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troublesomesnitch · 3 days

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The Novice

Aemond x Septa!Reader

The one-eyed prince makes a late night confession.

Contents: Book!Aemond. Pure filth, extremely dubious consent/non-con. Confessional dirty talk, coercion, power imbalance.

Words: 4200

Mostly book!Aemond, but with some show elements added to make him a real piece of shit.

CW: sexual assault!

Proof read, but I am not good at proof reading.

Twice a week, the grand sept receives fine visitors.

It is always something you look forward to, something special and exciting; hearing guards in the streets outside, and the swift feet of errand boys running to inform your superiors.

The queen will be arriving shortly.

There is not much preparation that needs to be done, because you never tarry in your duties - there are always fresh matches laid out, candles ready to be lit, not a spec of dust on the altars. But for the queen, you go above and beyond. You fetch cushions for her dainty knees, you light incense in every corner, and you usher out any crowds that are not worthy of her presence.

You greatly admire the queen. She is all that a lady should be, the very image of womanhood. Gracious, pious, beautifully but modestly dressed, and always kind and courteous to you. She says thank you, and blessed day, sweet Sister, and she asks about your training, your health and wellbeing, what charitable causes you wish to devote yourself to.

The older septas say that the queen seems to have taken a liking to you, and that perhaps if you are lucky, she will request for you to join her household once you have taken your vows. To be a helper and companion to her daughter, and to teach the little prince and princess - her grandchildren, which is a strange thought, because the queen is so young and so beautiful to already be a grandmother.

She is certainly much younger than her husband. The king is old and frail and rarely leaves his castle now, but even in his youth, he never came to the sept. At least that is what you are told. Septon Alester says he is an unworthy husband, and an unworthy ruler, too. A heretic, like all the rest of his Valyrian kin, who flout divine law and believe themselves above the gods.

You would never dare to utter such a thing, but it seems at least partially true - in all the time you have served the sept, the king has never accompanied his queen to prayer. Not even once. She always comes alone, escorted by her guard and her maid. And sometimes by her son.

The one-eyed prince. The one who rides the largest beast in the world.

There are many rumours swirling about noble lords and ladies, but especially about him. In the taverns and winesinks people say he is of a sullen disposition, and that the loss of his eye at such a young age has left his face hideous and deformed - clearly they have never seen him, but you have, and you know it is nothing more than malicious slander.

The prince is as beautiful as his mother.

They look lovely when they kneel together by the altar, with their hands delicately folded and their heads respectfully bowed. Regal, godly. Like the Mother and the Warrior, you think. You often wonder about the contents of his prayers - what could a royal prince possibly wish for? Not as many things as a queen, it would seem, because he never kneels for as long, retreating after a minute or two to stand and wait for his mother. Watch over her; look at her with devotion and reverence. You cannot help but steal quick glances at him; at his graceful posture and his strong face, and you are always too slow to look away, so sometimes he catches you in it. Even when you stand on his blind side, he somehow knows to turn his head and meet your gaze. The little bow he gives you is courteous, but the taunting smile that follows is not, and you must always remind yourself that you have done nothing wrong.

It is not a sin to be curious.

—

When the evening bell tolls, and the city gates close, the High Septon calls to prayer. But one person must always stay behind to keep vigil until the morning, and the duty is shared between all servants of the Faith. Septons and septas, novices, even holy brothers and sisters, sometimes. Only the Most Devout are exempt from it, as well as those who are weakened by illness or old age.

You are neither, but you do not mind taking your turn. It is an easy task, as all of the city is asleep, and those who are not would much rather drink and carouse than come to a place of worship. Here, the night is quiet and calm, and you quite like these hours of solitude. Alone in the sept with only the statues, and maybe the gods, for company.

On this day though, you are startled from your thoughts when the heavy doors are swung open.

You have never before encountered guests at this hour, so your fearful imagination is quick to jump to conclusions - the man could be a thief, a common brute, a scoundrel hiding from a brawl, or - gods forbid - from the City Watch.

But when you peek out from your little corner, you are surprised to see that it is the prince. And that he is alone.

He is dressed differently tonight, in dull colours and coarser fabrics, far simpler than what he usually wears. Perhaps in an attempt to go unnoticed among the common people - but if that was indeed his intention, he has very much failed. Everything about him is unusual, from his hair to his eye to the shining silver clasp at his neck; the immaculate tailoring of each of his garments. Even the way he carries himself makes it abundantly clear that this is no grocer or stonemason.

You cast your eyes down as his steps echo through the sept, purposeful and determined. Clearly heading towards you, but you would hate to be presumptuous, so it is only when he is right in front of you that you rise from your seat to curtsy. Reverently, so deep that your knee almost touches the floor.

“Sister,” he nods. “I have sins I wish to confess - a troubled mind I wish to unburden.”

You curtsy once more, though not as low this time.

“I am not ordained to hear confessions, but I should be happy to fetch a septon - “

“No,” the prince says. “I will speak to no one but you.”

What he demands is a breach of the rules, and a cruel thing to ask of you, but there is not much to be done about it. You can hardly refuse a prince of the realm, and what if he tells his mother that you were unhelpful? After all, it is your sacred duty to comfort and guide the faithful. To lead them on the path to righteousness.

So you nod, draping your veil over your head as you both sit down on your little bench. Right beside one another, so close that your legs almost touch. A proper septa would say confess, and may the Father judge you justly, but that is not appropriate for you, so you merely look down at your folded hands and wait for the prince to speak.

“I am plagued by impure thoughts,” he begins.

The colour drains from your face in an instant. Oh, not this.

Anything else, you do believe you could handle. Envy, drunkenness, greed, gambling, even violent offences, perhaps. Anything but this. But you remain calm; force yourself to keep your composure as you speak.

“All young men have impure thoughts. It is perfectly natural.”

From the corner of your eye, it looks as though the prince smiles ever so slightly.

“Of course,” he nods. “But mine are by nature nefarious, because the lady I desire is a chaste and pious woman… a maiden, and justly proud of her innocence. She would be distraught if she knew the wickedness she inspires.”

You feel yourself blushing. Although you are sufficiently educated on the matter, speaking of such things makes you feel ashamed and uncomfortable. As it would most young women. Confession or not, nothing about this conversation is appropriate, and you want nothing more than to be done with it and return to quiet contemplation. You keep your eyes cast down, and you are as curt as you dare when you answer.

“Then you should not sully her, My Prince, even in your thoughts. You should pray to the Smith for strength, or to the Warrior if you prefer, and occupy yourself with noble pursuits. Prayer, studies, and so forth.”

“Oh, but I do,” the prince says gravely. “I devote my every hour to noble pursuits. And yet time and time again I sully her, and my own hand too in the process - yes, I must confess that I have sinned exceedingly, in both thought and deed. These urges of mine are so unbearable, I simply must relieve myself…” He pauses to look at you coolly, his brows drawn together in a disapproving frown. “You look quite pale, Septa, is my confession too scandalous for you? I should hope the Faith would not admit a novice so unfit for her position…”

“Of course not,” you quickly mutter, though in truth, you are mortified. This is far beyond your station and skill. Not only is the matter highly delicate, but you must also carefully choose your words so as to not offend a member of the royal family. And one with a - supposedly - unfortunate temper at that.

“It is not for me to command a prince,” you begin, “but it is my duty to remind you that the Faith condemns such practices - surely you know that by indulging your urges, you will only make them stronger.”

“I have tried to refrain from it,” the prince laments. “But even then, she haunts me… at night, I dream that I lie on top of her - that I spread her thighs and press her body to my own. And these dreams are so vivid, so terribly arousing, they often cause me to - forgive me, Sister - emit my seed.” He sighs deeply, and turns his face away, his shoulders tense; his handsome features full of torment. “A rather shameful predicament, for a grown man - is it not?”

Perhaps, you think, but a common one nonetheless, and not something he should be chastised for. You know perfectly well that there are some functions of a man’s body that are beyond his control, as do the gods who made it so. It is best not to dwell on it.

“My Prince,” you say instead, with what little confidence you can muster, “ - with your permission, I would offer you this advice: if you cannot restrain yourself, and if you care for this lady, then you should court and wed her.” You fiddle nervously with your dress, lowering your voice to barely more than a whisper. “It is a wholesome thing, for spouses to give their bodies to each other - for a man to make love to his wife…”

The prince hums, either in agreement or contemplation, you can’t tell. But you hope he will take your words to heart, and make this irresistible woman his wife. If the mere sight of her can stir such passion, then he would surely grow to love her deeply, and their union would be happy and prosperous. Blessed by the gods.

- Or maybe not.

“I am afraid that is not possible,” the prince says. Slowly, thoughtfully. “Because you see, my lady is a septa - a novice, as it were…”

His words trail off, and his hand reaches to caress your face, right by the edge of your veil, where a strand of hair has loosened from its pin.

You recoil at once, springing from your seat to look at him with shock and horror.

“This is highly improper - “

“I have thought of nothing but you,” he exclaims, impassioned, rising quickly to reach for you once more, “ - since the day I saw you, I have wanted no one else - ”

Again you manage to evade his embrace, but the prince is tall, and his legs are long and agile. Each one of his strides is worth two of yours, and when you back away he follows, stepping ever closer until you are backed up against a pillar.

Oh how you wish that it had only been a thief come to rob the sept. You could have easily escaped out the little hidden door by the dias; let them take whatever riches they could carry. There is only silver here, and the Faith has no shortage of that.

The prince is after something far more precious.

“Don’t touch me - ” you plead, feeling your pulse quicken, the hair rise on the back of your neck. He is too near, moving to loom over you, intimidating and imposing, and so tall that he must bend to brush his nose against your hair.

“It is a waste,” he murmurs. “That such beauty should only belong to the gods.”

You should flee. You should defend your virtue. Maids and ladies, harlots and tavern girls, all women know to protect themselves, to kick where a man is the weakest, to scratch, bite, shout, make a racket. There are guards patrolling the square outside, and septons sleeping nearby in their cells - if you were loud enough, someone would hear you and come to your aid.

But at what cost, when your assailant is a prince?

You dare not risk it, so you stand frozen in place, too frightened to push him away, too frightened to even look at him as he gropes your body, touching it in ways that it has never been, and should never be touched. One of his arms wraps around your waist, the other trails over your dress, feeling your shape underneath the fabric. Your stomach, your hips, your bottom, and especially your breasts.

He cups them with both hands, kneading and massaging them hard, pressing his fingers into your flesh.

“I would take you right here,” he breathes. “Against this very pillar, for all your gods to see - ”

The blasphemy, the shameless vulgarity - you gasp, and at the sound, the prince chuckles faintly.

“You said yourself it is a wholesome thing…”

“For husbands and wives -” you squeak, “please, you mustn’t hurt me!“

“Never,” he says, bringing your hand to rest on his chest, over his heart, as if to reassure you. “If you would only oblige me, I swear I will be gentle…”

You shake your head, but it does not dissuade him. He kisses your hair, your cheeks, the shell of your ear, touching his lips to every little sliver of exposed skin. Not just your face and neck, but your forearms too, your wrists, the insides of your elbows. Anywhere that lets him truly feel you. Feel the rapid beat of your pulse; the warmth and softness of a woman’s body.

And as he touches you, you feel him. His manhood, stiff against your hip when he presses himself against you, moaning softly at the feeling. It is a most intimate sound, and you are ashamed to realise that your body instinctively responds to it; to the closeness, the touch of a man. You feel warm in your chest, and wet between your legs - unnerving, and so at odds with the panic that still grips you, with the tears that prickle in your eyes.

“Please don’t - ” you whimper, just as his teeth graze your jaw, drawing a single, involuntary sigh from your lips. One that spurs him on to swiftly yank the veil off your head and discard it, fully exposing your hair and neck.

He pulls back to look at you, your neatly pinned tresses, your smooth throat and collarbones. Your beauty that he has long wished to admire.

“Like an angel,” he says softly, longingly, taking your face in his hands and stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. “A little angel - the Maiden in the flesh - “

“That is a blasphemous thing to say,” you sniffle.

It only makes him laugh, and before you can say anything else, he tilts your face up so he can press his mouth to yours.

No one has ever kissed you before. Many boys have wanted to, but none were ever allowed the privilege. You always knew you did not want to be a wife. That you had a different calling.

It is a very strange sensation, this kiss. Hot, wet, and sticky. You do not return it, and yet the prince is undeterred, parting your lips softly but insistently, just enough to slip his tongue inside. It gives him pleasure, even when your mouth is slack and unresponsive - you can tell from his blissful sighs, and from the indecent way he moves his hips, rubbing the prominent bulge in his trousers against you. He is so entranced by your mouth and your body that you feel a treacherous sense of relief, thinking to yourself that if this is how he wants to gratify himself - by licking your tongue and humping against your hip - you will let him. No real harm has been done to your virtue, and the gods will understand you had no choice. Already you are silently saying your prayers, to the Warrior for courage, the Mother for compassion, the Father for leniency -

But you are cruelly interrupted when the prince draws back and begins to loosen the closure of his breeches.

“No - oh no, no - ,” you shriek, but as you try to wriggle from his grasp, his face hardens and his gentle touch becomes like a vice. Rough and unyielding, holding you in place.

“You must forgive me,” he rasps, his gaze dark with lust, his nostrils flaring, “ - for I can no longer deprive myself of what I so desire...”

He is so much stronger than you. With an impeccably polished boot he shoves your feet apart, his one hand pinning your arms behind your back, the other hiking up your skirts, determined, deaf to your frantic pleas.

“You don’t understand, I must remain chaste!”

“Don’t lie to me,” he hisses, “I know the workings of the Faith, you’ve taken no solemn vows yet - “

“No, I have, I have!” you cry. “I pledged myself to the Maiden when I was a girl!”

It is the truth, but the prince does not care. He silences you with another desperate kiss, crushing his face to yours, reaching to hook his hand under your knee and lift your leg. He has you trapped, pinned between his body and the stone column, and you can claw at him until your hands bleed, it makes no difference. Your dress is bunched up, your legs forcibly parted, your most intimate secrets laid bare to be violated. A great sin, made even greater by the circumstances, and yet the gods have abandoned you, left you here to suffer.

They must be occupied elsewhere, and the statues too stand motionless on their plinths, with their tranquil faces, staring blankly into the distance as though deliberately blind to your tragedy.

To the hand that worms its way underneath your smallclothes. The nails that dig into the back of your neck, holding your head in place. The mouth that swallows up your sobs until he is forced to break the kiss so he can reach between your bodies and finish unlacing his breeches.

You gasp for breath, looking up and straight at him, your eyes wet and pleading, your lip trembling.

“Don’t ruin me, please - I beg you, don’t take from me what can never be replaced - “

The prince’s hand hesitates on your thigh. His one eye flickers between your two, between the tears that flow uncontrollably down your cheeks; your little hands clenched into fists against his chest.

For a split second there’s a shadow of something softer on his face, a strange draw around his mouth, and then he curses and releases your leg. And you bolt, without thinking, ducking under his arm to sprint towards the door and safety.

You manage all of two steps before the prince catches you and pins you to the pillar once more.

“Not yet - ” he orders, slipping a hand down the front of his trousers to finally free his member from its confines. He cradles it at the base to proudly show it off before he begins to stroke himself, shamelessly and urgently, while you look on. At once frightened and sinfully curious.

You have never seen it before. The masculine organ. Only in drawings, of which some were intended to educate young women, and others were of a much lewder nature. The prince’s manhood does look much like those anatomical illustrations, only it is bigger in person than you had imagined. Hard and swollen with need. It fits perfectly in his fist, and the skin glides back to reveal the head, which is thick and meaty, and a dark purple red. It almost looks as though it should be painful for him, having it filled and engorged in such a way. Having it stretched to be so big. But of course you know that is not the case. And even if you didn’t, his gasp of pleasure would have made it very clear.

He reaches for your wrist, tugging it down between his legs, and you are quick to look away when he closes your fingers around it, with his own hand on top. Somehow, you reason that if you keep your eyes averted, it is not as sinful. Not as deserving of punishment.

But you can still feel it. In your palm, against your clammy skin. Warm, and pulsing as he squeezes your fingers tight around the shaft, moving them from the base to the tip and back down again, using your hand to pleasure himself. Slowly at first, but as his arousal grows he quickens the pace, moving your hand only over the tip of his member, massaging the bulbous head with quick movements. All the while groping at your chest.

And you let him do it. All of it, resigning yourself to be used at his will and pleasure. It is the best and safest course of action now, and all you can do is bear it. You keep your sobs inside, and your eyes cast down, staring mindlessly at the patterns in the stone floor until the prince’s hand seizes your jaw.

“Look at me,” he commands through gritted teeth, running his thumb over your mouth, pressing against your lips. “Open - suck, use your tongue - “

You do as he says, wanting so desperately to just be done with it - once he has finished he will surely let you go. The thought prompts you to suck on his fingers with increasing fervour, taking them deep into your mouth, running your tongue along the length of them, along his knuckles; making him gasp at the feeling.

“Fuck, like that - gods yes,” he moans, letting go of your hand to lean against the pillar for support, his eye falling closed, his hips making shallow, instinctive thrusts.

You continue with the same movements, up and down over his manhood, trying to mimic exactly what he did before, whilst still sucking on his fingers, too. Letting him feel your soft mouth and your warm lips; your little wet tongue caressing his skin. You haven’t a clue as to what you are supposed to be doing, and there is no grace or skill to your licks, but each swirl of your tongue makes the prince moan regardless. He would probably much rather feel this attention somewhere else, but clearly he has the wits to know that shoving his member into an unwilling mouth is not a wise idea. So he contents himself with this.

And thankfully, it does not take long before your efforts are rewarded.

When you choke back a mewl his hips jerk forward, and his hand flies down to close around yours again, guiding you to squeeze him harder and faster. His jaw goes slack, and his manhood stiffens even more, and even though you are inexperienced, you know what it means. You can feel it, feel his sac tighten, feel him twitch in your hand as semen travels up his shaft. He bends to lean his forehead against yours, and finally, finally, he spurts, moaning with pleasure as he empties himself onto your hand, his seed pulsing out in hot, wet squirts. Soiling not only your skin and your dress, but your conscience too; your virtue, honour and dignity.

And at last it is over.

The prince slumps forwards against you, hiding his face in your neck. His body trembles with the final waves of his rapture, and he brushes his fingers over your hair in a strangely intimate way, a tender way. As though you were lovers.

In a sense, now, you suppose you are.

Before he leaves you he quickly tidies his clothes, throwing his cloak around his shoulders and tucking his shirt into his trousers. And once he has made himself presentable, he retrieves your veil too. Brushing it off with a gloved hand and draping it over your head once more.

“Thank you, Sister,” he says sweetly, cradling your face to kiss your lips and then your forehead. “I feel much more at ease now.”

