. 

~~~~~~

Isabel watched as Ingrid broke down, tears streaming down her face and landing with big splats on her legs. 

The Norwegian was always going to be emotional, that was expected. Both Spaniards knew how insecure she was about her place in Isabel’s life, her role in this family. The insecurities were thick, stubborn. They never went away, despite how much Isabel and Mapi tried to cut them out, to push them away. 

The truth was enough for them to withstand any pushing that the mother daughter duo attempted, the facts were all there. 

Mapi was Isabel’s mother, she was the one on the documents, the one who was called if anything happened. She was allowed in Isabel’s hospital room when she got sick and she was the one that Isabel called Mami. 

Ingrid knew she was important, she knew she was loved. 

But she had always been Ingrid, excluding those few treasured times where Isabel had tiredly reached out for Mama. She found everything out through Mapi, she wasn’t even on the email list for her school. 

But these documents changed everything. 

For Ingrid, they changed everything. 

For Isabel and Mapi they changed nothing at all. 

Ingrid’s tears were expected, they were justified. But all she needed to do was look up at Isabel for her to run into her arms, almost toppling her over from her seated position on the sofa with the shear force of her body ramming into Ingrid’s, her arms easily wrapping around her. 

The Norwegian reciprocated the hug, her tears saturating the shoulder of Isabel’s shirt. 

“Do you want to be my Mama?”

Ingrid’s sobs became more audible as she tried to respond, words failing her as she nodded. The tears continued, Baloo looking up in confusion as the Norwegian cried, as Mapi did nothing to console her, instead watching on with a wet smile, tears dripping down her face. 

She was grateful to Ingrid because without her, life would be completely different. Without Ingrid, she would likely be a single mother. She and Isabel would live alone, Bagheera there too but Baloo wouldn’t have been an option if there wasn’t another adult there. 

Ingrid was the first time Mapi ever felt true love, the first time she ever felt like she was loved completely and romantically. The Norwegian made her happy, she made Isabel happy too. 

She had changed their lives for the better. 

Mapi would never be able to thank her enough. 

She watched as Ingrid’s cries softened, as she leant back and grabbed Isabel’s shoulders, looking at her straight in the eyes. 

“I would love nothing more, Isabel.”

It wasn’t long before Isabel disappeared, racing up to her room to grab her gift. As she left, Mapi easily retook her spot beside the Norwegian, kissing away the tears that still fell from her eyes. 

“You didn’t have to do this, Maria. I can’t believe it.”

The brunette just shrugged. 

“This is what’s right. You’ve raised her with me, you’re her mother, Ingrid. I didn’t think it was necessary for such a long time but last year at the hospital… it’s important to me that you know it only took me so long because it won’t change anything for me. You have always been her mother, ever since you walked into my life.”

Ingrid nodded, ready to reply before she heard the feet thundering back down the stairs, telling Mapi that they would have this conversation later. 

Shyly, Isabel handed over a neatly folded piece of paper and the photo book, sitting down on the other side of Ingrid as they flipped through it. 

It was how they spent the rest of the night, snuggled up together on the sofa, lots of tears shed as they flipped through the book of photos. 

Isabel fell asleep once they were done, the TV turned on as all three of them were emotionally exhausted, eyes puffy and faces red. Ingrid could only smile, her hand tangling up in Isabel’s head of hair as she slept peacefully on her mother’s lap. 

“My daughter. She’s my daughter, Maria.”

~~~~~~

It was a week of happiness in the Engen-Leon household, the Norwegian radiating positivity as she adjusted to her new role in Isabel’s life. 

Nothing changed, really, except for Ingrid’s security.

It wasn’t even something you could see from the outside, but Mapi knew her well enough to understand how much happier she was, like she had finally been relieved from a weight that she’d been carrying around for so long. It was a relief for all of them. 

The letter that Isabel wrote, however, had been left unread on her bedside table. 

It was in Norwegian, that much she knew. Apparently, the 10 year old had called up Caro to ask for some help with the language, making sure it was perfect before she gave it to her mother. 

It was a bit more than a week later, her and Mapi laying in bed one evening, Isabel fast asleep in her room down the hall. The Spaniard was scrolling through her phone, her spare hand lazily carding through Ingrid’s thick locks. 

The Norwegian was holding that folded piece of paper, staring at it like it held the secrets to the world. 

“Just open it.”

Mapi chuckled as soon as she store what her Norwegian was looking at, the familiar lined paper forever etched into her brain after such a big deal had been made about it. 

“It’s in Norwegian!” Ingrid smiled, looking over at Mapi. “Caro said I should prepare my tissues, Maria!”

“You would have cried if she said ‘I hate you Ingrid I wish you weren’t my Mama’ if it was written in Norwegian.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes at Mapi chuckled at her own joke, her phone dropping into her lap. 

“It won’t say that though. It will probably be heart wrenching because our girl is smart and has a unique way with words.”

Ingrid flopped backwards onto her pillow, sighing dramatically. 

“I’m going to be sobbing, Mapi.”

The Spaniard could only shrug. 

“Probably.”

It took a few more sighs and a couple more minutes for her to open the letter, unfolding the piece of paper at a painfully slow speed, Mapi just rolling her eyes at Ingrid’s dramatics. 

But the brunette’s eyes glazed over as soon as she saw the first line, neat Norwegian printed onto the page. 

Dear Mama. 

And so the waterworks began. 

I haven’t called you Mama my whole life, but I don’t really know why. You’re my Mama, you always have been. When I talk to my friends, I’ll call you Ingrid, but I will always question why, I’ll question why I call you that. 

I know that Mami was the one who had me, that she didn’t mean to have me and was only left with me because the people who I was named after, Isabel and Luis, died. 

She always tells me not to say that she was left with me because it makes it sound like she didn’t want me, which isn’t true. 

But Mami never had the choice, even if she didn’t want me. She was left with me, a baby. I would have been a lot of work. But she loves me and I love her so it worked and I don’t have any memories of being sad. 

I don’t have any memories of that time at all, really. No memories of anything that happened before you came. 

You had the choice, Mama. You didn’t have to choose to be my Mama. You love Mami and she loves you of course, but she had a baby. You didn’t have to take me into your arms and immediately love me as much as you do. 

You could have chosen that you wanted nothing to do with me, you could have chosen to just be Mami’s girlfriend - a step mother who doesn’t really love her step-daughter. 

But you didn’t choose that. You chose to love me and I chose to love you. 

Somehow, it seems so much more special that way. 

You’ve been there for me my whole life. You took me to Norway with you, the first time I left the country without Mami. You would look after me when she was sad, take me to the park and distract me with toys and Baloo. You were the one who convinced Mami to let me on a skateboard and you were the one who realised that I didn’t like football, taking the pressure off me to succeed at the sport you both love. 

You have been to every school awards night, concert, play. You are always there and I always spot you because you always have such a big smile on your face, one that I like to think is reserved just for me and Mami. 

And I love you so much. You make me so happy and you always have. 

I can’t believe how lucky I am that you chose to love me like you do.

Lots of love,

Your daughter Is. 

The tears that had been pouring down her face were hitting her legs as she finished reading, Mapi’s arms pulling her close as she carefully folded the paper back up, putting it in the top drawer of her nightstand. 

“My daughter Is.” She whispered softly and if Mapi wasn’t right in her space, she wouldn’t have been able to hear. 

“Your daughter Is.” She confirmed, using her finger to gently wipe away her tears. “She loves you so much.”

Ingrid could only nod, words once again failing her. 

“We both love you so very much. We are both so grateful for you and everything you do to make our lives so much better.”

