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leahsgirl · 4 months

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blind date | leah williamson x reader

in which you and your fellow england teammate are set up on a blind date. no warnings, just pure fluff really.

i’m having such major writing block right now so hoping this pulls me out of it or i’ll scream. 💪

“wit woo!” your roommate alessia hollered as you finished putting on your earrings.

“do i look okay?” you did a full spin, showcasing the tight fitting black dress you had on that fell just above your knees, gold heels on ur feet, gold jewellery and your hair that flowed below your shoulders in loose curls.

“you look gorgeous - your date won’t know what hit them.” the blonde replied with a smirk, coming over and fixing your necklace so the clasp didn’t keep slipping to the front.

“can’t believe youse have bullied me into this.” your national teammates had made your love life the new topic of interest since you was ‘hot and single’ and should ‘get out there more’.

while they raised a good point, a blind date is the last thing you wanted considering you was probably the most socially awkward person going when meeting new people. not to mention; your teammates planned it which in itself is enough to make you not want to go.

“you’ll have a great time, wouldn’t be surprised if you hear wedding bells at the end of it.” the forward winked having way too much fun at this whole scenario.

“calm your horses russo, i don’t plan on that for another five years.”

seeing the time you scramble to get your belongings and find your car keys. “right i’m off wish me luck!” you shout out as you close the front door.

from the adress that tooney had messaged you beforehand you found yourself outside a small restaurant at the end of a street. it looked nice and welcoming from the outside to be fair.

now when your teammates said blind date, you didn’t expect to walk in to sheer darkness, bumping into something as soon as you entered the premises.

“name.” what you can only assume was a waiter asked. “oh sorry; y/n.”

“ah right this way miss - if you could just place your hand on my colleagues shoulder and we’ll guide you through.”

following the man’s instructions you lightly gripped the man and was led into a separate room which was still as dark, but you could at least hear voices of other customers there.

“your seat madam, your date should arrive shortly.” great you thought, first one to arrive which only meant more nerves could inevitably build up.

trying to burn some of the time you felt the table, getting to grips with where the cutlery and place mats were.

“miss your date has arrived, please take a seat.” the man motioned to the booth not that anyone could see it. “thank y- ah shite!”

“are you okay?” you asked after hearing a slight bang.

“yeah just banged my pissing thigh on the table.” the voice was one of a woman’s, also one that was incredibly familiar.

“not the best way to start a date eh. i’m leah.”

“shut up!” alessia’s playful comments and expressions, teammates overwhelming interest, the whole blind date notion in general now making a whole lot of sense.

“wow can’t say i’ve ever had that greeting.” the england captain a little confused.

“no leah it’s me, y/n.”

“piss off.” you could hear the disbelief in her voice, she too apparently well unaware of the obvious set up.

“take it you were also forced to go on a date with a stranger.”

“oh i’m so going to kill georgia for this.” leah scoffed before pausing “not because the date is with you! i just mean the whole deceit in general.”

“don’t worry i’ll be planning lessi and tooney’s revenge after.”

“gotta give them credit though, they’ve paired two incredibly hot women together.” leah was smirking while you was essentially swooning over the fact she called you hot.

“yeah but why? it’s not like you like me romantically or anything.”

just before leah could reply one of the waiters returned to the table “can i get you ladies something to drink?”

“erh i’ll have a margarita please.” you deciding on the same thing and ordering it.

“well we may as well treat this as a date considering that’s what we’re here for.” there was a brief pause. “so y/n, what do you do for a living?”

you laugh as you engage in her playfulness. “i’m actually a professional football player, both man united and england.”

“oh wow that’s cool, do you like it?” the older girl asked faking curiosity, resting her chin on her hand as she moved closer.

“it has its ups and downs, there’s this girl on my national squad though who is super competitive - she cried when i beat her at mario kart.” you beamed knowing leah would not appreciate the bringing up of her defeat.

“hey you said you’d let that go!” breaking away from her ‘never met you before’ character. “sorry.” (you wasn’t sorry at all).

“okay my turn; do you have any hobbies?”

