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hedghost · 1 year

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alessia russo | make you my problem

sick of her family's endless questions about her dating life, alessia invents a fake girlfriend to get them off her back. unfortunately, now she has to deal with the consequences, which means dealing with you.

(fake dating fic inspired by business by catfish and the bottlemen)

word count: 13.5k

alessia stared down at the card in her hand. her eyes flicked over the perfectly printed calligraphy for the hundredth time that day. it was the first time she'd got it out since it had been delivered three months ago, when she'd promptly piled it beneath a stack of bills on the countertop, and tried to ignore it. unfortunately, the solution hadn't magically appeared as she'd hoped it would, and the wedding was fast approaching.

she read the words again, her expression burning lasers into the paper.

formally invited... et cetera et cetera... the wedding of luca russo... so on and so forth... invites alessia russo... and there was the kicker... plus one.

to really rub salt in the wound, her brother luca had scribbled a sharpie winky face next to the last bit, obscuring the ornate lettering with a scruffy, mocking squiggle.

let it be clear, alessia enjoyed her life the way it was. she enjoyed not being tied down by the constraints of someone else, she enjoyed her own space, her independence. she'd curated her own little routines, her own little preferences, and now she was free to bask in the luxuries of single life. but still, her heart tugged a little at the card - and its implications.

when luca had asked if she'd wanted a plus one to the wedding, months ago, she'd been tempted to answer truthfully, and decline. it was the look on his face however, that teasing smirk that was always so prevalent between siblings, that changed her mind. if she said no, she'd be subject to the usual smug commentary from her brothers, both of whom were happily partnered off, and the unbearably not-so-subtle questions from her parents about her dating life. and so she did her best impression of nonchalance, waved him off with a non-committal smile, and said yes.

she had braced herself for the comments, let it wash off her back when her mum asked her if she had 'finally found someone', or when her other brother gio gave her a vastly sceptical look, like he couldn't believe she'd ever bring a date. it was fine. she was used to this.

as much as alessia loved single life, it would be a lie to say it didn't sting when she turned up to every family gathering alone, watching everyone else with their partners. it would be a lie to say the ribbing and teasing from her brothers didn't hurt a little, that it didn't play on some deep-rooted insecurity she'd tried so hard to stamp out. she told herself it was better this way, but year by year, she watched from the side-lines as all her friends seemed to find their other halves, and yet here she remained, as luca had once said; a 'lone wolf'.

so she'd said yes, when the wedding had been months away, and she had all the time in the world to find a date. now, the wedding was a week away, and here she was. glaring daggers into a wedding invite, very much dateless.

her phone vibrated against the counter, where she'd dropped it unceremoniously after coming in from her match. it was undoubtedly luca again, who had been trying to call her all day. she knew exactly why he was calling. alessia considered declining the call, but she knew her brother would be persistent.

"hey luca," she sighed into the phone, leaning her head against the cupboard.

"less, hi! great game today!"

"thanks," she murmured. her head was beginning to hurt, and she was unsure if it was from the bone-deep exhaustion she felt, or the looming threat of showing up alone to the wedding.

"hey listen, i just wanted to ask you about the-"

"-the wedding, yeah i know," alessia racked her brain for a way out of this conversation, but came up short.

"okay cool, just because you never responded to my texts about your date, and i need to know if you're actually bringing one," luca paused, a muffled noise coming from the other end of the line. alessia assumed he was talking to his fiancée. luca spoke again, voice slightly softer, but still a little harried. "if you aren't that's alright, we just need to know like, right now. if it were anyone else i'd say it's too late to change stuff but since it's you, i'll let you off,"

alessia hesitated. she could tell him the truth. she really should tell him the truth. luca had just given her an out, perfectly plated up for her.

and yet, irritation stirred inside her. luca seemed so sure, so certain that she didn't have a date. she couldn't bear the thought of proving him right. she could already hear gio's remarks, see his smug smile. her mum's overly sympathetic expression flashed in her mind, not for the first time.

alessia loved her brothers, really she did. but that's not to say that, like most siblings, they couldn't be really, fucking annoying. honestly, most things alessia did in life were to spite them. even football, which at first had been her way of joining in with her cool, older brothers, soon became a way to show them up, to prove that anything they could do, she could wipe the floor with them at. alessia made her decision.

"no, it's fine, i'm bringing someone,"

"wait, what?" luca's shock was evident in his voice. alessia gritted her teeth.

"i'm dating someone,"

"seriously?" luca now seemed to be scrambling for what to say, clearly having not expected this answer. "oh, yeah, cool, well, in that case, we need to know his name for the seating charts and stuff,"

alessia cringed. both at luca's assumption of gender, and at the trap she'd just laid for herself. this was a very stupid idea.

"her name," she corrected, on instinct.

god, what was wrong with her? why couldn't she stop talking?

"oh! right sorry- good for you less. we need her name then,"

fuck. what was she doing? alessia had dug herself into a hole of epic proportions, and she really hadn't thought this far ahead. in all honestly, she hadn't really thought at all.

she couldn't back out now though. alessia racked her brain for potential fake suitors, someone she could convince to accompany her for the evening, someone who would raise very little questions. she considered ella, but alessia's family all knew she had a boyfriend. millie, maybe? god knows millie had a thing for dating footballers, but alessia also knew she was awful at keeping her mouth shut. she could try katie, but her brothers had met her on many occasions, they wouldn't believe it for a second. no, it needed to be someone her brothers didn't know well, someone who it would be very easy to erase from her family's memory once the night was over.

alessia felt her mouth move before she had the time to process what she was even saying. the regret was instant, but the words were out before she could swallow them.

"y/n,"

"wait, from united? y/n y/l/n?"

shit. shit, this was bad. of all the players, why had she unconsciously said your name. alessia swallowed hard, closing her eyes and wincing as she nodded to herself.

"yes,"

"oh shit, i didn't even know you guys were close,"

exactly, cursed alessia to herself, we aren't.

"its pretty recent," alessia said instead. god, this was bad. this was so, so bad.

"okay, does she have any food allergies or anything?"

as if alessia had any idea. she'd had maybe five conversations with you in total, and every single one had been utterly infuriating. why she'd said your name was a mystery, and one she was majorly regretting already.

"uh, i don't think so, i'll double check tomorrow," alessia winced as she spoke, very glad this conversation was not face to face.

"well, can you text her now?"

no, alessia thought, i cannot. she didn't even have your number.

"sure," alessia needed to end the call before she said something else she'd regret, "okay luca, i have to go, i'll speak to you later okay?"

"what less no! you just dropped a bomb that you're finally seeing someone, and you're just going to hang up without telling me a thing?"

"yes, i am. goodnight luca,"

after hanging up, alessia borderline threw her phone across the room. she collapsed into a chair, dragging her hands over her face.

"what the fuck have i just done?"

---

alessia woke up the next day, feeling entirely unrefreshed, and unresolved. she'd hoped to sleep on her options after her disastrous claims to luca last night, but the stress of it all meant she barely slept full stop.

at least she had the day off from training. the thought of facing you right now was honestly sickening. not for the first time, alessia cursed herself for saying your name. why she hadn't chosen someone she was actually friends with - someone who would actually go along with her ridiculous lie - was beyond her.

it wasn't that alessia didn't like you, per se, but the two of you had just never seemed to click. since your transfer at the start of the season, you'd become fast friends with pretty much all of the girls, except alessia. honestly, it had killed her at first. alessia prided herself on being likeable, on being able to get on with most people, but for some reason, it was like there was an invisible barrier between the two of you. okay, yeah maybe alessia just didn't like you.

alessia had tried to initiate conversations, but you'd respond with a standoffish comment, or a blunt joke that just didn't seem to land with her. everyone else would laugh, but alessia would find herself awkwardly drawing a blank on what to do or say. the few times you did speak, alessia just found herself getting irritated with you, with the way you seemed to constantly be mocking or teasing her for something, the way you always left her feeling frustrated, and flustered. she assumed you had some sort of vendetta agaisnt her, although she could never quite pinpoint what, or why.

she'd never really had to try to get people to like her before, never really had to force conversation, and for once in her life she hadn't known how to interact with someone.

and so, rather than try, she'd kind of just accepted it. if you didn't like her, if you had some sort of problem with her, then she'd just leave you alone. and so she had. you interacted in a purely surface level manner, as teammates - and no one could deny you were an attacking double act to be reckoned with on the pitch - but that was about as far as it went.

her musing was interrupted by a rather heavy pounding on the door of her flat. she dragged herself out of bed, expecting the postman, but instead was greeted by a very excited ella.