No sooner have the doors closed behind him before you fall to your knees by the Maiden’s altar to beg for her forgiveness.

Please feel free to come into my asks or DMs with critique of my fics! Constructive is preferred, but not required.

Tags. @arcielee, @helaelaemond, @targaryen-madness, @qyburnsghost.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut

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01zfan · 3 days

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see you around | l. at

swim captain!anton x fem. reader | 5.3k words

ANTON SHOULD BE AT THE CLUBBBB. inspired by impossible mv party scenes and i was listening to kraftwerk the man machine album while making this so that’s the music i imagine playing at this party.

also this was a mix of two requests it was supposed to be a secret relationship type thing but it kinda ended up being a secret talking stage? idk i hope it's to your liking hehe.

even early in the morning in the empty hallways you looked left and right anxiously, scared that someone was going to catch you. all it would take is someone going to an extremely early morning class or an extremely late night run for you to be caught. it was already awful that you had to sneak into anton’s building by entering while someone was leaving, and you had to ask the RA to scan their ID so you could operate the elevator. two people already knew you were here and even if they didn’t know who you were, you didn’t want the number to go any higher.

you settled deeper into the black hoodie, reaching your hand to the door again. before you could knock three more times, anton opened the door. he stood against the frame with a big smile on his face as he looked you up and down. you did your own once over of him, taking in his band tea, boxers, and slides. he started at your sunglasses despite it being dark outside, then wandered down to your face mask and lingered on your all black outfit.

“i like your hoodie.” anton touched his chin like he was in thought before pointing towards the hoodie that was a few sizes to big for you. “looks realllll familiar.” he says.

seeing anton laugh at you trying to be inconspicuous made you turn on your heel and start walking back the way you came. you couldn’t even make it a step before anton reached past the doorframe to grab your arm, pulling you into the darkness of his room.

immediately once you were inside he closed the door with his foot, bringing you in for a big hug. you smiled despite trying to seem angry, taking your time before wrapping your arms around his waist. he pulled away to kiss your forehead, taking your glasses off and pulling your mask down to your chin.

“i was about to come down and get you.” anton says before kissing your forehead again.

he rocked back and forth while still holding you, and you let your body sway with his.

“you took too long.” you chide.

anton still holds you as he walks further into his dorm. you pass by the things you’ve seen a million times at this point. his standing jewelry organizer beside his gundam figurines, his swimming medals that hung up on the wall, and the picture of his swim team and family that rested on top of his dresser all looked at you as you went deeper into his room.

you kick off your shoes while anton continued to walk backwards, the two of you don’t stop until the back of his legs hit the edge of his bed. anton tries to bring you down with him, but you separate his heavy arms from your body to take off the rest of your things. you can see his outline in the darkness of his room, how he sits down and looks up at you while you make yourself comfortable.

you take your sunglasses from anton’s hand and put it on his dresser, taking off your rings and mask to put them all in a neat pile. when you put your phone face down on the dresser you put the framed pictures of antons’ family and his swim team face down too.

when you hear anton laugh you turn around. he’s leaned back on his arms, legs hung over the side of the bed as he watches your every move. he goes back to sitting upright to motion towards the photos.

“why do you always put those face down when you come over?” anton asks.

he knows why, and you know he knows it too. but you two have fallen into your own routine. like clockwork, you walk over to anton and stand between his legs so he can put his hand on your waist and look up at you again. he pinches the fabric of your black zip up between his fingers and you play with his soft hair.

“i don’t want them to see.” you say.

anton lets his hands go underneath your zip up and your shirt to feel the bare skin of your stomach. he pulls you a little closer and you let him, still playing with his hair casually.

“i thought you just came over here to cuddle?” anton asks innocently.

after hearing the sarcasm and seeing the glint in anton’s eye you laugh. each time it’s the same thing, the two of you going back and forth and each time it’s too amusing. maybe it’s the novelty of the situation, you sneaking into anton’s apartment so early in the morning it’s still considered late at night. even if you guys haven’t called this a relationship you’re stuck in a routine of domestic bliss. so as if on cue, you let your hand go deeper into anton’s hair until you pull at his scalp slightly.

“who comes over at four thirty in the morning just to cuddle?” you ask.

anton smiles and brings you closer, pressing a kiss to your clothed stomach. he pinches your skin underneath your clothes and you take your hands from his hair to pull down your zipper. you’re quick, too quick for someone who’s in this same situation seemingly every day. each time you’re in a rush to touch anton, and each time you end up stumbling in your haste. it’s comforting knowing anton is no better—he accidentally scratches your skin as he pulls down your black yoga pants.

“i’m sorry.” anton apologizes before you can even hiss from the pain.

he brings you close, his hands move down to cup your ass so he can kiss the part of your upper thigh where he scratched. it’s unnecessary, the pain was already gone but you let anton do it anyway. you just focus on getting your shirt off, letting it fall in the same pile with your jacket.

when anton pulls away from placing soft kisses you push him by the shoulders until his back is on the bed. you step out of your yoga pants that pooled at your ankles to crawl onto him. you start to straddle anton’s legs and he gives you a smile as he continues backing up on the bed, you continue to straddle him, knees walking on the bed as you follow his every move.

when he’s fully on the bed you press a hand to his broad chest.

“what time is your first class?” you ask.

even though you have anton’s whole schedule memorized, you still always ask. maybe you just like hearing his quiet breaths, how he tries to focus on your question. you let your hand drag down his body and he parts his lips to speak.

“ten.” anton answers.

when your hand goes to the waistband of his boxers anton looks at your lips. you sink down to kiss him the same time your hand pushes past his waistband. anton tenses underneath you and sighs into your mouth when you wrap a hand around his length.

“what time do you have practice today?” you ask.

you ask your question casually, reveling in the way anton is so distracted. when you squeeze around his dick anton sighs again, one of his hands go back to gripping your waist.

“eight pm. probably be done around ten.” anton jerks his hips up. “we have a meet tomorrow so it might run a little later.” he says rushed.

you hum at his answer, slowly pumping anton’s dick while he presses his body further into the mattress. precum that beads at his tip makes the job easy for you, and hearing the tiny whimpers and hisses slip past anton’s parted lips drives you to continue.

“any plans after?” you say, picking up the speed of your hand.

“i have a meeting with the head coach to talk about some people on team.” anton says while leaning his head back.

anton brings a hand to flex around your wrist, but he doesn’t stop your movements.

“such a good captain.” you kiss anton’s cheek gently. “any plans after that?” you ask.

anton bites his lip and shakes his head. one of anton’s hands moves to grip your ass and you arch into his hand to give him more. excitement tingles across your body when you see anton’s shoulder move so he can wedge his hand between your two bodies. he starts by pressing his hand flat against your bare stomach before slipping past the waistband of your panties.

anton starts by touching your clit, pressing his index finger deep into the bundle of nerves. the near pain causes you to drop your head into his shoulder, breathing heavily into the fabric of his shirt. anton takes pity on you, puling away from your clit to spread your folds with his index finger while his middle finger feels for your hole. you are already wet, and anton teases you for it, letting his finger prod past your entrance before pulling back to gather more slick. you’re almost compelled to bite anton from frustration, how he plays with you while you’re giving him your all. you only whine into his chest, moving your hips to show him what you need.

“so impatient.” anton sighs.

he cranes his neck to kiss your forehead before finally putting his finger inside of you. already you feel that warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach, lapping the edges of your resolve like a gentle fire. you speed up your hand when you feel more of anton’s precum bead at his tip and he puts in another finger.

“slow down baby.” anton whines.

he has to bite his lip to calm himself down. he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he gets another noise complaint.

“don’t wanna.” you whine back.

anton knows by now that you’re too stubborn, and he’s too desperate to actually make you slow down. so anton adds in another finger and bends them, picking up his pace to match you.

you and anton are chest to chest, trying to muffle the pitiful sounds you both make as you two bring eachother closer to insanity. anton feels you shake your head as you try to compose yourself. he opens his eyes just to try and see you laid against his body in just your bra and panties. your drool seeped through his shirt a long time ago, leaving a wet splotch underneath your cheek. anton just wishes you would turn your head so he can see your eyebrows cinch and your lips part before you cum.

“baby.” anton whimpers.

you turn immediately, eyes blown out as you still rest your head on his chest. your hands started staggering a long time ago, and anton makes up for it by lifting his hips off the bed to fuck your hand. the only thing anton needs you to do is keep letting the quiet moans fall from your parted lips as you look at him with your widened wet eyes.

“i’m close anton.” you say.

anton feels the tension in his stomach becoming nearly unbearable hearing the whiny lift in your voice. it drives anton to push his fingers deeper and faster inside of you. when he feels your hand loosen around his dick and your stomach tighten against his, he continues.

“me too.” anton says back.

you start quickly jerking anton off in his pants, and his hips still while he is suspended in the air. neither of you stop, so close but you’re just missing one more thing. you press your spare hand into the mattress to push yourself up far enough to press your lips to anton’s.

the kiss quick and rushed, but feeling him push his tongue into your mouth without hesitation was the last thing you needed. your legs try to instinctually come together, but anton’s legs remain steady in keeping them apart. you moan into anton’s mouth, and he does the same to you. when you start shaking anton’s hand that was on your ass wraps across your body, pressing you more into him. the restriction only heightens your climax, and you break apart from anton’s lips so a full moan can fill the space of his room. anton brings your mouth back to his, so he can groan against your lips as his cum stains his boxers and glides down your knuckles. the image of it makes anton quickly rut up into your hand, desperate to give you more. for a moment both of you are tense from stimulation, your stiff bodies resting against eachother. then you both come back, you’re pulling away with puffy lips still sensitive all over.

anton rests into his sweaty imprint in the mattress and you slump on top of him. your now messy hand lets go of anton’s dick but still rests in his boxers. anton’s fingers in your cunt bend one more time before he pulls out of your underwear completely. you sigh, trying to roll off of anton but his arm keeps you in place.

“you don’t have any classes today right?” anton asks, still trying to catch his breath.

“no.” you say.

anton’s wet fingers play with your hand that lays unmoving on the mattress.

“stay here for the day?” when anton hears you draw in a breath he continues speaking. “atleast sleep here until i leave.” he reasons.

you don’t have to look at the time to know it’s almost five in the morning. sleep is creeping up on you, and the thought of making the trek back to your dorm while your legs still feel so weak seems impossible. so you sigh and rest more into anton, laying your head over his steady beating heart. his hand across your back loosens and his body underneath yours becomes relaxed.

you ended up sleeping until anton left to go to class. you woke up underneath the covers as anton was fully ready, taking his backpack from his chair to sling over his shoulder. when he saw you were awake he looked apologetic, getting on his knees on your side of the bed to rub your sleepy face.

“what time is it?” you were groggy, wiping your eyes as you looked for your phone.

“almost ten. i’m running late i didn’t want to wake you up with my alarm.” anton says.

you blink again, trying not to be blinded by the light that comes through the windows.

“so you just guessed when you were supposed to wake up?” you asked confused.

anton only shrugged his shoulders, looking at your eyebrows before rubbing out the crease. he smiled and pressed a kiss to your skin before getting up. he put his backpack on fully and was at his door after realizing he was really about to be late.

“feel free to stay as long as you want.” anton said.

“okay.” you were still tired, your voice was raspy when you spoke.

anton didn’t say goodbye before leaving. you both knew you’d be seeing eachother later anyway. you let yourself lay in bed a little longer, thinking about how you ruined your sleep schedule once again.

you were half tempted to stay in anton’s bed all day. he offered after all, and his bed somehow felt softer than yours. everything also smelled like him, his sheets, his pillow, his clothes that you ended up in. it felt like a perfect thursday to do absolutely nothing. but then your mind went to the party you promised giselle you would go to.

“parties are important.” you heard giselle’s voice so vividly as you imagined bailing out on her. you imagined that serious look in her eyes as she told you why you should go. “you need to relieve the stress of the week so you can go back to society on monday happy.” she said.

that would be giselle’s primary reason, declaring any day there was a party as the weekend. you agreed to some extent, that’s why you reluctantly put your clothes on and grabbed all your belongings before sneaking out of anton’s dorm.

that’s also why you were dancing on sticky concrete in an abandoned dance hall on a thursday night. the eight am lecture you were probably going to skip tomorrow was in the back of your mind as the song changed. giselle opened her eyes only for a moment and smiled seeing you dance, pulling you closer to her as she turned around. at the same time your phone vibrated in your hand, making you look at your screen. the previous text messages of your conversation with anton lit up your face.

anton: went back to my room and you weren’t there :(

sorry

anton: no worries i just wanted to see you.

anton: are you going out tonight?

yeah.

are you?

anton: i am now

you continued dancing against giselle as you responded to his message.

anton: what time are you leaving?

idk

i’ll text you when i’m ready t|

“shit. i dropped my phone!”

giselle yelled next to you and you could see her immediately look towards the crowd for her device. you used the open messages app like a flashlight, pointing your phone screen towards the ground to illuminate the dark floor.

your phone was the only source of light in the party that wasn’t an annoying strobing light that did nothing but cast people’s faces red, deep blue, and white. both you and giselle squatted to the floor, disrupting the dancing throngs of people around you. you could heard the soles of peoples feet dragging against the concrete from down here, even the occasional sound of feet pulling from the sticky floor. people complained as you two disrupted their groove, feet lifting up to accommodate your crouched bodies. the two of you couldn’t be bothered as you waved your phone around.

when your phone’s white light caught on the back of giselle’s phone case you tapped her shoulder.

“there it is.” you pointed towards giselle’s phone and she picked it up from the ground quickly, turning it on and wiping the screen with a disgusted look on her face. “any cracks?” you asked.

giselle shook her head before sliding her phone into her back pocket.

“no, thank god.” she said.

before you could turn off your own phone and try to enjoy the loud party around you, giselle took a quick peak at your screen. instantly you saw that stupid knowing smile across her face once she saw who you were texting. you turned off your phone immediately and held up your finger before she could speak.

“don’t even.” you said.

giselle laughed and shrugged her shoulders. that was her way of telling you it was basically your fault for having your phone brightness all the way up. you were practically begging her to look at your phone and bring up the fact you were texting anton.

“i wasn’t even going to say anything.” when the dj—or the glorified aux—finishes one terrible song to do a terrible transition into another giselle crosses her arms. you turn from the staircase to mirror giselle, both of you watching the booth and the people dancing in amazement. after a second giselle leans to you with a smile on her face. “i was just going to ask if your little shadow was coming.” she says.

you try to ignore giselle, you really try to. you try not to mention your little shadow, the one that spent the better half of three years pining after you. at first it wasn’t obvious, you guys were two people who just happened to get along very well. but over time, the playful banter turned into flirting and you started acting oblivious.

when anton’s advances started getting bolder and everyone started finding out you denied it more and more. you denied it to giselle, you denied it to anton’s friends and curious onlookers—you even denied it straight to anton’s face. but when you were with him in his dorm with no friends to hide behind, things came to light. but you two didn’t sit the other down to have a meaningful conversation about your relationship. instead you two communicated with your bodies and quiet hushed sounds. deep lingering kisses unveiled anton’s crush and your whimpers told him you felt the same. anton didn’t hear you speak for the next two hours until you got dressed a little to fast and headed for his door. just when he was about to call out to you, begging you to stay you turned your head around to face him.

“don’t tell anyone about this.” you said.

anton nodded, wanting to show you he was a good listener so you would come back. before you could walk out the door he said one more thing too.

“can i take you out on a date later?” he asked.

you hesitated before leaving, but you walked out his door and closed it behind you. anton started slumping in his bed, distraught that he ruined his one chance with you. but then his phone vibrated next to him and he was a little too fast reaching for it.

yes you can.

ever since then, you and anton have been stuck in a limbo. you hated the dating scene, especially the one in college, so you refrained from calling what you and anton had as dating. all you knew was that you two were exclusive, you guys hung out whenever you two had free time, and you guys had your numbers saved in eachothers phones with little hearts next to them. you also knew that no one else knew about it, and you wanted to keep it that way.

“anton never comes to these things” giselle said.

even in the darkness giselle could tell you were scanning the crowd. she opened her eyes only for a moment before going back to dancing to the new song while you only swayed. you watched the lights roam and flash over the cluster of people dancing like a spotlight, occasionally shining on people’s faces. each face that was illuminated looked unfamiliar, but they almost all had their eyes closed and their hands up, letting the music guide their movements.

you shook your head, turning to face giselle. before you could lean over into her ear to yell about how you weren’t looking for anton, the words were caught in your throat.

both you and anton saw eachother at the same time. you would’ve wished to see him first—it was the main reason why you stayed at a certain part of the dance floor. your spot on the outskirts near the wall gave you a perfect view of the staircase where the entrance was. even if you had to stand next to the stained mattress where a couple made out it gave you a vantage point. he came through the door with his eyes already scanning the crowd, disguised as him trying to find the vibe of the party. but when he found you he kept eye contact, smiling so subtle you knew no one else saw it.

with anton looking at you, and the electronic music playing around you infinity felt distilled. he paused at the top of the stars when you felt another flashing strobe light illuminate your face. you remained dancing, suddenly matching the pumping energy of the people around you—but your eyes stayed on anton. he had to be pushed by his friends behind him before he broke away from you, flashing a smile over his shoulder before finally continuing down the staircase.

you continued following anton down the stairs, watching him greet almost every single person on the way down. at each step he was dapping someone up, getting pulled in for an embrace as he smiled big. his posse followed behind him doing the same except louder. people came in behind them had to wait for the big crowd to make it down the stairs, but anton couldn’t be bothered. he even stopped for a quick conversation in the middle of the staircase, turning his head so some girl could talk directly into his ear. you saw anton listen carefully, probably straining to hear their voice over the blasting music. when he was done he nodded and did the same, speaked with his hands as he yelled in the girls ear. when he was done he didn’t linger, only giving his signature smile and looking towards you before you had the chance to look away.

you believe anton’s confidence came with becoming swim captain. being regarded as the best at anything in college automatically made you “popular”, as if that meant anything outside of high school. but winning awards for your university gave anton enough cool points that he was able to go into any party and be known by everyone, and his easygoing personality made everyone greet him. the fact that he didn’t come out to often made his attendance all the more special. even in the dark dance hall you could see the shock on people’s faces and the casual shrug anton did said i’m here, aren’t you happy? everyone loved him. you almost thought that the dj was going to stop the music to have everyone on the dance floor welcome anton and chant his name to celebrate his recent win. but it was cool and relaxed, that’s how anton was now.

when he made it to the end of the stairs anton and his friends disappeared into the crowd of dancers. you finally let your gaze drop back down to giselle, whose eyes have been closed for the past god knows how long as she danced to the music.

both you and giselle laughed as she danced against you. too many times in the night you guys would end up like this, getting lost in the music while your bodies pressed against eachother. anton came into your line of sight, standing in front of the staircase while talking to his friends. he chatted with them and you continued dancing with your friend, but the two of you kept holding eye contact. anton’s stares lingered while his friends talked directly to him, replying at the last second or when his friends bump him. giselle turns back to you and you look down at her without missing a beat. when giselle turns you around so you can dance on her, you try to not think about anton watching you.