“i’m quite good at kicking a ball around too to be fair.” you quirked a brow. “oh are you?”

“yeah if you google leah williamson you might see some of my skills. i’m also very good at sudoku.” the blonde wasn’t lying considering you’ve watched her play it hundreds of times, you yourself never being able to grasp the game.

after a bunch of easy, lighthearted conversation, food had arrived, leah opting for a steak and you on pasta.

“oh my god this is to die for.” having your first taste and the flavours melting on your tongue. “you’ve gotta try this.” you move your spoon towards the blonde’s direction “that’s my eye babe.” she said with a laugh, your cheeks immediately flushing at the embarrassing miscalculation and pet name. “shit my bad.”

“mhm your right, might have to swap plates.” leah acknowledging the how delicious it was.

“back off williamson.” you reply sternly as you wack away her hand with the back of your unused fork.

time was going by pretty fast, the pair of you fully present and engaged with each other. you didn’t even bother looking at your phone which now had a build up of messages off your friends asking how it was going.

maybe you both were a little tipsy when leaving the restaurant after splitting the bill, having taken a tumble up the step.

the cold breeze was like a harsh slap to your face once outside, a large juxtaposition from the building that was warm and cozy.

“wow.” a stunned leah stood behind as she took you in. “what?” having now taken notice to the blatantly obvious staring from the arsenal player.

“you. you look incredible.” her eyes racking every single inch of your body. “i’ve never really seen you this dressed up. it’s hot.”

“y’know being showered in compliments by leah williamson isn’t half bad.” revelling in the smooth girls words of praise.

“and yet i don’t get a single one back.” jutting out her lip and faking hurt which only made you laugh and roll your eyes.

“i guess you do scrub up okay, the outfit is a solid 9/10 i’d say.”

“we’ve got to improve on those compliment skills.” the blonde scoffed.

“can’t say anything too nice, that ego of yours will human combust.” you say already aware of the defenders cockiness/arrogance. “i’d say my ego is the perfect size thank you very much.”

“okay well thanks for this ‘date.’” using your hands to air quote. “-i’ve had a good time.”

leah smiled “me too.”

you stop for a second almost hesitating doing something before ultimately deciding against it, bidding your goodbye as you turned on your heel to make your way back to your car.

“y/n wait!” jogging to catch up with you, the blue-eyed girl grabbed at your arm making you stumble back and face her. “what’s up?”

her gaze flicking between your eyes and lips as her heart pounded out her chest “i forgot to do this.”

said barely above a whisper, her lips found themselves pressed against yours. the touch so light almost like she was afraid she’d scare you away.

that couldn’t be further from the truth though, with you reciprocating the kiss by deepening it as she moved her hands so they wrapped around your waist.

pulling away youse both had rosy cheeks and heaving chests, smiling dopily at each other.

“get in!” “fucking finally!” the pair looked around for the sudden screams, shock plastered on your face when you see ella and georgia peeping out behind a wall.

leah following your gaze and spotting the teammates “have you guys been watching us?!”

stanway was the one to reply “only the last five minutes; never knew you had that game within you lee.” winking, referring to the public display of affection youse just gave.

“it was so fun to see y/n swooning.” tooney added laughing menacingly.

you and leah lock eyes, sharing a look both of you seem to understand. “shall we get our revenge?” the captain asked slyly, you agreeing immediately.

taking notice of the devilish grins that were plastered on the pair, georgia and ella looked uneasy, starting to retract slowly but surely.

“come here you little shits!” running after the girls while they squealed like little kids, making their getaway.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso #woso community #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #england lionesses #lionesses #lw6

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wheelsgoroundincircles · 19 days

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fittedcarmats · 7 months

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kechiwrites · 8 months

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property lines

dark!steve rogers x neighbour!reader

kinktober countdown: day two (facefucking).

synopsis: your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject.

wc: 2.2k

cw: dark content, non con, oral (male receiving), femme language + afab!reader, pet names, internal victim blaming, pet names (sweetheart), a touch of misogyny

author’s note: day 2 brings us more dark!steve, i fear i may be incapable of writing him sincerely. he’s just a little too perfect. I like to take off a bit of the shine. thank you @katsukikitten u r my muse.