"why didn't you tell me?" ella said immediately, barging past alessia into the flat with the force of a bull on steroids. her eyes widened and she began to look around frantically. "oh my god, is she here?" alessia rubbed the sleep from her eyes. she was not awake enough for whatever this was.

"el, i- what?"

"y/n? is she here?" ella turned to look at alessia, honest-to-god beaming at her. "i can't believe you didn't tell me!"

finally, alessia's brain caught up with ella's tirade. right, y/n.

"you spoke to luca," it wasn't a question. ella didn't seem to notice alessia's sour mood, instead moving to look in alessia's bedroom, as if for some damned reason you'd be in there, god forbid.

alessia weighed her options carefully. on the one hand, she couldn't lie to ella. she'd be found out almost immediately. plus, once ella was involved, that meant the whole team was. it was one thing to lie to her family for one evening, but to lie to the whole team, who she spent hours each day in close contact with, was a whole other kettle of fish. of course, this was all assuming alessia actually spoke to you, and by some miracle, convinced you to keep up the lie. this of course would never happen, since alessia was still pretty sure you hated her.

alternatively, and probably the best idea, she could tell ella the truth. ella might even be able to help her out, set her up with a date or something. it crossed her mind that you were friends with ella, and maybe she'd be able to get you to help alessia out. she dismissed that idea pretty quickly.

"ella, listen-" she began, but ella cut her off immediately.

"oh, less i'm so happy for you guys, i knew you would be so great together!"

alessia was a little taken aback. the thought that ella had seen her interact with you, and somehow come to that conclusion, was honestly baffling. in alessia's shock, ella continued on, " i never understood why you never seemed to get on with her, because you know, she's literally the best, but now it all makes sense!"

"it...does?" alessia didn't really know what to say. she absolutely hadn't expected this reaction.

"you were being shy because you had a crush!" ella exclaimed, as though she'd come to an obvious conclusion. "fuck's sake less, you should've just told me you liked her, i could have set you guys up so much sooner-" alessia barely knew how to respond, she just knew she had to stop this before ella went any further.

"no, that's not-"

"aw less, this is so cute! i can't wait to tell everyone else!" that snapped alessia back to reality.

"no! i mean, please don't,"

"why not?" ella looked at alessia, eyes questioning. she needed to confess, to tell ella the truth before it spiralled. this was already getting out of hand and alessia needed to put it to bed, right now.

"we-uh- we aren't telling people yet. its pretty recent,"

oops.

"oh right, yeah totally less," ella nodded solemnly, and gave alessia a reassuring smile. she tried to return it, but she couldn't muster much more than a grimace, "okay, well, i only stopped by to ask you about it, but i'll see you tomorrow yeah?"

alessia only nodded, watching helplessly after ella as she disappeared down the corridor. she'd really gone and fucked it now.

---

she spent the rest of the day contemplating her options, but unsurprisingly, found no easy way out. she refused point blank to admit to luca it was a lie, espescially now that ella was involved, which meant only one thing. she had to ask for your help. alessia felt honestly ill at just the thought of speaking to you, but she resigned herself to it - it was the only option. it was one night, a single wedding. all she had to do was get on her knees and beg, put up with one night of your infuriating company, then endure a lifetime of embarassment from you. super easy.

ella's earlier words remained in the forefront of her mind. alessia knew that it would only be a matter of time before the whole team discovered the 'news', which meant she had to get to you before they did. she considered messaging you on instagram, but her finger hovered over the button, unable to move.

no, she thought, after opening your profile for the hundredth time. this was the kind of conversation you had face-to-face. although not that alessia had ever had to have this ridiculous conversation before. besides, surely it was best to leave no paper trail.

----

alessia had virtually no sleep for the second night in a row, sleeping though her alarm and therefore ensuing on a mad rush to get to the training ground in time. by the time she arrived, she was practically vibrating; a combination of nervous energy and the coffee she'd downed as she ran out her door.

alessia arrived at the ground in time for the morning meeting, which she listened to approximately none of, hyper-aware of your presence on the other side of the room. finally marc finished speaking, and she stood to try and catch you.

"y/n?" she called, voice borderline desperate. you turned to look at her, as did ona and aoife, who you'd been mid-conversation with. you didn't say anything, just looked into alessia's eyes expectantly. realising she had the attention of a quarter of the room, it occurred to her that now was not the best time to do this. alessia's voice trailed off, and she took a step back.

"uh, nothing," alessia mumbled, and you smirked a little. she gritted her teeth in annoyance, and walked in the opposite direction, just desperate to be anywhere but here, caught like a deer in your headlights. she decided to give it an hour, then catch you alone.

alessia lasted all of 15 minutes before the anxiety got too much, and she took off in search of you. she was so preoccupied that she didn't even see ella coming the other way. she barely even registered the collision, just questioning her on your whereabouts immediately.

"hey, have you seen y/n?"

ella raised her eyebrow, a shit-eating grin plastered onto her face within seconds. alessia rolled her eyes impatiently, knowing exactly where ella's mind had gone. god this was unbearable.

"not for that, i need to speak to her," alessia was getting anxious now, just desperate for this whole thing to be over, and ella's suggestive looks weren't helping in the least. ella seemed to notice when her breath picked up.

"you good, less?"

"can you please just tell me where y/n is?"

"i think she went towards the gym," ella calmed down, sensing alessia was in some distress. alessia took off without a second glance, trying her best to calm her shaking hands. this was fine. she just had to kindly explain, and then beg for you to help. maybe even offer you a hefty bribe or something, and just pray you didn't bite her head off.

alessia was so lost in her head as she marched towards the gym that she didn't notice you waiting for her in the corridor. she wasn't proud of the surprised yelp she let out when you grabbed her hand and pulled her, rather unceremoniously, into a storage cupboard.

"why have i just had someone tell me we're dating?"

fuck, thought alessia. this was not how this conversation was meant to go. she tried to speak, to explain, but, as usual when she was around you, she couldn't seem to get the words out. she blushed, stuttering around excuses.

"hello?" you smirked, clearly amused at alessia's panic. she looked up, meeting those dark eyes to find a hint of laughter. alessia blinked, her breath catching. the amusement in your eyes seemed to fade a little, and if alessia didn't know better, she might have recognised the faint concern laced underneath. "you good?"

"fuck, its my fault - i, i'm so sorry, i-"

"woah, alright, calm down," you reached out a lithe hand, hesitantly placing it on her shoulder.

alessia felt her face heating up, wishing desperately the ground would swallow her whole. it was now or never. she could feel your eyes boring into her, waiting for an explanation. she steeled herself, and let everything fall out in one mortified breath.

"i told my brother i had a girlfriend so he'd get off my back about my date to his wedding, only then he started asking questions so i panicked and said your name," the explanation is rushed, and you have to lean in to decipher exactly what alessia is muttering. she pauses, humiliation halting the next part.

"and then he told ella, who told everyone, so now the whole team thinks we're together, and also my family are expecting me to bring you to the wedding on sunday," her voice trails off.

you let out a laugh, a little taken aback by the comedy of the whole situation. alessia looked down at her feet, playing with the fingers nervously. you could feel the embarrassment practically radiating form her in waves. you felt a little bad. alessia stood in front of you, clearly stressed about this wedding for some reason, so much so she's caught herself up in a lie. a lie involving you, no less, who she seemed to hate, for some reason unbeknownst to you.

fuck it, you thought. you shrugged a little.

"alright," you said simply. alessia snapped her head up so fast you were surprised she didn't get whiplash.

"what?"

"alright. i'll help you out,"

"you- you'll what?"

"i'll help," you shrugged again, keeping your replies deliberately blasé, just to make alessia squirm a little. she was surprisingly easy to stress out, and it was fairly entertaining. "i don't have plans on sunday anyway,"

"you'll come to the wedding?" you nodded, "as my date?" you nodded again. alessia sounded confused, and a little sceptical. she was wary, you realised, expecting a trap, or some sort of condition. "seriously? i'll do anything you want,"

you smirked a little at the tail end of her statement. you were telling the truth; you were free on sunday, and honestly you'd been looking for a chance to break through to alessia for a while now, since she seemed to want absolutely nothing to do with you. you honestly would've done it just to be nice, but her words gave you an idea.