“i’m going to go request a song. i’ll be back.” giselle said in your ear.

you turned back around but before you could respond giselle left you on the outskirts of the dance floor as she went in deep to get to the booth. you still felt the music, moving along as you followed giselle’s head through the crowd.

you were focused on your friend when anton came up to you. he didn’t have to timidly tap your shoulder when no one else was around. surrounded by people at party it oddly felt like it was just the two of you, so he touched you the way he always did. he let his arm wrap around your tricep, and he saw your hand immediately go over his and squeeze it. you kept your eyes on the dance floor for a second longer before turning to anton with that bright smile on your face. he smiled too, even when a red strobe light blinded him.

“i like your beanie.” your hand went up to mess with the thick hat, feeling anton’s wet hair touch your hand. “did you just finish practice?” you asked.

anton nodded his head before turning slightly so he could kiss the hand that was almost playing with his hair. you instantly brought your hand down and scowled at anton, looking around to see if anyone saw. he smiled back at you and his hands went to your hips to feel your rhythm.

“my friends are getting me a drink.” anton’s eyes went to the middle of the dance floor. “and giselle is preoccupied.”

you turned to see giselle lost in the moment as she continued to dance. with everyone focused on different things you could focus on anton. you liked feeling his hands on you in public, and you liked seeing the lights illuminate different parts of his face. he came in a little closer, craning his neck towards your ear so you could hear him.

“i missed you.” anton said.

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. sometimes you think anton said corny things on purpose just to annoy you or make you cringe. he tried so hard to woo you with the stoic persona he created to try and finally get a chance with you. he tried approaching you like you were on the swim team, trying to dap you up for years like you were one of the guys. once you finally gave anton a chance the facade crumbled. he wasn’t casual about anything, evident in the way he got mushy at the drop of the hat wherever and whenever.

you leaned close to him, feeling his fingers hook around your belt loops to keep you there.

“you saw me earlier today.” you pulled away for a second before going back in. “well you did more than see me actually.” you said back.

anton’s grip on your belt loops tightened at the recollection of this morning. you guys were at a difficult point in your relationship—if you could even call it that. after you had given anton a chance all those months ago you two had gone on a couple dates but it mainly was about the alone time you spent together in eachothers dorms. anton wondered how long you guys would sneak around before you finally let this become official.

the music dropped, filling the room with complete silence. anton spoke straight to your face, trying to see what reaction you would give him.

“you enjoyed it though right?” anton tilted his head as he spoke. “especially when i did that thing you like.” he said.

anton said it as confidently as he could, a smirk stretching his lips. now it was your turn to stiffen as you remembered this morning. when you and anton collided, it was always hard to remember all the details. maybe it was your mind trying to save some of your dignity—the way you called for anton in your moments of desperation made you almost cringe in embarrassment. but when you were face to face with the reason you were desperate he was practically forcing you to remember. anton’s strong body underneath you, his arms rippling underneath your iron grip. everything flooding back made you shyly duck your head, and anton had to smirk to try and hide the heat creeping up to his ears that were tucked into his beanie.

you were saved by the music resuming. instead of responding to anton you let the deep synth made your hands go up, feeling each beat and the rest of your body followed the baseline. the synth made anton feel different, he kept both hands on you as you turned around to continue feeling for the music. without saying a word you came close to him, and he kept a hand on your hip to guide you backwards.

the flashing strobe lights syncing up with the music and anton’s chest against your back made you feel the music even more. the entire party danced, even the people on the stairs too cool to do anything else nodded their heads and swayed their bodies. the drink in your hand was taken by anton, you turned around to make eye contact. he kept his eyes locked on you as he tipped your cup back, holding your drink for you so you could dance freely.

you looked around for giselle, she had found someone to dance with closer to the center of the floor. you laughed to yourself before trying to emulate her, bouncing a little more and embracing the music to its fullest. from behind you anton leaned forward, until his breath fanned your hair and his chin almost rested on your shoulder.

“not too obvious right?” anton said.

even speaking at full volume felt like a whisper from the loud music, but you heard him clearly. you shook your head, speaking straight forward as you continued to dance.

“i dance with everyone.” you said.

“even like this?” anton asked.

when he pulled you by your belt loops until your hips were flush with his, he let his parted lips ghost over the skin of your neck. one of his hands creeped upwards, resting on the exposed skin from your crop top. you let your shirt ride up a little higher when you put your hands up, still moving them with the beat.

as if on cue, the song ended. you pulled away from anton before giselle could notice, taking your drink back from his hands. you saw his friends approaching from behind as giselle started making her way back through the crowd towards you. you had to manually detach antons hands from your body, placing them at his sides as you turned to face him.

“see you around, anton.” you said, patting his cheek.

when the light flashed on anton’s face again you could see red tint across his cheeks.

“still gonna text me when you’re leaving?” anton asked.

anton said it underneath the loud music, but you heard him clearly. you nodded your head as you started heading towards your friend. anton still stared at your back as you walked away deeper to the dance floor, not turning back towards his friends until they handed him his drink.

#requestz #01zfan: anton #anton smut #riize smut

389 notes · View notes

pixiesfz · 3 days

Text

so long london v.m x r

plot: the lead up to vivs departure

warning: mostly fluff and some angst

You were mad.

Furious.

You knew another contract wasn’t going to be made for Viv when she came home and told you that he never played her at Everton.

She had scored the most goals whilst being managed under his name, she was amazing at the game. She was a defender's worst nightmare.

You would know you used to be one.

It was when you played for City. No matter how hard you tried, every single game she scored past you. It made you angry whenever her name was on their starting sheet but of course, she would have been on the starting sheet.

She was the best number 11 the WSL had ever had.

Your hate grew into an admiration for the Dutch whenever she shook your hand with a smile “Good match” she would always say “Good goal” you said back, and she shrugged “You made it very hard for me”.

You both would laugh before returning to your teams.

You never realized that your cheeks blushed whenever she shook your hand a bit too long or smiled whenever the ball turned around and she had to turn into a defensive player.

She always used her hands to hold your hips after you got rid of the ball, stopping herself from bodying you over.

You were both relatively shy off the field, whenever there was an event and the teams were allowed to talk you both never talked together by yourselves, always just in a group of people but you always found yourselves looking at one another.

It drove your teammates insane.

Then when the next season arose you were told you would be put on loan to Arsenal, just for a season to let you have more experience with other players as you took over for Leah Williamson as she was out with an ACL injury. You were Manchester blue through and through.

You would be welcome back at any time.

When the news was announced you got many supportive messages from both red and blue teams. Steph, your captain wishes you luck, some of the younger girls shuttered you wouldn’t be there to sneak them treats at games, and some of the Arsenal girls were excited about your arrival.

You quickly become friends with Katie, also already being friends with your Australian teammates.

You were very excited when Viv’s name popped up on your phone late at night.

Viv_miedema: Welcome to Arsenal, I’m very happy you're on my team now even if it is just for a short while (:

You blushed and replied, thanking her.

It wasn’t long until you were training, film camera near you to document your first training. It wasn’t too bad, you were comfortable, but you had to stop yourself from yelling out the wrong names at certain times.

Katie laughed at you when you stuttered with a name but Viv slyly walked from behind and whispered their name from behind you.

“Vivvy the hero” Katie cooed before the tall women walked away, unbeknownst to you with blushed cheeks.

The first week was over and you had opted to sit out on the first game, choosing to sit next to Leah on the bench so you both could analyse and she could teach you more about the team. You were scared the English Captain would not want to help you, scared you would be replacing her but she was nice.

She wanted what was best for her team and she knew it was you.

Your homework session had worked when at training you had easily gotten the ball off a majority of your teammates and kicked it away.

Viv watched you with a smile, determination written on your face.

Katie, her defender scoffed “What?” Viv asked “I can’t believe I didn’t notice this until now,” she said and Viv quirked her brows “What?” she questioned again and Katie gave her a deadpan look “You have a crush on City” she said, using her nickname she gave you.

Viv widened her eyes “No” her voice grew quiet “and Katie covered her mouth in shock “Oh my god you actually fucking do” she said, excitement taking over her as Viv slapped her arm “Shoosh” she shushed Katie.

“How long?”

“We are at training.”

“Balls at the other end”

“Katie” Viv grumbled and Katie laughed, already scheming in her mind.

You were happy in the training, making sure to high-five Leah who laughed at the energy you still had.

Caitlin slapped your back in the changing room as you were untying your shoes “I have an idea” she started off and you shook your head “No, your ideas suck”

“This is a good idea I promise,” she told you and you looked at Steph for help who looked away “Don’t drag me into this”.

You sighed and sat up “what is it?”

“Wanna come on a double date with me?” she asked and you stood up to walk away but she grabbed your wrist, sitting you back down “Please? She asked again, giving you puppy eyes and you sighed “Who is it?” you asked, and the girl clapped her hands, excitedly.

She never told you who the girl you were going on a date with looked like she just told you it was one of Katie's friends, which made you feel a bit better. Katie had a good eye and would only befriend people with good intentions.

“Not that I want to start dating a total stranger but how do I look?” you asked Caitlin and Steph who were sitting on the couch waiting for you to finish getting ready.

You wore a simple pair of denim jeans and a nice-fitting top that sat nicely around your arms. Your hair was up but it was curled.

“You look nice” Steph smiled and Caitlin smirked at her phone “You might need to bring a jacket” Steph yelled out when you turned to your room “No!”

“Your date must give you theirs”.

“I might just put one in the car though, girls are usually the same size so it won’t be oversized Stephy,” you said, using hand gestures to make Caitlin laugh “I’m just trying to romanticize this up a little bit okay, leave me alone”

“All right, we will cause we got to go”.

You played with your fingers in the car, tempted to text Viv asking her to pick you up as Caitlin drove.

The more you thought about it the more you wanted to be in her presence rather than a random girl you had never met in North London.

“Here”

You looked up to Caitlin who looked back at you with a smile, comforting you “Okay” you replied and walked out of the car “Katie and the girl is already there” Caitlin told you as you both walked in “Why don’t you use her name-“ you trailed off before you saw a smirking Katie and a dazed Viv.

“What?” Caitlin smirked “You didn’t think I picked up on your little crush, I’ve noticed this since you were still at City”

“I’m going to kill you,” you told her before you walked up to the two girls “hey babe,” Caitlin said, kissing Katie on the cheek as you and Viv looked at each other “uh hi” you blushed and Viv’s hands rubbed over her thighs “Hi” she smiled back.

Katie and Caitlin looked at you both hesitantly, scared they had crossed a line but when you sat down and filled both of your cups with water they knew they had just given you the right push you both needed.

Now for their last step.

“I actually wasn’t feeling that good” Katie piped up and Caitlin placed her hand on top of yours “Really, should we get you back home?”

Caitlin definitely was not an actor.

“Yeah maybe” Katie sighed, and Viv turned around “Should I take you back?” she asked and Katie shook her head “I drove so I can take her back myself,” Caitlin said “You two stay, Viv can drive you back later,” Katie said before they both quickly got up and walked away, you and Viv watched as they giggled with each other through the window.

“Do they know-“ “No they definitely do not” Viv answered your question as you both laughed “How are you?” you asked the girl who sat up “You don’t want to leave?” she questioned and you shook your head “I mean we’re already here and Caitlin left her card” you smirked, holding up the card that your friend had left on the table.

Viv smirked and then laughed “That’s good because I didn’t want to leave either,” she said and you blushed “Well that’s good”.

You both would label that as your first date, even if it wasn’t planned by the both of you but it didn’t stop you both from going on more. It was on the fourth date that Viv acted differently and it worried you a bit, she was short with her answers and kept on fumbling with her hands.

It was in the car when you figured out “Are you okay?” You asked and she furrowed her eyebrows “Of course” she said and you nodded “You’re just acting a little bit weird I guess” You shrugged and Viv opened her mouth to answer but nothing came out “Viv?” you asked and she shook her head “Can you close your eyes?” she asked with a blushed face, she usually wasn’t the one to blush so you smiled “okay” you obliged and closed your eyes, facing her.

You felt her soft hands grasp your chin and your lips parted at the feeling before she leaned her lips to yours, you smiled before reaching your own hands out to her and pulling her a bit closer as you kissed for the first time, you both smiled into the kiss and only leaned away when you both had to breathe.

“You don’t have to be nervous to kiss me” you assured her and pulled her in again and she graciously kissed you back.

Since Viv technically kissed you first, you decided you would be the one to pop the question for the Dutchie to be your girlfriend. It was on a rare free day and instead of being incognito at the men's City game, you took her to the restaurant where you went on your first date.

“This is cute” Viv hummed as you took her to the same table you sat at the first time, still with two spare seats next to you to represent your missing friends.

You fumbled with your rings the entire time as you waited for the right time to ask her but Viv being the most observant person ever reached her hands out to yours, covering them “Are you okay?” she asked and you nodded your head “yep” you said, your voice squeaky.

Viv quirked her brow at you, not believing you and you took a deep breath “I was just wondering” you said before Viv smiled at you, calming you “If you would like to be my official girlfriend?”

Viv squeezed your hands and smiled “I thought you would never ask” she teased you “You knew!” you realized and she shrugged “Katie is very bad at keeping secrets”.

Viv felt like home.

So when your loan had finished and you had to choose between City and Arsenal you chose to stay at Arsenal for another six months on a contract.

You watched as one night Viv landed weirdly on her knee, her knee had been bothering her weirdly and this would definitely not help. Then when she had felt slightly better Jonas put her back on the field.

You hoped it wouldn’t be too early.

And It almost felt like everything would be fine, especially when she shot a goal against Liverpool, you were quick to run from the other end of the field to jump in her arms.

“I’m so proud of you” you whispered into her ear and used your arms to hide yourself kissing the side of her neck.

She laughed, squeezing you and light-heartedly telling you to get back to your position.

Then she was sent off, Alessia going on for her, you saw her wobble on her knee.

You went off shortly after, subbing on for Leah as she had returned from injury.

You sat next to her on the bench, laying your jacket over both of your legs before reaching your hand down to draw circles on her knee which she nodded at you..

You should’ve seen the signs from Jonas that he was trying to ice Viv out and you hated yourself for not. You held her in her house when she sobbed into your shirt, scared that her knee was going to end her career.

All you could do was hold her.

You were frustrated for her, even when her knee was healed Jonas still didn’t play her, at first you thought it was out of fear but it wasn’t until the last Everton game you realized it could be because he just purely didn’t want to.

You were near the boundary line, watching as Viv stood up, ready to go on and you smiled at her, she smiled back with a nod. Fans cheered as they thought Viv was returning to the field and so did you.

Your smile fell as you watched Jonas walk up to her and pull her back forcefully, turning her to the bench.

You felt hot, anger that had been bubbling had now spilled over, all you saw was red and it wasn’t because you had Arsenal girls surrounded before you.

“Oi!” you yelled out to Jonas as Viv also defended herself “Touch her like that again and I’ll fucking quit! You want to win? Put her on!”

You ran away back to your position, immediately regretting your actions as Katie patted your back “I’m sorry” you said and she crossed her head “Don’t be” was all she said before running back to her spot.

Jonas took you off after the next goal, Lotte going on after you.

You felt defeated as you looked at your manager, tears pricking at your eyes as you could’ve just possibly ruined your career. You were only brought back into reality when a comforting hand grabbed yours.

Viv who also had tears in her eyes “Can we leave?” you ask and she nodded as you both shook hands with your teammates on the bench and walked through the tunnel to go home.

When you reached Viv’s home she turned to you, locking the doors.

“How long do you have left of your contract?” she asked and you threw your head back, trying to remember “End of the season”

“He’s not giving me a new contract” she admitted and you shot up “Viv-“ “City always said they’d have you back right?” she asked and you nodded your head “I get reminded every transfer season”

“I’m leaving Arsenal,” she said as if it was the first time she had admitted it to yourself.

“I don’t want to be at Arsenal if there’s no you,” you told her and she smiled, tears now starting to run down her face “What about at City?” Viv asked and you smiled “really?” you ask and she nodded

“I want to play with you- I want to stay with you.”

#woso #woso soccer #woso community #woso x reader #vivianne miedema x reader #vivianne miedema #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc #arsenal women

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supernovafics · 2 days

Text

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k words

warnings: explicit language, fluff

summary: in which steve’s parents are out of town for the weekend so you and him decide to have a barbecue at his house

author's note: i’ve been in a bit of rut with this universe/series lately so i wanted to just write something short and fun for these two<3333

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Summer 1986

It was probably obvious that both you and Steve didn’t need to go inside to grab the buns and ketchup— that was definitely just a one-person job— but nobody questioned either of you as you headed inside to the kitchen.

The kids were swimming in the pool, and everyone else was sitting around the patio table. You were pretty sure that Eddie was about to start an impromptu game of truth or dare that Robin seemed enthused about, but Nancy and Jonathan seemed the opposite. All in all, it was safe to say that no one was really paying attention to you or Steve right then.

His arms were circling around you from behind right as the door fell shut behind you both.

You let out a soft laugh at the abrupt action, but still immediately leaned into his touch. “I’m starting to think that you didn’t wanna come in here just to grab the stuff for the burgers.”

“Yes, I’ll admit that I had an ulterior motive,” His mouth brushed right against your ear and you could practically hear the smile in his voice. “It’s just been really hard to keep my hands to myself for the past few hours— especially seeing you in this bathing suit— and I wanted us to finally be alone for a second.”

Everyone knew about you and Steve, and they had for months at this point, but you both still liked to try and keep the PDA in front of your friends to a minimum. Mainly because of the collective playful groan in disgust you two would receive whenever you kissed for a second longer than was considered decent or when you’d get a bit too handsy with one another in front of everyone.

That didn’t mean that it was easy to not be so outwardly affectionate with each other. And you knew that if it hadn’t been Steve coaxing you into the kitchen, away from everyone else to steal a kiss or more right then, it probably would’ve been you doing it.

You shifted around to face him and the towel that you had draped around your shoulders slipped off as your arms came up to rest on his bare shoulders and then circle his neck.

“I’ve had this bathing suit for practically forever.”

“Yes, and probably every time I’ve seen you in it, I’ve almost exploded.”

You playfully rolled your eyes but still smiled. “That’s definitely not true.”

“It’s very true,” He told you as he guided you backward so that you were pressed up against the counter. “We may have been just friends back then, but I wasn’t blind to how hot you are.”

You could feel your face warm at his words and you only smiled wider at him. “You’re very, very hot too.”