Your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject. Mostly because you can’t be sure if he’s doing it on purpose or if he’s just overly friendly. Maybe it’s the signals you give off, bringing a plate of thick, sweet, cheesecake brownies over to the recently sold house next door, hoping to make a new connection. Suburbia can be isolating, and with all of your friends shaking ass in the city, you need to branch out. It really isn’t the kind of home you figured a single man like Steven Grant Rogers would buy, but then again, you lived in your suburban palace alone, willed to you by your late grandmother and only in need of a few renovations.

He’d been so bright, when you first met him, with a perfect white smile and twinkling blue eyes. He’d been happy to accept the desserts, even happier to return the plate a day later, extolling the praise he and his poker buddies lauded on you over the taste. You’d shrugged it off, “The least I could do for a neighbour. I’m just glad you all liked them.”

Secretly though, the compliments had thrilled you, especially once you’d gotten a glimpse at the aforementioned “poker buddies”, the whole lot of them, handsome, built, big. All too happy to fix leaky pipes and paint fences in exchange for chocolate cream pie or a dish of homemade lasagna. But Steven - “Steve, please” - was your most loyal customer, always lending a hand, pausing during his early morning jog to check up on you while you watered your flower beds, asking how your book is going, what you do in that “big old house all by yourself” when you aren’t working on “the next great American novel”, of course (his words, not yours).

It’s fine at first, a little disarming to be at the centre of his white hot attention, burning your flesh like he had you under a magnifying glass on a perfect sunny day. But eventually it’s not fine, eventually Steve Rogers takes more and more steps over the property line of overly friendly and into the front yard of wildly overbearing. Eventually, Mr. Rogers insists on weekly visits, popping into your house by using the spare key under the mat he shouldn’t even know about. Slinging his muscled arm over you during the neighbourhood block party, and your neighbour’s son’s 5th birthday party, and the Fourth of July barbeque. He fixes your car without you asking, brings in your groceries when he sees you unloading them in your driveway, brings your mail to you during his daily jog. It’s helpful sometimes, yes, but it’s also suffocating. And you were going to set him straight. You were! But it’s hard, hard to stare into the face of a suburban god, the literal king of the neighbourhood and tell him no. It’s hard to tell him that he’s making you uncomfortable, that you’d like for him to stop being so goddamn friendly all the time.

So maybe a little of it is your fault. Maybe you should’ve been clearer on your boundaries. Maybe, when handsome, strapping Mr. Rogers came to your front door to ask you to essentially cater one of his poker nights, you shouldn’t have stayed to serve the food, playing happy little housewife in front of Steve’s friends, bringing them cold beers from the fridge and sitting next to Steve, playfully making faces at his hand, then plating up dessert when he asked you to. But it felt good to have his attention. His favour. So when “the boys” start to head home, laying praise and amazement at your feet, you’re sufficiently buttered up for Steve to ask yet another favour of you. It’s not much, of course. Just a little help with cleanup. Then he’ll escort you home himself. After all, there are some real sickos out there.

So you agree. What’s the harm, right?

The harm, it just so happens, comes quickly after you finish drying the dishes Steve washes. You slide the last plate, towel dried as best you could, into his cabinets, sighing in contentment at a job well done. The harm is when Steve turns you around and presses you against the sink, water soaking into the back of your blouse, making the fabric cling to your skin. You stay there for a minute, not processing what’s happening, ready to laugh off another inappropriate joke from Steve.

You don’t really get the chance.

Two heavy hands clap down on your shoulders, exerting pressure on you until you crumple to the floor, knees hitting the tile of Steve's kitchen painfully. You yelp, struggling against him, pressing, then beating your fist against his tree trunk legs.

"Stev-" you choke on his name when your neighbour unzips his trousers before you, undoes the fly of the pair you helped him pick out, with him bent over your shoulder while you held his phone, his front pressed close to your back. Pulls his half hard dick out of pants starched and pressed with the iron he'd borrowed from you because his was "on the fritz" again.