"anything i want?" you could tell alessia instantly regretted saying that. you'd caught her in a very desperate position. she nodded hesitantly. "okay, two conditions," alessia's eyes snapped back to yours, immediately on edge, "one, you give me some shooting practice," alessia interrupted you.

"what?"

"you heard me." you said simply, shrugging again, "i need to work on my shooting, you're our best striker. i want you to help me,"

it was true. you'd admired alessia as a player for a while now, and had hoped that coming to manchester would allow you to learn from her. you were an excellent midfielder, known for your creative play and chance creation, but despite all your ball control and technical skills, you had only scored a handful of times in your career.

despite your hopes however, alessia had never really let you in. while you made fast friends with everyone else, she had clammed up whenever you tried to talk to her. a few times she'd initiated conversation, and as soon as you'd give her a trademark witty comment back, she'd end the interaction, leaving you wondering what the hell you'd done to offend her. it'd been a disappointment, but you'd gotten over it, settling in with the rest of the team and ignoring alessia's subtle glares in your direction. now however, it was you in a position of leverage. maybe you could get something out of this too.

"okay, sure," she nodded, "what's the second thing?"

"stop acting so weird around me,"

alessia spluttered. her earlier embarrassment paved way for only pure indignation.

"i act weird? the fuck does that mean? you're the one who's always either brushing me off, or being a dick whenever i try and speak to you!"

"when have i ever brushed you off? i try to talk to you and you just forget how to speak or something, and then you walk off with a stick up your arse," you smirked, watching as alessia got increasingly frustrated.

"yeah, because you say stuff that doesn't make any sense, like how am i meant to respond to half the shit you say? or you say stuff just to piss me off! that's a pretty clear sign that someone doesn't like you, y/n!"

"i've never once acted like i didn't like you - it's called making a joke, alessia," you said, purposefully emphasising her name, "no one else has a problem with it, i'm just trying to make conversation with you,"

"why do you have to be so frustrating? it's like you have to win every conversation!" alessia cried indignantly. you took a small step forward, meeting her eyes with yours. alessia unconsciously stepped back, but she was already pressed up against the shelves of the small storage cupboard.

"maybe you're just very easy to frustrate, alessia," you said softly, lowering your voice, "maybe you should work on that,"

alessia had no response, only clenching her jaw and rolling her eyes. you stepped back, noticing how her shoulders dropped ever so slightly. you placed a hand on the handle to leave, but before you opened it, you turned back to alessia, meeting her eyes with a smirk.

"send me your address - i'm coming over later," when alessia opened her mouth to protest, you cut her off, "unless you don't want my help after all?" you raised a single eyebrow and alessia sighed.

"yeah, okay. fine,"

"bye," you turned and stalked out the cupboard, stopping at the door once more to look alessia dead in the eye, shit-eating grin plastered on your face, "babe,"

----

"so what exactly was your plan if i didn't say yes?"

"well technically i never asked for your help," alessia grumbled.

"you would've. i was just putting you out of your misery by offering first,"

"you don't know that. anyway, my plan was to maybe run away to mexico,"

"maybe you'd meet a date there,"

alessia huffed from her position on her sofa. god you were infuriating. it had only been a few hours of this charade, and you were already getting under her skin. alessia was starting to think that public humiliation courtesy of her brothers would have been the better option.

"at least then i wouldn't have to deal with you," alessia mumbled.

"oh but you were just starting to like me! look, you're using full sentences when you speak to me and everything!"

"get fucked," alessia said. you were right; at least now she was capable of holding a conversation with you. unfortunately, this graduation meant alessia now had to deal with a lot more of your infuriating personality.

you'd shown up at her flat almost immediately after training, leaving alessia to scramble to try and make the place presentable. now here you were, reclining lazily in her living room, an invasive species taking root in her safe space, and giving very unhelpful suggestions about how to fake a relationship.

"i'm thinking we say you fell madly in love with me at first sight and then-"

"we don't need to say anything!"

"no one is going to believe we're together if we don't even have a backstory, alessia!" you were enjoying this far too much, she could tell. "that might work for your uncles or something, but if you think the girls won't want every juicy detail you are sorely mistaken,"

alessia buried her face in her hands, not for the first time that evening. she felt the familiar rising of panic in her chest, tried to drown out your constant talking, and calm down. this was becoming way too much.

"what the fuck am i doing?" she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut. you paused, and alessia braced herself for another round of teasing from you.

instead, she jumped when she felt your hand on her shoulder. your touch was firm, but grounding, and not at all what alessia had been expecting.

"you alright?"

alessia shook her head, trying to control her breathing and prevent the oncoming spiral. she felt you move to sit next to her, jolting a little as she felt the brush of your thigh against hers. it suddenly occurred to her that she hadn't been this close to, well, anyone, in a very long time. she didn't dare look up.

"this was so stupid, i never should have gotten you involved," her voice was small, embarrassed, "i'm sorry, you don't have to stay,"

"can i ask you something?," you said, and alessia nodded hesitantly.

"why do you care so much? why lie at all?"

alessia sighed. normally, she would have her guard straight back up, but she'd done an awful lot of lying recently, and she was getting very tired.

"i just- i like being single, i honestly do, but, i'm just sick of people going on about it. every single time, its all 'when are you getting a boyfriend, alessia' or 'less, let me set you up with my friend'. it's my mum giving me these pitying looks when my brothers are with their girlfriends and i'm on my own, again,"

she was rambling now, gesticulating wildly as everything that had been building up inside her came out in a rant of emotion. you placed your hand gently on her thigh, and alessia jumped, but continued on, "it's my brothers constantly taking the piss, like they can't believe i could ever find someone. you should have heard how shocked luca was when i said i was seeing someone! and i'm fine on my own, really i am, but when i hear that, it just pisses me off and so i just said it to prove him wrong. even though he isn't wrong, at all,"

alessia stopped, breathing a little hard. she felt a tear prick at the corner of her eye, and willed herself to calm down. she'd already said far too much to you, didn't want to give you any more ammunition than she already had. she winced in anticipation of your teasing remarks, but none came.

"that makes sense. that would get to me too," you didn't move your hand. alessia shook her head.

"i'm sorry for dragging you into this, we should just forget this ever happened,"

"if you really want me to go, i will," you said, "but i want to help,"

"i can't ask you to do this, it's so dumb,"

"you didn't ask remember? i offered," you nudged her shoulder, and she let out a choked laugh despite herself.

"come on," you nudged her again, "i'm not really that bad, am i?,"

alessia shook her head, her gaze fixed on where your hand still rested on her thigh, your fingers absentmindedly stroking her leg. begrudgingly, she had to agree. maybe she'd underestimated you.

"okay," she nodded, finally looking up at you, "let's fake date,"

you smiled, and moved away slightly. alessia felt an unfamiliar twinge at the loss of contact.

"by the way, you're going to have to stop blushing every time i touch you,"

alessia almost choked, her face heating up even more, "i'm not!"

you just shrugged, that familiar teasing smirk returning.

"whatever you say, babygirl,"

alessia just rolled her eyes.

"okay, so what's the plan?" you said, making your way over to the kitchen. you began to root through alessia's cupboards, "why have you not got any real food in here?"

"i have real food-"

"no, this is just like, oats and stuff,"

"it's ingredients. stop going through my cupboards,"

"fine, i'll order food. what do you want?"

alessia just stared at you, utterly baffled. why you were acting as though this was a perfectly normal occurrence, for you to be stood in her kitchen as though it was your own, for you to be ordering her dinner, she had no clue. you stared back, clearly waiting for an answer.

"um, whatever you like," alessia gave in, still looking at you incredulously. you just hummed, and reached in her cupboard for a glass. alessia could only wonder how you even knew where the glasses were.

---

you'd agreed that the best course of action would be to take it slow, ease people into the idea of your relationship. admittedly, no one had ever seen you interact at training, so they were unlikely to believe a sudden 180 in behaviour. the both of you were fairly private people, so it wasn't like the others would be expecting you to launch out the pda immediately. a few gentle touches here and there, a couple whispered conversations, that was all you needed.

alessia didn't walk out to training with you, but the two of you made sure to stand next to each other where possible. you placed a hand on the small of her back when you saw ella eyeing the two of you suspiciously, only removing it when you saw her start whispering to millie. job done.

while you seemed to be playing your part with ease, alessia thrummed with nerves. she flinched when she felt you touch her back, and she swallowed at the spike of electricity it sent down her spine. alessia waited for you to remove it, but you only let it rest there. she breathed into the touch, relaxing enough to remember the plan. she gave you a performative smile, trying to school her features into those of a loving girlfriend, and you grinned.