The sound of everyone talking and laughing outside faded away when Steve’s head dipped down a bit and his lips slotted against yours. His hands found your hips, fingers pressing into the exposed skin. He quickly lifted you onto the counter, which made you let out a surprised yelp against his mouth, but you didn’t pull away from him. Your fingers carded through his damp hair and any thought of getting what you were supposed to grab from the kitchen was long forgotten.

Even the thought of what was happening outside slipped from your mind— the barbecue that Steve had suggested doing as a celebration of sorts because Summer had just started, the kids finished their first year of high school, and everyone else had graduated just a few days ago.

You weren’t thinking about that or the fact that it was the first weekend of many that his parents would be gone for the Summer, so days like this would definitely be happening more often than not.

All you could focus on was Steve’s mouth on yours and his fingers beginning to teasingly slip inside the waistband of your red and white bathing suit bottoms; he so easily turned your mind into a pile of mush. You let out a soft sound that only egged him on further and you were certain that he would’ve pulled the damp fabric right off of you if it wasn’t for the sound of the door that led to the backyard opening.

You were detaching from each other immediately and you hopped off the counter, quickly reaching down to grab your towel that had fallen and place it back around your shoulders.

Max squinted at you both for a second and then she shook her head. “Ew, I don’t even wanna know what you two were just doing.”

“We’re just grabbing the buns and ketchup,” Steve said with a quick shrug and you simply nodded in agreement.

“Mhm, yeah, right,” She deadpanned before heading off in the direction of the bathroom.

You stepped away from Steve and went into the pantry to finally grab the hamburger buns and ketchup.

“Do your parents come back tomorrow or Monday?”

“Monday.”

“Okay, that gives us more than enough time to clean up then,” You said as you turned back to face him and handed over the ketchup. “Because this place will probably be a mess after everyone stays over tonight.”

“Very true,” He nodded. “Y’know, I’m just realizing that we’ve never… done anything in my old room.”

He didn’t outwardly say what he meant, but you read through the lines pretty easily.

“And we definitely aren’t going to do anything tonight,” You told him with a shake of your head. “You’re way too loud for that.”

He softly laughed. “I think that’s all you.”

In all honesty, it was probably equal, but you didn’t want to admit that right then.

Steve leaned in to kiss you but you turned your head at the last second so his lips grazed your cheek instead.

“Come on, we need to head back outside,” You told him, but before you made it anywhere near the door, he placed the ketchup on the kitchen counter and pulled you back toward him again.

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh at his eagerness. “Steve.”

He placed the sweetest kiss against your neck and then your cheek. “Just one more second.”

That was a complete lie and you were certain of it; one second, one minute, one anything, always turned into much, much longer. But you still felt yourself finally nodding at him anyway.

“Okay,” You mumbled, maneuvering around to face him which made your towel fall again. He didn’t waste a second to lean in and kiss you, and his hands quickly found your waist, softly stroking the parts of your skin that your bathing suit didn’t cover. Your free hand went up to the nape of his neck so that you could push yourself closer to him; chest to chest, skin against skin.

You had a feeling that he was going to lead you over to the counter again and lift you back onto it, and then settle himself between your spread legs again for the time being— which would completely go against his “one more second” statement, but you honestly would’ve been fine with that.

But then, you heard the bathroom door down the hall open and then shut and you two were abruptly pulling away from each other again.

“Okay, we actually need to head back outside,” You told him as you reached down to grab your towel.

“Fine, fine,” Steve said and started following you out the door. He helped you adjust your towel back over your shoulders and then placed the quickest, and probably most chaste, kiss against your cheek. Still, though, you felt your heart warm at the action and you were smiling widely at him.

“Hey, lovebirds, truth or dare?” Eddie asked as you and Steve headed over to the patio table.

You shrugged as you placed the buns down. “I don’t know, truth, I guess.”

“What were you two just doing in the kitchen?” He asked, the tiniest of a smirk on his face.

You hesitated for a second— a second that actually felt like so much longer— before responding. “Oh, um, we were grabbing the ketchup and buns for the burgers, duh.”

Steve nodded. “Yup.”

Eddie shook his head, laughing a bit. “Horrible, horrible liars. Where’s the ketchup?”

You turned to Steve— because you remembered that you had handed the ketchup to him when you were back inside— and immediately noticed his empty hands. “Steve.”

“Shit, my bad.”

Seconds later, Max was emerging from the house, bottle of ketchup in hand. “You guys forgot this.”

She placed it on the table and then headed back over to the pool.

“So, the question still stands,” Eddie said. “What were you two doing in there?”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington series #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine

256 notes · View notes

cherry-leclerc · 13 hours

Text

star-crossed ☆ mv1

genre: angst, fluff, humor, lots of back and forth, smut

word count: 9.1k

Fixated, you and Max struggle to stay away from one another. All the while, everyone tries to convince you that it won't ever work out.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, fingering

inspired by this !

cherry here!...as a wise person once told me: footnotes = crumbs. hope that helps!! enjoy :)

The table was long, practically going for miles, but not really—it was just your closest friends. They all converse with one another, talking about the upcoming season, the upcoming season, and oh, what’s that? The upcoming season. And you’ve had enough of it, he can tell, so he gently rubs his thumb over your hand, easing your nervous tick.

White florals lay neatly on the wooden top, fairy lights hang up above your heads, and Frank Sinatra plays from your fiancé’s phone, connected to the Bluetooth.

Pierre stands up firmly, clinking his glass with a spoon. When it doesn’t seem to get anyones attention, Alex lets out a loud whistle. Everyone’s heads turn. “Merde—finally. Well, first of all, welcome on behalf of the groom's best man!” Crickets. His smile drops. “I-Its me. I’m the best man.”

“More like Best Party Killer. Sit down,” Daniel yells, aiming a peony at his friend's head.

The Frenchman swats it away, to which Kika glares as it hits her. He nervously chuckles, pecking her cheek, swiftly. “Comme je le disais…we’re here to celebrate two very important people. Can ya take a guess?”

“Why did you choose Pierre as your best man again?” you whisper to the twenty-six year old. He shrugs, hushing you once before his watercolor eyes flicker back to his friend.

“Any more guesses?”

“Okay, thank you!” you yelp, standing up and motioning him down. “Thank you, Pierre, for saying a whole lot of nothing, really.”

The blue eyed boy silently pleads, hands pressed together in prayer. “Oui, oui, I’m done, I’m done.” A warm hand snakes to wrap around your wrist and you sigh, sitting back down onto his lap. He clears his throat. “I thought we could go around and…share some stories about the soon-to-be husband and wife. I’ll start.”

“Great,” Kika groans, massaging her temples.

“September 4, 2022.”

Circuit Zandvoort—September 4, 2022 (Dutch Grand Prix)

“You said it would be warm!”

Lissie squeals when you reach out to pinch her forearm. “I said slightly warm. More so cool.” A harsh glare. She winces. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Despite the evident goosebumps, you march your way over to the pen, awaiting your first interview. Lissie stands besides you, raising two thumbs up and a toothy grin. You got this! Your stomach churns as you fix your set up. She’s right, you’ve worked for this moment, day and night. You weren't going to mess up for any reas—

“Should I just come back later or…”

Blinking, your heart stops beating as your mouth runs completely dry. He looks around for his publicist who just sighs and starts tugging him away.

And we’re here with Max Verstappen, Lissie hisses—assisists. Coughing loudly, you bring up the microphone to your lips. “Max Verstappen!” The RedBull driver turns back to face you, clearly puzzled. You cringe at your sudden outburst, but continue. “So nice to see you. Saw you had a magnificent drive.”

Blue eyes pierce basically through your soul. He smiles, shoulders relaxing, hands leaning against the barrier. “Yeah. We did have a lot of luck on our side today. Plenty.”

It wasn’t that hard to pick up from there, question after question being basically given to you, to which he answers with professional ease. His dimples even pop out with every punctuation, it makes your chest swell. You clear your throat, eyes flickering to your list that now narrows down to one last inquiry.

“Everyone nowadays fears you, it seems like.” He laughs, rolling his eyes. “But I do have one question—how does it feel to be the villain in all of Formula One?”

His smile slips away. “Sorry?”

“Uh-oh,” Lissie mutters.

But you don’t catch onto it, his sudden defensive tone, his dark glare. Beaming like the sun on the earth, you nod. “Well you aren’t the most liked, per se. Often hated by others. Do you think your dominance has affected your relationship with the drivers on the grid?”

When you finally look up, you clearly notice his change in demeanor, and that makes you flinch. We should get going, his publicist squeaks, already pushing him away. Let’s not air that last question, thank you.

Fiercely, you turn to face your friend. “I still had a minute left!”

“Why would you say that?” she screeches. “Why, why, why?”

You blink. “I’m lost. What did I do wrong?”

The brunette sighs, brown orbs analyzing the short clip. “You got on Max Verstappen’s bad side, that’s what.”

“Their relationship had started rather…rocky,” Pierre announces, swaying his hands back and forth for emphasis. “But don’t you worry! I. Fixed. Everything.”

“She really said that?”

Max whips his head to Checo, then to Yuki, then to Pierre. Each wears a loopy smile. He scowls. “She’s new here, she must be—I’ve never seen her before. Who does she think she is?”

“A legend, that’s who,” the Frenchman retorts, almost high and mighty.

Max takes a long sip of his energy drink before scoffing. “I don’t care if she’s royalty, I’m never willingly doing an interview with her ever again.”

A few hours have now rolled by and you’ve finally realized—you messed up. Here you go, basically painting him out to be the bad guy, when really, he’s just a strong driver. No one thinks he’s a villain, you think he’s a villain.

“You think he’s going to protest against me? Get me fired? Boycott? Hates me?”

Lissie giggles, tidying up the equipment from the last round. “No. No. No. Maybe?”

Groaning, you hit your forehead over and over again with your clipboard before a sharp accent makes you stop. “Hello.”

“Oh! Hi!”

His lips stretch, then steps closer to you. “I’m Pierre—”

“I know who you are,” you cut him off. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m—”

“New?”

Your cheeks burn up at his accuracy. “Yes?”

“I thought so,” he pronounced with a goofy grin. Annoyance builds up inside of you but hold back and bite your tongue. The Frenchman fixes his sunglasses that lay on the bridge of his nose. “So…I’m going to take the chance and say that what you asked wasn’t meant to hurt his feelings?”

You soften up quickly. “I hurt his feelings?”

A nose scrunch. “Let me backtrack; Max doesn’t have feelings, therefore there’s nothing to hurt, but he does hold killer grudges, so yeah.” He lifts the frames. “He doesn’t like you.”

“Lovely,” Lissie mumbles from her spot besides you. “Is there a way…we…can fix all this misunderstanding? Because that’s what this is! A misunderstanding!”

The Alpha Tauri driver clicks his tongue in deep thought. “There’s not much to do other than apologize. Explain yourselves, maybe? He’s very Old-Fashioned.”

“Okay, yes.” You scurry down the paddock. “I could do that! I could so do that.”

“Other way!” he yells. Turning around, you see him pointing you down to the right. You giggle, nervously, and continue your sprint.

You catch him quite fast; his tall stature and blond hair are pretty easy to spot. “Hey—hi!” Gasping for air, you clutch onto your side. “H-hello. Again.”

His jaw ticks once, and in an eerie motion, a warm smile forms. You shudder. “Yes?”

“I just wanted to apologize about before. That was not the right thing to say, I am so sorry…please don’t demand for my release.”

A dark brow quirks up, looks around, then back down to you. “I’m not here to ruin your life, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

You sigh in relief. “God. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Crouching down to you, he tilts his head to the side with a sly grin. “You’re very welcome, but that doesn’t mean I like you.”

Your breath hitches, shivers spreading like a wildfire. “Sorry?”

“Yeah.” He steps away. “You already said that.”

“He was a bit guarded. Definitely guarded.”

“Isn’t this supposed to make me look good?” your fiancé grunts, dark eyes narrowing down on the Frenchman. “You know what? Just sit down.”

Pierre smirks. “See? Guarded.”

Autodromo Nazionale Monza—September 11, 2022 (Italian Grand Prix)

“I’m not a quitter.”

“There we go!”

“But he makes me want to quit.” “Oh, well now we’re back to square one,” Pierre groans. “He’s being hard headed, that’s all. I’ll talk to him again, don’t worry.”

And he does.

It happens during one of the worst moments in your life; you weren’t wearing makeup.

“You look—”

“Hideous?” You blush. “Yeah, don’t even mention it.”

He swallows, digging his hands deep into his pockets. “I wanted to apologize… for the way I reacted. It was immature.”

“N-no, you had every right to be upset. I crossed the line and I’m sorry.”

Max nods, Adam’s Apple dancing up, then down. “Truce?”

Staring down at his large hand, you smile and slip yours past it. “Truce.”

And as a rare occasion, his smile meets his eyes, crinkles and all. The RedBull driver disconnects first, then rubs his jaw once before signaling down to your wet hair. “Pool day, I see? Enjoying the benefits?”

With a cheesy look, you shrug. “It’s one way to relieve stress.”

“Yeah—and what’s another?”

His tone is sultry and irresistible, you can’t help but rip your gaze away. “Anything that brings thrill, I suppose.” A tick. “Whatever that may be.”

“And what if it’s something bad? Does that still count?”

You laugh, throwing your head back. The Dutchman’s lips wobble as a weak attempt to not smile. “You’re not a bad person, so yes.”

His tongue clicks. “Uh, I don't know. As I recall, you called me a villain?”

Groaning, you gently smack his chest. “Will you ever let it go?”

“Might take me a while…”

Just as you’re about to respond, your phone rings and you smile. “L-Lissie.”

The blue eyed boy nods. “Are you going to be interviewing me from now on?”

“Ah—is my ban lifted?”

“Yes.”

You roll your eyes. “Then yes.” Strolling past him, you wave. “See you around. And put on some sunscreen. It’s good for you.”

“Where are you even going with any of this?” Lewis hollers from the end of the table, taking a sip of wine. “You’ve just been talking about yourself, not them.”

Pierre scowls. “I’m getting there!” He returns his attention to the couple, gleaming. “So, as you can imagine, once I weaseled my way in and fixed their problems—your welcome, by the way—a certain spark came through. It was clearly evident.”

Marina Bay Street Circuit—October 2, 2022 (Singapore Grand Prix)

“Nepo-Baby?”

You hum. “They all are.”

Lissie groans. “So how will I know which one?”

“Oh, you’ll know.” Squinting accusingly, the British girl sticks her tongue out before standing up, hands on her hips. She yawns. “I have to go find Will. Something about—whatever, you probably don’t even care.”

You giggle. “Nope. Have fun.”

Silence engulfs you as you close your eyes momentarily, pulling your coat over your chest.

“Don’t you have to watch the race in order to report back on it? Ask questions?”

“Dude, I was just falling asleep…” You peek an eye open. “And yes. But it hasn’t started, so I'm clear.”

Max whistles, unimpressed. Falling down next to you on the fluffy couch, he places his hands over his stomach, closing his eyes, too. You try not to laugh and instead do the same.

“Haven’t seen you around much.”

“Been hiding from you.”

“Seems like. Don’t do that.”

“Fine.” You grin, sitting up straight. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

“Probably.”

You snicker, pink tongue poking from in between your teeth. The cold air makes you snuggle deeper into your wannabe-blanket and he can’t help but take occasional glances. Teeth chatter. “C’mon. I’ll walk you.”

“...and I turned and said, isn’t that Celine Dion?” Lissie waves her hands back and forth, swaying like a Fly Guy. She pouts, stopping her movements. “Turns out I was just really freaking high.” Will laughs, jotting down God knows what onto a piece of paper as she continues cluttering herself with an obnoxious amount of wires. The British girl huffs. “Y’know, sometimes I wonder if it was—” A sharp gasp. “Him? Oh my—it’s him!”

“Don’t you mean her?” Will hums from his spot, still not looking up.

But wide-eyed Lissie stares with her jaw on the floor as you and Max cross by, laughing and pushing each other as you make your way down the paddock. As soon as you blush when he winks, it becomes all the more real. The young reporter nods, curled hair bobbing up and down.

“R-right—her.”

Autódromo José Carlos Pace—November 13, 2022 (Brazilian Grand Prix)

“Is he cute? Yeah, maybe.” A finger pinches her top lip before releasing. “In a weird way.”

“Hey,” you warn.

“Is he your type? Don’t know why, but yes. I could see why you’re into him.”

“Great…”

“But is he the right choice? No. Not at all.”

“...and fantastic.” Flopping down onto your towel, you groan. Suddenly the blazing sun wasn’t the worst feeling because Lissie was right. It’s unbearable, almost. You prop up, facing her with a scrunched nose and squinted eyes. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit too harsh?”

“Oh no.” A sip of coconut water. She purses her lips. “God no.” You sigh, slowly, then sprawl back down with a sour snarl. You can hear her debate; muttering, mumbling. Still, that doesn’t get rid of your bad mood. The brunette pokes your thigh gently, nibbling her bottom lip. “He’s just so—and you’re just so—” A beat. “I’m just looking out for you.”

“Yeah.” Waves crash harder. Sun beams brighter. You open up the bottle of sunscreen, spurting some onto your burnt legs. You rub briskly; up, down. She flinches. “Yeah, I know.”

“And for a while, that was that,” Pierre announces, feigning indifference. “No more love birds.”

“Oh,” George blurts. Dark brows pinch up, teasing smile playing out. “Then why are we here?”

“Oh God,” you groan, digging your face into the nape of the twenty-six year old. You can faintly sniff out his musk scent, clean and so him. It makes you smile like a teen. “What if we just elope?”

He chuckles, vibrating and sending you on your own personal rollercoaster. “We always can. Is that what you want?” And he asks because he knows—no. That’s not what you want. Separating yourself to peck his cheek, you shake your head with a playful pout. “No. That’s not what I want.”

“Good.” Watercolor eyes flicker to where Pierre finally gets yanked down and Lissie takes over with a proud smile. “Because I think this is actually going somewhere.”

Bahrain International Circuit—-March 5, 2023 (Bahrain Grand Prix)

So you kept your distance, and oddly enough, he did too. For plenty of reasons. And it wasn’t even that hard, really. He spent his summer break traveling and you spent yours as a homebody. No texts, no calls, no nothing.

“Heads or tails?”

“Tails.”

A sly grin. The silver coins flips a couple rounds before jumping up and down, clapping. “Heads! Go on, Coffee Boy. Oh, and make it extra sweet.”

“You’re going to get a sugar high and not be able to sleep later.”

“Until I can feel my teeth rot,” you retort, slipping your tongue over your pearly whites.

Answering a few emails, you perch onto a chair. It’s too stiff, so you twist and turn until you ultimately decide to just stand. A gust of wind salutes you as your orbs flicker up to the sudden shadow. A breath catches.