“I love you too, Maria.”

~~~~~~

hope you enjoyed! please let me know what you thought and send in anything you want to see :)

have a good day!

[caffeinewitchcraft]

The Mayor's Daughter and the Outlaw

Summary: After ten years, you've finally got your shot at your revenge. You've found the Hero. You have him in your sights.

-----

Pull the trigger.

You’ve worked too hard not to pull the trigger. The sweat, blood and tears you’ve shed have been the least you’ve given to be here. The air is crisp and clean nearly a hundred feet up in a pine tree overlooking a remote forest. You’re probably the only person in the world capable of spotting the brown, camouflaged building spanning the length of the small river running through the valley. There’s a hologram of the river it’s covering playing over the building’s walls. Hell, there are even birds flicking occasionally across the illusion, not often enough to draw attention, but just often enough their movement sends your eyes darting to other trees, trying to find where they went.

You breathe in the scent of sun-heated sap so slowly that it takes a solid minute for your lungs to expand. Your pupils flex and adjust whenever the wind rocks your tree. The window you’ve been staring at for the past hour remains in your focus.

The Sun, hair just as fake-gold as it was ten years ago, sleeps on. He’s definitely older now that you can see him in real life instead of on magazine covers or under studio lights. The skin of his neck is loose and folded under the weight of his chin drooping towards his chest. His eyes flicker under his eyelids. The bastard still has the audacity to dream. His arms are crossed over the sun motif emblazoned across his breastplate, his dust-covered boots kicked up on his desk so you can see how worn the soles are. Judging by the way his lips tremble, he’s snoring.

Pull the trigger.

You exhale. This is when you should do it. When your shoulders drop and the wind dies so that, for a moment, the world stands still. There are no whispers across the canopy. Every bough is frozen. The reflection of the sun in the river is overcome by a well-timed cloud and the Sun’s head tilts back to expose the long line of his throat.

The trigger presses back against your finger like an eager puppy. There’s nothing special about the bullets, nothing special about this gun. It’s not the right weapon for what you’re asking it to do, but you’ve had longer and harder shots. You know that you’ll shoot true and the confidence steadies your hand even more. You smoothly pull--

If you kill a Hero, there’s no going back.

Your pupils dilate at the memory. For a moment you don’t see the Sun; you see her with her face burned as red as her prom dress. You try to dispel the image, try to remember that she didn’t die in her prom dress, but it’s too late.

I want you to live, Elian.

You’re suddenly aware of how your lungs ache and your legs burn from the way they’re wrapped around the tree and the bark is digging into your cheek and your fingers are like ice on the trigger. You’re out in the middle of nowhere. This is the Sun’s private residence. The security must be insane even if there doesn’t seem to be anyone else around. What’s your exit strategy again? Your thoughts scatter as her voice rings through your head again.

More than anything, I want you to live.

-------Ten years ago----

You’re what the heroes tactfully call a nuisance. A juvenile delinquent with powers, aka a kid that the police aren’t equipped to handle and the local Hero chapter is too overqualified and too understaffed to address often.

 Your moral compass has never had a true north and it only gets worse the more your powers develop. Soon you aren’t just stealing your mom’s car – you’re stealing the neighbor’s and then the neighbor’s neighbor’s and then the neighbor’s neighbor’s neighbor’s until you’re breaking into houses at the top of the hill and joyriding in a car worth more than your entire neighborhood together.

You find out pretty quickly that the heroes care a lot more when money is involved.

You spend your first night in jail after getting chased for three hours in a neon green lambo by the four heroes packed like sardines in a standard issue SUV. It’s laughably easy to out-drive them, choking around corners and careening down alleys that you scouted in the afternoon. Honestly, it would have been easy to get away, but your mom called just as the tank hit empty, asking when you were coming home.  You decided to give the heroes a break before they decided to play too rough with a minor.

Mom isn’t thrilled when you tell her you won’t be home in time for school tomorrow.

You kind of expect to be sent to prison the next day when you find out just whose car you stole. The Mayor’s daughter’s car, bought new for her seventeenth birthday a month ago. There are two open secrets about the mayor. One, he’s probably one of the heroes that protect the city judging from how much he praises them every time there’s a mic nearby. Two, he loves his daughter more than anything else.

So when you’re released the next day with a slap on the wrist? Yeah, you’re surprised.

When you’re released the next day to find the golden-haired, blue-eyed Mayor’s daughter waiting outside? Having just bailed you out?

You feel fear for the first time.

“You could have at least crashed it,” she says when she notices you gaping at her from the end of the parking lot. She’s leaning against the hood of a black SUV that looks a lot like the one the heroes chased you in last night. She waves a hand in the air. “Dad says the dents you put in the side will be out by tomorrow.”

Fear, apparently, makes you snarky. “What, you wanted to spend another week getting chauffeured by a hero?”

Her brows jerk up towards her hairline. She throws a glance over her shoulder. “You seeing ghosts? Nobody’s in there. I drove myself.”

“Good for you,” you say. You think you smell. They didn’t give you access to a shower last night. You’re upwind from her and damnit why are you embarrassed if you smell or not? Your chin jerks forward in a challenge. “You gonna give me a ride back home?”

You’re joking, but she nods like it was the plan all along. “Let’s go.”

Is that an answering challenge in her words? Your teeth grind as you force yourself forward. “Very kind of you,” you chirp, swinging up into the passenger seat. The car smells like leather and justice. “Just drop me off on the other side of the train tracks. I can find my way home from there.”

She snorts. “Is that a Footloose reference? Very dated.”

You stare at her profile. “…No. I literally live on the other side of the tracks.”

She flushes. “Right. Well…I’m not dropping you off yet. I want to talk first.”

The doors are locked. You swallow as she carefully pulls out of the parking lot and then guns it into the road without looking. Luckily, no one’s there. “Talk? About what?”

“About how you’re going to steal my car again,” she says. “And this time you’re going to crash it right.”

“You hate the color that much?” you joke.

Her tone is not joking. “You have no idea.”

You don’t find out her name until dinner when your mom’s managed to entice her into a third slice of homemade pizza. She stares down at the slice while your mom waves for you not to stay up too late before going to bed early. Gamely, you’re already on your fifth helping. Criminal activity takes a lot of energy.

“Does your mom know who I am?” she asks.

“Like, in theory,” you say. You’re full and warm as you lean into the hard wooden back of your chair. Mom added olives to your side of the pizza. “She probably doesn’t know you’re the Mayor’s daughter though. Just that he has one.”

“The Mayor…right,” she says. Her jaw firms. She flicks some olives off her pizza and then eats half the slice in one bite. “I’m Gina.”

“Elian,” you say instead of No, you’re the Mayor’s Daughter. You refill her soda cup before your own, just to show her you can be fancy and have manners too. She’s so out of place in your family’s one bedroom apartment. Her shirt is crisp and white, her gold necklace so shiny, that it’s like there’s a sepia filter over the eggshell walls and oak cabinets. “Sprite. Only the finest for the lady who bailed me out.”

“I’m thinking you can take my car next weekend,” Gina says so abruptly you nearly spit out your soda. There’s a hard light in her eyes. “Dad’s out of town for…business. He won’t notice for a few days. You take it, you get out of the city, you drive it off a cliff once you’ve wrecked it doing donuts or whatever.”

“A cliff?” You know exactly where she’s talking about. There’s an abandoned quarry about an hour outside of town. You shake your head. “That’s where people dump bodies. No way am I going out there.”

“They find bodies there because it’s outside of Hero Force’s patrol,” Gina says. She waves her hands in the air so the yellow light from the inset ceiling lights catches on her golden manicure. “If you think about it, it’s the best place to dump a car. Especially when the heroes are going to be out of town.”

You stare at her. “Did you just admit your dad is part of Hero Force?”

Her eyes skitter away from yours. “No.”

“Your dad is out of town next weekend.”

“Yes.”

“And the heroes?”

“Maybe they’re traveling together.”

“I don’t think anyone is supposed to know when the heroes are going to be out of town. Isn’t that like a national secret, or something?”

“We’re not a big enough chapter for it to be a national secret,” she denies. She bites her lip. “Probably a state secret though.”

You stand and your chair chatters against the linoleum. “No. Absolutely not.” It’s time for Ms. Mayor’s Daughter to leave.

She scrambles up after you, following you into the living room. “Why not?! You already mess with the heroes. Weren’t you the one who kept breaking into the mall on a motorcycle? You hijacked one of their delivery trucks a month ago—”

“A food delivery truck,” you say. “Which was more of a commentary about the city’s investment in Hero Force luxury rather than after school programs—” You bite your tongue. You spin so that the couch stays between you. You glance at your mom’s closed door and consciously lower your voice. “How do you even know that?”

“I’ve been watching you,” she says. She laughs without humor, dragging one hand through her golden hair. “Sometimes living in this town is like being in a simulation. We have four A-class heroes for a population of 30,000 and everybody loves them. Nobody thinks it’s strange to have walking nukes in a small town. They love my dad. Did you know no one’s even run against him for the past two elections? It doesn’t matter what he does. He owns this place and these people. He has – could commit murder and it would be justified. People would think it would be justice.”

“He loves you,” you say weakly. Isn’t four heroes a pretty normal number? Sure, the ones in your town are big names, but that’s not weird.

Is it?

“He loves me so he gets to be a tyrant?” Gina scoffs. “If he’s even capable of love.”

“I’m not going to mess around with heroes’ civilian identities just because you’ve got daddy issues,” you say. When hurt flashes across her face, you wince. “Sorry. But it’s one thing to mess with heroes in masks, okay? Messing with a hero’s family—”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem when you were stealing my car the other night.”

“That was before I knew your dad was Mr. Solve or whatever—”

“The Sun,” Gina says.

“What?”

“My dad’s the Sun.”

“That,” you say, “is so much worse. Didn’t he burn some minor villain’s eyes out last week?”

“Yes,” Gina says. Her mouth twists. “The guy got off easy compared to some others.”

You stare at her, momentarily speechless. “And you wonder why I’m not going to antagonize the guy?”

“But you already do,” Gina says. Her eyes are glinting. She looks so out of place against the dim interior of your home, a radiant girl dressed all in white and gold. She rounds the couch and snatches up one of your hands between two of her own. “Everyone else loves my dad. Except you. My entire life, and you’re the only one who dares to make—make statements about Hero Force consumption by stealing their deliveries or make the heroes chase you around an abandoned mall on foot like regular people. You challenge them, Elian. All I’m asking is that you do it again.”

“That sounds like a lot more than just crashing your car,” you say. Your voice sounds very far away. You never thought of your actions as so noble. There’s a tingling in your stomach that you’ve never felt before and your hand is so warm. She sees you. You shake the fantasy out of your head. “I—look. I’m flattered, but I’m not your guy. The heroes know my face. It’s only a matter of time before I get sent to whatever detention super-powered kids get sent to. I have to graduate high school.”

Rather than discourage her, Gina presses closer. “What if I told you there’s a way to do both?”

Her closeness fogs your brain. “Both?”

“Take the heroes down a notch and maintain your identity,” she says. She releases you and whirls to get her purse off the couch. “I can help you. We can train so that the heroes never recognize the new you. You can use your powers in new ways. And you can wear this.”

She thrusts a piece of chewed leather into your hands. A mask.

“I’m thinking,” she says, “we call you Outlaw.”

------ Now ----

You can’t shoot. Night is falling by the time you admit it to yourself. You press your back against the rough bark of the tree and stare up at the first stars. You cradle your gun in your hands.

The bloodlust is still there. You aren’t a fair lily incapable of staining your petals red (as red as her). So why can’t you pull the trigger? Because of her ghost? Her last message to you?

If you kill a Hero, there’s no going back. More than anything, I want you to live, Elian.

You grind your teeth. Easy for her to say. The dying never have to feel the weight of consequence. They can just say whatever the fuck they want.

You aren’t thinking when you climb down the tree. Your powers give you a lot of things – speed and healing, an instinct for the outdoors, and excellent eyesight. You don’t need to look to find one branch and another, dropping to the forest floor in ten-foot increments. By the time your boots hit the ground, you know what the problem is.

Unlike your other kills, this one is personal. It was never going to be enough just to see him dead. You need him to know why you’ve got him in your sights.

The Sun is an old school hero. The traps you were so afraid of are predictable, turns out. You pick your way around bear traps and landmines, sharp eyes easily picking out silver trip wire when it glints in the moonlight. There are cameras, but there’s likely only one person with access. In the past ten years of following the Sun, you’ve learned two things about him.

One, he’ll kill the things he loves before he loses them.

Two, he doesn’t trust anyone but himself.

You get to the building inside of an hour. The first floor is hidden by steel shutters and there’s no light peeking out from behind them. The second floor window where he’d been sleeping for most of the day shines with the faint blue glow of a television.

The front door looks like a bank’s with how thick it is. There’s a keypad and a biometric scanner you don’t have a prayer of hacking.

That’s okay. You’ve already seen your way in.

You climb up the nearest pine tree. The Sun likes to think of himself as a competent hero, but too many mayoral kickbacks over the years made him soft. He surrounded himself with powerful heroes and never once struggled to win. Because of that, he’s missing some caution and common sense. The building’s first floor is locked up tight, but the windows on the second are regular glass.

And he hasn’t trimmed the tree line back far enough.

You fire your first shot of the night into his empty desk chair, exactly where his chest had been hours earlier. Immediately a siren sounds, and the TV glow coming through the office’s open door is consumed by bright light. You run two steps and then leap, neatly flipping through the empty window frame. Your boots slide for a moment on the broken glass and you catch yourself on the edge of his desk. There are medical papers scattered across it, prescriptions and diagrams of the face and eyes and heart.

You chew your cheek at the sight of a pill bottle. There had been rumors that the Sun is sick with his own radiation poisoning. It’s good you’re here before nature runs its course.

The siren wails for another beat before dying. The silence rings. Your heartbeat picks up as your ears strain to hear if anyone’s coming to meet you. Strange. The Sun had to have been the one who shut off the alarm.

So where is he?

You hold your gun out in front of you and check your mask. The Sun knows who you are by now, but you want him to see the mask she gave you. The handsewn leather, patched more times than you can count, is recycled from one of his old leather jackets. It feels oddly poetic to be dressed in the first iteration of your costume, cowboy hat tipped back and a biker vest embroidered with the name she gave you.

Is the Sun hiding? You creep out of the office, eyes darting from the quaint landscapes hanging on the wall to the tasteful wooden floors. The Sun’s safe house feels more cabin-y than you expected. The property deed has been in his name for the past fifteen years. Did Gina ever visit? Her ghost runs ahead of you, golden nails dragging along the peach wallpaper to the first open door on the left. She looks over her shoulder and smiles.

There are times when you’re glad for the afterimages your brain conjures. This is not one of those times. You don’t think she’d be happy to see what you’re about to do.

You swing around the doorway gun first, a snarl on your lips. “You old bastard, drop what—”

The smell of antiseptic hits your nose first, dashing away the red haze filling your vision in an instant. A TV murmurs against the wall, some rerun of an old western, but it’s not what holds your attention.

There’s a bed in the center of the room. The Sun sits at bedside, his attention wholly invested on the hand he’s holding up. Carefully, he applies gold paint to the nails without once looking up at you.

The woman in the bed is obscured with white gauze and beige compression bandages. Her breathing is soft and even. The one eye you can see is closed and still. No dreaming, no awareness.

“Outlaw,” the Sun says. He gently sets Gina’s left hand down on her stomach and picks up her right. He squints at her pinky nail. “Close the office door, would you? I don’t want the heat to escape.”

“What,” you breathe, “the fuck.”

-----Ten years ago ----

It’s a good year with Gina. You never realized how friend-starved you were until she was there, over at your house every day after school. She always makes it sound like she’s coming over to talk about the Outlaw thing, but there’s other stuff too. Movies and cooking and tutoring.

“Life is about balance,” Gina says sagely during one such tutoring session. “Besides, even heroes don’t go on more than two missions a month. We’re doing just fine.”

There’s always a pressing need to do more though. Whenever you pull off a particularly daring heist, she smiles this secret and pleased smile that makes your stomach flip. Sometimes, when the two of you watch news coverage of your getaways, she murmurs how impressed she is, how smart you are, how cool your powers are.

It makes you want to do anything for Gina.

You’re watching the news one day, waiting for a recap of how you stole the Sun’s favorite shield from the armory, when a rare story comes on. A Hero is dead, some guy named Ibis from Atlanta. There aren’t any leads to the culprit except for eyewitness accounts of a mysterious, winged super-powered individual flying low over the city, hiding in storm clouds.

“I’d kill a Hero,” you blurt out.

Gina jerks so hard that the popcorn bowl goes flying out of her hands. She doesn’t seem to notice. “What?”

“N-not your dad or anything,” you say quickly although yes, if you had to kill anyone, you’d start with the man who makes Gina cry like that. “Just…in general. The news anchor said Ibis was connected to a civilian’s death, right? I could kill a Hero like that.”

“No,” Gina says. She drops off the couch to kneel by you. “No, Elian.”

You flush like you’ve done something wrong. You sink into your hoodie. “I’m not going to, I’m just saying—”

“If you kill a Hero, there’s no going back,” Gina says. She’s too close, so close that you can see the flecks of gold hidden in her eyes. “Your life—it’s not like what we’ve been doing. Dad’s got rules when it comes to stealing. But if you kill a hero?” She shudders. “I want you to live, Elian.”

“I got it—”

“Please,” she blurts out. The plea in her voice makes you really look at her despite the pounding of your heart. Her eyes are wild and her mouth is pressed into a thin line. “No matter what. Promise me.”

“I—” No matter what? You slowly shake your head, trying to get away from the instinctive desire to agree with her. “I-if someone is really bad, I’d—”

“Elian—”

The tension makes you truthful.

“If your dad hurt you, I’d kill him,” you say. When she rears back, this time you follow. You brace your arm against the couch so you can lean into her space. With your other hand, you trace the fading burn on her cheek that could pass for an old sunburn if you didn’t know the truth. “I know you don’t think he will, but he’s been erratic lately. And I know about his temper. If he hurts you, I’d kill him.”