“try it without looking like you’re in pain next time,” you whispered with a smirk, before running off to receive the ball. alessia stared after you, clenching her jaw in annoyance. this was going to be a long few days.

alessia turned her attention back to the drill, managing a successful twenty minutes without any you-shaped irritation. then the coaches called for you to partner up, and her luck ran out. she sighed as you came bounding over to her, grinning ear to ear like a love-sick puppy.

the two of you queued up, listening intently to the instructions. or rather, you listened. alessia could only focus on your hand, which had snaked its way around her waist and was tracing light shapes into her hipbone.

she was brought back to earth by the shout of her name. you laughed and nudged her,

“it’s your turn,” you smirked. alessia swallowed, realising she had no clue what she was meant to be doing.

“alessia! were you not paying attention?” the coach yelled from the sidelines. ella chose that moment to chime in.

“she was paying attention to someone else coach!”

millie wolf-whistled in response. alessia buried her head in her hands, feeling her face heat up. sensing her panic, you quickly pointed out what she was meant to be doing. alessia muttered a quick apology, running to take her turn.

she rounded on you as soon as training finished.

“what the fuck was that?”

“i should be asking you that!” you laughed. “careful alessia, anyone would think you were actually into me,”

the icy glare she sent your way could’ve frozen fire, but you just smirked.

“it’s not funny, you fucked up my whole training session,”

“i’m sorry! i didn’t realise little old me would distract you so much,”

“just don’t pull that shit tomorrow, alright?” alessia borderline spat, before turning on her heel and stalking away. you chased her down with a shout.

“hey, where are you going? you said you’d help with the shooting!”

fuck, you’d had alessia so riled up, she had entirely forgotten. she knew she needed to keep her promise, or risk losing your help, but the thought of spending another moment in your vicinity drove her insane. she needed to go home and calm down.

“after that stunt you pulled? we'll see about it tomorrow, alright?”

you thought about arguing, but seeing how hot and bothered alessia was, you decided not to risk annoying her anymore. you honestly didn’t know what her problem was - she’d asked for your help, hadn’t she? you nodded begrudgingly, watching after her as she walked to her car.

clearly, alessia was stressed, whether about the wedding or something deeper, you weren’t sure. as much as you enjoyed teasing her, you felt a little guilty about her reaction. you really hadn’t intended to distract her, but you’d seen how some of the girls were shooting sceptical glances at the two of you, and knew you needed to keep alessia’s cover. you resolved to be a little nicer tomorrow, hoping it might make alessia warm up to you somewhat.

back in her flat, alessia stared down at the invitation once again. there was no way all this was worth it, and she ran a hand raggedly down her face.

there was something about you, that was just so infuriating. the more you two were speaking, alessia just found herself increasingly frustrated. she’d previously pinned the emotion down to annoyance and irritation, but the longer it went on, she was starting to feel more flustered than anything. you always seemed to have the upper hand, and alessia was left stuttering to keep up. it was as if her brain just stopped functioning every time you so much as looked at her, or brushed her arm. it was extremely annoying.

alessia allowed herself a few moments to air her grievances, before dragging herself into the shower. she turned the temperature to cool, and tried to forget the sensation of your hand around her waist.

—-

the next day, training ran without a hitch. you made sure to fasten yourself to alessia’s side occasionally, but kept the touches and teasing to a minimum.

expecting a repeat of your antics from the previous day, alessia had showed up to training on edge. it seemed, however, that you were intent on keeping your word. it was an adjustment, getting used to your constant presence, but alessia found that without the constant teasing, she didn't mind too much. eventually, she relaxed into the familiarity of usual training, feeling more herself than she had all week.

without alessia to annoy, you'd turned your attention to light-hearted jokes at the other girls' expense. now that she was out from your spotlight, alessia found herself laughing along with the team. begrudgingly, she could see the funny side. maybe she was starting to see why everyone else liked you.

training finished, and alessia made her way over to where you stood chatting to the others. gaining a bolt of confidence, she snaked her arm around your waist. you jolted a bit at the unexpected contact. ever quick to recover, you flashed her a winning smile. she pressed herself deeper into your side.

"ready to go babe?" you asked, slinging a lazy arm around her shoulders. you didn't want to annoy alessia, not after you'd kept yourself in her good books all day, but you were increasingly aware of everyone else's eyes fastened on the two of you. alessia turned to look at you, all big blue eyes and smiling dimples. you wondered if she'd taken acting lessons since yesterday.

"i thought we could stay for some shooting practice?" she said sweetly. your eyes widened a little, pleasantly surprised she was going to hold up her end of the deal after all. you nodded, losing your words for a second. it was a little hard to think when she was looking at you like that.

"oh, uh, yeah- sounds good,"

alessia waved bye to the others, before she practically sauntered over to the goal. you watched, a little dumbfounded. clearly she was pleased with herself for having caught you off guard. after a beat, you said your goodbyes and jogged to catch her up, chuckling a little.

"so where do we start?"

"well, why don't we just run a few shots and we'll see where we go from there?"

you nodded and turned to grab a ball from the ball bag. it wasn't not unusual for players to stay after training, so most of the equipment had been left out. you glanced up to say something, but found alessia had disappeared.

"wh-?" you cut yourself off with a laugh when you spotted her grappling with a training mannequin on the far side of the field. as you watched her try to drag it over, she somehow managed to rather ungracefully trip over her own feet.

alessia swore, but looked up when she heard your bright laugh.

"oh shut up! just help me put this in the goal," she grumbled. you hoped you hadn't mistaken the hint of a smile in her voice.

"how are you so fucking clumsy?" you teased, lifting up the mannequin with ease. alessia followed as you walked to the goal, choosing not to answer. you placed it down. "here okay?"

alessia stepped back to judge the positioning. you couldn't deny she looked a little cute; hands on hips, head tilted, nose scrunched up in thought. you were broken from your musing as she stepped forward, dragging the mannequin a little to the left.

"hmm, a little more this way,"

"don't fall over it this time,"

"oh fuck off. so annoying," she mumbled, although the smile that appeared on her face betrayed her lack of annoyance. small wins, you thought.

the two of you began taking shots, alessia feeding them in as you whacked them into the net from distance. although you could often find the back of the net, your accuracy wasn't the best. you groaned after you failed to hit the top right for the third time.

"right, okay, i think i know what you're doing wrong," alessia said, as she fished the balls out the net. "you just need to position your body a little differently. here watch me,"

you fed a perfect pass into her - at least you had no problem with assists - and she struck the ball perfectly into the top corner.

"like this?" you said, trying to mimic the way she leant over the ball. alessia frowned.

"hmm, no, like-" she paused, clearly hesitating on her next move. the pause didn't last long though, as she planted her hands on your waist and physically manoeuvred you.

"so you want to move away from the defender like this," she swivelled your hips slightly, "and then, when you hit the ball, you want to sort of do this," she kept one hand on your waist, moving the other to your torso and guiding you through the motion. you tried to take in her words, but you could only focus on her body as it pressed up against yours. you nodded, suddenly a little flustered, but alessia didn't take her hands away.

alessia wasn't really thinking when she decided to touch you, but as she positioned your body, her thoughts drifted. your torso was firm underneath her hand, she noted, and her fingers slotted so neatly into the curve of your waist. her words trailed off, hands lingering a second too long.

alessia jolted as she realised where she was. she let go quickly, a little flustered. god, what was going on with her.

"um, yeah, try that," she said, taking another step back. she felt her face flush, but thankfully, you didn't turn to look at her.

trying to ignore alessia's lingering touch, and its subsequent quick departure, you geared up to take the shot. you tried to mimic what she'd done, and you grinned as the ball found its target.

"yes! that was it!" called alessia from where she stood, "now, let's run about a hundred more,"

when you finally walked off the training pitch together, you were pleasantly surprised by your progress. alessia was a good coach, now that she was actually acknowledging you. you looked over at her as she walked beside you.

the sun was setting by now, casting alessia in a warm orange glow. a piece of her hair had come loose from her braid. you wanted to thank her, but found you didn't want to break the comfortable silence engulfing the two of you.

alessia kept step beside you, contemplating her own sudden change of heart. now that she knew you a little better, the teasing remarks no longer spun her off kilter, and she found she was more amused than annoyed.