"Open up." He cajoles, and you pin him with an incredulous, confused stare. No. No. This is all wrong. He doesn’t act like that. Steve Rogers isn’t like that.

The hand he doesn't use to stroke himself grabs your jaw, squeezing until you open your mouth, squeezing til it hurts. A sharp, purposeful punch of his hips is all it takes for him to make use of the opening. All it takes to put every little joke, boundary crossing, and stray touch into startling, horrifying perspective.

“It was the baking.” He whispers above you. “Peggy never baked, which was fine.” He sighs above you like he isn’t pistoning his cock deep into your throat with reckless abandon. “But I missed it, y’know? And you, you bake how angels ought to, sweetheart.”

Tears stream down your face while Steve uses you, dragging your dazed, crying face back and forth on his hard-on. On a particularly strong thrust, he broaches your throat. Your eyes roll up, until he can barely see the perimeter of your irises, and you warble out a miserable moan, begging, all while wrapped around his dick, for a reprieve. Your head is pinned to the counter behind you, and even though you shove against the muscle of his thighs, Steve brooks no quarter.

“Just take it,” he coos, like he wants you to swallow cough syrup, “it’ll be over soon.” his breath stutters when your lips brush against his balls. Steve moves one of his hands to cup the back of your head, keeping you as close as possible when he comes down your throat, groaning in pleasure while you struggle to swallow stream after bitter stream of his seed, lest you choke on it or fucking drown.

He finally releases you, and you pull back so fast you bang the back of your head on his pristine white counters. The pain radiates through your scalp, grounding you in the moment, cementing you to the spotless linoleum floor of Steve Rogers’ kitchen. You’re both panting, eager to fill your lungs with gulps of air.

“Whew.” He sighs, hands on his hips, like that took a lot out of him. “I didn’t mean to get so rough with you, just didn’t expect the struggle.” He chuckles, patting you on the head. “But you settled down quick, didn’t ya?” His tone takes on…contentment? Happiness?

No. That’s not quite right.

It’s pride. Steve is looking down at you, your spit and cum slick mouth, the weepy, watery state of your eyes, and the disarray of the hair he’d used as a handle, with pride.

Your stomach roils.

He bends low and you flinch away from him, smacking your head on the countertop again. He cocks his head at the involuntary movement, and smiles at you. A familiar, warm thing. One that made your heart flutter with pleasure, beat fast with your own surge of pride when he accepted a pie, or offered a compliment. Now it does the same, your heart speeds up, your palms itch curiously, and your brain doesn’t know if you’re happy or sad. Doesn’t know if it craves those smiles anymore.

“Just wanna set you on your feet. C’mon.” He speaks quietly, like he’s soothing a frightened animal, and hooks his hand under your armpits, heaving you up with the same startling strength he'd used to face fuck the fight out of you.

“It’s okay.” You bleat, voice as wobbly and unstable as the pair of legs struggling to keep you upright. And it’s not, it’s far from okay, the taste of him lingers in the back of your throat and if you think about it for even a second more you’ll throw up all over his shiny floors, on those godforsaken pants.

“I admit,” he laughs, ducks his head with that small town charm he does so well, “I wanted to last longer. But you were too good.” He winks at you, like you share a secret. Like you’re in league with each other.

He staring, waiting for you to say something, arches a brow like it’s your line and you’re fucking up the show.

But there it is again, that smile, sunny and open, and so pristine.

“Let’s get you home.” He herds you towards his front door, hand glued to the small of your back, his pinky finger stroking the skin exposed by the riding up of your still wet shirt. The two of you walk into the balmy summer air, and the spaces in between the black night, punctuated with the occasional white streetlight, designate your path home. Some of your neighbours’ houses are still illuminated, their warm yellow windows denoting the presence of life. You wonder what goes on behind their doors, you wonder if someone is having a good night somewhere close to you.

You come across your door faster than you were prepared for, the cheery yellow paint job Steve and James had done for caramel apple pie, mocks you. The way he’d smiled in your face, touched you, laughed. Steve shifts next to you, holding onto your extensive tower of pyrex and tupperware, for an instant your blood runs cold at the prospect of Steve inviting himself in, like he’s done so many times before. Not to bring in groceries or put together a dresser, but to pin you prone to the carpet of your bedroom and smile at you.