The air thickens between you. It’s rare that you don’t back down, but you’re not backing down now, staring into her eyes. Competing wills. For a moment you let everything you feel come to the surface. Your frustration when she visits with that fucking shadow in her smile, the helplessness when there’s another burn on her arm, the adoration when she’s just there.

Gina shudders and looks away first. She licks her lips. “I—I…appreciate what you’re saying, but I’m fine. You agreed I got to make the rules for Outlaw. I’m telling you one. Don’t kill heroes.”

She’s pulling away. You do too, falling to her side and sitting next to her rather than hovering over her. You try for a careless shrug but fall short. How can she make you feel so powerful one second and so powerless the next? You avert your eyes. “I won’t kill heroes,” you promise.

You hear her suck in a breath. “Good. Because I need you alive.”

“I do like being alive,” you say and don’t finish the sentence with with you.

“We’re done studying,” she decides. She darts up towards the kitchen. “I’m getting another bowl of popcorn before we start the movie. You want some?”

You stare at your reflection in the dark TV. Your jaw works. Finally, you say, “Nah. I’m good. I’ll just eat it off the floor.”

“Don’t be gross, Elian!”

------Now.----

“I will regret that day for the rest of my life,” the Sun says. He hasn’t looked at you once. His eyes are glued to the steady rise and fall of Gina’s chest. He times his breathing to hers and then sighs. “What a fool I was. Drunk on power.”

You’re standing on the opposite side of the bed. Your gaze flicks from Gina to him and back again. “Is she ever conscious?”

“It’s a medically-induced coma,” the Sun says. “The doctors say she should wake up any day now that most of her injuries have healed. Her last surgery was the final one. Now it’s up to her.”

This might be the first time in ten years that you’ve breathed. You suck in air greedily and imagine you can taste her scent under the layers of sickness and medicine. “They told me she died.”

“I told Hero Force you did it,” the Sun says. There’s no remorse in his voice. “They always tell villains they were successful, so they don’t try again.”

A decade of rage slides around your ribs. “You fucking bastard.”

“I did think it was your fault ten years ago.” He carefully picks up Gina’s left hand again to apply a second coat. It takes all your willpower not to slap him away from her. “If you hadn’t stolen Hero Force data, I wouldn’t have had to come after you with my full power. She would never have been in the line of fire.”

You’re fists shake at your sides. “I didn’t steal Hero Force data, I stole your fucking car. Don’t rewrite history.”

“There was Hero Force data in that car.”

“It was your Porsche, your civilian Porsche!”

“My fault to have left sensitive data out,” the Sun says. His confession surprises you into silence. “But I had to get it back no matter what. Then I blamed you by thinking how if you’d only asked me to take my daughter to Prom, I would’ve known she was in the car.”

“She’s not your property and it’s not the 1800s, of course I didn’t ask if I could take your daughter to—”

“I’m telling you what I thought,” the Sun interrupts. He finally looks at you. He looks worse than he did earlier, the years cutting deep lines into his face. There are black bags of exhaustion under his watering eyes. He breathes out shakily. “I had to tell myself it was your fault. It was the only way I could survive, Elian.”

Your real name shocks you. You stumble back. “How do you know that name?”

“She calls for you sometimes,” the Sun says. He drags a hand over his face before grimly returning to his daughter’s nails. “She’s never been really conscious for long. The d-damage took a long time to heal. But when she’s awake, she calls for you and she calls for Outlaw. Wasn’t hard to put the pieces together.”

Your chest throbs. “I should have been here. You should have—I could have—”

“Blaming you let me keep her by my side,” the Sun says. “I don’t expect you to forgive me or even understand me. But I…I regret more than anything what I’ve done to my daughter.”

“You’re going to regret it even more,” you say. The rage you feel is like a tidal wave. Ten years. Ten years. You could have held her hand through her recovery. You could have been there for her. And this selfish asshole who never even loved her like a father should took that away from you. You remember your gun. “You never deserved to be her father.”

“I didn’t, did I?” the Sun asks. He sets her hand down and swallows hard. He looks down the barrel of your gun without flinching. “She says one other thing, you know. When she asks for you.”

The curiosity stills your trigger finger. “What?”

“She says, Don’t kill heroes.”

Your face contorts. There’s the memory of popcorn in your mouth and the heat of her eyes on you. “Yeah, she said that to me before too. Back when I offered to kill you the first time.”

The Sun hangs his head. If he’s surprised to hear that, he doesn’t show it. “I wasn’t a good father.”

“No. But she didn’t want you dead.”

Understanding dawns. “Don’t kill heroes.”

“Exactly.” You tilt your head. “Do you feel like a hero?”

His lips tremble. His gaze drifts back to his daughter. Her eyes are flickering under eyelids. “I—I—”

The trigger presses back against your finger, eager and ready. “Do you?”

He licks his lips. “N-no,” he whispers. He closes his eyes. “No, I don’t suppose I do.”

This time, it’s easy to take aim. Steady your breath. And—

Fuck.

“Leave,” you say. You drop your gun back to your side and scowl when the Sun’s eyes fly open in surprise. “If you do what I say, you’ll live long enough for Gina to decide what to do with you. Leave and don’t tell anyone about this.”

The Sun shakes his head. “No, no I can’t leave her—”

“Then die here,” you snap. You bare your teeth at him. “Leave. We’ll be gone in a week. Maybe she wakes up and calls you. Maybe she—” You take a deep breath. “Well. Maybe she doesn’t. Either way, your part is done here.”

“I need to be there when she wakes up. Please, I’m her dad—”

“You’re her murderer,” you say. More than anything, you want to pick Gina up and run out of here before the Sun can stop you. You eye the monitors and know three people you need to call for advice before you even attempt to move her. A week should be just enough time to disappear. “You think you deserve to stay by her side?”

The Sun opens his mouth twice before he finds words. “I just—let me stay until she wakes up. That way I’ll know.”

“I spent ten years thinking she was dead,” you say. “You can last a month in limbo. If I have to ask you again, we’ll finally see who’s stronger now that I’m all grown up.”

The Sun picks himself up slowly. You think he cries. You’re not sure. He may even plead with you again. You’re deaf to it. Your brain has given up on splitting your attention and every atom of your being is homed in on Gina.

She’s alive. She’s alive.

You kneel at her bedside and wait for her to wake up.

----

Thanks for reading! If you want to read more of work or get access to stories like this a week (or more!) early, please consider checking out my Patreon (X)! This week's short story for my Triple Shot and above tiers is about a world where being loved adds years to your lifespan!

Based off this prompt (X): Love determines how long you live, some people are in their hundreds, but some don’t even live to be 20.

[httpiastri]

this christmas – op81

ski slopes, mistletoes, and the guy you've been crushing on for years – what could be better?

genre: fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers!au, smut (just one scene in the end, you can skip it if you want)

pairing: female leclerc!reader x oscar piastri

other characters: lando norris, charles leclerc, george russell & mundt, alex albon & lily muni he, pierre gasly & kika cerqueira gomes

warnings: mentions of alcohol, smut, not much more i think

word count: 13.8k (LMAO)

requested?: yes!!

author’s note: hello hello!! a lot to say about this one. first of all, thank you to @be-your-coffee-pot for this request, and i apologize for not getting to it earlier than now. for everyone’s knowledge, the request was sent in to me in august, so… yeah. i know it’s not exactly what you asked for, but i hope you like it anyway <3

second of all, i feel pretty happy about some of these scenes, but some… not so much. some of the fillers have parts that i really despite, but i don’t really have time to rewrite since christmas is like 2 days away lol. also, my description of the reader’s relationship to charles is not my best work, idk why he barely even appears, and i’m also not sure why logan isn’t in this...

third of all, my red divider things make my posts disappear from the tags, so i didn’t put any in this time. it looks bad, i know, but idk how to fix it. if anyone does, please let me know. :)

and lastly: i only proofread this whole thing once yesterday, but tumblr was being a bitch and i got so frustrated that i do not have the energy to proofread it again. so please, if you happen to find any spelling or grammar mistakes, i would be very thankful if you let me know. <3

hope you all enjoy !!

december 12th, 2:11pm

oscar has always loved winter.

it started in his childhood; the holiday films he'd seen as a child, the way it always seemed to magically snow right on christmas eve really started something in him. it hadn't been common for him to get snow back home in australia when he was younger but once he moved to the england, he got to experience it quite a lot. playing, fighting and just existing in the snow was like an unfilled childhood need that stayed with him until his older years.

he loved spending christmas at home with his family, but ever since he got to experience real christmases with snow, trees and cozy darkness, he craved it more than he craved lying on the beach in his swimming trunks.

so when he was asked to come along to the swiss alps for a vacation during the winter break, he packed his bags right away. he and lando just happened to book the same flight, and they both arrived at the airport around noon, getting into a cab to take them to the accommodation together.

when they arrive outside the cottage, oscar is in shock; it is enormous. he had imagined just a tiny, cute little house – not that he was sure how seven drivers and a couple of girlfriends would fit in a "tiny" house – but he was far from right.

him and lando are the second pair to arrive, just about an hour after alex and lily, who are the self-proclaimed 'hosts' as they took care of all of the booking and planning.

"we thought that one would be lando's room," alex starts, pointing down the hallway. "since it's far away from everyone else, and i'm sure we all would prefer to actually get some sleep during the night time."

"oh, shut it..." lando mumbles, shoving his friend on his shoulder.

"this one can be yours, oscar," lily says, moving in the opposite direction and gesturing to another room. then, she points at the one right next to it. "and this one has two beds, so it's for charles and his sister."

oscar's ears perk up. "y/n is going to be here?" he speaks almost took quickly, making the other three turn to look at him.

"oh, i thought you knew..." lily has an apologetic look on her face.

"i must've forgotten," oscar answers, though he's completely sure no one told him about it. there's no way he would forget you. "don't worry, it's cool."

the hosts continue to move down the hallway, and the mclaren boys are just about to follow along when lando elbows oscar's side playfully. "it's cool?"

oscar raises an eyebrow, trying to keep calm. "what?"

"the youngest leclerc coming along?" a grin takes up lando's entire face. "it's just cool? is she cool, or-"

"goodbye, lando." oscar shakes his head, darting towards alex and lily again. he takes a few deep breaths, hoping the blush he can feel spreading across his cheeks isn't too obvious.

unfortunately, lando didn't need to see the blush to know. he has caught his teammate staring at you too many times over the season, and he is fully aware of the way oscar always is suddenly interested in the conversation whenever you're the topic of discussion.

lando knows everything. and this christmas, he's going to be the best wingman the world has ever seen.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 13th, 12:53am

it's past midnight when you and charles arrive. your flight had been delayed, and then the gps had stopped working all of a sudden. and then, charles just refused to drive any faster than 30 km/h, saying it was too dangerous. as if he didn't drive cars in ten times that speed without even flinching.

you assume the whole house is sleeping already, so you and charles both sneak in as quietly as you can. someone – lily, assumably – has left you a note on the front door, guiding you to your shared room. it all goes smoothly – until charles trips over the doorframe, dropping his bag onto the floor as he tries not to fall down. the sound rattles through the hallway and you flinch, stopping in your tracks as you hope no one's woken up. but just a second later, the door opposite yours opens and a head sticks out.

oscar.

your heart softens and your shoulders relax when your gaze meets his. your soft smile is mirrored on his face, the sleepiness evident in his droopy eyes and the way strands of his bedhead point in every direction.

he looks like he's just about to say something when charles speaks up. "sorry, man! were you asleep?"

he walks up to the australian, giving him a firm handshake and a pat on the back. oscar shakes his head. "i was up reading," his huskey accent is like music to your ears. "i thought i heard some rustling out here, and then..." he nods his head toward the suitcase on the floor.

your brother laughs as he steps back, walking into the room with the "leclerc" sign. "well, i'll let you get back to that then," he says, picking up the bag from the floor and looking back one last time. "good night."

and then, you were just two.

you and oscar stand still for a moment, just watching each other. then, he opens up his arms, welcoming you into his embrace. you step forward and drape your arms around his shoulders as his wrap around your waist, and you let out a content sigh. he's warm, comfortable, and the way he squeezes your body has your mind spinning.

"it's been a while," he says when you part from the hug, a soft grin playing on his lips.

"like a month," you chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest.

"a month has never felt this long before."

you're not sure when your crush on him started forming.

as someone who's always been interested in racing, even in the series your brother isn't in, you've kept up with most results and championships – including oscar's seasons in f2 and f3. after seeing oscar, the unstoppable rookie who completely crushed his season in f3, you made sure to keep an eye at him in f2 the following year. and it's easy to say that you liked what you saw. especially in jeddah.

you'd meet him occasionally around the paddock the following year, just giving him a sweet smile and a quick greeting as if it was no big deal. but you always found yourself squealing on the inside and taking deep breaths to stay calm whenever you made eye contact with him.

then came 2023 and his debut in f1. yet again, he exceeded everyone's expectations, performing better than most drivers who'd been on the grid for years. with his permanent role on the grid, he was around more – and so were you. it wasn't uncommon for the two of you to bump into each other, around the paddock or during media days or in afterparties, and now you tried not to shy away.

talking to oscar was always simple. he was easygoing, it all seemed effortless, and you felt more relaxed. before you knew it, you could chat about racing strategies and tyre management for twenty minutes before a member of the mclaren staff interrupted you, rushing oscar away somewhere. you got to know each other slowly throughout the season, though never really going further than some friendly conversations, but you felt happy knowing that you'd taken the first step towards getting closer to him.

"so..." he starts. "you've been good?"

you nod. "yeah, a lot of studying but it's been alright. you?"

"yeah."

and there it is again, that slightly awkward silence. it's natural, you haven't seen each other since that night in abu dhabi and you're both a little unsure of where you stand after it. the tension is so thick that you could cut through it with a knife, and you kind of want to escape the whole situation. but then he speaks up.

"hey, i just wanted to-"

he's interrupted by the call of your name, and when you turn around, charles is leaning against the doorframe, eyes hazy. "are you going to sleep tonight or what?" he asks, dragging a hand through his already messy hair.

you feel a weight lift off your shoulders – and at the same time, your stomach tightens in disappointment. you nod at your brother, looking back at oscar to give him a wave and a "sleep well", before joining charles in your shared room.

oscar stands still in the corridor for a moment, before sighing and slapping himself in his mind for being so awkward and messing up this opportunity. but on the other side of the door, you stand still too as you watch your brother jump onto his bed, taking a deep breath to clear your mind.

you're just thankful the room is so dark that he can't see your ever-reddening cheeks.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 13th, 10:24am

despite the never-ending pitter-patter of your heart as you went to bed last night, you could fall asleep quite quickly, seeing as you were utterly exhausted from traveling. breakfast this morning feels like you and charles have just been reunited with your childhood friends after being kidnapped for years; not like you had just gone a few weeks without seeing each other. everyone runs around hugging, chatting about how much they've missed each other and how great this trip will be.

"did you get new highlights?" kika asks you, sliding into the seat next to you by the long table as you stuff a piece of bread into your mouth. the room is a combination of a kitchen and a dining hall, with a big cooking area and a glass wall giving the dining area a beautiful view of the mountains outside. in the middle stands a long table with enough seats for all of you, filled with fresh pastries and other breakfast goods to celebrate the first day of the trip. "or is it just the light?"

"just the light," you answer, shooting her a smile as you pick up your cup of coffee.

"oh my god, i almost forgot to ask you," lily starts and places her elbows on the table, her face resting in her hands. "what happened to that guy from raya you were talking to? did you end up going out?"

oscar is sitting a few seats down the table, pretending to be immersed in a conversation with some of the other drivers about the last few races of the season, while actually just doing his best to listen in on the conversation you're having. when he hears alex's girlfriend mention raya, his ears perk up and his breath gets caught in his throat. a million thoughts instantly crash into his mind.

she's seeing someone? how could i not know this? she's on raya? is she actively looking for a partner? who is this guy they're talking about?

he coughs and tries to act normal, shaking off the uncomfortable feeling passing through his body. he soon hears the sweet sound of your wholehearted laughter, and he almost smiles instinctively at it, before he can remind himself that lando's story about las vegas isn't exactly a smiley matter. "you're not going to believe this, i have the best story," you say in-between fits of giggles. "i met up with him for some drinks, and guess what he said? that he has a foot fetish and has dreamed about me caressing his face with my feet." all of the girls squeal and explode with laughter, making some of the boys flinch and look over to see what all the commotion is about. "so, safe to say, we never met up again. and i haven't wanted to go out with anyone else from there, either. i have a feeling they're all just creeps."

"hey, don't lose hope!" kika says while elbowing your side, but her actions are too soft, forcing you to fold over as an uncomfortable feeling spreads through your body. however, a burst of laughter spills past your lips. kika immediately holds her arm back, laughing along. "crap, i'm sorry! i totally forgot how ticklish you are."

you shake your head, your hand landing on her shoulder. "no worries," you tell her. "but, i haven't lost hope. i just don't think my soulmate is lurking around on raya with the foot fetishists."

oscar feels his shoulders relax again, feeling alright with focusing back on the boys' conversation now that he knows you in fact aren't seeing anyone.

maybe he has a shot, after all. as long as he doesn't talk too much about your feet.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 14th, 3:09pm

lando thinks he's so smart.

when he tells oscar to go ask if you'd like to have some of the gingerbread cookies he's bought, it's the third time today he has forced some kind of interaction between the two of you. he is sure that the more time that the two of you spend with each other, the more likely you will be to stop pining and just confess already.

but this time, oscar glares at the brit. "why don't you ask her yourself?"

"because you know what room she's in," lando hums back, reaching into the cupboard with some groceries. "i keep getting lost, the house is too big. plus, i'm busy." he motions to the half-empty grocery bag on the counter.