"i was thinking maybe i could come over tomorrow after training? to sort out plans for sunday and that?" she asked, turning to look at you.

"yeah sure, what time?" you said absentmindedly, lifting your shirt a little to wipe your face. despite the cool summer evening air, you'd managed to work up a sweat. alessia couldn't help the way her eyes drifted down to your exposed torso. she swallowed.

"alessia?" you prompted, turning to look at her when she didn't answer. she averted her eyes back to your face, before quickly looking away again when she made eye contact.

"oh, um, 7?"

"sounds good, i can make dinner?"

"should i be worried?" alessia smirked, recovering herself a little. jesus, she was all over the place lately. she tried to reassure herself it was just the stress of the impending wedding, pushing down the voice at the back of her head.

"fuck you, i'm a great cook,"

"i'll be the judge of that,"

---

alessia rocked band and forth on her heels as she waited outside your building. she contemplated checking the address yet again, but settled on messaging a simple i'm outside. luckily, it turned out you lived pretty close to her, so she had walked, the weather only a light summer drizzle.

training had run smoothly once again, with the two of you settling into the act comfortably. the nature of your job meant you were at liberty to keep it lowkey and professional, only having to share the occasional sly touch or whispered comment to maintain the facade. some of the others had finally given in to temptation and pressed you both for details. alessia had momentarily faltered, but was saved by you stepping in to proudly regale your concocted story. all she'd had to do was nod and smile in all the right places, content to sit back and eat her lunch while you took the reins. after everyone had left, you'd flashed her a smirk, and whispered "hook, line and sinker". then you'd ruined the moment by mocking her outfit, but she could forgive you for that.

alessia's careful musing on the day was interrupted by you bounding down the staircase. you threw the door open and beckoned her in.

"lift's broken so we have to take the stairs," you said, already making your way up, "try not to fall down them,"

"i'm not that clumsy,"

"could've fooled me," you shrugged.

thankfully alessia managed to keep her footing on all four flights, only nearly dropping her keys once. she hoped you didn't see that.

"okay, so i was thinking, for the wedding, we ne-"

"jesus, straight to the point, huh?"

"well, i was just-"

"you've literally just come through the door, we'll talk about it over tea,"

"stop interrupting me," alessia huffed, placing her bag down on the coffee table, "but fine,"

you made your way back to the kitchen area, and alessia took the chance to take in your open-plan flat. it was nice, she conceded, spacious but homely, decorated eclectically but well. she wasn't sure why she was shocked, as though she'd been expecting you to live in a cave or something.

she turned to join you in the kitchen, where you seemed to be plating up dinner already. alessia offered to help, but you waved her off, telling her to sit down.

"i didn't know you could cook," alessia said as the two of you ate. you hummed, shrugging slightly.

"you don't really know anything about me," you replied simply. for the first time, alessia felt a pang of guilt at not giving you a chance sooner. it was true - she could tell you any number of facts about the rest of the team, but she wouldn't even know where to start with you.

"well no but, i can learn," she said. you looked a little shocked by her words. alessia felt another stab of guilt.

"so, the wedding?" you prompted, eager to change the subject, "what's the plan?"

alessia began to run you through the itinerary, rambling a little. in her stress over the whole thing, she had managed to commit every little detail to memory. she wanted the day to run pefect for luca and his fiancee of course, but she also now had to contemplate bringing you into the midst.

"to be honest, you don't have to come to the ceremony if you don't want to," she added, noticing your wide eyes as you tried to take it all in.

"well, are your family expecting me to be there?"

"um, well yeah, but-" alessia trailed off. her earlier guilt at not being close to you had now morphed into an all encompassing guilt for dragging you into this whole thing.

"do you want me to be there?"

alessia faltered. despite all her planning, she hadn't really considered that. if you'd asked her at the start of the week, it would have been a resounding no, but as she mulled it over, she found that, actually, just maybe, she potentially did.

"um, yeah, i think i do actually,"

"cool, then i'll be there," you shrugged, and alessia nodded.

"so, i'm meant to be getting ready with my mum, but then we can pick you up on the way to the church?"

"i can meet you there if that's easier? less hassle for you guys, plus it might save us any awkward questions from your mum?"

"i mean, its a good idea, but to be honest i think you'll get questions no matter what. it's not a problem - you're on our way anyway," alessia said, and you nodded.

it was a nice change, seeing you like this. the way you seemed genuinely eager to help, making thoughtful suggestions rather than immature ones. the two of you sat at the table long after you'd finished eating, discussing the plan and making sure your story was airtight.

"personally i still think we should tell everyone you pined after me for months," just like that, your teasing suggestions were back, but alessia no longer found herself bothered by them.

"we're absolutely not saying that,"

"oh come on, you know you're obsessed with me,"

"so obsessed it hurts," alessia mimed an arrow to the chest, and you grinned. she felt a small sense of pride at making you laugh. it was a little unnerving. she turned her attention to more pressing matters.

"you do have something to wear right? i can lend you a dress,"

"a dress? absolutely not," you smirked, "don't worry, i've got it covered - what colour is yours?"

"why?"

"so we don't clash, duh,"

"oh," alessia still felt wary, "its like a navy blue, here i'll show you," she pulled out her phone to find the dress. you gave an appreciative look.

"yeah, i've got a suit that will go well with that,"

"i feel like you're going to show up in something stupid - should i be worried? i am worried,"

you stood up to clear the plates, whacking her shoulder playfully.

"do you need to be going?" you asked over your shoulder as you washed up, "i know it's a late kick off tomorrow, but don't feel obliged to stay if you want to get home,"

in all honesty, alessia didn't want to go just yet. she wasn't too worried about the match, it being an evening home game they were tipped to win, and she still wanted to iron out a few more things for sunday. besides, it was nice to not spend yet another evening alone in her flat.

"i don't, unless you want me to go?" the hesitance that crept into her tone was unbidden.

"nah i'm good. stay," you walked to the fridge and pulled it open, searching for something, "normally i'd offer you wine, but maybe not the best idea before a match," you held out a can of pepsi triumphantly, before collapsing onto the sofa beside alessia.

"only the best for my fake girlfriend,"

alessia took it gratefully, then realised she didn't quite know what to do with herself with you sat in such close proximity. she adjusted her position awkwardly, but it was only a small sofa.

"so, tell me about your family," you said as you switched the tv on, "any weird uncles i need to avoid?"

alessia laughed and began to give you a rundown on all the people you would need to know. she found herself relaxing as she spoke, her earlier awkwardness dissipating. you listened intently. your eyes didn't leave her face as she talked, but alessia didn't notice.

the topic soon moved with ease towards your own family, then you in general, and alessia sank into the comfortable flow of conversation. the two of you chatted for hours before alessia realised the time.

"oh shit, it's pretty late, i should probably be going,"

you yawned and nodded, "oh damn yeah, who knew you could talk so much?" alessia blushed, and began to mutter an apology, but you cut her off, "its cool, makes a nice change," you winked, "you could stay, if you like? it's chucking it down out there, plus it's dark, and you shouldn't walk back alone,"

alessia could get an uber - she had planned to get an uber. logically she should go home, make sure she got a good night's sleep before the game. despite this, she hesistated.

"is that alright?" she asked. you nodded.

"yeah of course, as long as you don't mind sharing the bed. i can drive you back in the morning before the match," you walked off, going to get her some clothes to sleep in, and alessia followed.

you fell asleep pretty much straight away, but alessia found herself unable to do the same. she stared at the ceiling, listening to your even breaths and trying to ignore the way your legs brushed up against hers.

she wasn't sure why she agreed to stay, to sleep in a bed with you no less, but, alessia realised, something had changed this week. she enjoyed your company, enjoyed you. she'd even maybe go as far as calling you a friend. for the first time, alessia found herself wondering what would happen after the wedding. she'd been so focused on keeping up the lie, she hadn't even considered it. the two of you had planned to keep up the lie a little longer, then stage a mutual and unexplosive breakup, but now, alessia wondered if you'd even remain close. what if your actions towards her were simply another part of the act, and once you got your shooting practice in return, would it go back to the way it was? alessia realised, with a very strong conviction, that she didn't want that at all.