Max tilts his head in greeting. “Working hard already?” Your lips part. “The season’s barely begun.”

And just like that, your world tilts on its axis, but this time with more to lose.

“As your best friend—” Lissie points clumsily at Carmen who giggles while the British girl furrows her thick brows. She glances around before spotting you dying with laughter on your fiancé’s lap. She claps. “I knew straight away—he was the one for you.”

Miami International Autodrome—-May 7, 2023 (Miami Grand Prix)

“How long has this been going on for?” she hisses, disappointed eyes challenging both you and Max. She gags at the hickeys on your neck and his tousled hair.

With wobbly legs, you take her hands into yours. “A week—”

“No.”

“Well, two—”

Green paints her face. “No.”

“One month,” he murmurs from his corner in the elevator. Watercolor eyes flicker up, loopy. “It’s been a month. Ever since—”

“Azerbaijan.” Shamefully, you look down at your shoes and nearly scream bloody murder when you spot your thong just a few steps behind her. “Ew, gross,” Lissie gasps, shutting her eyes in despair. Taking in the opportunity, you scatter down and retrieve the thin fabric. The Dutchman releases a laugh, but bites down when the British girl glares hard. She curls a brow at your breathless state. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Giggling nervously from your place on the floor, you keep your hands behind your back; out of sight, out of mind. “Begging for forgiveness?”

“Oh stop it, a piece of land is what I need in order to forgive you for being dumb as shit.”

You frown, but quickly stand up when she exits the elevator. You can hear him follow with a bored expression. “Lissie, wait!”

Like a spinning top, she turns back, long layers slapping her pink face. “You two know this isn’t a good idea, right?”

“Yes—”

“For a million different reasons—”

“I-I’m aware,” you stutter.

“Then why did you do it?” she whispers.

And the truth is, you don’t know. All you know is that nothing else matters when you're with him. It’s sickening how blindsighted you get. Anxious eyes twirl over to the blue eyed boy who shared the same expression despite being unbothered a few seconds ago.

Licking your lips, you play with the fabric. “That’s it. We’re done.” You turn to the RedBull driver. “Tell her.”

“Done.”

For a moment, you almost let yourself flinch from how fast and easy he’s able to say that one word. Lissie’s judgmental eyes look at you, then him, then sighs, reluctantly nodding. An awkward moment ticks by and then she’s focused, appalled.

“Are those your panties?”

“You were like a dog who couldn’t bear the idea of leaving its bone.” Everyone snickers while you throw the same peony Daniel had aimed at Pierre to shut him up. She laughs, raising her arms up in defense. “And I know—I know—I came in like a monster, warning you off of all the drivers because like it or not, they’re scumbags—”

“Ey. Watch it,” Carlos deadpans from the corner, brown eyes playfully glaring.

She shrugs. “But I no longer liked playing the role of an evil step-sister so…” Tears brim and you choke on a wet sob. “I’m just so happy that you’re happy.” A pause. “That you're both happy.”

Leaping off his thick lap, you rush over, embracing her. She laughs, returning the gesture. “I love you,” you start. I know. “And I’m so happy that you never—”

A knowing smile. “I’d do anything for you.”

Circuit de Monaco—May 28, 2023 (Monaco Grand Prix)

Sneaking into his motorhome, you moan as soon as he gets his hands on your; sliding up and down your body with urgency. Heat radiates off of him and onto you. All of this— the cramped room, his lips attacking your neck—makes you dizzy. Clutching onto his sweaty hair, you arch, completely to him and for him.

“We s-shouldn’t.” You gasp. Long fingers tease your aching pussy as you whine. He instantly slaps a large hand over your mouth as he continues his movements. The stretch burns, but it's fairly familiar that you don’t even cry out, just stare back with knitted brows and an open mouth that he can’t see, but can feel expand beneath his palm.

“You’re probably right.” A steady stroke. “You should be out there.” His knuckles curl as he reaches your g-spot. “Preparing those foolish questions.” A muffled moan. “But you’re here, because you know that this excites you as much as it does me.”

Calloused pads push down before drawing figure eights deep inside. “You’ve been a bit uptight. Could it be—”

“No,” you cut him off. “Don’t even try and blame it on—”

“Fine, then answer me one thing; is this stress reliever a bad thing?”

Feeling your orgasm rolling in is one thing, but your snarkiness is another. Gritting your teeth, you force him down to kiss you, teeth and all, and then rip away with a sultry smile. “Maybe, but who cares?”

You’re not completely off. At that moment in time, neither of you cared about the consequences. It’s just that as soon as a room of watchful eyes flicker to you two, you swallow a low wince.

Grabbing your microphone, you fix your disheveled hair. Lissie’s eyes flicker between you and him, slow and scary. Like she’s reading right through you and your lies.

Beaming at the awaiting grid, you raise your chin up. “Who’s ready?”

“Finally,” Daniel yells, rolling his cuffed sleeves. “Someone with an actual story to tell.” A wide smile has never made you more nervous than at this very instant, so reasonably so, you swallow the entire glass of—

“Vodka, baby! That was my vodka—your champagne is right there.”

Blinking, you giggle, wiping your plump lips with the back of your hand. “What yours is mine, no? Isn’t that what marriage is all about?”

He chuckles. Lean arms wrap around your waist like a harness. “Keep this up and you’re not going to be able to sleep later.”

“The opposite, actually,” you state as a matter-of-fact. “Just need to get blackout drunk.”

He cocks his head to the side. “That’s not like you.” “...should have seen her! She was wasted as shit!” the Australian yelps, buzzing with excitement. You nip at the air all while he raises his voice an additional octave. “I found her there, at the bar, close to getting alcohol poisoning, but you know what they say—only drunks and children tell the truth.”

Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)

“Oui, the beer! Fucking amazing,” Pierre declares with a mouthful.

“Say it, don’t spray it,” someone screeches, and is quickly identified to be Alex when he wipes his shimmery forehead. You laugh, taking baby sips from your drink. Shirley Temple, because contrary to belief, you weren’t a nasty drunk.

The Frenchman pouts, tapping his fingers against the brown glass. He turns to you with a sheepish grin. “I read your article.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Have to admit, it's kind of boring. It’s not your fault though. Max Verstappen's domination has made the sport sort of…” He pretends to wilt, to which you toss your head back with laughter.

“Your time will come, Pierre, your time will come.”

“Shit, shit, shit! Bathroom!” Lissie’s long legs wobble like a plate of jello as you hurry over to catch her.

“Crap—you smell like shit.”

The British girl squeals, yanking her hair, dancing from side to side. “I smoked a fat blunt, but never mind that, if I don’t find a loo in approximately five seconds, then I will smell like actual shit.”

A nose scrunch. “That’s not very lady-like.” She paces some more. “Let’s go.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the crowded room, Max watches as the two journalists slip away. He keeps a close eye for a while until a certain brunette swoops in right next to him with a loopy grin and crinkly eyes.

“You should talk to her. Seems like you really like her.”

“What? What makes you say that? What makes you think that?”

Daniel shrugs, rotating his blunt back into his mouth. “Dilation.”

The Dutchman gags. “What…like when a woman gives birth?”

A sore laugh. “As in your eyes.” Another hit. “Y’know…they just look—different. When you look at her, I mean.”

And he hopes it is not apparent that these words make him swallow. For the past year, he’s tried his best to hide his feelings for the sake of not making a fool out of himself, and later for a whole other, but…

He licks his sudden dry lips. “Hm. Doesn’t matter if my eyes fucking shine or not, she’s not my type.”

The Australian frowns. “Sucks. Lissie’s really cool.” His eyes flicker over to the RedBull driver in a nonchalant manner, but when he blinks back with rose tinted cheeks, despite not having a sip of alcohol, he chokes on his puff. “Oh shit, no…”

In a flash, Max yanks the blunt away, dipping it into an anonymous drink. “You’re right, she is so cool—”

Brown eyes narrow down in accusation, brows knitted sharply. “Right, but we’re not talking about Lissie…” A wince. “Mate, you can’t…you know you can’t.”

And just like that, Daniel notices the blown out pupils revert back to its original shape. Small and empty. “Yeah. Of course.” He plops back down onto his stiff seat, rubs his eyes, then smiles. “I know that. I-I-I was never going to—yeah.”

“He—” Daniel points over to the broad twenty-six year old who sits with a timid smile. “...didn't have a single sip of beer that night because he was too focused looking after her.” A whistle. “And if that isn’t love, then I don’t know what is.”

“Wow, congrats,” George says to your fiancé. “For not being an alcoholic, really, that's impressive.” You can hear the humor that coats his voice and you can’t help but giggle. Calloused fingers slip up to pinch your thigh as you laugh harder.

“That’s why I drank twice as much that day,” Pierre announces with a firm voice. “Because he was missing out on some fantastic beer.”

“Drunkard,” Alex whispers to Lily who stifles a snicker.

The tall Australian clicks his tongue. “So who was the wasted one who confessed their little white lies?”

Everyone’s eyes turn to face you as you burn up with mortification.

“What the fuck, I barely even drink!”

Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)

“You.”

“Me?”

You snarl, stomping over. “She's a lightweight, dumbass. Why would you get her high? Jesus, we have a flight in eight hours.”

Daniel cackles, clapping as if delighted at the fact. “She kept insisting! I felt bad.”

An eye roll. “Douche.”

He tries to make it up to you with a drink. “Pierre says they’re good.” You eye the bottle hesitantly. He sighs. “Come on, trust me.” He eventually sneaks off for a minute, but returns with a new blunt.

“Did you pull another one out of your ass or where did you get that from?”

“Oh no. How many did you drink?”

Squinting, you motion him to take a seat. He does, but he can’t even smoke in peace now that you sway from side to side, despite being seated. “I don’t know. Too many.” He groans, large hands tugging his hair. You take a long sip, then raise your glass like some wannabe. “He told me he loves me. Tonight. Right when you left. And you know what I told him?” Another sip. “I told him I love him too.”

The Australian chuckles. “I didn’t expect you to fall for someone like him.”

“Me either. But I fell—tumbled.” You frown. “I’m just not sure this is the right thing to feel, y’know?”

His orbs flicker to the twenty-six year old who huddles with a bunch of the other drivers. He smiles, tilting his head. “Why not?”

“Because everytime I look at him, I fear the way my heart beats. He laughs, I laugh, and it feels wrong. He smiles, I smile, and it feels wrong. He makes one of our inside jokes, I understand, and it feels wrong.” A shaky laugh. “And something that should feel fucking right, doesn’t.” Glossy eyes switch over to him. “Does that make sense?”

“Not really.”

“Great,” you let out, wiping your tears away. “It’s fine, I didn’t expect you to understand.”

Daniel smiles, fondly, like an older brother. “It doesn’t, and you want to know why?”

“Why?”

A second passes by before he leans back against his chair. “Because it looks like you really—really—like him, so why should any of that matter? Just let yourself be happy, fuck everything else.”

You scoff, furrowing your brows. “You’re a bad influence.”

“Why?”

“Because it would never work out.”

“And why not? You’re giving up too eas—oh.” Almost robotically, he drops his blunt into your beer bottle. “You can’t…”

“Yeah. I know.” A pause. “Beer’s ass, by the way.”

Daniel taps his fingers against his chin, comedically. His orbs flicker between you two who stare up at him in deep focus, awaiting for his next words. He grins. “You two, it works. It always has.”

Circuit Zandvoort—August 27, 2023 (Dutch Grand Prix)

“Oh fuck,” he grunts, thrusting into you harder as you cling onto his arm, eyes screwed shut. “H-holy fucking—hell.”

You moan, mouth hung wide open. “Feel so good, Maxie, so, so good.”

Blue eyes admire the way you arch towards him like some sort of warm invitation. The way your legs lazily drape over his sweaty waist, how your scent hugs him like no one else. It’s all so familiar, and nice, and right. Your soft palm grazing his jaw makes him alert in an instant, desperate to not miss a single thing that lives inside this moment.

He furrows his dark brows. “We-We’re not made for one another.”

“I know.” He grunts, animalistically. “They warned me about you.”

“They told me to stay away from you.” His tip brushes against your g-spot and your head lolls back, a loud sound. “But God, it’s been impossible.”

“Max, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—I’m close.”

He grins, rubs your clit, and whimpers when he feels you reach your orgasm. You shudder when he follows soon after, face digging into the nape of your neck. Your heart pounds like a ticking time bomb, but still, you run your fingers through his dirty blond waves.

“Lissie…Daniel…they’re—”

“Right?” You choke up. “Yeah, you don’t know how much I hate that they are.”

He pulls away, and somehow, his watercolor eyes appear more blue than ever before. Black, almost—nearly. And you’re sure yours do too.

Max plays with your hair, tracing it like a map. He gulps. “So do I.” A tug. “I love you. Y-you weren’t some fuck buddy to me…you’ve always been more than that. And…I hate that too.”

A wet laugh. “I love you, too.” Wobbly smile. “And it’s because I love you that I know what comes after this.”

He hums. “What would that be?”

“Nothing.”

“I know many of you guys are wondering why I’m best man—”

“Not wondering, more like questioning,” Carlos quips with a sly smirk.

Pierre flips him off and you laugh at the immature interaction between the drivers. “Because it really could have easily been anyone else. Ha! Even you Carlos.” The Spaniard mocks him with a shady, playful, look.

“Then again, who would have thrown a better rehearsal dinner for Charles and his bride-to-be?”

Circuit Zandvoort—September 4, 2022 (Dutch Grand Prix)

"You got on Max Verstappen’s bad side, that’s what."

“It’s probably nothing or he’s just a sensitive little pussy,” you shoot back defensively.

Lissie snickers, hushing you, orbs scanning the pen. “You can’t say shit like that! Any of it, actually,” she adds. “Just…think before saying anything.”

You huff, arms crossed, stubbornly. “Fine.”

As the open area starts filling up more and more, by some miracle, your nerves start dying down.

Or so you thought.

“Before I let you go, I do have one more question.” Charles smiles down at you, shy dimples poking through. You return the gesture. “Would you consider yourself Ferrari’s savior or their scapegoat?”

“Jesus,” the British girl groans, covering her eyes with second-hand embarrassment.

The Monegasque lets out a nervous laugh, turning to face his publicist who simply tippy toes and whispers something into his ear. He nods. “I-I-I actually have another interview set up, but thank you for your…questions.” Pink tints his ears as he looks at you one more time before strolling away.

“Alrighty then,” Lissie hollers. She sneaks the microphone away. “Jitters, totally normal, but yeah, you’re done for today.”

“I don’t care if she’s royalty, I’m never willingly doing an interview with her ever again.”

“Would you look at that?” Pierre gloats with a wicked grin. “Max Verstappen got butthurt.”

The Dutchman scoffs. “No, I did not. I just don’t like stupid questions, and she made one.”

Yuki snickers at his wary response. Pierre rolls his eyes. “I could talk to her, if you want me to. I love shit like this.”

“I don’t.”

“Well too bad, I’m going to.”

“Yeah. You already said that.”

Dumbfounded, you blink as he walks away, wet towel draped over his head. If you had known he was this much of a shithead, then you wouldn’t have bothered to try and apologize. Clicking your tongue, you burn with fury as you glare, but as soon as the Ferrari driver brushes past you, you fall back from your trance.

“Hey!”

He turns, green eyes furrowed with confusion. “Hey.”

A wince. “I’m sorry about my ignorant question from earlier. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Charles blushes. “Am I that easy to read?”

“No, but Pierre let me know.” You awkwardly kick your shoe against the pavement and his eyes follow. You stop. “I sort of pissed off two of the most important drivers on the grid today. You, uh, just happen to be one of them.”

He softens like ice cream on a hot summer day. “I’m not pissed.” You almost let out a giggle from how foreign his accent makes the curse sound. He stammers. “You just caught me off guard, that’s all. Plus, I can’t answer questions like those. It would make all of us look bad.”

“Oh. Duh. Of course.” Now you burn up. “I should have known. And it’s no excuse, but I’m new and I’m just…figuring it out.”

His eyes crinkle as he nods. “Who was the other driver?”

You groan. “Max.”

He winces, shaking his hands, theatrically. “Yikes. Yeah, now he’s probably pissed.”

Autodromo Nazionale Monza—September 11, 2022 (Italian Grand Prix)

“Will you ever let it go?”

“Might take me a while…”

As soon as your phone dings, vibrating against your palm, he curls a brow. “L-Lissie,” you fill in with a subtle smile. “See you around. And put on some sunscreen. It’s good for you.”

Rushing back to the pool with a new bottle of SPF, you grin as he aims a deadpan expression. “A little Vitamin D is always necessary.”

“Don’t care, I don’t want to look like a peanut in two years.” You plop some onto his hand as he childishly swipes it over his face. You squirm with the way droplets slither down his toned chest.

Charles extends his hands. “Can I have some more?”

You laugh, wet hair tossing back like a curtain. “Hypocrite.”

Green eyes glare down, playfully.

Marina Bay Street Circuit—October 2, 2022 (Singapore Grand Prix)

“I can’t believe someone’s rocking your boat,” Lissie yelps, clutching onto your hand desperately. “This is monumental.” A teasing giggle. “We should definitely document this.”

As soon as she pulls out her phone, you flip her off. “And this, my dear, dear friend, is why I’ve been keeping this a secret.” She zooms in as you laugh, brushing her away. “Quit!”

The British girl groans, slipping it into her back pocket, then wiggles her thick brows. “Can I guess who it is?”

“No.”

“It’ll be fun!”

You spin around. “No, Lissie—no.”

“Nepo-Baby?”

Flustered, you twirl your necklace and hum. “They all are.”

“Fucking hell. So how will I know which one?”

A mocking laugh. “Oh, you’ll know.”

The brunette stays wondering despite being in the middle of telling her story from last week at the pub. She traces back to every possible driver, but they’re all natural flirts, so fuck that, how would she ever even be able to guess that—

“Oh my—it’s him!” She gasps with hawk eyes as she watches you two keep a careful distance from one another, as if temptation burns within the gap. Lissie lets out a delirious laugh as she turns to Will, who is still rather focused on his task. “I, um, will be right back!”

Wearing a goofy smile, you make your way back to the pen, but squeal when a firm grip wraps around your waist, tugging you into a cramped bathroom. You cringe at the suffocated smell. On the other hand, Lissie jumps from corner to corner. “How did I not notice? I mean, shit, you’re eyes—they’re huge!”

You frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

With a toothy grin, she pokes your ribs. “It means I know who it is.”

Your heart stops, then bite the inside of your cheek, feigning indifference. “We’re just getting to know each other, but he’s really kind, and I…I really like him.”

“Oh, I bet you do,” she whispers in a seductive manner, jeweled hands slapping your ass. You chuckle, opening the door, and turning back. “You get lost in his eyes, don’t you? Heard that could happen.” A swoon. “So what? Are they like the ocean? Like a blueberry Laffy Taffy?”