oscar lets out a sigh, but nods. "how can you memorize all tracks on the calendar, but you get lost in a cabin?" he asks rhetorically, whilst turning around and making his way down the hallway towards your room.

it's not that oscar doesn't enjoy 'accidentally' being forced into talking to you; it's the extreme lack of discretion lando is showing that makes him annoyed. it makes oscar seem like he's the one coming up with silly excuses to talk to you, and he doesn't like how it makes him look. he'd rather be seen as chill, laidback, someone who doesn't force things. he doesn't want you to catch on too early and reject him.

your voice echoes a 'come in' when he knocks on the door to your bedroom, and he pushes the door open just a little to reveal you sitting on the bed, a thick blanket wrapped over your shoulders. a grin spreads across your lips when you make eye contact with him. "hi," you say, placing the book you were reading on the bedside table.

"hey," he answers, stepping inside the room. "i... lando bought some gingerbread cookies, and we were going to make some hot chocolate, and..." his voice trails off as his eyes wander down your body, taking in the christmas sweater you're wearing and the fuzzy socks covering your feet. he smiles absentmindedly at the sight, loving how cozy you seem, and wishing he was sitting right there with you, sharing the blanket.

you nod, understanding him despite his lack of words. "i'll be right there."

oscar gives you a thumbs up – one he then facepalms himself for when he's left your room – before moving towards the kitchen again. but when he walks into it, he sees something hanging from a lamp. he stops in his tracks. "no way..."

festive cookies aren't the only thing lando bought when he went to the local supermarket. he also got the ultimate tool for securing his master plan – a mistletoe.

he doesn't know how, but he's planning to make sure you and oscar meet underneath it at least once before the holidays are over. there's no way you'll both be able to avoid it all week.

of course, lando isn't the only one rooting for the two of you. most of the other drivers know too – how can they not notice the glances you share and the way you light up when someone mentions the other in a conversation? – and most of them are in on his plans. charles is probably the only one in the house who's still oblivious to your and oscar's pining, and lando thinks that he might interfere with the matchmaking if he figures something out, so the brit keeps quiet.

oscar wants to pull the mistletoe down, rip it apart and throw it in the trash, but he refrains. something inside him tells him this might actually work out in his favor – and he decides to trust his gut this time.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 15th, 2:01am

sleeping can be tricky, especially when your brother is snoring loudly in a bed just a few meters away from you.

who even decided to put him and you in the same room?

when you've been tossing and turning to no avail for about an hour, you decide it's time to do something, anything, to hopefully get a little tired again. a glass of warm milk never hurt anyone, did it?

you make your way to the kitchen, pour yourself a glass of milk and put it in the microwave, before turning to look through the windows.

the view of the mountains is breathtaking. there is an untouched, thick layer of snow covering the area, with new flakes still falling. the sun set long ago, but the snow makes it all seem light. the lake below you is just barely visible by now, almost completely coated in snow.

it's completely serene, and you find yourself getting lost in the scenery. however, you're shaken out of your trance when you hear steps behind you. when you turn around, your eyes find someone standing just a few meters away, barely visible in the dark.

you jump in your place and clutch your chest in shock, not expecting anyone else to be up at this hour. when the person steps into the light of the little kitchen lap you had turned on, you relax instantly. "holy shit, oscar," you breathe. "you nearly scared me to death."

"i'm sorry," the australian chuckles. "i didn't know how to approach you without scaring you..."

"what even are you doing up?" you question, crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back against the counter.

"i was just reading in my bed when i heard your door opening, and then footsteps, so..." he trails off when his eyes wander out towards the living room, seemingly just as taken by the sight as you were just moments ago. "i wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"well, everything is okay, so..."

there's some kind of awkwardness hanging in the air. it's not only because of the obvious uncertainty of what to say or do in this situation; it has more to do with the fact that this isn't the first time that the two of you have found yourselves this close with this much tension, all alone at night. sure, it's a lot like the night of your arrival here, but another memory springs to your mind, too.

just under a month ago, following the after-party in abu dhabi, oscar had accompanied you back to the hotel when you started getting too tipsy to keep yourself up on the dance floor. your brother had been nowhere in sight, so oscar took it upon himself to help you out, draping an arm across your waist before walking you all the way to your hotel room. and when you'd arrived in the dimly lit corridor, you'd turned up towards him to thank him, accidentally brushing your nose against his as you did. both of you had broken out in giggles, neither especially sober, but you stayed close – and when the laughter settled, you just watched each other. when his gaze had flickered between your eyes and lips, your breath hitched in your throat, the anticipation growing stronger. you had leaned in even closer, your eyes fluttering closed-

but just as your lips were about to brush his, you had been interrupted. a door a few meters away had opened and the two of you jumped apart, watching as your brother stepped out and exclaimed that he had been wondering where you ended up. oscar had wished you both a good night before hurrying off, the embarrassment of almost getting caught by his friend being too much for him to handle.

you just hoped oscar had been too drunk to remember it, because otherwise, things were bound to get quite awkward. you didn't want him to act differently around you just because you have feelings for him.

thankfully, he hasn't said or done anything to make you think he does remember it.

as you're thinking back to that night in abu dhabi, you nearly get your second heart attack when the microwave goes off with a loud beep. you scramble to turn it off and take out your milk, almost burning yourself on the hot glass in the meantime.

oscar watches you with an amused grin before he forces his gaze off you, eyes wandering over to the windows again. "quite the view, huh?"

you look over your shoulder at the blanketed mountains. "yeah, it's breathtaking," you reply, before growing quiet.

he pauses for a moment, too. "there's something magical about this place. makes everything seem simpler, quieter..."

you nod. "yeah, it does."

something about the moment makes you realize that maybe, just maybe, the awkwardness between you and oscar isn't as insurmountable as you once thought it would be. the shared quietude is comfortable, and you feel at ease. he hasn't brought up abu dhabi – he probably won't, you feel – and maybe you could both just put it behind you and focus on enjoying your trip.

when you eventually get back in your bed, it's with the same kind of pitter-patter of your heart as when you and charles arrived in the cabin a few days ago. needless to say, the glass of warm milk probably isn't going to help.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 16th, 9:02pm

the mistletoe has moved.

when you first noticed it the other day, it was hanging from a kitchen lamp. and now, it's in the doorframe leading into the living room.

you're planning on avoiding it at all costs, not wanting to slip up and accidentally get under it with the wrong person. or the right one, for that matter. the awkwardness of kissing your crush in front of friends and family would be too much to handle.

some others seem to have the exact opposite attitude towards the decoration, though. kika and pierre can be found by it about ten times per day, and alex and lily have no issues sharing a few kisses whenever they "accidentally" pass it.

no matter what, lando has a mischievous grin whenever anyone mentions it, or even walks near it.

his grin stays on when he decides to let himself be in charge of the outing you all have to the christmas tree farm nearby. the farm is too big and would take too long if everyone was going to look at every tree, so lando divides everyone into groups of two based on who they're standing next to as you walk past the gates.

what a coincidence that you're standing right next to oscar when he says this.

lando ushers the two of you off to the rows with quite tall, pre-decorated trees. "so," oscar starts as you both stop in front of a tree with white lights and ornaments hung all over it. "what do you think about this one?"

"well, it's lovely," you say, scanning it thoroughly. "but isn't the true test how well it fits into the living room?"

he nods, despite his confusion, and he shoots a curious glance your way. "and how do we determine that?"

with a playful grin, you hold up an imaginary measuring tape, pretending to size up the tree with a critical eye. "i'm trying to figure out if it fits this corner best, or..."

he follows your gaze, realizing the tease in your words. "i think maybe it's better in the other corner," he hums and points to the side as you turn a little.

"exactly."

lando never inserted himself into a group; he's too focused on watching the two of you share a lighthearted laugh at the situation. though his mistletoe back in the cabin might still have a trick or two up its metaphorical sleeve, he is already proud of his matchmaking antics.

and, he is sure you'll both crack. it is just a matter of time.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 17th, 1:43pm

"i never thought skiing would be this hard," you groan as you step into a cottage, the warmth enveloping you and beginning to defrost you instantly.

oscar laughs at the exasperated tone in your voice. "this was just the kids' slope, you do remember that, right?" you stick your tongue out at him, slumping down on a bench by a table. "you just wait before you do some real skiing..."

you had never skied before today. oscar had, but he said it was too long ago and that he needed an easy start. plus, he couldn't just leave you all alone in the children's slope without an instructor.

you'd fallen over at least five times, despite the fact that the slope was practically flat. thankfully, oscar promised to buy you some hot chocolate in a cottage café to cheer you up.

when he comes back from the cashier carrying two big, steaming cups of chocolate, you've regained most of the feeling in your fingers again. the hot piece of ceramic almost burns your skin, but you think it's worth it; you need the sugar and you need it now.

"you know what the worst thing is?" you ask, bringing the cup up to your face with both hands. you start sipping on the drink and oscar glances at you with a questioning look as he slips down next to you on the bench. "carrying those goddamn skis with me. not only does it suck to actually ski, but dragging them all the way from the rental shop…"

"if it's that much of a bother, i can carry them for you."

"and carry your own too?" you scoff, watching him flinch as he burns his tongue on the drink. "you're not that strong."

he lets out a groan. "you're not even strong enough to carry your own, so you shouldn't say anything."

"i can carry them!" you protest, shooting him a glare. "i just don't want to. two very different things."

you both go silent momentarily, too busy focusing on how good it feels to no longer be frozen to the marrow. the cabin is filled with people; kids running in circles around the tables, soon to be tired again after the initial sugar shock from their afternoon snack; a group of older ladies gossiping and enjoying getting some rest just like you; and some young adults in the far corner are already busy dancing on the tables with their after-ski drinks in their hands.

"you know what? i changed my mind," you tell him, scooting away from him a little and placing your skiing boot on the bench. "these things. they're the worst."

you start to unclasp the boot, sighing in relief as you finally tug the shoe off your foot, throwing it onto the floor. you've only worn it for about an hour, but you can already feel the bruises beginning to form. you're just about to reach down to undo the other boot, too, when oscar reaches towards your foot.

your eyebrows shoot up as he takes it in his hands, pulling the foot into his lap. and then, his fingers begin to wander up and down your foot and ankle, giving you soft squeezes and pressing down on the spaces where he thinks the boot has squeezed you the most. you hold back a pleasured sound, seeing as it would sound way too inappropriate right now, but oscar subconsciously takes note of how you're getting flushed because he soon looks up at your face.

"is this okay?"

you swallow down the lump in your throat, nodding quickly. "y-yeah… just don't tickle me..."

when did things get so intimate? mere minutes ago, you couldn't think about anything other than how you were so cold your nose was going to fall off. but now, you can't stop your eyes from following his long, sleek fingers, thinking about how good they feel and imagining how good they would feel somewhere else-

"give me your other foot."

you're thankful that he interrupts your train of thought before your mind wanders too far.

compose yourself, woman.

"don't tell me you have a foot fetish, too," you tease, turning around so that you can place your other foot on the bench too. he lets out a hearty laugh, swiftly undoing your other boot before letting it drop to the ground.

"oh, shut it. do you want a massage or not?"

you shoot him pout, giving his shoulder a thankful pat before taking your cup in your hands again. you focus on the drink, watching how the steam rises and the marshmallows melt. you can't look over at him anymore, scared of your cheeks growing too red and your face giving away your feelings.

the bell by the door rings behind you, and you look towards it out of habit. and in comes alex, george, lily and carmen, laughing and chatting loudly about the black slope they just went down. oscar doesn't seem to notice, but you hastily pull your feet from his lap, sitting down properly – unfortunately making eye contact with alex as you do. he leans forward to lily, whispering something in her ear, and you watch as her eyes dart to you and a smirk grows on her lips.

shit.

the clicking of her boots against the stone floor meets your ears and oscar turns his head at the sound, suddenly realizing why you withdrew from him. "hey there," lily cheers, each of her hands landing your and oscar's shoulders. "what have you been up to?"

your eyes meet his briefly, before looking back up at lily. "just... drinking some chocolate..."

"oh, no skiing?"

"she crashed too much, i couldn't keep her out there and let her continue to embarrass me all day," oscar tells her and you shove his shoulder.

"do you mind if we join you guys?" george asks, coming around the table and not even giving you a second to think about it before he sets two cups of chocolate down on the table. the grin he's wearing only tells you one thing: alex told him already. carmen's lips show off a matching set.

"not at all..."

‎‎ ‎‎

december 18th, 10:32am

you huff as you slump down on the living room couch, your mood not even getting brought up by watching the newly installed christmas tree in front of you. you hadn't even been out skiing that much yesterday, yet every single inch of your body aches. not only do you have big, blue bruises on both of your hips due to the many times you've fallen onto the hardly packed snow, but every muscle screams with pain as you drape a blanket over your body. needless to say, you decided to stay at home today instead of heading out with the others for another round.

"are you sure you don't wanna come along?" kika asks as she enters the room, her pretty pink sunglasses perched at the top of her nose. the pout on her lips almost makes you doubt staying in, but when you move to sit up more straight again, you know you've made the right decision.

you nod, giving her a weak smile. "yeah, sorry."

"but oscar promised to come along?"

you freeze, your cheeks growing red as you hear her words.

did she know? about your feelings for him? did the others already tell her about the incident in the cottage yesterday? did they really interpret the situation that way?

"w-what?"

"oh," she chuckles at your reaction. "i just meant that he was so bad yesterday, so i thought that seeing him fall over a couple of times would be worth the pain."

"we're gonna trick him into going down a black slope with us," says pierre who walks into the room, arms lacing around his girlfriend from behind. "we'll send some clips."

you let out a breath of relief as they leave the room. maybe they don't know. maybe your secret will stay secret for a little longer.

the group leaves in pairs or trios and you tell them all goodbye from your place underneath the many blankets. everyone has left by now except for oscar, which confounds you since the others seemed to have so many plans for him. your confusion only grows when he steps into the living room without any skiing gear on, just wearing an oversized, cozy hoodie and a pair of sweats.

"why aren't you out with the others?" you question, your eyebrows raised at him.

"well," he sighs, flopping down next to you on the couch. "i can't find my helmet." when you shoot him a doubting look, he raises his hands defensively. "what?"

"i don't believe it."

"you don't have to, but it's the truth."

"how do you even lose a helmet? it's so big?" you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. "i assumed you were used to keeping track of where your helmet is since if you don't have your helmet with you for races, then you can't race."

"i swear i put it on the drawer by the front door like half an hour ago. i don't understand what could've happened."

you have to give it to him; he is really doing his best to cover this up. you find it pretty obvious that he just doesn't want to ski because of what the others were planning to do to him. but maybe if kika and pierre hadn't spilled their plans already, you would've believed him.

"but hey," he says, bringing you out of your thoughts. "don't feel obligated to include me in whatever you were going to do here now that you finally have the house to yourself." he pushes himself off the couch, standing up and shooting you one last smile before turning to walk away. "i'll let you have some peace."

he takes a couple of steps towards the bedrooms, but then you get the idea. "oscar." he stops in his tracks, throwing a glance back at you. "i was planning on doing some baking, and…" you shuffle slightly in your seat. "it wouldn't hurt to have an extra helping hand."

"i'm a horrible baker, though."

"and i'm the best baker ever, so i guess we cancel each other out." you stand up from your seat, keeping the blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you make your way toward the kitchen. "let's go make some mediocre cookies!"

oscar shakes his head, grinning to himself as he follows behind you. this was definitely not what he had planned, but he sure is liking the way it's going.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 18th, 8:14pm

oscar had not been kidding when he said he sucked at baking.

he put in twice the needed amount of flour, and only half of the sugar. and as if that wasn't enough, of course the mistletoe had moved to the kitchen, making the whole situation quite uncomfortable as you both had to take strange routes while navigating through the kitchen to avoid it. not even your baking skills could save the cookies.

as an apology, oscar promised to buy some fancy gingerbread cookies tonight at the christmas market you'd all planned to go to in a nearby city. he was strongly set on going through with his promise, despite how many times you told him that it was alright and that they wouldn't taste as good as homemade ones anyway.

you've all been at the market for almost two hours now, but it feels like you've only gone about ten meters. your friends, mainly lando, george and alex, are stopping at every single shop and stand, making sure to check out all products and buying at least one thing in every store, no matter how long the line to the cash register is.

"lando-" you groan at the sight of the brit running into yet another store; this time, a shop filled with christmassy outfits for dogs. "he doesn't even have a pet…"

kika is grinning next to you, shaking her head. "he told me earlier today that he wanted to buy a present for roscoe if he got the chance," she says as most of the group joins lando. "makes more sense than when he bought that screwdriver thirty minutes ago just because it was green."

"the power of 'christmas colors', apparently," you hear oscar's voice from behind you, and you turn back to meet his eyes.

"well, i'm not surprised. just disappointed. and cold, and tired of standing still."