---

alessia woke before you the next morning. the rain had cleared up, and the sun cast soft rays through your thin curtains. at some point in the night the two of you had shifted to face each other. alessia realised her arm was hanging loosely over your waist, and she pulled it back quickly.

she wasn't sure how long she'd laid there last night, thoughts racing as sleep evaded her. she lay there now, remarking on how much softer your features looked in sleep. your hair hung loosely over your eyes, and alessia had a sudden urge to brush it aside.

the thought registered with a jolt, and alessia extricated herself from the bed as quickly as possible. she tried to push down the feeling in her chest, point-blank refusing to acknowledge it.

this was bad - what was she doing? she couldn't be thinking like this. she needed to go. getting dressed quickly, alessia collected her things and slipped out of your building without a second thought. it was only when she was halfway down the street that the guilt settled in- she should have left a note or something. alessia settled for a text.

left to get ready for the game - thanks so much for letting me stay, see you later x

---

alessia was already there when you showed up at the stadium for the game. you gave her a wave, then moved to sit by your things. waking up alone had stung a little, and you wondered if you'd done something wrong. you'd thought the two of you had maybe crossed a bridge this week - that maybe you were actual friends now, rather than just accomplices caught up in the same lie. maybe you'd been wrong.

it shouldn't have surprised you. you knew alessia hadn't liked you before, although you were still clueless as to why, and maybe it was naïve to think that could've changed.

of course, the text she'd sent hadn't indicated any problem, it was an entirely reasonable thing to do, and she'd seemed perfectly comfortable in your company last night, but still, a girl leaving your bed at the crack of dawn was never a good sign. you knew with some certainty that, after all this was done, you didn't want to go back to how things were, but you had no clue if alessia felt the same. this could have just been all part of the lie for her.

that didn't matter now though, you had to focus on the game.

---

the first half was electric. alessia played well, if she did say so herself, and in all honesty, it was down to you. while before you'd had great link-up play as an attacking duo, now, the two of you were dynamite. you each ran circles around the defence, anticipating the other's moves with ease. so naturally, when alessia volleyed the ball into the back of the net, it was from a cross you'd rocketed into the box.

she ran to hug you, and you did the same, jumping into her arms and wrapping your legs around her waist. alessia had been wondering if she'd upset you by leaving early, and trying very hard not to think about certain other things, but that was long forgotten. she simply let herself breathe you in, holding you tight as she spun you around.

the game continued much in a similar way, the two of you cleaving through defenders like water. you were 3-0 up at 80 minutes, and still you pressed for more.

alessia took on a defender with ease, pressing into space. she could've attempted the shot herself, but she saw your run into the box. she passed the ball to you, and watched as you put into practice exactly what she'd showed you.

it was a perfect strike. you pumped your fists and made a beeline for alessia, squeezing her tight.

"fuck yes! that was all you lessi, all you," you yelled into her ear. alessia's eyes shone with pride, but the warm feeling that engulfed her was far, far more than that. suddenly, alessia couldn't breathe, her heart beating far more erratically than it should've been. she buried her face in your neck and held you tight. oh this was bad. this was so, so bad. if alessia thought the situation was complicated before, she'd definitely made it a whole lot worse now.

she let go, clapping you on the shoulder as she beamed, choking down the pounding in her chest.

"no y/n, all you,"

---

you were still riding the high of the win, and the goal, as you got yourself ready for the wedding the next day. you'd gone home feeling much better than you had before; alessia's reactions on the pitch seemed to confirm to you that there was no bad blood between the two of you. your heart fluttered slightly at the memory of how she'd looked at you - all beaming smiles and bright eyes.

a knock on your door shook you out of your reverie, and you tried to forget the memory. you couldn't be thinking like that. she was a friend - and just barely. you smoothed down your suit and pulled the door open.

"hey- oh. wow, you look-" alessia stumbled over her words as she took you in.

"told you i had it covered," you grinned, posing a little, "you scrub up alright yourself," you couldn't deny she looked absolutely stunning - it was taking every ounce of your effort not to stare, to keep your breathing relatively normal as you took her in.

"right- um yeah- are you ready to go?"

you nodded and followed her out, steeling your nerves to meet alessia's mum. you ran over the story once again in your mind, and from alessia's expression, you imagined she was doing the same. you reached out to grab her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"calm down, you're breathing like you've just ran a marathon," you muttered as you approached the taxi.

"ah, wow, thats such a helpful thing to say, thank you," alessia's voice dripped with sarcasm, and she didn't even look at you.

"we've got this okay? i'm great at lying," she nodded, but you could still see the tension practically radiating off her shoulders.

"i'm not," she mumbled.

"hey, it'll be fine, i promise. just let me know if you need anything - i just want you to enjoy your brother's wedding, alright?"

alessia nodded again, before you reached the car. you waved through the window at her mum, before sliding into the back of the taxi with alessia.

"mum, this is y/n, my girlfriend," alessia spoke confidently, but you'd spent enough time with her this week to hear the faint waver in her voice. you put on your best meet-the-parents voice as you chimed in - you had promised alessia you'd be on your best behaviour today.

"hi, it's so great to finally meet you! alessia's told me so much about you,"

"you too, sweetheart! we're so glad she's finally found someone to look after her," her mum replied, turning from the passenger seat to smile at you. you could see where alessia got it from.

"well, i do my best," you smile back, "she deserves it,"

alessia groaned next to you, face a little flushed.

"mum..."

"well it's true, honey! you know we worry about you getting lonely up here on your own," you were tempted to slide alessia a teasing smirk at that, but thought better of it. god knows she didn't need you adding to the stress.

"yeah, alright, alright," alessia mumbled, still firmly averting her eyes from yours, "how's luca doing?"

"he's doing well, he's with gio and your dad at the church now,"

alessia nodded and smiled, taking a deep breath in. in a brief moment of daring, you reached for her hand and squeezed. she squeezed back with a small smile. the car fell into a comfortable silence, and you turned to look at the window, watching the cars pass by, and trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest.

with alessia being the sister of the groom, she was swept up into wedding business as soon as you entered the church. you'd agreed it would be best to save the introductions for the reception, so you slid into a pew a few rows behind and watched on as alessia greeted her family. you smirked a little as you watched alessia's mum point you out to her brothers, who clapped alessia on the back in apparent congratulations. you sent them a little wave, then for good measure, blew alessia a kiss. she sent you a death glare in return.

the ceremony was beautiful, even as a total stranger. your eyes kept drifitng back to alessia, watching as she beamed with pride, tears shining in her eyes. it warmed your heart to see her like this; you knew she was close with her family, but it was nice to witness it in full. she caught your eye in the crowd, soft smile growing when you grinned back at her.

alessia beckoned you over to her side as the crowd gathered to watch luca and his wife leave the church in the wedding car. you slung an arm around her shoulders and she leaned into you.

"happy?"

"very," she nodded, "thank you for coming,"

"anytime,"

you were interrupted by gio clapping both of you on the back.

"not going to introduce me less?" he grinned. alessia rolled her eyes.

"gio this is y/n. y/n, gio," you stuck out a hand, and he shook it before pulling you in for a hug.

"pleasure to meet you, y/n," he grinned, before turning to alessia, "where've you been hiding this one, lessi? took you long enough,"

"fuck off gio,"

"i'm joking, i'm really happy for you," he turned back to you, face suddenly serious, "if you hurt my baby sister i will kill you, understood?"

"loud and clear," you grinned, and he laughed.

"yeah, i like her less, good job," gio walked off, presumably to greet someone else, and you turned to alessia.

"that went well,"

"shut up please,"

alessia was dragged off for photos pretty soon after, so you spent your time milling around the reception area, and taking advantage of cocktail hour. you had a few run-ins with some cousins and family friends, word apparently having travelled fast, but you put on your best loved-up smile, and spent about an hour gushing about alessia. you tried not to think about how easy it was.

alessia returned after a while, making a beeline for you. or rather, for the drink you held in your hand, which she took without a word and downed rather hastily.

"having fun?"

"all anyone wants to talk to me about is you," she muttered, "even luca! you'd think it was our fucking wedding, not his! i need another drink,"

"on it," you said, walking to the bar with a small laugh. you returned with two cocktails, placing one into alessia's hand. she smiled in thanks.

"just one evening, less, you got this," she nodded, already halfway through her cocktail.

"oh there she is- alessia!" alessia groaned as she heard her mum's voice.