“So!” He turns, “Same time next week?” You gawk at him, and when you don’t say or do anything, he stoops and slides your extra keys out from under your Garfield emblazoned doormat. The jingle of two, simple metal keys against the little bell shaped key-chain makes your head pound, your blood boil. He unlocks the door, and gestures for you to take a step indoors. You raise both hands, palms upturned so he can give the keys back, so you can hide them, or melt them, or flush them down the toilet. Instead, you get to watch him slip the key-ring into his pocket, before he places your dishes into your uplifted open palms. “I gotta say, the lemon bars were a hit.” He tweaks your nose between his thumb and forefinger, his compliment tempered by the greedy shine in his eyes. You nearly scratch your own eyes out when you get that pleased, soft tingle in your chest.

He smiles and you salivate. He compliments you and your heart responds. He’s proud and your brain tells you ‘I’m happy’.

Why hasn’t it gone away? Will it ever go away?

“Maybe those brownies again, the cream cheese ones?” His voice is hopeful, soft and pliant, like he’s worried you’ll say ‘no’.

Like there’s a world where he’d take no for an answer.

You nod, a jerky, quick gesture that rattles your brain around in your skull. “Sure. Yeah.” You answer, sweaty hands slipping against tempered glass and plastic lids. “Yes. Brownies.” Steve beams, clapping his hands together, once, loud, drawing your eyes to the brutish width of them.

“Fantastic. I can’t wait.” He jogs down your front steps, and the fist secured around your lungs loosens with every step he takes away from you. He pauses at the side walk, one foot still on your property, the other poised to leave it.

“We make a great team. Don’t we?” He turns to you, and this time, he isn’t smiling. This time, his eyes cut through the night and the streetlight and the foggy haze of misfortune clouding your brain.

And the fear finally comes.

You kick your door closed, and you lock your door, and you drop your pyrex and tupperwear and serving spoons in the sink and you lock your windows and you get into bed, still dressed for a poker night you had no business being at, and you pull the covers up and up and over your face.

But the fear doesn’t go away.

And neither will your neighbour.

god i want him so bad. tomorrow, captain soap.

find the rest of the masterlist here.

support city girls who bought $50 of baked cheesecake today, reblog what you like.

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allaboutcarmats · 1 year

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natailiatulls07 · 4 months

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Oblivious Love

Max Verstappen x Female!reader

Summary - Y/n, Max and their oblivious love for eachother

Warning - Breakup, crying

A/n - Not doing a part 2 sorry xx

Some notes for context -

Small town au

Max owns a diner

Y/n owns a small inn

Inspired by Lorelai Gilmore and Luke Danes, the best couple ever in my opinion

Y/n was sat at the counter of the diner, talking no rambling. She did this often esperically around her bestfriend, Max Verstappen, who owned said diner. He was stood on the other side of the counter, fixing up coffees for a couple to the side of Y/n.

Of course he was listening in on her rambling, she was talking about some customers who had stayed at her inn. You see Max and Y/n were drastic opposites but thats what made them work well together.

She was high energy, coffee loving and approachable whilst he was blunt, private and grounded. Many wondered how he opened a diner in the first place. "So yeah and when they checked out, they gave me a basket of chocolates for the team and you know I though that was really sweet because like no one does that ever. It's a nice change. Oh and it had my fav-"

The rambling was cut short but a deep and direct voice. "Will you marry me?" Y/n's eyes snapped up from her coffee, they were widened and confused.

"What?" She secretly hoped this was real and he was being serious. Max Verstappen never made jokes so why start now?

The man shrugged his shoulders, giving his bestfriend a plain look. "Just looking for something to shut you up" Max didn't notice how her shoulders deflated, as if she was waiting for something excited. He also hoped that what he said was real but why would a cheerful women girl like Y/n be interested in him?