oscar points his head to the side, up the street. "i think i saw a stand a little further up that sells cookies, maybe they have some gingerbread ones."

you nod, a small smile entering your lips. "let's go check it out, then. kika, do you wanna come-"

you're cut off by the sound of pierre calling for his girlfriend, holding up a reindeer costume and blabbering on about how it would be perfect for her cousin's dog. "sorry guys," kika says before strutting off to her boyfriend.

you both shrug before walking down the street towards the stand oscar had spotted. the sugary scent of cookies meets your nose from far away, and your mouth waters at the mere thought of the sweets. when you arrive, a sweet old lady sitting behind the stand greets you and tells you all about the different cookies she's baked. gingerbread, sugar cookies with little candy canes, snowball cookies, and various traditional swiss cookies.

"would you like to have a taste, dears?" the lady asks, pointing her hand to a plate with samples. you and oscar take a gingerbread cookie each, popping it into your mouths.

"oh yeah, this is lovely," he says, looking like he's savoring every crumb.

"much better than ours," you answer, nudging his shoulder with yours. he gasps and places a hand on his chest, feigning offense.

you turn your attention back to the lady and telling her you'd love to buy a little box of cookies from her. oscar pays for them and she wraps the box in some pretty gift paper, handing it to you before you continue making your way down the street. the house walls and all trees are wrapped in christmas lights, some blinking in random colors and some with a soft glow of an elegant white. the streets are filled with people wearing santa hats, ugly christmas sweaters, and scarves so big half of their faces are covered. there's not a single frown in sight, the happiness and love so obvious you can almost see little hearts flowing above everyone's heads.

you glance into a couple of different stores as you stroll, stopping occasionally to check something out. when you reach a stand with different kinds of jewelry, something catches your eye: a golden necklace with a heart-shaped charm hanging from it. you carefully pick it up, your heart fluttering in your chest as you inspect it.

and when you look up at oscar from the necklace in your hands, he feels like the air is stolen from his lungs. your eyes are twinkling with happiness, outshining all lights in the entire christmas market. the excited smile on your lips is contagious, and suddenly, it's like the world around you has stopped and everyone else has disappeared. you're both just grinning at each other like two lovestruck fools, nothing in either of your minds other than the person in front of you. the sight of your rosy cheeks from the cold makes the butterflies in his stomach multiply by the second.

wow, he really is totally and fully whipped.

"really pretty," he finally gets out, unsure if he's talking about the necklace or the woman standing before him.

"pretty? it's gorgeous," you answer, eyes flickering back to the jewelry in your hand. "i adore it. how much is it?"

just as the guy in the booth is about to answer, you feel someone grab your free hand. "come on guys, they're closing down soon and we still have a bunch of shops to visit!" kika is pulling you along so fast you barely have time to put the necklace down.

lily notices the disappointment on your face and pats your shoulder. "we'll come back here sometime before christmas, don't worry."

lando shows you the christmas tree costume he bought as you wander down the market again, but oscar suddenly stops. "guys, i forgot my phone back at the cookie stand. keep walking, i'll catch up with you," he says, pointing behind him with his thumb and disappearing before anyone can say anything.

it's a good excuse, but you clearly see the outline of his phone in his back pocket as he hurries down the street.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 19th, 9:22pm

the days roll on with a gentle rhythm of shared glances and fleeting touches between you and oscar. unbeknownst to both of you, lando, ever the persistent wingman, continues his behind-the-scenes matchmaking efforts.

in some magical way, lando manages to get you and oscar paired up for pretty much anything. board game night? you and oscar just happen to get the exact role cards that make you teammates. time for some ornament decorating? you and oscar are the only ones who don't get a seat on the couch, having to sit on the floor together and share all your materials.

funnily enough, it never gets awkward between the two of you. even when you are left all alone, there is always something to talk about, some dumb thing lando has done that you can tease him about behind his back, or something you are curious about when it comes to his racing career so far. somehow, being with oscar started feeling comfortable, natural, unforced.

one specific night, alex comes up with the idea of playing card games, to which only a few of you are actually interested. some plan on going to bed early so they can hit the slopes first thing in the morning, while others just aren't in the mood. oscar said he would just finish wrapping some christmas presents and join you all later, and you catch yourself feeling disappointed that he's not on the couch next to you, helping you win (or taunting you to make you lose). it surprises you how much you're drawn to him, how it feels like something is missing when he isn't around, when you didn't feel this way just a few days ago.

you try to shake the feeling off, but it's still lingering even as you start playing with your friends. eventually, you excuse yourself to get a glass of water from the kitchen to take your mind off things. but-

just as you round the corner going into the kitchen, your head crashes into something hard. you shriek as you stumble, hands coming up to grab the person in front of you as you lose your balance, but a pair of hands wrap around your back, holding you up. when you look up, you're met with oscar's big brown eyes blinking down at you. "you okay there?"

you let out a relieved breath, nodding at him. "yeah, thanks to you. what were you doing coming around the corner that fast, though?"

he chuckles. "what were you doing not looking where you're going?"

"touché."

your hands are still holding on to the front of his hoodie, and you're about to let go of him and walk away when you notice something in the upper periphery of your vision. something is hanging above you. but, it can't be-

of course it is.

the mistletoe.

oscar looks up just as you do, jaw dropping slightly. "oh..."

"indeed..."

you both keep your vision pointed up, as if the mistletoe would disappear if you just keep on staring at it. oscar's hands slowly begin to slide off your back, and he's hoping you'll both just pretend like none of this ever happened. it would be the least awkward thing to do.

"maybe-" his breath hitches in his throat when you speak up. his gaze is on you again, but you're still looking at the plant. "maybe we should do it. just... for the christmas spirit, you know. i love christmas."

you don't even know what you're blabbering on about. you're trying to improvise a reason to kiss your brother's colleague that makes at least a little sense, but you're completely lost. you realize how dumb you sound, and you expect to see him staring at you like you actually are insane when you look back at him.

but what you don't know is that he thinks it's the best idea ever. he is just as into it as you are, if not more. he doesn't look at you like you're crazy; he's just dumbfounded, blinking at you as he tries to understand what's happening. did the girl he likes really just say they should kiss? because she loves christmas?

oscar gulps, but something in him gives him the courage to nod. "i mean," he starts, voice weak. "what's the harm? it's just... tradition."

"right. yeah, that's exactly what i was thinking."

the tension is higher than ever as your faces are already just inches apart. you aren't sure who should take the initiative and lean in, but before you can overthink it, you're both doing it subconsciously. your noses brush against each other briefly and a little giggle escapes past your lips, and this whole situation feels very familiar. this time, oscar can't hold back anymore, so he closes the gap and presses his mouth to yours.

the kiss is quick, not much longer than a peck, but something changes inside you. when you didn't know what it felt like to kiss oscar, you didn't think too much about it. but now that you have felt his lips on yours, you crave it.

he seems to feel the same way, because when you kiss him again, he's pressing against you instantly. your hands move from his chest to his shoulders as your lips move in sync, tilting your head to get a better angle. oscar's touch travels up and down your sides, fingers grazing the bare skin of your stomach when your sweater lifts.

oscar takes your bottom lip in between his teeth and you let out a hum, making him grin into the kiss. his tongue swipes between your lips before slipping into your mouth, exploring it for the first, but hopefully not last, time. you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, already growing hot as his hands move down to your butt.

kissing oscar is so easy, so comfortable. it's like you've done it so many times before, like it's what you were made to do.

you're so relaxed and so focused on the kiss that you don't even hear lando's footsteps right next to you, nor his snicker from a few meters away as he picks up his phone to snap a couple of pictures. you don't even hear him strutting away to the living room, nor his loud proclamation to the group: mission complete.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 23rd, 8:35am

the rest of the days leading up to christmas consist of a lot of sneaking around.

the days are filled with secretive kisses when you're sure no one is watching, fleeting pecks or longer liplocks, hurriedly parting and acting like nothing happened when you hear approaching footsteps. they're filled with soft brushes as you pass each other in hallways, little squeezes of your waist or his arm when someone is around, conveying more than anyone could guess. and they're filled with giant, knowing smiles matching on your lips, with longing gazes and sly winks across the dinner table.

now, his hand is warm in yours despite the freezing temperatures of the air. when you said you forgot your mittens in the cabin, oscar had just smiled, taking off one of his own to give it to you. and to heat your other hand, he intertwined his fingers with yours, his thumb stroking the back of your hand as you walked.

you'd slipped out of the house before anyone else had woken up, wishing for a peaceful moment for yourselves. the two of you haven't really had time to properly talk ever since your moment under the mistletoe, and even though it wasn't outspoken, you both knew there were things to be discussed.

you're halfway around the lake when he finally touches on the subject. "so..." he starts, nudging your shoulder with his. "you like me, huh?"

you snicker. "i have for quite some time now, actually."

his hand squeezes yours. "tell me about it."

and when he asks, you tell.

you tell him about seeing him all those years ago, thinking that he was just a pretty face, a good driver, and not much else. you tell him about getting to know him more and more in the last two years and realizing that shit, he's so much more than that. you tell him about the butterflies, about the sneaky glances, about falling for him.

and then, he tells you his side.

he tells you about knowing of you from your first appearances in the f1 paddock, the curiosity in him growing for every picture of you and charles he saw. he tells you about wanting to approach you but not knowing how, not wanting to come off too strong or clingy. he tells you about how nothing has ever been more disappointing to him than charles's timing back in abu dhabi. then, he tells you about how his fingers had secretly been crossed all trip, hoping that lando's attempts to pair the two of you up wouldn't fall through.

you share giggles and smiles as you tell your stories, and it all feels so natural even though it's so new. and you think to yourself that maybe, this won't be so hard to get used to.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 23rd, 5:46pm

"how are things going with oscar?"

lily's voice makes your heart skip a beat. you had just walked into the kitchen to grab a gingerbread cookie, not expecting her to be doing the dishes this late in the evening – and especially not expecting her to ask you something like that. "what do you mean?" you ask back, trying to stay composed as you strut over to the cupboard, reaching into it for the box of cookies.

"are you going to be like... boyfriend and girlfriend now?"

the box slips out of your hands and crashes to the floor before you can catch it again. did you hear her correctly? your eyebrows shoot up and your mouth hangs open as you look at her again. she scoffs.

"oh please, the two of you aren't exactly sneaky," she says, looking back into the sink. "you know, lando took pictures of you under the mistletoe. and we all saw you coming back from your little trip to the lake earlier today."

"oh my god." you cover your face with your hands, letting out a groan. "oh my god. no way."

lily laughs, washing the last few plates under the tap before placing them on the side to drain. "don't worry, we were all in on it."

"and what does that mean?!"

"lando had a plan." of course he did. "we all agreed to help him out. except charles, he's still oblivious."

"what kind of plan?"

"well, just small things here and there, really." she wipes her hands on a towel before turning around and leaning against the counter. "hiding oscar's helmet so he'd have to stay here with you instead of skiing with us. walking really slowly in the market so you'd both get so tired of us that you'd stroll off alone. and the mistletoe, but that's obvious..."

as lily spills the details of lando's plan, you feel a mix of embarrassment and surprise, along with a hint of amusement. you're suddenly very aware of the collaboration that has taken place behind the scenes, and you take a deep breath as you slowly lower your hands from your face.

"so... lando really orchestrated all of this?" you exclaim, still trying to process the fact that your friends have been actively working to bring you and oscar closer together.

lily chuckles, nodding. "yes, and he's been loving every moment of it. we all figured you two needed a little push."

you shake your head in disbelief, a smile playing on your lips despite the initial shock. "what's the endgame here? is lando secretly a matchmaker or something?"

"he wishes," she says with a smirk. "i think he just enjoys playing cupid when he can." she shrugs, crossing her arms over her chest. "but hey, it worked out well, didn't it? you and oscar seem pretty cozy."

"yeah, i guess..." the mention of oscar brings a blush to your cheeks. "i just didn't expect to have a whole team of co-conspirators."

lily laughs, stepping forward to pat your shoulder. "it's all in good fun. besides, it's about time something happened between you two." you nod in agreement, smiling at her. "now, spill. how are you feeling about all of this? is he boyfriend material?"

you hesitate for a moment, contemplating your newfound dynamic with oscar. a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. "yeah, maybe. we're figuring it out, i guess. it's all been... surprisingly nice."

she grins, satisfied with your response. "well, then, i'd say lando's plan was a success." she backs away, walking towards the kitchen exit. "just enjoy it, okay? and don't be too mad at us. we just wanted to see you both happy."

you nod and watch as she leaves, still processing the directed events that have led up to this moment. as you're left alone, you can't help but smile to yourself at the thought of everything that's happened – and everything that's yet to come.

suddenly, for the first time in your life, you feel thankful for something lando has done. you'll have to remember to thank him later.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 24th, 10:23pm

just a few hours ago, charles was challenged to a snowball fight with the rest of the twitch quartet. and how could he ever say no to them?

for you to fall asleep before he got back would just be stupid, because there's no way he will be able to keep quiet when he eventually he crashes into the room post-fight. so instead, you sit against the headboard of your bed, a thick blanket draped over your body and a good book in your hands as you enjoy the tranquility of the last few moments of christmas eve.

there's a soft knock on the door, one so low you could've just as well missed it. "come in," you call out, looking up from your book as the door creaks open. surprise paints your face as oscar enters the room, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of carrying out a secret mission.

in his hands, oscar holds a beautifully wrapped box, adorned with a crimson bow. "merry christmas."

"oscar, what are you up to?" you ask, laughter dancing in your eyes.

"giving you your present." he sits at your feet, holding out the present to you.

you place your book beside you on the bed, accepting the gift with a curious smile. you unwrap the present, and as you remove the lid of the box and your eyes are met with a necklace, your breath hitches in your throat.

the heart-shaped pendant is familiar – it's the exact necklace you'd eyed in the christmas market. you look up at oscar, a myriad of emotions playing on your face. "i didn't forget my phone," he admits, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze. "i just really wanted to get it for you."

speechless, you delicately trace the edges of the pendant with your fingers. "oscar, i..."

"it's a christmas gift, but you can wear it whenever you want."

you hold the necklace up to him. "like now?"

he nods and takes it from you as you turn around, brushing away your hair so that he can secure the chain around your neck. when you turn back, you catch the glint of admiration in his eyes. "you look beautiful."

you hold the pendant between your thumb and pointer finger, a silent acknowledgment of the connection formed by the gift. "it's perfect, oscar. thank you." you tilt your head, smiling at him. "you're not getting your gift until tomorrow, though."

"just seeing you with this necklace is enough of a present for me. i don't need anything else."

‎‎ ‎‎‎

december 25th, 6:04pm

christmas day morning is for gift exchanges. you all sit around the tree in the living room, giving out presents and sharing the background stories behind the silly little things you've bought each other. you receive a ton of random objects that people had bought that day in the christmas market; objects they bought just to irritate you and oscar. now that you know, you find it quite funny – and seeing charles's confused face as you unwrapped a green screwdriver from lando is definitely one of your highlights of the day.

your present to oscar is, obviously, better planned than most other gifts. beneath the wrapper is a box titled "skiing survival kit" written in big, red letters. in it lies a pair of thick socks (with a note reading "to protect your feet from those horrible boots"), a bag of hot chocolate mix ("for moments when skiing feels too challenging; a little warmth to make everything better"), a bottle of peppermint-scented massaging oil ("you never know when you find yourself in need of a massage..."), and a handwritten letter about how you enjoyed your stay in the cottage much more than the actual skiing and a promise to stay in and warm his chair for him next time he's out "skiing".

then, midday rolls around. the chefs of the group, also known as the few people who don't burn everything they attempt to cook, take their time to make a good dinner. in the meantime, the rest of you prepare some games and competitions, including a trivia, a snow fort building competition, and a gingerbread house-decorating contest that ended in lando letting his competitiveness get the best of him. safe to say that no other gingerbread houses were still standing, other than lando's, meaning the brit won by default. his price: getting thrown in the snow in just his pyjamas.

and the evening? it's dedicated to a movie marathon, as per russell family traditions.

it has all been planned into the finest detail; the couch in the living room is decorated with blankets and pillows, nearly every bowl in the house is filled to the brim with snacks, and mattresses and pillows on the floor for those who don't fit on the couch. everyone was included of the vote of what movie you were going to see, though you had a feeling george had cheated when you were told the 'home alone' series won. especially since it's the one series he hasn't been able to stop talking about wanting to watch all trip.

you're settled on the edge of the couch, a blanket wrapped over your shoulders and your knees pulled up to your chest. you're laughing along with something kika has said from right next to you when you hear a beep from the kitchen, indicating that the last bag of popcorn was ready. you assumed lando would be getting up to fetch it, seeing as he was the one who insisted you needed one more bag, but when your eyes find him, he sits very contently and comfortably a few seats away. he looks back at you, eyebrows rising as you make eye contact.