"god, here we go," she grumbled, before plastering a smile to her face and turning around. you waved as her parents approached, swiftly followed by luca and his wife.

"this is y/n," alessia said. you shook her dad's hand, greeting him with a smile.

"it's great to meet you," you turned to luca, "and congratulations! its a beautiful wedding, thank you so much for having me here,"

"yeah thank you," he beamed, clearly caught up in wedding ecstasy, "and of course! you're part of the family too now," you nodded, a small pang of guilt at your lies hitting you squarely in the chest, "plus, as if we were going to let less get away with not bringing you,"

"luca-" alessia attempted, but he waved her off.

"she never brings anyone to anything, honestly i don't even know if she's ever dated anyone seriously, we were all so relieved when she said she was finally bringing a date,"

you didn't miss the way alessia's fingers tightened around her glass, or the way her jaw muscles clenched.

"i mean, seriously, we were starting to get like, worried, you know? like we get you're busy with football less, but come on!"

you were concerned alessia was going to break the glass if she gripped it any tighter. you snaked an arm around her waist, rubbing your thumb slightly over her hipbone.

"well, nothing to worry about anymore," you joked good-naturedly, "i'm just lucky she got there in the end," you flashed her a smile, and her eyes betrayed her thanks. she relaxed into you a little, nodding.

"i'm glad, treat her right, yeah?" luca said, and you nodded. you were getting used to these shovel talks by now, "anyway, you guys should probably get in your seats- speeches soon!" he turned with a wave.

being alessia's date, you of course found yourself on the family table, nestled between your fake girlfriend and her brother. luckily, the attention of the group had finally switched back to the wedding at hand, and you gave yourself a moment to relax. all this lying, this play-acting at being alessia's girl, hadn't felt too difficult in the moment, but now that you weren't under the scrutiny of prying eyes, you realised how much it had taken out of you. you tried to focus on the speeches, taking the moment to collect yourself.

try as you might though, your attention never drifted too far from alessia. you snuck a sideways glance at her, watching as she listened intently. her eyes shone with tears as her dad spoke, and so, emboldened by the copious amount of champagne, you placed a hand gently on her thigh. her eyes never moved from her dad, but her hand moved to rest on top of yours. you felt a little giddy at the intimacy of it all, her fingers tracing a pattern against yours. you told yourself it was just the alcohol making you feel this way, but this small private gesture implied otherwise. it wasn't like anyone could see - there was no one to keep up the pretence for.

gio swept you up into conversation pretty quickly once the speeches ended and the food arrived, seeming genuinely interested in you and your life. his plus one, his girlfriend of a few years, joined in, and you spent most of the meal chatting to the two of them. alessia was uncharacteristically quiet, sharing only the occasional exchange with her parents. you longed to know what was going through her mind, but despite the charade, you knew it wasn't the time to ask. it probably wasn't even for you to ask at all. all you could do was watch as she subdued herself, only moving to refill her champagne yet again.

by the time the first dance was done, and the party began in full, you were already feeling the effects of the alcohol. from her more relaxed manner, you guessed alessia was too. the two of you had been left alone at your table, and you took the opportunity to check in with her.

"you good?" there was nobody in your close vicinity, with everyone dispersing onto the dance floor, but you kept your voice low regardless.

alessia nodded and hummed, closing her eyes a little.

"are you pissed?" you laughed. she snapped her eyes open at that, looking at you indignantly.

"no, are you?" you chose to ignore her defensive tone, instead slipping into a wide laugh.

"yep, hammered,"

that got a laugh out of alessia, and she smirked.

"yeah, me too- let's go dance,"

you nodded and let her pull you towards the throng of people. the two of you danced for a while, just enjoying the atmosphere. alessia's parents soon materialised, the two of them grinning from ear to ear. you laughed as alessia's dad brought out the full set of dance moves, glad that alessia seemed to have eased up as well. it didn't last long however, as the four of you soon sank into chairs and began to chat.

"we're thrilled you're here y/n," alessia's dad began, his wife tucked under his arm. you could see why alessia had high standards for relationships. "lessi's always so busy, we never get to see her relaxed like this,"

you almost choked on your drink. you were pretty sure alessia had never been less relaxed in her life.

"i'm sure you'll look after her, we've been waiting for her to find someone who makes her this happy," alessia sipped at her own drink, not even looking up.

"all our children finally growing up and starting their own families, it makes us so happy," her mum nodded, chiming in. at the mention of a family, alessia finished her glass, and turned to you. it only took one look to see the frustration in her eyes. you went to say something, but were cut off by the arrival of a group of people you hadn't met.

"oh my god, hi! you're alessia's girlfriend right? i'm her cousin, everyone's been talking about how she finally brought a date, we had to come meet you! took her long enough!"

you nodded and introduced yourself, shifting your chair a fraction closer to alessia. before you could say anymore, however, alessia cut you off.

"y/n, could you go get me another drink?" you hesitated - the last thing you wanted to do was leave alessia alone in the lion's den. the desperate glint in her eye, the slight quiver in her lip, told you exactly how you she was feeling though, so you nodded and stood, waving a quick goodbye to what now seemed to be the entire russo family.

standing at the bar, you kept your gaze on alessia, who now appeared to be being bombarded by questions. you tapped your fingers impatiently on the counter, eager to get back to her and mitigate the damage. it was becoming increasingly apparent that, although she may have avoided the questions of why she was alone, your presence here had just opened up a whole new can of worms. lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the girl who sidled up next to you until she spoke.

"bride or groom?"

you turned to her, a little taken aback. your identity as alessia's girlfriend had mostly preceded introductions up until now.

"oh, uh, groom,"

"that explains why i didn't recognise you - i'm the bride's sister,"

"oh cool," you smiled politely. the girl's suggestive tone gave you a clear indication of her intentions. normally, you would have flirted back- you couldn't deny she was attractive - but you only wanted to get back to alessia. you glanced back over to the table, but her chair was now empty.

the bartender placed your drinks in front of you, and you took them quickly.

"uh, sorry, i should get back, but nice to meet you," you muttered, before practically jogging back.

"where did less go?" you said, putting the drinks down, and turning to her mum with a smile that you hoped didn't betray your concern.

"oh just to the bathroom love," she replied. you nodded. it was probably nothing, but you had a strong urge to go and check on her.

"oh, i might go as well, could you watch our drinks?" you barely gave her time to answer before you dodged your way through the crowd.

"alessia? you in here?" there was no reply. a quick check determined all the cubicles were empty, save for one very drunk bridesmaid who you had to practically extract yourself from.

you came back out, racking your brain for where she could have gone. catching sight of a door slightly ajar, you stepped outside.

"hey," you began hesitantly. alessia sat with her head in her hands, her breathing shallow. she didn't look up. "you okay?"

you contemplated sitting down on the bench next to her, but the moment felt suddenly very private. it was quite possible that you were the last person she wanted to be around.

alessia mumbled something, but her voice was too muffled to understand. you stepped a little closer.

"what was that?" you kept your voice low and your movements cautious, as though she were an animal you didn't want to spook. she looked up, and your heart broke a little as you took in her red eyes and tear-tracked cheeks.

"why do you care? you're not actually my girlfriend," her voice was tired, resigned almost.

you couldn't deny it stung a little, but you weren't going to let that deter you. you weren't leaving her like this.

"well no, but i'm your friend," at your own words you faltered a little -were you? you knew how your position on the matter had switched from before, but you still held some doubt that she had ever changed her mind about you. your voice was hesitant as you spoke again, "are we not friends, alessia?"

"we are but," she sniffled and shook her head "it's none of your business,"

"i respect that, and if you want me to go i will, but you're upset, and i care about you, and i want to help. i want it to be my business less,"

she looked up at you, properly this time, before burying her head in her hands again.

"it's just- too much," she whispered, a small sob escaping her. you rushed to sit next to her, placing an arm around her shoulders immediately.

"what is?"

"all of it," she exhaled, finally letting the dam break and her words spill out, "i thought you being here would help, that they would finally get off my back, but now they've all just made it even more clear that they were just waiting for me to find someone, yet they're all so shocked that i finally have, like, did they all just think i was fucking lonely and desperate this whole time?"

she paused to take a shaky breath.

"and i was happy on my own, i really was, but they say shit like that and suddenly i'm an insecure teenager all over again- like if my own family expect me to be alone then surely i'm not good enough for anyone to want me, and i didn't know what to say, or do, and i just feel really, really shitty, you know?"

you nodded, stroking her back as encouragement to continue.