It was a Saturday morning, alike every other Saturday Y/n and her close friend, Nora were sat at their usual spots at the diners counter. They were eating Maxs new breakfast dish. "Mmm I need some sauce..." Nora remarked before setting down her knife and fork, and moving round the counter to where the sauce were stored.

"What have I said about the counter Nora?" Maxs loud and annoyed voice spun the women around, frantic to hold up her hands. Max doesn't like any going behind the counter for anything, unless you work at the diner.

"I know but-" He didn't give her a chance to explain before ushering her out.

"The counter is a sacred space, my sacred space. You don't do yoga on a dalai lama's mat and you don't come behind my counter. Period." He declared, Nora didn't fight him now. Just rushing back around the counter to her seat beside Y/n.

Y/n and Nora were about to leave the diner, they had a girl day planned out. But before they left, Y/n made her way round to Maxs side of the counter to collect a extra donut for herself.

She was about to pick up the sugary treat but Max handed her a pair of tongs. "Here, don't use your hand" And with a polite smile, Y/n took the tongs and got herself a donut.

Nora watched on from the door of the diner, everyone knew that behind was a sacred space for Max but he allowed Y/n back there. All because he loves her, and she could murder before he'd lose that soft spot for her.

It was a small town, everyone knew everyones gossip and what was going on. So naturally everyone knew about Y/n's date, and they all sympathize Max. The two bestfriend were so oblivious in love with eachother but neither could seem to see it.

After closing the diner that evening, Max started to walk to his apartment when across the road he heard a familiar laugh. Y/n's laugh. The common frown on his face grew to a warm loving smile. Only to fade when he saw her laughing and kissing another guy, louis Smith. The owner of the towns car garage.

Max knew he shouldn't feel possessive or jealous, Y/n wasn't his to claim, but he couldn't help it.

"Fuck louis is working, c-can somebody tell me the damn number of the cab guy? p-please" Y/n's mother was in hospital, and it scared her. She had lost her father at a very young age, she couldn't lost her mother as well.

The inn owner was at the diner when she got the call and now she was panicking. Her prize winning smile no longer on her face, now replaced with a frown and frantic breaths.

"I'll drive you." Max spoke up over her panic but was met with Y/n shaking her head.

Gesturing to the other customers and the food in the diner. "But there's food and there's people, Max I can't-" He stopped her before guiding the customers in the diner to move out there quickly as possible. All customers complying straight away cause they knew if anyone delayed this for Y/n, Max would not be happy.

"Okay everyone out, we're closed. Let's go, foods on me" And with the all customers were out and Max was leading Y/n, with an arm around her waist, to the back of the diner to his car.

Every so often, Victoria Verstappen would come to visit the small town her older brother. She was fond of the small cosy town, they allowed Max to get away from their demanding father and live his own life. Every single time, she'd visit she would bring up the dreading topic of love with her brother.

You see Victoria was married and was already a mother, she wanted the same for her brother and she knew all about Y/n. "There's no deal with Y/n, we're friends" Max would always try and defend himself.

"For now" His younger sister would snap back, she knew something was going on.

Max just shook his head, he knew about her relationship with Louis and wanted to be respectful for her sake. "Yes...anyways she has a boyfriend" He didn't pick up on the disappointment in his voice but Victoria did.

"And in the future?"

This caught out her brother, part of him was hoping Y/n would break up with Louis and get with him but the other part of him was unsure. "Well Y/n, she's just um I mean it seems like...I don't know" She completely stumped him.

It was a quite day in the diner, it was a Monday morning it was expected by Max. But what was unusual was Y/n's absence, it was 8am. She'd be onto her second coffee already but she was here.

Max was pulled out of his daydream when Nora called his name. She had just got off the phone. "Hey Max?" She had a worried face but there was a hint of a small smile hiding underneath the frown.

"Yeah?" The man answered, concerned. What happened? Did something happen to Y/n? Is that why she wasn't here?

Nora took a deep breath before continuing. "You heard the latest news right? Kind of sad for Y/n and Louis" So it was about Y/n, what happened? And Louis? I mean he could care less about the car garage owner but Y/n, he needed to know now.