"hey, you're the closest to the kitchen," he says, nodding his head in your direction. "go get them."

he isn't wrong, but he still makes no sense. "no way, norris."

he pouts. "please, be quick so we can start the movie already."

"you suck."

he sticks out his tongue at you but you've already walked off. when you return, a new bowl filled with popcorn in your arms, you aren't exactly surprised to see lando in the seat that used to be yours. you shoot him a glare, to which he answers, "i could barely see the tv from where i was sitting!"

"oh, but you think i'll be able to?" you scoff at the way he shrugs his shoulders, seemingly to say that it's now none of his business. and when you look at his old seat, you are even less surprised to see who's sitting right next to it.

oscar is looking up at you, confusion mixing into his features. he's been scrolling on his phone for the last few minutes and didn't notice when his teammate left him alone.

neither of you complain when you slip into lando's old spot, though. oscar immediately grabs the blanket in his lap and drapes it over you too. you shuffle closer to him as the movie turns on, the soft fabric of his pyjama pants brushing against yours. the bowl of popcorn is propped up on your lap, and when you reach into it to grab a handful, it touches something warm. you rip your eyes from the tv to see your hand brushing against oscar's. of course.

considering the other touches and kisses you've shared these last few days, it's not even a very intimate action. and yet, something about it leaves both of you giggling.

"so many clichés this trip, huh?" he says, eyes flickering between your hands and your face.

instead of answering, you grab his hand in yours. your fingers slip in between his easily, as they've done so many times these last few days, but you pull your hands underneath the blanket to keep them out of sight from everyone else.

it's a good movie, but it's easy for you to zone out when you feel oscar's hand squeeze yours. neither of you can really stay away from the other, inching closer as the movie progresses and stealing little cheek kisses when everyone is focused on the most exciting scenes. and when you start to grow a little tired, your head instinctively lands on his shoulder as you let out a little yawn. oscar desperately has to hold himself back from cooing at you, feeling so soft and prideful that you're leaning on him, and he settles for leaning his own head on you.

you both think you're being subtle, but everyone in the room understands what's going on. even charles, who has now been let in on what's happened between you and oscar after he walked in on lando telling alex about how cute the new couple in the house looked walking around the lake, can't take his eyes off the two of you. as your older brother, he feels like he should be doing something or saying something to protect you. he wonders what his role should be here – aren't brothers supposed to scare their sisters' boyfriends away?

but charles realizes that oscar isn't an enemy. in this moment, you look so peaceful, so content; like you've found the the long-lost puzzle piece to make you complete. how could he possibly interrupt that?

‎‎ ‎‎

december 25th, 11:28pm

charles is still fast asleep on the couch when you slip into oscar's room after the movie has ended, fingers intertwined and your laughter mixing as he pulls you along to his bed. his hands find your hips as he sits down on the edge of the bed, urging you to lower yourself onto his lap, and you happily oblige.

"look up," he says, and when you do, you're not surprised by what's hanging in the roof.

the mistletoe.

"oh," you start, looking back at him. last time you found yourself underneath the mistletoe with oscar, you had been more nervous than ever before. but this time, it isn't as scary. this time, you're able to shrug, a teasing grin forming on your lips. "i guess we should kiss, then. just for the christmas spirit, you know."

his lips are curved into a big smile. "oh, i do know." one of his hands comes up to tuck some hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek in his palm. "it's because you love christmas."

you can't hold back from giggling, and neither can he, both of you leaning in to seal your lips. your first encounter underneath the mistletoe was hesitant, but it feels like that was ages ago, in another lifetime. now, with his lips pressing against yours, it feels like it's all you've known.

he's so gentle with it, his kisses delicate and tender, and your heart flutters at the feeling. his hands land on your waist as your arms wrap around his neck, scooting in even closer. when your crotch brushes against him, he involuntarily lets out a moan into your mouth, and you stop for a moment to pull away. both your eyes and his are wide as you look at each other, and oscar doesn't know what to say. his mind is racing, not sure if you thought that was awkward or too soon or-

"that's so fucking hot," you say, and he finally exhales. you kiss him again, speaking against his lips. "wanna hear more."

he has no problems letting out more sounds when you keep up your actions, your hips rolling down on him rhythmically. his hands find the hem of your sweater and slip inside, instantly roaming your sides. his cold touch tickles, and when his fingers move along your waist, you can't help but giggle against his lips. he laughs along with you, but he only does it to match you. he's dumbfounded when you part from him and you grab his wrists to make him halt.

"you're too cold," you start, a bit breathless already. "it's-"

"are you really that ticklish?" he chuckles, fingers running up and down your sides again to test you, and his heart melts when you throw your head back, laughing. "oh come on, how am i supposed to do this if i can't touch you?"

"warm your fingers next time and we should be fine."

"next time, huh?" a combination of a smirk and a grin plays on his lips. "planning ahead?"

"well, it depends on how well you perform tonight." he sticks out his tongue at your taunting tone. "just take it off already, will you?"

oscar happily obliges, pulling the material off you before reaching for his own sweater, throwing them both onto the floor. his eyes stick to your chest, to the soft, red bed bra holding up your breasts, and he feels himself growing harder instantly, because this is so much better than he'd imagined. you can't exactly complain about what your eyes are met with, either; oscar's toned chest and his broad shoulders are basically calling out for you to come and press your lips to them. or sink your teeth in them. probably both.

he gives you a few quick kisses before his hands land on your hips and he flips you both around, laying you onto the covers. his lips meet the skin below your ear, and then travel down the side of your neck. he hears your breath hitch in your throat when he finds a spot you enjoy particularly much, making sure to memorize it for the future. and when his kisses trail even further down, they meet something hard and metallic. when he leans back, he realizes that you're wearing the necklace.

he didn't notice it until now, since he was too busy being mesmerized by your breasts earlier; but now, he can't take his eyes off it. the little heart charm rests just above your actual heart, and something about seeing it makes his heart flutter. the necklace he bought for you, the one that makes you think of him and only him. it's like you're already tagged as his.

"cute," he whispers to himself, placing a long kiss right on top of the heart. he can feel your real heart beating underneath his lips, fast but not really enough, and he can't wait to make you feel like it's pounding out of your chest.

he starts placing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, his hands finding the waistband of your sweatpants.

"you okay with me taking these off?" he asks, parting from your skin to watch you nod your head. he pulls the material down your body, smiling when your underwear comes into sight. they're not a pair of lacy lingerie or victoria's secret-lookalikes, but just a regular pair of panties in a deep green color with little candy canes. his eyes flicker between your bra and your panties. "green and red, huh?"

"well, what can i say?" you smile. "i love christmas." he giggles, and so do you, as he leaves your pants somewhere on the floor before moving further down your body. when his hands near the fuzzy socks with little cartoon santas dressing your feet, you're quick to speak. "those stay on, though."

"oh, is that so?"

"gotta make sure you're not just doing this for that foot fetish you might or might not have." a laughter erupts from his chest. "i've had too much of that recently."

"well, i don't have one, so i don't mind you keeping them on." he moves up on the bed again, fingers reaching the hem of your underwear. "but i can take these off, right?"

"things would get kinda tricky otherwise, i'd say,” you tease, but oscar merely blinks up at you with raised eyebrows.

"tricky, yes. but not impossible."

you shake your head, a grin making its way onto your lips. "next time, oscar."

and there it is again. next time. the way you say it so casually, like there's no doubt in your mind that there will be another time, that you'll do all of this again.

yet again, instant boner.

your panties are off in a second, and he doesn't waste any time before pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh. his hand takes care of your other thigh, thumb brushing up and down your skin, as your lips travel closer and closer to where you want him the most.

you suck in a breath when you feel his warm breath against your core. his tongue meets your clit and your eyes flutter closed, one of your hands reaching down to entangle in his hair. as his tongue draws circles around your bud, one of his hands leaves your thigh, a finger swiping along your wet folds before pushing slowly into you. you don't know which sensation to focus on, both growing stronger and pushing you closer to your limit every passing second. when he's pumped you a couple of times, he adds another finger and then another, pushing deep into you. his fingers curling inside of you makes you pull on his hair even harder, your mind growing hazy and your breaths shorter.

"o-oscar," you let out, subconsciously buckling your hips towards him in hopes of creating more friction. "i'm so clos-"

you're cut off by the combination of a moan and a whine that leaves your lips when his tongue flicking your clit speeds up. "come for me, sweetheart," he tells you, his voice sending vibrations against your core.

your legs shake around him as you completely let go, feeling the climax wash over you just moments after his order. your free arm drapes over your face, covering your eyes in your arm as you try to catch your breath. oscar continues lapping you up, helping you ride it out, also licking his fingers clean before letting his hands caress your sides soothingly. he's unsure whether his fingers are warm enough now to not tickle you, or if you're just too busy coming down from your high to even realize you should feel ticklish, but he smiles at the thought nonetheless.

"everything alright up here?" oscar asks as he moves up to your face again, one of his hands prying the arm off your face. you slowly open your eyes, your hazy gaze meeting his loving one and you can't help but to cup his face in your hands. you pull him down to your lips, lazily lacing them together. he pulls away just enough for his lips to still brush yours when he speaks. "i'll take that as a yes."

you're quick to nod, but even quicker to connect his lips with yours again, not wanting to be apart for even a second.

your hands slide down his neck and the front of his body, loving the feeling of his strong muscles under your touch. your fingers reach down to the edge of his pajama pants, and you let out a chuckle when you notice the ever-growing tent in them. "don't laugh at me," he starts, biting down on your bottom lip as a warning. "you're so hot, how could i not get this hard?"

"oh, shut it," you say, feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks. "just take them off, will you?"

"as you wish."

as he shuffles off the bed and pulls off his own pants, plus his boxers along with them, you take the time to reach behind you and unclasp your bra, letting it slide down your arms and off the bed. when he reaches into the bedside table and pulls out a condom, you raise your eyebrows. "oh, so you were planning this?"

he shakes his head as he climbs on top of you again. "i was hoping, not expecting. those are two very different things." he removes the wrapper and throws it onto the table, rolling the condom onto himself. "do you need anything? or-"

"just you."

oscar presses his smile to yours, kissing you like he has no rush in the world, like he just wants to savor this moment with you. "well then," he says against your lips, nudging his dick against your entrance. "i have to give the lady what she wants, don't i?"

you can't control the whine that slips into his mouth when he pushes into you. you thought you were ready for him, but he's so big and he stretches you out so perfectly. he pauses once he's slipped entirely into you, his lips finding a spot below your ear as he allows you to get used to him. your pussy is throbbing already, still sensitive from just minutes ago, and the little involuntary clenches around him make oscar grow more and more eager.

when he finally starts moving, you drape your arms around his shoulders for stability. his thrusts are slow but deep, and yet you desperately want more of him. you hook a leg over his hip, the other following soon after, and you gasp at the way he bottoms you out completely. one of his hands comes up to squeeze your breast, thumb flicking over the nipple as his pace speeds up. the sounds you make and the way your legs squeeze him close makes him feel like he could cum anytime, but he tries to hold back because he needs to see you fall apart beneath him for the second time tonight.

"oscar..." you cry out when his free hand slides down your body, a finger coming in contact with your clit again.

"just a little more, love." his thrusts have grown sloppy and his figures on your bud aren't exactly perfect, but it's good enough for your orgasm to hit.

your back arches off the bed, your chest pressing into his as you nuzzle your face into the side of his neck to hide your moans. when your walls tighten around him, he reaches his high too, his body shaking as he rides it out. your heart is about ready to jump out of your chest when he collapses onto you, both of you trying to catch your breaths. "holy fuck," oscar starts, his breath warm on your skin. "that was amazing. you feel amazing." you try to gather energy to speak, fingers getting lost in his curls. "you taste amazing, too. better than any christmas dinner."

you give him a weak slap to his shoulder. "shush."

"it's true!" he pushes himself back a bit, mouth hanging in mock offense. "this was the best present i could've ever wished for."

"the necklace is higher on my list, though."

oscar pauses for a moment. "i'm not sure if i should feel proud or offended."

you snicker. "i was hoping for the latter," you tease, but regret it the moment oscar's hands find your waist, fingers dancing along it and tickling you yet again. the squeal you let out does nothing to halt his actions, and he doesn't even budge when you try to push him away by his shoulders. "i was kidding!"

"apologize. now."

his fingers still working their way on your skin make it almost impossible for you to speak again, but you do your best to take a deep breath. "i'm- i'm sorry! oscar- stop it!"

he finally stops, and you finally get to breathe. "i'll go get a wet towel," oscar says, pulling away from you and giving you one last glance. he almost doesn't leave the bed when he looks at you, though – he finds the sight almost too good to be true. your rosy cheeks, the dreamy smile on your lips, your hair spread out on the pillows. he's scared that if he leaves you, maybe the spell will be broken and he'll realize all of this has just been a dream. because that's just how this all feels: surreal.

but it is real, and he can't wait to have you like this in his bed again.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 26th, 12:56pm

packing up after a good trip is always a bittersweet affair. realizing that you have the real world waiting for you, your actual lives with responsibilities and obligations, and that you can't just stay in this fairytale forever – this moment was definitely not something you looked forward to.

you and charles need to get back to monaco to celebrate christmas with your other brothers and your mother, before he needs to go away for pre-season work again. you're meticulously folding up your clothes, zipping up bags and exchanging smiles as you reminisce on memories of the week.

but, things are different this time. you know that the magic of this trip isn't going to stay here – in one way or another, you'll bring some of it with you back to your real life.

oscar.

you've already made plans to meet up after new years, and even when he's busy with work, you know that you'll at least see him during every race weekend. neither of you are ever more than a flight, or a call, away, and you just can't wait to see where this all takes you.

"so... oscar, huh?" charles's voice breaks the silence, his eyes glancing in the direction of your open door that lets in the sound of oscar's voice from the living room.

"hm? what about him?" you reply, trying to hold back the smile threatening to adorn your lips when you hear his name.

charles cocks an eyebrow at you. "you and him... kind of obvious." he gazes towards your bed. "besides, your bed is made. you didn't sleep here last night."

"well, i-" you start, but charles interrupts with a knowing chuckle.

"relax, i'm not going to be a police. just..." he shows off a sweet smile. "enjoy it."

with a nod and a shared understanding, you both continue packing, an unspoken acknowledgment hanging in the air. the group gathers to bid you farewell by the front door, and gratitude fills your heart as you exchange goodbyes with your friends. you grow especially soft when lando pulls you into a hug, a cheeky grin on his lips. "thank you," you whisper, giving his cheek a quick peck to really convey how much you appreciate everything he's done this holiday. he just squeezes you back, telling you not to worry about it.

finally, as you turn to say your farewell to oscar, the atmosphere shifts and the group watches with amused anticipation. "until next time," you say, your eyes holding a promise that transcends the physical distance.

"until next time," he repeats, smiling as you engulf him in a tight hug.

you pull away just enough for your ear to brush against his ear, your voice low. "charles knows, by the way."

"w-what?" his eyes widen for a moment, flickering between you and your brother – but then realization dawns. "well, in that case..."

before you can react, oscar pulls you closer again. he presses a goodbye-kiss on your lips, right there in front of everyone, and the group erupts into cheers.

and the loudest of them all? lando, of course. "if i'm not the best man at your wedding, i'll never forgive you guys."

[woso-dreamzzz]

Surgery IX

Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: Ingrid does your hair

The first time Ingrid meets you, the only thing she can look at is your hair.

You're absolutely tiny, dressed comfortably in a pair of overalls and fancy Adidas shoes. You actually look pretty cool for such a little kid but it's the hair that has Ingrid wincing.

It's wild.

It poofs out a lion's mane and Ingrid can just spy the singular hairband desperately trying to keep it all at bay.

You have a lot of curls and a lot of frizz. It's a wonder that Mapi's even managed to scrape it all back into a ponytail.

Ingrid's hair isn't like yours. In fact, Ingrid hasn't really met anyone with hair like yours before.

Your nickname is well suited to you as you bound over to Mapi to talk, hair bouncing with every little step.

You truly have a mane of your own.

Ingrid finds herself staring at it many times over the next few weeks. She just can't help it.

There's just something about your hair that Ingrid can't just get out of her head.

She works out what exactly it is the first time she sleeps the night at Mapi's place.

It's a day off when she wakes up again so the plan is the three of you are all going out shopping together.

It's a normal day even if she's slept over at her girlfriend's so Ingrid dresses quickly and steps out into the living room.

She can hear the crying before she even walks out.

Mapi's sitting on the sofa with you on the floor in front of her.

You're in tears, howling and sobbing as Mapi runs a brush through your hair.

She looks to be nearly in tears too.

"I know," She says," I know. I'm sorry, Cub. I'm so sorry but you know you need your hair brushed."

"Ma-Mami! Mami, no!" You sob as Mapi attempts to force the brush through your curls.

Ingrid's eyes widen in shock.

She hadn't ever considered Mapi brushed your hair dry.

It doesn't look to be working well either, not with how distressed both you and Mapi appear to be.

Your hair has always been dry for as long as Ingrid's known you but now she wonders if it's like that naturally or something else.

It's a bit bad to be snooping but Ingrid can't help herself as she slips into the bathroom to have a look.