“Hm. No. More like green apple.”

She halts, mid-shimmy. “What do you mean green? His eyes are blue. And I would know—they scare me half of the time.”

“What are you talking about? Charles’ eyes are green.” The brunette gapes, mouth hung wide open as she pushes herself to speak, but can’t find the strength. You knit your brows, neat and high. “I told you not to scroll through your phone at three a.m. anymore. See? Jet lag is catching up to you.”

Autódromo José Carlos Pace—November 13, 2022 (Brazilian Grand Prix)

“I’m just looking out for you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Tired eyes squint over at the blue waves, then at the kids who build sandcastles.

She sighs, propping herself to face you with a sorrowful smile. “It’s okay to be confused about your feelings.”

“You don’t have to sugarcoat it, I know its as bad as it sounds.” You raise your straw onto your plump lips, sucking. “But they’re just so different from one another. I mean, Charles makes me feel giddy. Like really giddy. It’s nauseating. He’s sweet, and caring, and he's snappy but it’s endearing.” A soft smile and dreamy eyes. “He even helps with my notes.”

“But Max…he’s hot tempered. It drives me nuts. He never asks for help and always hides behind some brick wall. It isn’t like him to show me that he’s interested in getting to know me, but…” Cries ring through the hot air as a wave washes the sandcastle. “I want to get to know him. The real him.”

Lissie’s lips turn downwards at your broken tone. You act uninterested, but she knows it just for show, and that might be the worst torture of all.

She bumps your head with her shoulder, softly, and you instantly pout. “You’ll know what to do, babe. But if we’re being realistic here, Charles won’t wait forever.” Pause. “And Max isn’t the kind to grovel for anything other than podiums.”

Bahrain International Circuit—March 5, 2023 (Bahrain Grand Prix)

“Heads! Go on, Coffee Boy. Oh, and make it extra sweet.”

Charles lets out a heavy sigh, shoulders drooping as he strolls away. You pick and choose emails to respond to before leaning against one leg, typing away fiercely. You even have time to get back to your sister who begs for a souvenir. Any, she adds with a thousand smiley faces.

“Working hard already? The season’s barely begun.” Your breath catches so sharply that it hurts your throat for a second. His voice is somehow deeper, but it could be because you haven’t seen or heard from him in about forever. Max steps closer. “H-how was your summer break?”

Your berry lips open, then close, then repeat. It’s embarrassing. “Never bad to get ahead, and I—had a good one. Much needed.” He nods attentively. “You look—” You stop before admitting. “Healthy. You look really healthy”

A booming chuckle. “Thanks. You look really healthy, too.”

Blue eyes linger for a second too long and that fills you up with unwanted adrenaline. “Why are you here?” Pink expands through your cheekbones as you grimace. “I mean—here.” You point at the tiny tent as if it weren’t obvious what you were referring to. “Here, here.”

The Dutchman’s lips dance, fondly. “Well I was walking by, saw you, and wanted to say hi.” He looks around with a subtle frown. “Is now a bad time?”

“Well—”

“Mate,” a sweet accent rings through the air as you screw your eyes shut. Max turns to face Charles with a slow grin. The Monegasque tilts his head in greeting, hands occupied with your beverage and his. “How have you been?”

“So, so. Yourself?”

“Good. Refreshed.”

“For me?” he jokes. The brunette chuckles, raising the coffee cups with bright orbs. “Lazy Carlos, always sending you, right?”

The Ferrari driver shakes his head, curls following, then hands it to you. You hesitantly take it from him as you avoid eye contact. “Thank you, Charles.”

His smile widens, pecking your lips. “Still don’t think you should drink it on a daily basis, but hey, you’re welcome.”

Max blinks. “W-when did this happen?”

The green eyed boy hums, lips twisting against his straw. “Over break.”

“Oh.” Gaze slips over to where you bite your cheek. “You spent it in Monaco?”

A harsh tick. “Yes.” With an open mouth, he nods, like a muppet. You purse your lips, facing your boyfriend with pleading eyes. “Do you want to start making your way over? I don’t want Carlos to say anything about being late. You know how he is.”

Charles snickers, then intertwines his fingers through yours. “See you on track?”

The RedBull driver released a low breath, cracking a smile that looked more like a snarl. And while Charles doesn’t notice it, you do. Of course you do.

“See you on track.”

Miami International Autodrome—May 7, 2023

“Then why did you do it?” she whispers. The judgment and confusion that radiates off of Lissie is enough for you to grow gray. She rolls her tongue. “You can’t be doing stuff like this anymore, you have a boyfriend.” Her eyes screw shut, then snap open. “He adores the ground you walk on, are you insane?”

Tears well up at her truthful words. They sting all at once, and you carelessly crumble as your numb lips start to wobble. “Lissie—”

“No. Just—stop. Stop talking.” Max raises his eyebrows at the journalist and her sternness, but feels bad as you inch back, heels clicking. She huffs, pacing the hall. When she comes to a stop, she glares at the Dutchman. “How could you do this, too?”

“I never meant any harm—”

“Bullshit! Both of you are so stupid, it’s worrisome.” Shame fills your veins as you look down, pinching your undergarment as some coping mechanism. The British girl sighs. “You have to tell him.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no? He deserves to know.”

Decreasing the gap between you two, you sniffle, shaky hands clutching harder. “It’s going to kill him, Lissie. I can’t do that.”

And you can tell she’s running through her options because she’s your best friend. And above all, you were hers. With hesitance, she nods. “This has to end.”

You nod, desperately. “That’s it. We’re done.”

Circuit de Monaco—May 28, 2023 (Monaco Grand Prix)

“You’ve been a bit uptight. Could it be Charles that’s making you feel that way?”

“No. Don’t even try and blame it on him.”

He pinches your nipple, then licks your humid skin. You whine at the sensation. “You’re not getting anything in return for lying. It’s pathetic.”

You hiss when your climax tempts to fall. “What's the lie?”

“That you love him.”

“I do love him—”

He groans into your neck. “You sound so pretty.” A sloppy thrust. “When you choke around my cock, my spit, my cum.” Your eyes roll back when he pushes against your g-spot at a different angle. “Admit it, you’ve always enjoyed it.”

“You’re sick."

“Maybe, but you’re well worth it.”

You clench around his length and he hisses like a snake. In pain. In lust. Doesn’t matter. “You’re a shitty friend—”

Jaw clenches. “You’re a shitty girlfriend.” When you cry out in pleasure, he smirks. “Fine, then answer me one thing; is this stress reliever a bad thing?”

“Maybe, but who cares?”

And there's nothing left for him to do, simply smiling down at you like the Cheshire Cat, somehow scarier than The Joker. If not more.

Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)

“Right, but we’re not talking about Lissie. Mate, you can’t…you know you can’t.” Daniel grimaces. “She’s taken.”

“I know,” Max stutters. “Who do you take me for?”

The Australian is easy to tell when he laughs genuinely, but even the RedBull driver can spot the difference to the one exiting his mouth right now. “You think she’s pretty—that’s all.”

“That’s all,” he confirms.

“And that’s not a weird thing to admit because she is a pretty girl,” the brunette tries to help as Max nods happily.

“Exactly.” A pause. “You get it.”

Daniel brings the blunt up to his mouth, taking a hit, then blows out. “Y-yeah…because it’d be bad if you liked her, liked her.”

“I know that. I-I-I was never going to—yeah.” His heart pounds fast against his ribs when you giggle, pecking Charles’s neck, all while conversing with Lissie, Kika, and Pierre. He directs his attention back to the Australian and lets out a raw laugh.

“I wouldn’t be that stupid.”

“You’re a bad influence.”

“Why?”

“Because it would never work out.”

“And why not? You’re giving up too eas—oh.” In an instant, his brown eyes follow yours, and it makes his heart drop. Because it’s not Charles that you’ve suddenly realized that you love, but Max. “You can’t…” Somewhere close by, Pierre yells, cheering with a group of older ladies as Kika glares, shaking her head. He inches closer. “You can’t do that to Charles. He loves you.”

“And I love him,” you announce, brushing your hair back. Timidly, you peek over at him. “I’m not a saint, I know that, but I would appreciate it if we kept this between us.” A sore chuckle. “W-what matters is that I choose Charles. He’s the love of my life.”

And Daniel knows he probably shouldn’t agree to any of this, and yet, he finds himself nodding, curls bouncing. “Just between us.”

You smile gently, going in for another sip before laughing at the blunt that sticks inside.

“Beer’s ass, by the way.”

Circuit Zandvoort—August 27, 2023 (Dutch Grand Prix)

“I love you. Y-you weren’t some fuck buddy to me…you’ve always been more than that. And…I hate that too.”

“I love you, too. And it’s because I love you that I know what comes after this.”

“What would that be?”

“Nothing.”

He flinches. “I-it doesn’t have to be that way. You could lea—”

You sigh, pulling your dress up as he zip his race suit. “I can’t leave him, Max. It’s not that easy.”

He pants, blue eyes tracing your face anxiously. “A-and why not? Why can’t it be that easy?”

A cruel laugh wiggles up your throat as you dig your nails into your palm. “Because I’m engaged!”

He ricochets with a scoff. “Oh, what? Now you suddenly care about not being called a cheater?” You look away and he chuckles. “Because that’s what you are—a fucking cheater.”

Your face patches into a shade of pink as you breathe heavily, refusing to let the tears fall. “And what does that make you?”

“I am not a cheater.”

You snarl. “No, but you’re a God awful friend.”

He steps back, large hand running against his lips, drying them out, getting rid of your saliva. “You’re just—you know what? Fuck you.”

You gasp. “No. Fuck you.”

Max rolls his blue eyes, finally reaching his breaking point as he pushes you against the wall to his motorhome. “You’re scared, aren’t you? Of realizing what we actually are.”

Heavy pants. Orbs flicker down to his rosy lips. He almost smiles. “What are we? A cheater and a bad friend?”

“No. A villain and their accomplice.” That seems to do it. A strong tide takes over as you sob against his grip. And it doesn’t hurt, it’s not tight. It’s only secure. He continues with a dark look swirling his orbs. “You know, you were always the first one to point out someone as a bad person, when in reality, it's you.”

“Okay, stop—”

“And I’m not innocent either—I’m well aware—but I’m not the one with a ring around their finger.”

“Stop!” you yell, pushing him away harshly. It should feel foreign, the fury and the shame, but that’s all you seem to know these days. Or ever since you met him. “You’re right. We’re two rotten apples, or whatever the fuck you want to call it, but can you blame me? You’re fucking with my head, Max!”

He softens, and for a moment, its pure silence, other than your tiny cries. Licking his lips, he pats his thigh. “You already know I’m wrongfully in love with you. I just actually thought I stood a chance. That it would be me.”

“Max…”

He winces in pain with how sweet your voice sounds pronouncing his name. It’s always been that way. When you first interviewed him a year ago, to when you first kissed him back and gasped his name. But it only got dirtier and dirtier throughout the course of time.

“Be honest with me, please.” Bloodshot eyes look up at him. “Is he your safest option? Is that what this is?”

And with one final, tormented look, you open your lips to breathe out.

“He’s someone I could envision a future with, Max.” A beat. “And you’re just a footnote.”

“Voilá!” Charles cheers as he claps loudly against your ear. You yelp at the sudden sound all while trying to reach for his hands to stop his movements. He grins, deep dimples imprinting like feet on sand. “That was beautiful, really, it really was.”

Rubbing your ass against his bulge is the only way you think you can get him to shut up, and he does, immediately letting out a strained chuckle. Smiling sweetly at your friends, you shrug. “I had my doubts, Pierre, but this was pretty cute. Thank you.”

The Frenchman gloats, clicking his fingers. I told you, I told you they’d like it! Your fiancé kisses your cheek. “That’s why I chose him.” A playful frown. “You see, mon amour? You never hold any faith in my decisions.”

Rolling your eyes, you stick your pink tongue out at him. “I still think you should have chosen one of your brothers.” A stern look. “Like Lorenzo—wasn’t he the one that helped you buy the ring?”

“Yes, but that would have been unfair to Arthur. He would’ve felt left out.”

“Arthur’s too distracted trying to figure out the difference between left and right!” The Monegasque tosses his head back and you admire with a soft glow. “I lo—”

“Wait,” Carlos hollers, deep accent ringing. You and Charles turn, bubble bursting. “We all went around sharing but Max.”

“Yeah,” Lily ponders, fingers tracing her lips. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Pierre hums. “Mate?”

Max blinks, shaking his head. “Ah, it’s alright. We’ve heard enough, don’t you think?” His joke is meant to be easy going, but it comes out dry, and even to this day, you can notice it. Licking your already glossed lips, you flip your gaze to Lissie and Daniel who share the same worried expression.

Because Lissie was your best friend. She would carry your secret to the grave.

Because Daniel was Max’s best friend. He would carry his secret to the grave.

But the Dutchman himself didn't care. He honestly felt like he had nothing else to lose.

“Okay then,” he whispers, wiping his sweaty palms against his jeans. He slightly tilts his head to the open sky, as if wondering when it would swallow him whole. He was secretly hoping it would. Beady, excited, and petrified eyes stare back at him as he smiles awkwardly. “I…”

“He doesn’t want to,” you declare, twisting to signal the Frenchman. “If he doesn’t want to, then he doesn’t have to say anything, it’s fine.”

“No.” Blue eyes darken as he places his drink down onto the wooden table. “I want y—” He bites his tongue, immediately tasting metallic. “I want to.”

“Let him,” Charles says, chuckling softly. “Don’t kill his stride.”

So, with neat brown drawn together, clammy fingers playing with your silver band, you sit back down. Like a force of nature, the Monegasque hugs you from behind. You gulp, leaning the back of your head against his shoulder.

“I think it’s crazy how one minor decision can change absolutely fucking everything.”

“Oh shit,” Lissie and Daniel mutter next to each other, exchanging the blunt back and forth.

Your face twists up like a wrinkled shirt. “If you’re not going to say anything nice, then don’t say anything at all.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” he instantly shoots back, but feverishly deflates when Charles furrows his dark brows like some Doberman. Astonished at his cold tone, you blink, lashes fluttering like a notebook. He almost swoons at the sight, but amazingly holds back.

“If you hadn’t taken Pierre’s advice and apologized to Charles, then we wouldn't be here. If you hadn’t spent summer break with him, then we wouldn’t be here. If you hadn't fallen in love, then we wouldn’t be here.” He swallows. “It’s the little things.”

“And, um...what makes a relationship work out is the commitment. If one person commits and the other doesn’t then it won’t ever work out, but you two…” You nibble on your bottom lip harshly, holding your breath as he looks into your bright eyes. He releases a forced chuckle, as if it would help get rid of his splintered heart. “You two chose each other, so…cheers to that.”

“Wow,” Charles hums, blankly. “That was surprisingly heartfelt…” A sheepish grin. “Thank you, mate.”

It’s as if he’s suddenly admitting defeat to someone who didn’t know they had him as an opponent to begin with; the way he throws the peony at the Monegasque, who catches it with ease. “Don’t mention it.”

So, as Max sits alone, with no date, he begins to wonder that maybe—just maybe—you were right all along.

He gave his speech last.

He was the footnote.

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

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keiscorner · 3 days

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thinking about... boyfriend!haikyuu things

haikyuu boys as stupid cute things my boyfriend does for me

✧ feat. tsuikshima, oikawa, bokuto, kenma!

warnings: pure fluff and nothing else, g/n reader!

a/n: my warmup into writing again! it's been a few years so i'm very rusty T-T

✧ tsukishima — has always had a good memory. he remembers the things you like and thousands of tiktoks you send him every day, and will plan accordingly for your next date. if you tell him you like strawberries? he will take you strawberry picking the next weekend. he likes the look on your face when you realize he remembered and how excited you are. of course, if you make a big deal out of it, he'll just shrug it off. "do you want to go or not?" (the sassy man apocalypse started with him) he thinks, that's just what good boyfriends should do of course. it's nothing to write home about.

✧ oikawa — gets into a "i love you", "i love you more", "i love you the most" argument with you every time you say i love you. he knows he loves you the most, because how could he not? you understand him. however, you ultimately gaslight/confuse him into saying that you love him the most. he pouts. (he requires a kiss to "mend his broken heart after being manipulated by the love of his life.") tooru oikawa invented the term drama queen. you are the sappiest couple alive and you love every second of it, congrats! it makes the team sick to their stomachs.

✧ bokuto — tries to buy you everything you look at for more than a second. when you gasp at your phone or say something like "i want this", he will pounce on you to look at your phone. he just wants to spoil you! he thinks that you're so perfect for him, so obviously that you should get anything you could ever want. you have to remind him that you're both still young and don't have infinite amounts of money. but like the cutie he is, he will show up at your door the next day with a haphazardly wrapped present. (he did his best. and his best was amazing.) what's inside you ask? nothing other than the thing you told him about yesterday!

✧ kenma — gets excited to play when you decide to game with him, since you don't get on very often. he's logged on and already warmed up half an hour ahead of time so he can play his best. he obviously has to impress you, no matter how long the two of you have been dating. if he sees someone shit talking you in game, he'll pull out profanities you've never even heard of. (unrelated i think he loves giving you forehead kisses. he's just that kind of guy. SO PERFECT MWAHAHA) he loves spending time with you in any way possible, but this is one of his favorites.

#bell's thoughts — 🪼#this was fun hehe #haikyuu x reader #bokuto x reader #haikyuu x you #oikawa x reader #kenma x reader #tsukishima x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq x y/n #hq x gender neutral reader #hq fluff #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyu x you #haikyu x y/n

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blackmosscupcakes · 17 hours

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One of the aspects of the fallout from this last episode I'm most interested in seeing is Imogen's reaction, and that's for a very out of character reason.

One of Laura's self-admitted player quirks is avoidance of inter-party conflict. She's good at smoothing things over and tends to play characters on a spectrum from forgiving to avoidant. You can see this going back to campaign one, most notably after Scanlan returned and, while most characters were furious and slow to forgive him, Vex was instantly on his side, delighted to see him, and ready to forget everything. Jester, of course, was very committed to the power of friendship in general. Imogen tends more towards burying or distracting from feelings and events that might lead to conflict.

In 4 Sided Dive episode 20, they have the following conversation from about 1 hour 3 minutes in:

Marisha: Of course diving into the relationship is always fun, but then relationship tension is also fun.

Laura: Yeah I feel like you guys really like relationship conflict too like you guys talk about that a lot. I'm terrified of conflict--that translates to the game as well. I don't like conflict.

Sam: You don't like conflict? Even in the game?

Laura: No! I don't like fighting. Like if we're having a fight I will be like "it's okay FCG, I'm not mad at you." If you do something wrong I'll be like "that's okay."