Shaking his head, he allowed Nora to continue. "They broke up" That small smile was a little bit more seen on Noras face. Max just nodded, an uncontrollable grin took place of his scowl concerned.

Max just picked up the now filled coffee pot and start to walk to each and every customer offering free coffee. "Everyone's coffee is on the house today! I like you hat" Nora sat back in her seat shaking her head and smiling knowingly.

It had been a few weeks since the breakup and everything had gone back to normal. Y/n and Nora were sat at one of the table at Maxs diner, gossip as usual. They were both watching Max work around the diner.

"He never flirts with any one, did you notice that?" Y/n tilted her head to the side, confused at his lack of flirting. In her mind, there were plenty of people in town that would happily date her bestfriend.

Nora turned to her friend as if she the most stupid thing in existance. "That's because he flirts with you numerous times a day" To which Y/n just waved her off, muttering about how she was seeing things.

Y/n was going through a hard part of her life at the moment. Lot's of her staff at the inn were handing the notices and moving out of town, wanting to see the world and wanting the big and the best. So this meant that operating the inn was hard and alot of work for Y/n.

She didn't mean to break down in front of Max whilst he was closing the diner, it just happened. He saw the tears welling and falling from her eyes, he sat the two of them down on the floor. Hugging her close to his chest so that she could hear his heartbeat.

"I'm failing...I'm failing..." Her broken and uneven voice admitted to him. Y/n felt his body shake as he shook his head.

Oh how he disagreed with her. "You are not failing" Her inn was the best place to stay in town and the town was visited often by tourist, Max was sure she'd be perfectly fine.

"I don't know what to do..." Max just rubbed her back and smooth down her hair where it was slightly messing from when she was stressing and playing with it.

"It's okay..." He whispered. They'd both be lying if they said that they din't love this close proximity with eachother. Y/n could smell his cologne and it comforted her so much.

5am

Every morning at 5am, like clock work, Max would arrive at the diner to set and open up ready for official opening at 6am. Usually this meant that the entire would still be asleep and Max would be alone, just how he liked it. So when he went to the front entrance of the dinner this morning he was unexpectedly met with an excited and hyper Y/n. "What are you doing?" He asked his bestfriend.

Y/n just smiled up at him. "I need coffee" She annouced like he should've known that.

He just frowned his eyebrows at the coffee loving women. "It's five in the morning, make coffee at your own house?" Max suggested confused, he only got more confused when she shook her head, giggling cheekily.

"I did, I drank it all!" The way she annouced indicated to Max that she was sort of proud of herself for drinking all the coffee in her house.

Times like this made Max realise why he was in love with her. She was so unpredicable and excitable. "You drank all the coffee in your house before five in the morning?" His mouth hung open, not only was he confused about the amount of coffee she had but by the fact that Y/n L/n was not a morning person.

Nodding proudly, Y/n continued. "Big gulps, lots of sugar!" Then she felt herself being picked up by the armpits to stand by Max before he directed her into the diner giggling and rambling more to him. "And just a little bit of cream cause it makes it cold"

Town meetings. Every single monday night at 7pm. Something Max despised. Why? Because in his opinion it was boring and a waste of his time. But this evening, Kevin the annoying 'town president' had asked Max to attend so he did. Straight away Max spotted Y/n sat at the back of the room picking at a small bag of m&ms happily and that's where he was going to sit.

Turns out his presence at the meeting was because the town wanted to talk about his and Y/n friendship and how everyone wanted them to get together already. Kevin had barely got through the first page of his stupid powerpoint when Max got up and stomped angerily to the front of the room.

"This is my friendship. Mine. Not yours" He pointed at Cath, the dance teacher. "Not yours!" He pointed to Kevin, who was red in th face. "Yours" A soft smile broke out onto Maxs face as he points to Y/n in the back who was nodding proudly still eating her m&ms. "Not yours" Maxs smile was gone again. Pointing to Linda, the towns florist.

He stopped pointing but didn't finish his small speech. "Mine and hers but not any of yours" His eyes then looked to Y/ns and locked together. And they both had the same thought.

'Maybe she does like me like that...'

'Maybe he does like me like that...'

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