You're still sobbing by the time she comes back and Mapi's broken down in tears too.

Ingrid sits, gently stopping Mapi's brushing with a soft hand.

You wiggle away quickly, shuffling all the way to the other side of the room by your toys.

"Mapi?"

"It's fine." Mapi furiously swipes the tears from her eyes. "We're fine. Just having a bit of trouble with her hair."

"Is it usually like this?"

"We get through it."

Mapi's putting on a brave face but Ingrid can tell it's all fake. She's in tears. You're in tears.

You're both treating this like it's normal.

"New plan," She says," Leave her hair as it is. We're going to get her some things."

"For her hair? Ingrid, I have-"

"Mapi, I can tell you're trying hard but none of that stuff in your bathroom is suited to her hair."

"My Mama said-"

"Does your mum have straight hair?"

"Yes."

"Trust me, Mapi. Curly hair needs more looking after. Come on. Get her dressed and I'll show you."

Mapi wasn't quite convinced at first but upon seeing just how large the range of curly haired products was, she firmly shut up unless it was to translate Ingrid's words to the store attendant.

Together, they manage to fill the basket with things Mapi's never even seen before and suddenly she's sitting in her own living room again watching Ingrid wrangle you back into position on the floor.

Hair brushing is your least favourite time of the day combined with saying goodbye to Bagheera and being put down for bed.

Eventually though, with the promise of baking later on in the day, you sit nicely for Ingrid with some documentary about cats playing on the tv.

"Okay."

Ingrid pulls out a bottle of spray.

"Don't brush her hair if it's dry." Ingrid sprays liberally until your hair is suitably wet and is no longer big and bushy. "So we've got a wide-toothed comb which I think we should use for more everyday kind of brushing but we're going to use this-" She holds up the new detangling brush "-To get all the knots out."

Mapi watches attentively as Ingrid separates a chunk of your hair and starts at the bottom rather than the top.

It's a bit weird to you as Ingrid glides the brush through your hair. She doesn't tug or pull like usually happens so it's a bit strange for you.

Hair brushing has always been a very bad experience for you and Mami. There's usually a lot of tears and screaming and crying but it's still a lot better than when Abuela did your hair once.

She complained a lot when it happened and said mean things like your hair was 'untameable' and 'horrible to brush'. You think she meant it in a joking way because she and Abuelo were laughing and teasing each other but you can still remember the way she said that she might tell your Mami to 'cut it all off and start again'.

You know she was joking around and she wasn't actually going to tell Mami that but she still said it and you still remembered it.

She said that if you were any older than she would sit you in front of her and just straighten it all.

You love your mane though, even though it hurts to brush and it's bushy and big.

Mami loves your mane too, she's told you so lots of times. She says it's very beautiful and makes you look fierce like a real life lion.

You think Ingrid must love your hair too because she's being so gentle and so nice with it. Her hands are soft and the brush doesn't pull or snag much.

You like the feeling of her brushing your hair and your eyes droop a little.

It's almost as nice as getting back scratches.

Mapi sits in awe behind you as Ingrid massages some moisturising product into your now tamed hair.

"We could probably just put her hair up in braids to help protect it when she's going about her day," Ingrid says," It'll keep it nice and neat and no knots until we get home."

"You're good at this," Mapi says. She's still slightly in shock at how well Ingrid's doing with this all.

"I..." Ingrid's face turns red. "I did a lot of research. Her hair is so nice. I want her to love it."

Mapi laughs a little, looking down at where you're fast asleep, leaning back against Ingrid's legs.

"If you keep sending her to sleep every time you brush it then I'm sure she will."

[virgoilluminati]

can u please write a jude fic where your in a talking stage and he comes over and you both make out for the first time 🤭

It's been a long time coming...

A/N: this is my first request in absolutely ages so tysm you have made my day ✨❣️ As I am now unemployed (😜✌️) i have a lot of free time before i head back to university. So please if anyone has any ideas lmk 🥹

Inspo: Jude and You have been close friends since high school, but after one very drunken night, you admit your feelings for him, right before he leaves for the euro's. When Jude arrives home, he has only one goal, to give you that kiss that you've been waiting for.

Oh, you had royally fucked up.

So royally fucked up that you probably shouldn’t leave the house for at least the next two days, perhaps a week, even a month.

You’d told your best friend that you liked him, in a sweaty club, the night before he was going to the Euros. With the drink loosening your tongue, you blurted it out without thinking. The look on his face said it all; he was stunned into silence.

You and Jude had known each other since high school. He was in the year above you, but you both shared a huge interest in football. While he played for the boys’ squad, you played for the girls’. You got really close in the last year of high school as he began prepping for the under-21s football team while you were preparing for university. You became each other’s anchor, someone you both could rely on, no matter how tough it got. You told each other absolutely everything. So when you blurted out that you liked him, it was as if you had shattered an unspoken rule.

You had been drunk. That was the justification you were giving. You didn’t know what you were thinking; you couldn’t control what was going through your head. You couldn’t face him, not now. The memory of his expression replayed in your mind, a painful reminder.

You had sent him one text message, mentioning nothing about the incident, just wishing him luck in the Euros. Maybe he’d just forget it even happened. After all, he was pretty drunk too.

You had spent all morning preoccupying yourself with your uni work, taking the dog out for a walk, cleaning your room… basically anything to distract from the impending apocalypse. But it was pointless; every other second, you would check the blue tick on the message, with a simple “read” underneath it.

Hey, I hope the head isn’t too sore from last night ahaha. Best of luck in the Euros, I’ll be screaming your name at the local, love ya. (Read)

His response came about three hours later. In that time, you had gone through all five stages of grief. First, Denial: you denied that you even told him, that it was a huge mistake. Anger: you were angry that no one stopped you, as it was an open secret between all of your friends but him, but they had let you blurt it out. Bargaining: maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, you know. You could just say it was a mistake or you didn’t remember. Depression: this would be the end of your friendship—that he’d no longer look at you the same way ever again. Acceptance: your life was doomed, and that was the end of it. However, when his response came, you hadn’t actually prepared yourself.

Yeah, my head’s fine ahaha, though I think you drank more than me in the end. Currently on the way to the airport, Trent says hi. Pretty nervous about the Euros, I can’t lie.

You sat there staring at the three dots, wondering what else he was thinking. You cringed at him mentioning your drunkenness. He not only knew but he must’ve remembered. Oh god, this was going to be awkward.

You didn’t respond, noticing the frequent three dots on his screen going rapidly on and off. Sighing, you attempted to make a joke, quickly sending back a response.

I’m sure Trent is feeling it right now ahaha, how many shots did he have last night again? Don’t be nervous, you’ll be ace!

His reply came almost instantly.

Enough to need a new liver, I’m sure. Thanks for the vote of confidence. We’re about to board, talk later?

You couldn’t help but feel relieved. He wasn’t addressing your confession at all. Maybe he really had chosen to forget about it. Or perhaps he was giving you a way out, a chance to pretend it never happened. Either way, you seized the opportunity.

Sure, have a safe flight! Catch you later.

With that, you put your phone down and took a deep breath. Maybe this wouldn’t ruin everything after all. For now, you’d focus on the positives: Jude was still talking to you, and you still had your friendship, even if it was a little shaken.

The next couple of days were a whirlwind of activity. Jude was swamped with training and media commitments, so your interactions were mostly confined to texts. Despite the busyness, he made sure to check in frequently, sending you updates and little messages that kept the connection alive.

After the Slovakia game, which they won in a nail-biting finish, you received a call from Jude. You could hear the adrenaline in his voice, the excitement of the victory still fresh.

“Hey,” he said, a little breathless. “Did you see the game?”

“Of course I did! You were amazing! That last-minute goal!" you replied, unable to hide the pride in your voice.

“Thanks. It felt good out there tonight. The fans were crazy. Nearly thought we were goners—"

"Nah, I knew you'd pull through."

"Really?" His voice sounded hopeful, as if he had more to say, but instead, he coughed and continued talking. "Uh, listen, there is something I need to talk to you about.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Okay, what’s up?”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about what you said."

"What I said? When?" you responded, your heart beating faster by the minute.

"The night before I went, about you liking me. I thought I could just put it aside and focus on the tournament, but… I can’t.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jude…”

“No, let me finish,” he interrupted gently. “I’ve been trying to figure out how I feel. And the truth is, I like you too."

Tears pricked at your eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah. I hope you don't mind, but I told Dec and Trent, and after they completely humbled me, they made me realize—I think I've always had a bit of a thing for you. It’s just… I don’t want to mess this up. I don’t want to lose what we have.”

“You won’t,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “We’ll figure it out together. One step at a time.”

There was a moment of silence, then Jude let out a breath. “Okay. One step at a time. I like the sound of that.”

For the rest of the night, you talked about everything and nothing, letting the conversation flow naturally. The tension from the confession began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of hope and excitement.

The next game was against Switzerland, and you decided to go out to the pub to watch it with a couple of your pals. The place was buzzing with excitement, filled with fans donning jerseys and scarves, and the energy was infectious. As the match began, you found yourself nervously scanning the screen for Jude, your eyes automatically seeking him out every few seconds.

Your friends, of course, noticed.

“Honestly, if you stare any harder, you might burn a hole through the screen,” teased Sarah, nudging you playfully.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the blush that crept up your cheeks. “I’m just… making sure he’s doing okay.”

“Sure, just making sure,” Mark chimed in with a grin. “We all know you’re head over heels.”

“Guys, can we please just focus on the game?” you said, though you couldn’t help but smile.

As the match progressed, every time Jude touched the ball, your heart seemed to leap into your throat. You could hear your friends’ comments in the background, teasing you about how intently you were watching him.

“There he is again, Y/N! Are you taking notes on his every move?” Sarah laughed.

“Come on, give her a break. She’s just a supportive friend,” Mark added, though his tone was dripping with sarcasm.

You tried to ignore them, but the truth was, they weren’t entirely wrong. You were more invested in Jude’s performance than anything else. When he made a particularly brilliant pass, you couldn’t help but cheer louder than anyone else.

“Wow, you’ve got it bad,” Sarah remarked, shaking her head in amusement.

The game was intense, with both teams playing aggressively. Jude was in top form, making crucial plays and demonstrating why he was such an asset to the team. As the game neared its end, with the score tied, the tension in the pub was palpable.

Just then, your phone buzzed with a message from Jude.

Jude: Gaffer gave us 5 minutes, couldn't wait any longer to not text you.

You: What are you doing?! You're supposed to be on the pitch.

Jude: I think this is going to penalties, I feel it.

You quickly typed back, trying to infuse your message with as much confidence as you could muster.

You: Don’t worry, you’ve got this. I believe in you.

There was a brief pause before his next message came through.

Jude: Listen, how about this: if we win, I’ll take you out on a date.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you stared at the screen, rereading his words. A date. With Jude. Your heart was racing now for an entirely different reason.

You: Deal.

The penalties were agonizing to watch. Each kick, each save, each miss, had the entire pub reacting in unison—groans of despair, cheers of relief, gasps of anticipation. You were barely breathing, your eyes fixed on the screen as if willing the ball into the net with sheer force of will.

Jude stepped up to take his shot. The pub fell silent. You could almost hear your own heartbeat. He took a deep breath, ran up, and kicked. The ball sailed past the goalkeeper and into the net. The pub erupted in cheers, and you jumped up, your shout of triumph mingling with everyone else’s.

The penalties continued, and finally, it came down to Trent. The pressure was immense. If he scored, England would win.

The pub fell silent again as Trent prepared for his shot. You could feel the tension in the air, your heart pounding louder than ever. He took his position, focused, ran up, and kicked. The ball flew towards the goal, past the goalkeeper, and hit the back of the net.

The pub exploded in cheers. People were hugging, high-fiving, and celebrating. You couldn’t believe it. They had done it.

Your phone buzzed again.

Jude: We did it! Can’t believe it. Guess I owe you that date ;)

You couldn’t stop smiling, your heart soaring with pride and excitement.

You: You were amazing! We're so proud!! I can't wait x

Jude: Trust me, I’m looking forward to it. See you soon, Y/N.

You spent the rest of the night celebrating with your friends, the victory and Jude’s promise keeping your spirits high. Amidst all the revelry, one thing was clear: your relationship with Jude was about to take a new and thrilling turn.

The next few days were a whirlwind of emotions and excitement. Jude’s team had just secured a 2-1 victory against the Netherlands. The pub you were in was filled with joyous celebration and raucous cheers. You knew Jude would be over the moon, and you couldn’t wait to hear from him.

Soon enough, your phone rang with an incoming call from Jude. You stepped outside, away from the pub’s noise, to answer.

“Hey, Jude!” you answered, your voice bright with excitement. “Congrats on the win!”

“Y/N!” Jude’s voice was noticeably slurred, and you could hear the background noise of a lively celebration. “I can’t believe we did it! We actually won!”

“I know, it was amazing!” you said, smiling. “You were incredible out there.”

“Thanks!” Jude’s words were slightly jumbled. “I’m just so… so buzzed right now! Remember when we were kids and we’d dream about moments like this? It’s really happening!”

“I know, it’s like a dream come true,” you said warmly.

“And you were always… so pretty, you know? I never really understood why you’d hang out with me,” he continued, his voice full of affection. “Everyone loved you, and I was just this goofy football guy.”

You felt a blush rising. “Jude, it didn’t matter. We had so much fun together.”

“Really?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “I always thought… thought you were too good for me. I was just this guy with a big dream, and you were this amazing person who could have been anywhere.”

“Well, I was where I wanted to be,” you said softly. “With you.”

Jude’s voice grew more tender. “I’ve always admired you, Y/N. Even back then, I was captivated by you. The way you carried yourself, the way you looked—it was like you had this light that drew me in. I was always amazed by how stunning you were, both inside and out.”

You could hear Bukayo’s voice faintly in the background. “Jude, mate, turn the phone off. You're pissed-"

Jude chuckled, though his tone remained affectionate. “I can’t help it, Bukayo! Y/N, you have no idea how incredible you are. I mean, just thinking about you—how beautiful you looked back then and how stunning you still are—drives me crazy.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. “Jude, you’re making me blush.”

“I’m just speaking the truth,” he said earnestly. “You’ve always been this amazing person, and I’ve been lucky to have you as a friend and now… maybe something more.”

You felt a warm flutter in your chest. “I’m really glad we’re sharing these moments together. It means a lot to me.”

Jude’s voice grew more serious, though still a bit tipsy. “If we keep winning, I want to make sure we celebrate together. I can’t imagine doing it without you.”

“I’d love that,” you said, smiling. “For now, enjoy the celebration. You’ve earned it.”

Jude’s laughter was warm and content. “Alright, I’ll let you go. But I’ll call you again soon, okay?”

“Sure thing. Enjoy the rest of your night, Jude,” you said.

As you ended the call, you couldn’t help but smile. Jude’s heartfelt, tipsy confessions and the sound of his celebration had deepened your connection, making you realize just how much you both meant to each other. The future felt full of promise, and you were excited to see where this new chapter would lead.

When England lost 2-1 to Spain, the crushing disappointment was felt by everyone, especially Jude. As he and the team made their way back, he couldn't shake the feeling of defeat.

You, back home, had been anxiously awaiting any word from him. After a few hours, you decided to check in, hoping he was doing okay.

You: Hey Jude, are you alright? Just wanted to check in.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzed with a message from Jude. The text was brief, but the words were heavy with the weight of the loss.

Jude: Not great, honestly. It's been a rough night.

You felt a pang of sadness reading his message.

You could picture him, lost in thought, longing for comfort.

You: I'm so sorry, Jude. I wish I could be there with you too. You wanna hang out tomorrow? Watch a crappy horror movie and crash on my sofa?

The reply came back quickly.

Jude: Sure. I could use a little cheer up. I'd better go, journalists want a chat before we board.

You stared at the phone, hoping your words brought him some measure of comfort. You knew how much this loss meant to him, and how hard he had worked for this moment. The idea of him being alone in his thoughts broke your heart a little more.

You wanted to do something special for him, something that would show him just how much you cared. An idea started to form in your mind, and you sprang into action.

First, you pulled out his favorite hoodie from the closet. It was slightly oversized on you, but it felt like a warm hug. You wore it while you tidied up the apartment, making sure everything was perfect for when he got home.

Then, you went into the kitchen to start cooking his favorite meal. The process was therapeutic, each stir of the pot a way to channel your nervous energy. As the aromas filled the room, you felt a little more at peace, knowing that you were doing something to help him, even from afar.

As the hours ticked by, you kept checking your phone, hoping for any update on his flight. Finally, a message popped up.

Jude: Just landed. See you soon

Your heart skipped a beat. You quickly finished setting the table, dimming the lights to create a cozy atmosphere. You lit a few candles, their soft glow adding a touch of warmth to the room.

When you heard the key in the lock, you rushed to the door, your heart pounding with anticipation. As the door opened, there he was, looking exhausted but so incredibly relieved to see you.

Without a word, he dropped his bags and pulled you into a tight embrace. You held him close, feeling the tension slowly drain from his body as he buried his face in your neck.

"I missed you so much," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

"I missed you too, Jude," you replied softly, running your fingers through his hair. "I'm so glad you're home."

He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes filled with gratitude. "You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you."

You smiled, cupping his face in your hands. "Come on, I made your favorite dinner. Let's sit down and talk about everything."