However, her character is now in a relationship with Marisha's character, and as seen in the quote above, Marisha LOVES conflict. She eats it up! From Keyleth and Percy in C1 to Beau and Caleb in C2, she's been great at diving into tensions that further character development and make for great storytelling.

So we've reached a point now where Marisha keeps making choices with Laudna that are basically dropping an invitation to a WHOLE bunch of tension and conflict on Laura's doorstep, and up until this point, aside from a little dust up over the gnarlrock incident (a big one for Laura, but small compared to, say, Beau and Caleb's arguments!), Laura as Imogen has been broadly side-stepping these in order to do exactly what she said in the 4sd quote--tell Laudna that it's all okay.

But we've reached a point now where that's not going to cut it in avoiding tension any more! If Laudna continues down this path, lines are going to be drawn within the party, and Imogen is likely to have to pick between conflict with Laudna OR conflict with other members of the party. It's very likely there will come a point where anger and arguments can't be entirely avoided for Imogen no matter what choice she makes. And that's going to be REALLY fascinating to watch.

Sometimes these players nudge one another out of their comfort zones. Laura did it to Travis with romance. Several of them did it to Ashley with the titan shard. I think we can trust them not to push their friends to a point where they REALLY don't want to go (and I'm sure that sort of thing is negotiated between them off camera), so bearing that in mind a little tiptoe out of the comfort zone can be really interesting--for example, Travis did really well with romance in the end. It might well be a bit uncomfortable for Laura at first! But as long as she's okay trying it, I think it could lead to REALLY excellent storytelling and fantastic performance. I'm excited to see where it goes .

#critical role #cr spoilers #marisha ray #laura bailey #imogen temult #laudna

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blue-devil-of-the-lord · 24 hours

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How do you feel about writing more Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler? After watching X Men 97, I forgot how charismatic this elf man can be. If possible, I need an introverted reader with barely any social skills who starts to malfunction whenever a certain blue is around. When confronted, reader is basically 'you're too pretty' and almost dies of embarrassment.

Social System Error

Kurt Wagner x reader Words: 1.9K A/N: I changed it a little bit to fit the scenario, but I hope it's still up to your expectations :)

You wished that the ground would swallow you up. Who knows, maybe you would find a mutant who could grant you that wish, as long as you looked hard enough. Clasping your hands to your face, you felt your cheeks grow hot and slid down the door of the room before sitting on the floor.

Why couldn't you be normal for once? Talk to him normally for once, make small talk and say goodbye elegantly? But you weren't allowed to do that. Instead, you had to run into the next door just because Kurt waved at you and gave you one of his most charming laughs. Instead, you spilled your coffee all over the table just because he entered the room. I

nstead, you couldn't get a word out when he came your way, you just turned around on the spot. It was horrible.

The fact that you had developed a crush on the blue mutant was really no secret and the fact that he hadn't noticed was a real miracle. Or maybe he had found out and just decided not to do anything. You didn't know which option was worse.

So far, you had really done your best to avoid him as much as possible so that he wouldn't think of talking to you, but you could always at least catch a glimpse of the blue mutant out of the corner of your eye. You just couldn't help it, Kurt was wonderful. He was funny, charming, polite, intelligent and incredibly attractive. One look at his face with a beaming smile was enough to make your legs go weak.

And today you had really blown it.

Rogue had finally managed to convince her brother to stay at the school and he had decided to teach some of the classes. You were both thrilled and devastated at the prospect of seeing this wonderful man every day, and probably embarrassing yourself every day after you'd already ogled him more than once.

However, when you had entered the staff room at lunchtime and seen Kurt sitting next to Ro on the sofa in his shirt, suit trousers and loose tie, you had immediately stormed out of the room with a bright red face and gone to the staff bathroom, where no one had been at the time. In hindsight, you really should have locked that door.

You energetically threw another handful of cold water onto your face and rubbed your cheeks several times to be on the safe side, hoping to drive out the redness. "Oh God, oh God, oh God," you mumbled and leaned against the edge of the sink, head bent forward. "How am I supposed to survive this. God, I bet Rogue recommended these clothes to him. Lord help me."

Nervously, you began to pace up and down, ruffling your hair. "Why does he have to look so good? Can't he be ... normal attractive? Not inhumanly, divinely attractive?" You'd embarrass yourself, really embarrass yourself, and he'd never talk to you again. Or worse, think you're pathetic and talk to you out of pity.

You came to a halt in front of the mirror again and looked at your reflection. "No, no." You couldn't bear the thought. "Okay." You exhaled and leaned against the edge of the sink again. "It can't be that difficult. Just be normal. Or whatever," you mumbled. "Just be cool. Kurt's just another teacher, he probably doesn't even know you exist. You just go up to him and start a conversation, that's all."

You exhaled. "You can do this, take it easy." You looked up, meeting your gaze in the mirror, and put on your most believable smile. "'Hi Kurt, how ya doing?' No, no, that's too casual." You paused for a moment and thought. "'Good afternoon, Mr. Wagner, how are you today?' Oh God, far too formal."

You wipe your face in frustration. "Come on, it's just a conversation, nothing more. You can talk to students all day. What's the difference? Apart from the fact that Kurt is a lot more attractive and wonderful and that you have a crush?" You gave a somewhat exasperated and forced laugh. "Nothing more than that. Gambit would laugh at you if he saw you like that." Your fingers drummed on the porcelain of the basin.

"'Hi Kurt, I just wanted to take a minute to say that I really admire you and think you're wonderful and funny and...um I've seen you around here quite a bit and..." Groaning, you threw your hands up in the air. "God, I sound like a crazy person! Or a stalker! Or both! This is way too much too soon. Just... keep it casual. 'Hey, you're Kurt, aren't you? I'm glad you've decided to stay with us'."

You nod and run your fingers through your hair again. "That works, doesn't it? It's not too casual but not too formal and I don't sound like a crazy stalker who's way too obsessed with a stranger. Okay, good, you can do it. Just relax and stay cool. Who knows, maybe he won't even notice you and you won't have to talk-“ As you turn around mid-motion, you freeze in place, your heart skipping a beat. "-with him," you added meekly, your eyes widening in panic as you realize who’s been silently listening to your pep talk. Across from you, leaning against one of the toilet stalls, is Kurt, his arms crossed in front of his chest and an amused smile playing on his lips. His tail whips lightly through the air, as he slowly releases his arms from their twist.

You had to admit that your next move wasn't particularly brave. All the self-confidence you had been trying to build up over the last five minutes had disappeared and you did what was the only logical thing to do: you dashed past Kurt out of the bathroom, sprinting down the corridor, feeling incredibly grateful that you didn't have any more lessons today, meaning that you could hide in your room in the hope that you would never have to face him again.

Just the thought of it made your face flush with shame and you threw yourself onto your bed to release frustrated screams into your pillow. You weren't quite sure how long you'd been lying there, but a knock on your door brought you out of your racing thoughts. You didn't really feel the need to talk right now, but you heaved yourself out of bed anyway when there was a second knock.

You were pretty sure you must look horrible, clothes and hair out of place from the bed, but usually only Gambit or Jean came by and both had seen you in some worse circumstances. Sighing, you opened the door. "Listen, I'm not-" You broke off mid-sentence, looking up wide-eyed at the person in front of you, who was definitely not Gambit or Jean.

"Hello, am I interrupting?" Kurt looked down at you, his lips curled into a sweet smile and your heart instantly beat in your throat as the heat rose in your cheeks. You could only shake your head, causing Kurt to smile even wider. "Wonderful." He stepped slightly towards you, leaning against your doorframe, and you were pretty sure you were going to explode instantly.

"Can I...I help you?" Your voice was barely audible and shaky and you tried your best to avoid eye contact, but it was so incredibly difficult. Kurt's eyes were bright and shining and so attractive that she found it hard to look anywhere else.

"Indeed yes." His smile became more mischievous and you were pretty sure your legs wouldn't be able to hold you up for much longer, they were so weak. "I saw you storming out of the staffroom earlier and I was worried. What if you're ill? Or something is wrong? So I thought I should follow you to make sure you were okay."

It was pure torture. You wanted to sink into the ground, get struck by lightning, anything just to avoid having to have this conversation. Kurt, however, seemed quite determined to do so.

"But when I got to the bathroom, something was revealed to me that I could never have guessed." Ashamed, you turned away, your hands over your face. "I'm so incredibly sorry Kurt, I really am... I'm so unbelievably embarrassed right now. Please, forget I said that."

He raised an eyebrow and looked slightly amused. "You called me wonderful and funny. That's a little hard to forget." You groaned. "God, kill me."

"Ah, ah, ah, let's not start with that," he admonished, raising a finger. His smile softened and he gently stroked a finger over your hand, which was still covering your face. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. There's nothing wrong with it. Even if I don't quite understand why." At that moment, you decided that it couldn't get much worse and that if you were going to be embarrassed, you could at least get it all out at once. That way you would have limited the most embarrassing moment of your life to a few hours and not a period of weeks or months.

"Because I like you and you're incredibly attractive and perfect, but I'm not brave enough to tell you that and so I become a walking mess around you every time and I'm only telling you this so I can get it over with and you only have to reject me once and not twice."

You had spoken quickly and quietly and were pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to understand you, however he seemed to do so as he stepped towards you and slowly stroked your cheek again, this time more tenderly and with a sugary sweet smile on his face.

"Actually, that hadn't quite been the plan, my dear," he murmurs, a gentle lilt to his voice. His tail emerges from behind him, swaying lightly as if adding to the suspense. With widening eyes, you realize he's holding a bouquet of flowers wrapped with it.

Perplexed yet touched by his gesture, you accept the bouquet, feeling the soft petals under your fingertips. His smile broadens, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. "Can I take you out to dinner? Tonight?"

Your eyes widened, cheeks burning with a mix of surprise and excitement. "What?" you stammered, caught off guard by his unexpected invitation. He chuckled lightly, tapping your chin, which had dropped in astonishment.

"I'm asking you out," he repeated with a playful grin. You were at a loss for words, your mind racing as you tried to process the whirlwind of emotions flooding through you. When you finally managed to utter a "yes," your voice came out as no more than a soft squeak, barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

Kurt smiled contentedly, took your hand and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. "Tomorrow night, eight o'clock. I'll pick you up." With a wink and a slight bounce in his step, he disappeared down the hall, leaving you standing there, bouquet in hand, still trying to comprehend what had just happened.

As the realization sunk in, you hurriedly set the bouquet down on your table and dashed down the corridor to Gambit's room.

You had a date with Kurt Wagner, and the sudden rush of excitement left you with one pressing question: What on earth were you going to wear?

#kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler x reader #kurt wagner #nightcrawler #x men #xmen #x men 97 #xmen 97

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toxophilitis · 1 day

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Spread, Auntie, Spread

CHAPTER FOUR

It was late when Lori woke up.

The first thing that came to her was the smell of breakfast and perking coffee. She grinned and stretched, her body feeling good. She thought of her niece and nephew preparing breakfast for her. They are such sweet little darlings, she thought as she threw her feet over the bed and stood up.

She pulled a robe on and went to the kitchen. Janice and Stevie were just placing breakfast on the table. She stood and looked at them, smiling. Janice was wearing a pair of tight shorts, and her sweet little ass was cute and saucy. Her asscheeks were boldly exposed by the tightness of the shorts, and Lori wondered how she had managed to wear something as revealing as that around her mother and father.

Stevie was dressed in pants and shirt, sneakers on his feet. She looked at the front of his pants and was disappointed because they weren't tight enough to mold his cock. She pulled her robe tighter and belted it at her waist. Even though it was belted, the top was loose and the creamy swells of her tits were exposed almost to her nipples.

Janice and Stevie grinned knowingly at her as she sat down at the table. Lori saw the grins passed between them, and somehow she realized they had been talking. She was sure Janice had told her brother about how Lori had licked her cunt and that Stevie had told his sister about fucking her and how she had sucked his cock off. She was surprised to find it did not embarrass her at all. On the contrary, she was pleased that they had talked about it.

She finished breakfast and sipped her coffee. She watched Janice and Stevie closely, knowing that all she had to do now was wait for them to start making passes at her again. As she helped Janice with the dishes, she that Marty was supposed to fuck her this evening. That would have to be called off now. He could still visit but there could not be any fucking, not with her niece and nephew there. If he knew what she had done with them, there was no telling what he would say.

Marty loved nothing more than fucking, she knew. In fact, it had been their mutual desire for fucking that brought them together. They enjoyed each other's body, but there was no intention on either part of becoming serious.

Finishing in the kitchen, Lori and Janice entered the living room where Stevie had gone. He was lying on the floor on his back, staring at the ceiling. Lori knew she should get dressed, but again she hut it off.

She sat on the couch, crossing her legs. The robe parted and her creamy thighs were exposed almost to her hips. Stevie glanced at them, grinning widely. Janice, too, grinned. There was no conversation as Lori grinned back at them.

These two are up to something, she thought, feeling anticipation building inside her body. She knew they were up to something when she saw Stevie's cock swelling inside his pants. And he was making no effort to conceal his hard-on from his sister.

"All right, you two," she said. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing, Aunt Lori," Stevie replied. "Nothing at all."

"Bull shit," Lori snorted, drawing the robe over her thighs. "I can tell by those, impish expressions."

With a giggle, Janice dropped to the floor next to her brother. Lori's eyes widened when she saw Janice make a grab for his cock.

"Hey!" she gasped. "We can't have that going on here. You two kids better be careful."

But Janice and Stevie paid no attention to her. Janice, still giggling, opened her brother's pants and pulled his prick out. Lori gazed at them, feeling heat starting to bubble between her thighs. Janice stroked her brother's cock, then lifted her eyes and looked at her aunt.

"I like to play with Stevie's cock, Aunt Lori. It gets so hard!"

"How long has this been going on?" Lori asked, smiling with excitement.

They didn't answer her. Janice stroked her fist up and down her brother's cock, her eyes shining brightly as she sat there, her knees up, spread wide. Lori saw the outline of her sweet little cunt through the tightness of her shorts.

"Wanna watch me fuck Stevie?" Janice asked in an excited voice. "Aunt Lori, do you wanna see me fuck my brother?"

Lori's heart was hammering with excitement. This was much more than she had expected. She had not expected to have both at the same time, and here was the opportunity being handed to her, and she had made no effort to bring it about at all.

It was as thought Janice and Stevie had known what she wanted from them from the beginning. She had no idea they were so erotic, so enthusiastic about fucking. They had not shown any interest in sex before, not when they were with her. Again she had the strange feeling that something was going on that she was unaware of.

Janice turned loose of her brother's cock and stood up, stripping her tight shorts down with a lot of wiggling of her curvy little ass. She dropped her shorts on the floor, still wearing the blouse. She stood there in her half-naked beauty, rubbing her sparsely-haired cunt as Stevie slipped his pants off.

Lori could hardly believe what she was seeing. Janice lay down on the floor, her slim legs spread wide as her brother slipped between them. His cock was throbbingly hard, and Lori watched with hot eyes as he slipped his swollen prick heed into his sister's cunt.

Janice made a soft squeal of pleasure as Stevie's cock entered her pussy, and she lifted her naked little ass for him. Stevie stayed on his knees so Lori could watch his cock go all the way into his sister's almost-hairless pussy. Then he lay on top of her, his naked ass pounding up and down. Janice gurgled with pleasure as she twisted and writhed her saucy ass beneath him.

Lori's cunt trembled with lust as she watched her niece and nephew fuck. Her tits swelled and her sensitive nipples pressed at her robe. She could not stand the tension and pulled the top of her robe away, revealing her creamy pointed tits.

Lori drew her feet to the cushions, of the couch and spread her knees, opening the belt of the robe. She sat there naked, watching the two kids fucking. Her hairy cunt was fully exposed to their hot eyes, and she could not resist fingering her pussy. She rubbed and pinched at her swollen clit as she stared at brother fucking sister.

As he fucked his cock into his sister's tender pussy, Stevie watched his aunt fingering her hairy cunt, his eyes bright with excitement. Janice, too, turned her head to watch Lori.

Janice was gasping with the pleasure her brother's cock was giving her. She ran her hands down and clawed at Stevie's ass, her own hips churning furiously.

"Ohhhhh, I love it when Stevie fucks me, Aunt Lori," she mewled. "I love his cock in my cunt, fucking me!"

Lori groaned with desire and thrust a finger deep into her cunt as she watched them. It was a beautiful sight to her, seeing those two, half-naked, young bodies squirming and fucking frantically.

"Janice has a tight cunt, Aunt Lori!" Stevie grunted as he fucked into his sister's pussy. "Her cunt is tight and hot and wet... just like yours!"

Lori began to fuck her finger into her boiling cunt faster, her eyes glazed as she watched them fuck. She gazed at Stevie's naked ass bouncing up and down and could not back off any longer. She slipped from the couch, letting her robe fall away. Nakedly she knelt on the floor next to them, her hands running over her nephew's clenching asscheeks. She slipped a hand beneath Janice's twisting ass.

"Ohhh, Stevie," she hissed hotly. "Fuck her, baby! Fuck your sister's hot little cunt! Ohhh yes, Stevie! Fuck her tight little pussy!"

Lori lowered her face to his ass and began to kiss hotly at his bouncing ass cheeks. Her tongue, snaked out and licked his asscheeks as he fucked his cock into his sister's cunt. Lori's tongue licked down the back of his thighs, her hand gripping one asscheek. She squeezed at the small tight asscheek of her niece, her tongue furiously licking Stevie's flesh.

Lori felt Janice reaching between her thighs for her cunt and spread her knees. "Ohhh, yes, Janice! Feel me! Feel my cunt... fuck Stevie and feeling up my aunt, Janice. Fingerfuck my cunt!"

Janice fucked her finger into her aunt's steaming pussy, fucking it in and out. Lori spread her legs wider and twisted her ass, her lips and tongue running frantically about her nephew's bouncing, naked ass. From her position, Lori saw, with glassy eyes, her nephew's balls banging against Janice's upturned ass, his throbbing cock fucking her.

Lori was so excited she could hardly keep her mouth on Stevie's wiggling ass. She lifted her face, standing on her knees, her own ass grinding as Janice finger-fucked her furiously. Lori's eyes, although glazed by passion, watched her nephew's cock fucking in and out of his sister's cunt. Janice's delicate pink pussy lips clung to Stevie's cock tightly and hotly.

"Oooooh, Stevie," she hissed thickly, "fuck her! Oh, God, baby, fuck your sister's hot little cunt! Feed her hungry hot cunt that hard cock, Stevie! Oooooh, that's beautiful! Fuck her, fuck her good!"

Lori grabbed her own swollen tits, hot fingers digging into the sensitive flesh. She looked down her body and churned her hips on her niece's fucking finger. She had never felt so aroused, so damned hot, in a long time. Her pussy was closing about the fucking finger, clamping it tightly as Janice gurgled in pleasure.

"I think I'm gonna come!" Stevie yelled, fucking faster into his sister's cunt. "Ohhhh, Janice! I'm gonna come! Oh... ohhhh!"

"Okay!" Janice squealed, her ass churning in a frenzy as her brother fucked his cock deep, then held it there. "Do it, Stevie! Come in me! Oooooh, come inside my cunt!"

Stevie grunted and his body shook, spewing come juice into his sister's gripping pussy. Janice was no longer fucking her finger into her aunt's cunt but was holding it still. That didn't matter, because Lori was coming in waves of pleasure, her pussy sucking at the still-buried finger.

Janice uttered a long wail, and her small body shivered. She gurgled incoherently as she came, her ass twitching. Then she slumped to the floor, her hand pulling away from Lori's crotch. Stevie slipped his cock from his sister's cunt and sat on the floor, leaning against the couch, breathing raggedly.

Lori sat down, a huge smile of satisfaction on her beautiful face. "Oh, you kids!" she murmured.

Later, after a long bubble bath, Lori dressed for her date with Marty. She had told Janice and Stevie that she was expecting a visitor and that they should be on their best behavior, not to be pests, and under no circumstances were they to show any sexual interest, either toward each other, her or Marty.

There was still a little over an hour to go before Marty was to arrive, so Lori spent a little longer fussing with her silky hair. She had put on a full skirt and blouse, nylons with a garter belt.

She was standing in the bedroom, her foot up on the bed, straightening her nylons. Her skirt was pulled back to expose her creamy thigh. She was not aware that Stevie was watching her from the doorway. When she noticed his presence, she yelped in surprise.

Stevie had stood in the doorway watching his aunt, becoming excited by the exposure of her thigh. Finally he sneaked in behind her and dropped to his knees before she knew he was there. He quickly lifted her dress from behind and shoved his face upwards, directly into her cunt, kissing it.

"Why, you little shit!" she said, but not in anger.

"Don't move, Aunt Lori," he said, running his hands up and down her nyloned thighs. He loved the creamy flesh above the tops of them, and he loved her smooth ass, naked beneath her full dress. "I wanna kiss you!"

Lori, with one foot propped on her bed, felt his hot, wet mouth kissing at the swells of her asscheeks. His tongue was licking and the trail of moisture it left on her flesh sent thrills racing through her. Her cunt began to pulsate hotly, and, as she stood on one foot, trembling, she wondered if she would ever get enough sex. All it took was a touch, a caress, a kiss... and her cunt was wet and ready.

Stevie's hands were on her thighs, his lips on her ass cheeks. Lori mewled softly. "Ohhhh, baby! I love that! Oh, your lips are so hot... so wet! Mmmmmm, kiss it, Stevie! Oh, God, kiss my ass!"

Lori wiggled her ass as his tongue licked along the flesh of her thighs above the nylons, the tip tracing the crease where her thighs met her asscheeks. The flesh of her ass was moist now from his licking tongue, and she arched backwards into his face.

Stevie's tongue slipped along her thickly haired cunt lips, licking each puffy pussy lip in turn. Lori crooned as she felt his tongue moving around her crotch. She felt it lap about her swollen clit, then Stevie fucked his tongue into her pussy. Lori shuddered as sudden ecstasy rippled through her, her eyes closing as the pleasure flowed like liquid honey through her veins.

Stevie fucked his tongue in and out of his aunt's cunt swiftly, then licked at her sensitive pussy lips again. He moved his hands between her thighs and, using his fingers, pulled her cunt lips apart. Then his tongue shot deep into her pussy.

Lori was not balanced very well, but she thrust her ass back, grinding her cunt into his fucking mouth, whimpering with pleasure. The hot breath fanning about her ass sent chills flashing through her. She pulled her skirt high, leaning over and peering between her thighs, watching his chin as he tongue-fucked her pussy. She could see the lump of his cock inside his pants, and wished she could get her hot hands on his prick. But as this desire was going through her, her cunt was boiling towards orgasm.

"Oooooh, Stevie!" she whimpered. "Oh, God! I'm going to come, Stevie! Oh, lick me... lick my cunt, baby! Fuck my cunt with your tongue! I'm going to come! Fuck it... lick it... eat me!"

When she came, Lori shook so much she was afraid she would fall. His tongue fucked in and out of her turn aster pussy convulsed, clinging to it. One of his hands was on the cheek of her ass, the other gripping her hip. Lori had to lean over and brace herself on the bed with her hands, a movement that caused her ass to arch into the air even more than it already was.

Stevie pulled his tongue out of his aunt's cunt and raced it about the shivering cheeks of her ass, making Lori whimper in the glow of orgasm. He pushed harder.

She sprawled face down on the bed, her fingers clawing at the sheets, her ass writhing. Stevie shoved her skirt past her waist, and Lori felt his cock probing her cunt from behind.

"Oh, yes!" she mewled as she felt the swollen head of his cock fucking into her pussy. "Stick your cock in me, baby! Ohhh, fuck me, Stevie! Fuck me... I'm so hot now! I want that cock fucking my cunt!"

Lori arched her ass so he could get into her pussy easier. When his cock was deep inside, she began to pump her hips, fucking his cock with her, clinging cunt, listening to him grunt with pleasure.

He must have shoved his pants down, she thought. She could feel his hairless balls brushing at her clit. She arched her naked ass higher, writhing it as he fucked his cock faster and faster. She could feel his prick throbbing between the lips of her clutching cunt, feel his swollen cockhead going deep.

"Oh, my God!" she groaned. "Ohhh, I'm coming again! Ohhh, baby, baby! Fuck it! Fuck it! Ooooh, you're making me come again! Fuck me, Stevie! Fuck my hot, wet, hairy cunt! Oh, I love your hard cock fucking my cunt! I'm coming, coming!"

Stevie fucked hard into his aunt's convulsing pussy, his prick going deep. Lori felt his cock lurching inside her and then felt the sudden gush of his thick come juice. She wailed in pleasure as his cock spurted, his come juice splashing into her greedy cunt time and again.

She ground her ass back against him as he came, her pussy holding him tightly. She allowed her hips to fall to the bed when she knew he had finished, and he lay on top of her, heaving and gasping. Finally she moved.

"Get off me, Stevie," she said in a lazy voice. "I've got to repair the damage you've done to me before Marty gets here. Come on, get off."

Stevie reluctantly pulled his prick from her cunt. Lori turned onto her back, watching him as he pulled his pants up, his cock glistening from the juices of her pussy. She smiled lazily at him, running her tongue over her full, moist lips.

"You are one horny little shit, you know that, baby?"

He laughed at her, then leaned over and kissed her thigh above the nylon. "I know, Aunt Lori," he said. "And you're a hot-ass."

"You better fucking well believe it!" she laughed with him. "Now, get our little ass out of here so I can clean up. If you stay here, I might drag you back on this bed with me."

After he had gone, Lori undressed again and took a quick shower. She didn't have much time now, and she rushed through her shower.

She was wondering about her niece and nephew as she dressed again. They had certainly been a surprise for her since yesterday. Both Janice and Stevie were hot little kids. They felt no guilt about fucking each other and her. They felt no guilt about fucking each other and her. That pleased Lori. She didn't want them to feel ashamed. Perhaps it was better that she did not have to seduce them. If she had had to do that, she might have frightened them off, sent them running to her sister and brother-in-law.

She hummed happily as she brushed her hair. She had a full week to be with them, and she was going to make the most of it. She had been hot for her nephew for some time now, and she was going to take advantage of the situation even if she had to tell Marty to stay away.

Janice had been a surprise to her. Janice had never seemed like a girl with a hot little ass, certainly not a girl who would lick a aunt, let alone enjoy it. But it seemed that was the kind of girl Janice was.

Lori placed the brush back on the dresser. She wondered how long her niece and nephew had been fucking each other. From what Stevie had told her, he had been jacking that sweet cock off for some time thinking of her.

She was thinking about talking to the kids later that night when she heard the doorbell.

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angel5ofp0rn · 3 days

Text

pt 9 😋

ExHusband!Price x f!reader

*would y’all care if i started using Barry gifs instead of Price gifs ?? does that break the illusion ?

You and John have been pretty distant during the past two months, basically just coparenting in the same house.

You decided that depending on how this goes, how John and his ex wife interact, how the kids all get along, that's how you’ll decide the next step for the two of to get back together.

On the train from London to Bath, John holds your youngest in his lap and listen to her ooh's and ah's about being in a new country.

Meanwhile, you listen to every little question your oldest asks you about the new country, about the plane ride, about why everyone here “talks like daddy”.

After a while the train finally arrives at the station. John takes the lead out the door, carrying your oldest on his back as you carry the youngest on your hip.

The two of you are pretty silent, only talking to the children rather than each other.

The kids go crazy, suddenly getting a burst of energy as they explore the rental John booked for this trip.

They’re clearly more interested in the temporary house than anything else.

"So," you look at John as the kids giggle and wrestle on the floor. "When do we meet them?"

John takes a deep breath before he speaks. "Tomorrow morning. I thought the four of us could get breakfast and then head out to Nadia's house." He speaks carefully as if he’s trying not to say something that might upset you.

You just nod, turning your attention back to the kids.

He doesn’t say it, but he’s just as nervous as you. He doesn’t know what it’ll be like tomorrow, if the kids will all get along, if you and his other ex-wife will get along.

The kids definitely don’t sense any tension, that's for sure.

•••

You and John tucked the kids into bed in the larger room of the house, letting them share the king bed. It’s just John and you in the second room, separate beds, as had become the norm for the two of you.

John's quiet in his bed simply staring at the ceiling, his mind filled with thoughts of the following day.

"John..?" You sit up in your bed and look over at him.

John turns his head, a tiny bit surprised to see that you're still awake. He just gives you a small smile.

"Can't sleep?"

You shake your head. You’d been trying to sleep for the last two hours but the anxiety isn't letting you.

"Yeah... Neither can I..." John rubs his face and lets out a small sigh. He lifts his covers. "C'mon, love."

You should put your foot down or tell him off... But you don’t.

He has you. Divorce, secret family and all.

You slowly get out of your bed and crawl into his, instantly cuddling up to his warm body.

John wraps his arms around you, pulling you to his chest. He closes his eyes, savoring this moment with you.

You're in his arms, and although things between you two are still tense, you're at least here with each other.

Things are okay as long as you two are together, he thinks to himself before slowly starting to drift off to sleep.

•••

After breakfast the four of you head off. You have John park your rental car down the block hoping that the fresh air would help calm your nerves…

Or maybe you were just stalling.

John's leading the way, carrying your youngest in one arm and holding the oldest’s hand with the other.

The kids are both pretty excited to meet Theo. They took the news that their father has another child very well… That wasn’t surprising, as they're just kids and don't fully understand.

You, on the other hand, are a nervous wreck. You thought of what would happen if Nadia hates you, since John meeting you made him leave her, or what if Theo wants nothing to do with your kids, his half-siblings.

What if Nadia and John still have feelings for each other?

John looks over at you, noticing the slight panic and anxiety on your face even though you're trying to hide it from the kids. He keeps his expression calm, even when his heart feels like it's pounding out of his chest.

He knows you're going to have questions and feelings about this no matter what, but he just hopes the two of you can get through his visit with his other family without any more damage.

The four of you continue walking, the house that Nadia and Theo live in coming into full view. John's grip on your oldest’s hand tightens slightly, you could notice. He lets go of the five-year-old’s hand once you're all at the front door and he rings the doorbell.

After a moment Nadia stands in the doorway, her blonde hair pulled back in a claw clip, a small smile on her face...

Damn it, she's gorgeous.

She's older than you, John's age, with these gorgeous green eyes and the prettiest long eyelashes and full lips… She even has the cutest dimples in her cheeks.

You felt like couldn't even blame John if he decided today that he wants to go back to her.

John didn't really think much about Nadia's appearance. To him she was just an old flame of the past. She was beautiful, sure, but he had moved on years ago.

She was just his son’s mother.

But, seeing how you looked at her caused John a bit of pain. He knew it was bothering you. He wanted to assure you that there was nothing to worry about between the two of them, but he didn’t have a chance to do so just yet.

Instead, John smiles a bit as he starts to introduce you all.

"Nadia... Uh, this is Gabriel, my son.” Your oldest, just excited to see his older brother soon, waves a bit, "and this is Linnie, my little girl.” Your youngest, feeling shy around the stranger, buries her face into John’s chest.

John then gestures to you, turning his head towards you then glances back over at Nadia. "And this is Y/N... My, erm..."

"Ex-wife." You offer, blushing a bit. No need to complicate it. "It's really nice to meet you, Nadia. Thank you for letting us all be here."

Nadia smiles, genuinely. "Of course. I'm glad this is all finally happening. Come in, come in. Tea's on."

You follow behind John as we walk into Nadia's house, holding Gabriel's hand tightly.

John walks in with you and the kids, a lot of nervous energy still adiating from him. You sit at the table with everyone, holding your youngest in your lap now as your oldest sits between John and yourself.

"Where's my brother?" Your oldest whispers to John as Nadia sets tea in front of John and you, then herself as she sits across.

John looks down at your son and smiles, his nervousness temporarily gone when asked about Theo. "I'm sure he'll be out of his room in a moment."

Nadia just seems to be staring at John for a moment, her expression hard to read, before she smiles and gestures to the children. "These two are adorable."

"Thank you,” you laugh a bit. "They're a couple of little monkeys."

Nadia laughs as well, finding your description of your children funny. She takes a drink of her tea as she sets her cup down on the table. "They're beautiful. They really look like Theo when he was their ages."

As if on cue, Theo walks into the dining room.

Of course he’s gorgeous.

He looks like ten year old John.

He see's his dad and immediately runs up to him and hugs him tightly. You watch as John smiles widely, hugging his oldest son tightly.

Your oldest, upon seeing that John is now hugging his big brother, starts to get excited. He hops out of his seat and goes running towards Theo as well.

“Big brother!" The five year old’s arms immediately wrap around Theo and hugs him tightly as well. Theo hugs him back, unfazed, as if he's know him his entire life instead of this being their first time meeting.

"Oh my God…” You smile, the sight warming my heart.

Nadia seems to be having a similar reaction to you, grinning broadly as the two boys hug each other. She turns to look at your daughter for a moment, who just watches intently, taking in the sight of her brothers. She seems excited too, wiggling around in your lap to see them better.

"Do you want to meet Theo as well, little one?" Nadia asked her gently.

Your youngest nods shyly.

You put her on her feet, and the oldest child kneels down, anticipating a hug from the toddler.

Instead, the little one runs to Nadia and climbs into her lap for a hug instead. You and John both laugh, surprised by this.

Nadia smiles and wraps her arms around Linnie, hugging her tightly. Her embrace is comforting and reassuring to the bashful little one.

"It's nice to meet you, Theo." You finally smile at John and Nadia's son. "I'm Y/N."

Theo's smile grows as he sees you, his bright blue eyes studying you carefully almost like he's trying to memorize your appearance. "It's nice to meet you, too.”

"Can we play?!" Your oldest asked John’s oldest, then looked back to John for permission as well.

John nods quickly, giving him permission to play with his older brother. Nadia, meanwhile, just smiles and nods as well. "Theo has loads of Legos in his room. Go ahead. Get to know one another as well."

Your oldest smiles widely before following his “new” big brother to his room. Linnie just clings to Nadia's chest, looking between the two of you, trying to take everything in.

"I might just keep this little one." Nadia teased, hugging her a bit closer.

You can't help but smile. This isn't at all how you thought this would go.

It's so much better.

The boys are now playing in the room, building Legos and just enjoying each other's company. Your daughter seems content to be with Nadia, who's holding her in her lap, stroking her hair softly with her fingers and talking quietly with her.

You feel John take your hand under the table, squeezing it a bit as he sips his tea.

John leans in closely, whispering to you as Nadia speaks with your youngest. "Everything's goin’ well... right?"

You nod with a small smile, then sip at your tea as well. You watch as Nadia gets your little one to open up a bit, getting her to talk and giggle.

It only takes a few minutes before Nadia convinces the two year old to go into Theo's room and play with her big brothers, and to get to know Theo a bit. Now it's just her, John and you at the table.

John looks around and seems to sigh in relief, leaning back in his seat as he continues to squeeze your hand.

Nadia and you finally get a chance to have a proper conversation as the two of you continue to talk and sip on your tea.

Everything has gone so smoothly; especially now when Gabriel and Linnie seem to have just bonded with Theo like the three have known each other for years rather than just having met today.

John sighs a bit, smiling over at Nadia and you as she holds a conversation with you, seeming more than happy that things are working out.

For the first time in a long time, today he feels at ease, like everything's going just like it's supposed to go.

After spending the entire day together, You decide it's time to get the kiddos back to the rental and get them into bed.

John helps Nadia with the dishes after dinner while you help the kids clean up Theo's room after playing.

•••

You and John finish bathing the children after their long day and tuck them into the king bed once again.

John follows you into the other bedroom, shutting the door behind him as he goes over and sits on the edge of his bed. He just takes a deep breath in there, sighing as he rubs his face.

Today went well, sure. But that doesn’t exactly change anything between the two of you just yet.

You sit on John's lap, his arms instantly wrapping around your waist. It was just natural.

John just exhales. Your warmth against his chest helped him to feel at ease for a moment.

"Nadia is gorgeous." You sigh. "You didn't tell me that part."

John chuckles softly. "Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

"How can I not be?"

John rubs his thumb over the top of your thigh. "She's my past, love... We don't have... We've never had what you and I have."

You look at him, meeting his eyes. You try to find even a tiny hint of dishonestly.

That makes the next part harder.

“I don’t understand how you could have done that to them.” You start slowly. “The man I married isn’t a man that would just abandon his family for some random girl at a bar.”

You could feel John tense at your words. You stand up off of his lap now, pacing the room a bit.

“I didn’t abandon them-“

“You left your wife and child in a different country. What would you call that?” You retort.

“You don’t understand how things were between Nadia and I before I met you.” John insists. “It’s not like I left a happy marriage.”

“You still left your child.” You shake your head. “If you visit fucking Italy right now and meet a younger woman, would you leave Gabe and Linnie back in the states and only see them once a month? I always thought, ‘maybe John and I aren’t a good match, but at least he’s a good dad’… But I don’t know if I believe that anymore.”

“I’m a damn good dad. To all of them.” John defends himself through gritted teeth.

“You’ve been lying to my kids their whole lives!”

“Your kids?” John quirked an eyebrow at that.

“My kids.” You double down, arms crossed.

“I don’t wanna fight.” John sighs finally, rubbing his eyes. “Can we talk about this in the morning?”

“Fine.” You exit the room, going back to where the kids slept, leaving John alone.

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