Later on, after you had let him get everything off his chest, you decided to watch a movie, something that would probably become background noise. As the movie played, you and Jude sat side by side on the couch, the tension between you that seemed to dance in time with the flickering images. You could feel the heat of his body next to yours, and every time your arms or legs brushed, a jolt of electricity shot through you.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

He was staring at the screen, but you could tell his mind was elsewhere. The furrow in his brow, the way his jaw tightened, the constant fidgeting-he was still wrestling with the aftermath of the game.

You wished there was something you could do to ease his mind.

As if sensing your thoughts, he turned to you, his eyes softening. "I'm sorry I've been a grumpy sod."

You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest. "No, don't be. I'm your friend!" You smirk a little as you made eye contact with him for the first time that night. "I'm just glad you're here."

The movie continued, but the air between you grew thicker with unspoken words and emotions.

"Listen. About what I said-"

"We don't have too-"

"No we should! Because, i know I've been swept up with all of the euro's but- I meant what i said. I like you."

"I like you too."

You could feel his gaze lingering on you more frequently, and each time you met his eyes, it was like a silent conversation passed between you.

"Do you remember the last time we watched a movie together?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

You chuckled softly. "Yeah, you fell asleep halfway through."

He grinned, the first genuine smile you'd seen from him all night. "I was exhausted. You have a way of making me feel very relaxed. Always have done."

"It's a very good thing," he replied, his voice low.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the intensity in his eyes. The movie, now a distant background noise, was all but forgotten. The distance between you seemed to shrink with each passing second.

"Jude..." you began, but the words caught in your throat. "I-." His eyes looked up and down at your lips as you settled into his embrace. He looks for any uncertainty before he continues.

"You make me feel seen. Like I can't hide anything from you. It's scary really-"

"Is that so-" you smile, your eyes casting over his lips.

"Mhmm. You make me such a good person-"

"Jude, just kiss me already." You laugh. He smiles instinctively,

He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. "Can I...?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, unable to form a coherent response.

Your heart pounded in your chest as he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. The world seemed to hold its breath as your lips finally met in a soft, tentative kiss.

It was like a spark igniting a fire, the kiss quickly deepening with a hunger that had been building all night. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss grew more intense.

You responded in kind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pressed against him, the kiss growing more intense. His lips were insistent, exploring yours with a desperate need. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, mirroring your own racing pulse.

Jude's hands roamed, tracing the curve of your back, sending shivers down your spine. Your skin felt electrified wherever he touched, each caress igniting a new wave of desire. You gasped as his lips left yours, trailing hot kisses down your neck, nibbling and sucking gently at the sensitive skin.

"Jude," you moaned softly, your fingers tightening in his hair. He groaned in response, the sound vibrating against your throat as he continued his exploration, his hands slipping under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your back.

Your breath hitched when his lips found the hollow of your collarbone, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin. You arched into him, your body responding instinctively to his touch. The heat between you was almost unbearable, a consuming fire that threatened to engulf you both.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for breath, you looked into his eyes and couldn't help but smile. "Do you know how long l've wanted to do that?" you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of relief and desire.

Jude chuckled, resting his forehead against yours.

"Probably as long as I have," he replied, his breath warm against your lips.

You both knew this was just the beginning, but for now, the world outside could wait. All that mattered was the two of you, tangled in each other's arms, finally giving in to the desire that had been simmering between you for so long.

[videovamptramp]

i’m right over here why can’t you see me?

// your best friend ellie has always known she’s liked girls. you’ve always stood by and watched her chase after girls who don’t really care about her. what ellie doesn’t realize is you’ve been completely and utterly in love with her this entire time. what happens when abby anderson, the captain of the soccer team, proposes you two fake “hookup” in order to get under ellie’s skin? is ellie finally going to see what’s been in front of her this entire time, before the tall charming jock can steal your heart? //

[warnings: angst, pining, jealousy, fuck!girl ellie.]

xxxxx

pt.1

ellie has always been clueless. from the day you met her during your first week of freshman year, she hadn’t realized you were flirting with her. at first it stung; you and ellie had been getting close for two weeks during your first month at university, and she had seen you as nothing more than a really cool friend. you knew you liked ellie as soon as you talked to her. you complimented her iron maiden tee shirt, and you quickly realized you two had more than three classes together. ellie was staying all the way at the end of the girls dormitory, and you were staying in the middle; sharing a room with your roommate dina.

dina and you clicked right away, and it wasn’t long before the three of you were having girls nights together and hanging out. the only problem was, it was so painfully obvious how much you liked ellie. dina would notice how pink your cheeks would get whenever you’d talk to the brunette; or dina would catch you staring at ellie during movie nights. it wasn’t entirely one sided either, whenever dina and ellie would hang out alone, ellie never seemed to shut up about you. she’d always find an excuse to bring you up, and dina wasn’t an idiot. she knew ellie liked you too, the taller girl was just unaware of her own feelings for you.

it wasn’t until ellie started “dating” kelly, one of the girls on the debate team, that dina realized just how stupid ellie williams is.

it was a normal day for you and dina when you saw ellie and kelly together. the blonde was practically sucking ellie’s lips off, and it made you cringe. but it also caused your heart to crack right in your chest. you hadn’t seen ellie with anyone else, and you didn’t expect to, regardless of listening to her talk about how hot kelly was. you didn’t think she’d actually pursue kelly. though as you stop in your tracks to pathetically watch ellie kiss the shorter girl back, you know you were wrong.

“y/n…” dina trails off, and you shake your head, trying to play it cool. “it’s fine. she’s been talking about kelly for months. i saw it coming.” you lie and dina rolls her eyes. “i didn’t even know kelly was into girls.” the raven haired girl responds, as you both continue walking to your next shared class. “well the way she was frenching ellie in the courtyard certainly wasn’t straight.” you mutter.

thoughts of ellie and someone else plague your mind throughout the rest of the day. but you love ellie, even as a friend. so you don’t make it known that you’re hurting. you’re pretty good at acting as if nothing is going on, so there’s really no difference in your behavior towards ellie. you do however, distance yourself a bit until you find out that kelly ditched ellie for mark, one of the english majors. things go back to normal after that pretty quickly; ellie goes back to spending every free moment she has with you, and you unfortunately start crushing on her again. maybe you never stopped. it’s the beginning of a cycle you have when it comes to her.

it’s really not a surprise to you when ellie finds another girlfriend during sophomore year. by now you’ve both been friends for a whole year, and she’s actually one of your favorite people on campus. it also wasn’t a secret that you and ellie were close; most of the time, wherever you were, ellie was and vice versa. even though a part of you had come to the conclusion that ellie would never see you in that way, there was still always that part of you that held out hope. it didn’t help that dina would always tell you how much ellie likes you, how she just doesn’t know it yet.

but right now, as you watch ellie at jesse’s frat party hold angela sanders close, you’re starting to realize how stupid you’ve been. you sigh softly as you swish your cup around, “you do realize this is a party, right?” a soft southern voice asks you, causing you to look up and see abby anderson, the captain of the soccer team. you and abby have been friends since sophomore year started. she’s in your women’s history class, and her essay on women’s equality was moving. since then you and abby have had a few conversations, but never anything too serious.

“i hate things like this.” you admit, finally prying your eyes off of ellie and angela in order to look at abby. “yeah, judging by the way you’ve been glaring at williams all night, i don’t think the parties the reason you’re so down.” abby teases lightly, and you roll your eyes. “i’m not down.” you mutter, and abby raises a brow, clearly not believing you. “and i haven’t been glaring at ellie and her girlfriend.” you add before taking a sip of your drink. abby laughs in a way that you’re sure every girl on campus finds attractive. “i’m sure lying to williams is really easy, but i’m a little more perceptive than that.”

you frown, and abby’s grin deepens. “so you just came over here to tease me about it?” you ask begrudgingly, and abby shakes her head quickly, her eyes widening as she realizes she might be coming off as an asshole right now. “no! i just— fuck, i’ve wanted to say hi to you all night, but i’m clearly blowing it.” abby stumbles over her words, and you feel a small smile tugging at your lips for the first time since you arrived. you roll your eyes playfully, “you could’ve just started with “hey y/n, nice shirt”??” you question a bit, but your tone is light now, and it causes abby’s grin to return as quickly as it disappeared.

“hey y/n, nice shirt.” she greets you in this stupidly cute way that causes your cheeks to flush a bit. “hi abby, thank you, i spent almost an hour picking it out.” you admit and she can’t help but laugh. she glances at your cup and notices it’s nearly empty. “hey, wanna get a drink with me and talk outside? i hate loud music.” abby confesses sheepishly, and the offer is tempting. you hate loud music too, and crowded places. but you promised ellie you’d leave with her. though as you take a quick glance at the brunette, you see a large smile on her face as she enthusiastically nods at whatever angela is saying.

“you know what? that sounds really nice, let’s go.” you admit honestly, and abby’s smile is bright enough to put the sun to shame. what starts as a desperate attempt at fleeing the scene in front of you, turns into you realizing you and abby actually have quite a bit in common. when you first met abby, you thought she was a huge womanizer like every other girl on the soccer team… but the more and more you got to know about her, you realized she was just a polite, awkward woman who was strangely endearing. you find out abby is originally from salt lake city, and has lived a pretty privileged life.

you laugh as abby tells you the name of her horses back home, and she flashes you a charming smile. “i’d love for you to meet them one day. i can definitely show you how to ride!” abby admits, sounding eager. you giggle, feeling slightly buzzed; your cheeks are on fire and you can’t help but notice how big her arms are. you hadn’t ever noticed that before. for a moment you forget ellie even exists as you think about abby ‘hunky’ anderson teaching you how ride. though your mind goes to very sinful places that have nothing to do with a horse. “salt lake city? i’ve never even left my hometown before coming here…” you trail off, and abby nods in agreement.

“same here. i’m terrified of planes, so my dad drove 12 hours just to bring me here.” she admits, and you feel a large smile tugging at the ends of your lips as she blushes sheepishly. she rubs the back of her neck in the most adorably awkward way, “i can’t believe i just admitted that to you. after half an hour.” she grumbles, and you giggle uncontrollably before your phone buzzes in your back pocket. you reach for it, and as soon as the screen lights up, you see you have a missed call from ellie, along with a string of texts.

ellie (11:13 pm): wya??

ellie (11:20 pm): dina said she saw you leave. did you leave early??

ellie (11:25 pm): turned around and you were gone. you good?

“everything okay?” abby asks, and you know you should call ellie back, and tell her you’re still here… but if she thinks you left, what’s the harm in staying a little longer to talk to abby? after all, ellie is more than preoccupied with angela, you doubt she’ll notice you’re still here. you look up at abby and offer her a small smile, “everything’s fine, my friend was just wondering if i left.” you answer simply, before ignoring ellie’s texts and stuffing your phone back into your pocket. “your friend as in… ellie?” abby questions, her voice lacking any malice, in fact she just sounded curious. you nod, and the dark haired blonde raises a brow in amusement. “what has you so hung up on her anyways?” the taller girl asks simply.

you furrow your brows, shrugging. “she’s my best friend. i don’t… it’s not that big of a deal. i had a crush on her at the beginning of freshman year, and i guess i realized i wasn’t her type.” you explain bluntly, and abby makes a face. “not her type?” she questions uncertainly, “you know, popular, pretty, borderline straight.” you mumble and abby throws her head back and laughs. “oh she’s in that phase of lesbianism.” the jock states in a hinting manner, causing you to flash her a puzzled look, “what do you mean?” you sound as confused as you look, and abby thinks you might be the cutest girl she’s ever met. right now she’s actually pretty grateful ellie williams is too much of an idiot to see what’s right in front of her.

because abby saw this as a challenge. a challenge to make you forget all about your little crush on ellie. abby was a very patient person, and she was also committed to something once she wanted it. and if abby anderson wanted something, she stopped at nothing to get it. “every girl who likes girls goes through that stage. you know, falling for a straight girl. thinking you can “turn” a girl. she’s still heavily in that stage of lesbianism.” abby states in a matter of fact manner, making you laugh loudly. “there are stages of lesbianism now?” you ask in between laughs, and she laughs as well. “yeah there is! i can write a whole thesis statement about it.” abby says cockily, and you let out a small little chuckle. your eyes shine with something, and you can’t help but notice how beautiful abby looks under the lit up lamppost.

just as you’re about to respond, ellie’s voice interrupts, causing you to freeze. “y/n! there you are, i thought you left.” the brunette rushes up to you, angela is nowhere in sight but dina is treading a bit behind ellie, obviously trying to keep up with her. “i was just talking to abby.” you say as you gesture over to the taller woman who has a smug look on her face. ellie looks at abby and her face seems to change for a moment, “hey y/n! we’re gonna go get some late night tacos, wanna join?” dina asks, as she approaches you all.

dina is normally a pretty perceptive person, but right now she’s drunk and is absolutely oblivious to the tension in the air between ellie and abby. “um i—“ abby cuts you off before you can even start, “i could always walk you back to your dorm later. if you wanna stay.” she says a bit hopefully, and ellie scoffs. “no way.” the brunette states curtly and you furrow your brows. abby raises a brow a bit challengingly, instead of addressing ellie personally, the honey blonde glances at you, “it’s up to you, y/n.” she says with that charming smile that causes ellie’s jaw to tense. ellie’s eyes flicker to you, and meet yours for a split second before you look back at abby.

“i think i’m gonna stay and hang out with abby. i’m having a nice time.” you say, causing ellie’s heart to sink into her stomach. suddenly the thought of you and abby getting close tonight, and possibly hooking up, causes an uncomfortable sensation in ellie’s gut to build up. “seriously? you think we’re just gonna leave you here with her? alone? no way. what if something happens to you?” ellie asks, raising her voice slightly. you frown, “abby and i have known each other for months now, ells. i appreciate the concern, but i’ll be fine.” you really just want ellie to go, you were having a nice night forgetting all about her and angela.

ellie looks like she’s about to argue, but dina tugs her arm. “come on, dude. y/n is fine. let’s go.” dina slurs, the thought of tacos making her stomach rumble. the brunette glares at her best friend, but allows dina to drag her away. “call me as soon as you get back to your dorm!” ellie demands, you hate that your stomach flutters at the thought of ellie being concerned about you. your gaze lands on abby who has this amused look on her face, “what?” you ask, blushing slightly.

“she’s totally in love with you.” she mumbles, and your eyes widen. you let out a breathless laugh, “what? ellie’s not in love with me. she’s so into angela it’s ridiculous.” you respond, and abby scoffs. “how are you so smart yet so oblivious?” abby inquires, causing you to roll your eyes, swatting her arm. “i’m not oblivious! i’ll have you know i’m actually very perceptive.” you defend yourself, and abby doesn’t look the slightest bit convinced. “really? then don’t call her tonight.” abby challenges, and your face changes; smile falling at the thought of not calling ellie to let her know you go back to your room safely. she’s probably going to be waiting for you to call.

“i— i can’t do that. i have to let her know i’m safe. she’s just worried about me.” you come to your best friends defense, and abby flashes you an expression that says ‘are you serious’. “she was not concerned about your well-being. she was concerned about us hooking up.” abby clarifies, and your cheeks turn a shade of rosy pink at the thought of ellie being bothered by you hooking up with someone else. of course you didn’t plan on hooking up with abby tonight, even if you do think she’s undeniably sexy, you weren’t the type to sleep with somebody to forget about someone else. the thought of using abby didn’t sit right with you. she’s been nothing but nice to you.

“b—but you and me aren’t— i mean… i—“ you begin to stutter in a way that makes a shit-eating grin etch itself onto abby’s lips. she cuts you off before you can make a embarrass yourself. “don’t worry, y/n, i know we’re not hooking up tonight. but ellie clearly doesn’t. you should’ve seen her face. i know that look.” the taller woman states, and you shake your head, still not fully believing ellie is being anything other than a good friend. “what look?” you take the bait, deciding to entertain the idea a little longer. “the jealous girlfriend look. she was staring at me like she wanted to rip my head off.” abby chuckles, and you shake your head, “ellie has a resting bitch face. she always looks like that!” you declare, not sounding as convincing as you wish you did.

“you’re so naive it’s cute.” the tall woman half jokes, and your face feels as though it’s on fire. “even if ellie did have a thing for me… she clearly is too busy with girls like angela to even realize it.” abby hates how genuinely upset you look, and in a fleeting moment, she pathetically offers something that changes her life.

“i mean, we can always pretend to hookup… maybe even more. maybe she just needs to see what she’s been missing.” abby offers, and amusement flickers in your big, wide eyes. “you think that’ll get ellie to admit she likes me?” you ask in a tone so hopeful it causes abby’s heart to lurch. she envies ellie williams in this moment. “jealousy has a way of making people admit things they’d usually never say.” abby says, and she looks down at you; her eyes flittering across your face as she takes in everything that is you. abby doesn’t have many friends here, just manny and nora. she’s had a few girls try to talk to her, but she’s never been able to hold a conversation with anyone for long, until now.

of course the first girl i’m actually interested in, is into williams.

“you’d really help me make ellie jealous?” you ask, a bit uncertainly. abby doesn’t know why, but she thinks she’d do just about anything for you and those big eyes staring up at her. “of course. i mean, how hard could it be?” she asks, and your eyes light up. abby truly didn’t realize just how screwed she was until you wrapped your arms around her waist and squeezed her tightly. “thank you! thank you! thank you! i can’t believe you’re going to help me!” you squeal, turning into this excited schoolgirl that abby hates is all because of ellie fucking williams. abby hugs you back, but she knows by the way her heartbeat quickens due to the smell of your perfume, yup, she’s screwed.