"and they all just started bombarding me, and i didn't know what to say without you there, and i just-" she swiped furiously at her face. "and then i wanted to go find you, but that girl was flirting with you, and then i just felt so guilty for dragging you here when you could be out with other girls who aren't a fucking mess like i am, and now you're being so nice and tolerating me when i'm drunk and crying, when i'm literally not your problem and i just-"

"less, you don't get it - i want to be here. i want to tolerate drunk you. i want you to be my problem,"

alessia shook her head frantically, tears still flowing as she continued her rant.

"i'm just so sorry - i've been so stressed all day, everyone has been all over me and i should've been thinking about the wedding, but all i can think about is you, because i know you were faking it today but i just couldn't stop wishing you weren't, and i-"

she stopped suddenly, realising what she'd confessed. you tried to look at her, but she kept her eyes glued to the floor. your heart pounded as you deciphered her words, unsure if you'd mistaken their meaning. you bit your lip, wanting so desperately to say the words that, you realised with some certainty, had been begging to be let out for a while. fuck it.

"i haven't been able to keep my eyes off you all day, alessia," you murmured. she risked a hesitant look up at you. nothing in her expression told you to stop, so you kept talking.

"i know you're happy on your own. i know you don't need anyone to 'complete you' or any of that other cliché crap. and i don't either. but i've got to see the complete you this week, and she's amazing. i haven't faked a second of today. and if i'm barking up the wrong tree here you can tell me to fuck off - you can go back to hating me like before and i won't say another word, but alessia, i don't want to just be your fake girlfriend anymore, i want the real thing,"

alessia smiled, and your breath caught at the sight. your hands shook as you awaited her reaction.

alessia leaned forward, inching closer to press her forehead against yours. her hand found your cheek, her touch as soft as satin. her breath ghosted against your lips as she spoke.

"so do i,"

you closed the gap. her lips were softer than you could've anticipated. they pressed into yours, slowly at first, then with a deep urgency. the kiss was messy; tear-stained and drunken, but the feel was electric. the dam broke on all the tension that had built between the two of you, and every ounce flooded out as pure desire. you wanted her, needed her, with a desperation you hadn't realised you could possess. your bodies curved into each other; the aftermath of every faked smile, every pretend touch, culminating in the most real feeling you'd ever had.

you broke away at some point, hazy and grinning. alessia's breathing was heavy, her eyes shining.

"we should go back. you probably shouldn't miss your brother's wedding,"

"right, yeah, of course," she smiled, wiping at her cheeks to try and fix the tear-stains as she stood. you reached out to help, then pulled back to take her in. you smirked.

"were you jealous of that girl?" she smacked your shoulder, but there was no bite in it. she leant in for another kiss.

"so fucking annoying," she muttered, smiling widely against your lips.

me saying i'm writing a short fic then posting the shittiest fucking slowburn you've ever read.

anyway, hope you enjoyed! love, hedge xx

#alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #engwnt #alessia russo imagine #muwfc x reader #woso #woso x reader #lionesses

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wardenparker · 3 months

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Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 1

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 14.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle* Not much for this chapter! Mostly fluff, a little flirting, and playful but on-point use of the term 'tramp stamp'. Summary: On a failed date at the local market, Marcus runs into an old friend and gets an invitation to visit. The beautiful inn and fantastic food were explicit in the invite -- but you are a complete surprise to him. Notes: Welcome, welcome, welcome my lovelies! As a girl who grew up on The West Wing and fosters an unapologetic love of all things romance, a story like this has been on my wish list to write for a very long time. I hope you're all ready for a cast of new characters and the grand appearance of Pedro's character from Graceland, because it's time for Marcus Pike to meet his soulmate! 🧡🧡🧡

There’s something about the hustle and bustle of D.C., that while it can invigorate someone and inspire them to live life as fast as possible, it can also drain them. At least, that’s what Marcus Pike has learned from the last three years of therapy. That and he’s prone to rushing into relationships, being in love with love, as Dr. Barnes would caution him.

It seems sometimes as if he’s unlucky in love, despite the universe providing a perfect match for him, he’s never found her. Always looking, but also being open to loving someone who doesn’t share marks or scars. Someone who just wants a stable and steady man to worship them and give them the world.

He hasn’t dated in almost three years. His therapist had advised him to focus on himself. To work through his emotions of a failed college marriage, a failed engagement. To make himself happy with who he is before introducing another person into the mix. He had thought that’s what he was doing, but apparently he had been wrong.

Finally feeling ready to date again, he had dipped his toes back in the water. Only to have it backfire tremendously. So much so, that he finds himself walking around the Eastern Market on his own. His idea of a farmer’s market casual date obviously not a good one, according to the woman who had tossed the drink he had bought her on the trash and stomped off, abandoning him to feel like a fool.

Smiling faces beam back at him from the covers of glossy gossip magazines, flashing headlines critiquing fashions worn to the recent inauguration ceremony and parties. The new president and her family wave from above the fold of newspapers — the happy family that Marcus himself doesn’t have. Ignoring the rude reminder, he wanders through the stalls and vendors of Eastern Market aimlessly until he reaches the family-owned sweet shop that he’s been coming to for years now. They know him, and like him, and his sweet tooth knows no bounds. There’s another man at the counter just before Marcus so he stands back, but Jenny waves hello from behind the counter. “Morning Marcus! Gimme one second and I’ll be right with you.” She says, turning back to the order marked Juan in her big, looping handwriting. “Six cannoli, right? Two pistachio, two double chocolate, and two cherry chocolate?”

“Right.” The man in a corduroy jacket with his short hair trimmed neatly nods. “Thanks, Jen. The girls are going to be over the moon.”

Another reminder of a life he craves. Marcus frowns slightly and tries to remember what his therapist has told him. Everyone moves at their own pace. Just because he’s not juggling two kids, a dog and a lovely wife with his workload doesn’t mean he’s failing. It just means he’s not met the right person, soulmate or not.

The other man pays for his order and turns to leave but stops dead in the middle of a cordial nod when he sees Marcus standing a few feet away. Sure he had heard Jenny say hi to someone…but he hadn’t looked. Now though? He huffs a laugh at the ghost of his past. “Pike?” They’d been mistaken as brothers — or for each other — so many times back at the Academy that it would be impossible not to recognize Marcus Pike.

“Badillo?” It’s amazing to see the other agent, although he had heard that he had left the Bureau after a friendly fire shooting. He looks good though, and Marcus cracks into the first real grin of the morning since being left high and dry. “What the hell? How are you doing, man?” He asks, coming in for a friendly hug while being mindful of the box in Juan’s hand.

“Good! Good. Errands.” Juan huffs, returning Marcus’s hug with equal surprise and affection. The men had been quite good friends at one time, more than a few years ago now. “Pregnant wife gets whatever pregnant wife wants, ya know?” He grins, bright and shining. “When did you get back to DC?”

“Pregnant wife, huh?” Despite the knife to his heart, Marcus paints on a grin, happy for his old friend. “Three years ago.” He shrugs slightly. “Heading up Art Crimes now. How about you? I heard you got out.” He lifts his eyebrows, allowing Juan to talk if he wants or brush it off if he doesn’t.

“I did.” Juan nods, knowing that various stories circulated after he left the Bureau. Most of them false. “Decided to take a little road trip vacation to clear my head and ended up meeting my soulmate in Yosemite on day two of the whole thing, and I followed her East.” He shrugs, ever the unapologetic romantic just like Marcus. They had had that in common. “How’s Lara?” He asks, remembering the woman that had been Mrs. Pike during their Academy days. Marcus had been over the moon for her. “Is she liking being back?”

Marcus grimaces a little and shrugs. “She’s, uh, we got divorced about ten years ago.” He tells him. “She found out she did have a soulmate.”

“Ah shit.” Blowing out a breath and shuffling his feet, Juan rubs the back of his neck self-consciously. “I’m sorry, man. That’s—there’s just no easy way to get through something like that.”

“It’s okay.” Marcus had loved Lara, but he wasn’t going to stand in the way of soulmates. It wouldn’t be right. “It was actually a very easy divorce; she hated hurting me. More than I can say for the last date, or last fiancée I’ve had.”

“Shit.” Juan huffs again, shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s eleven in the morning but I feel like I ought to be buying you a drink, man.” Hearing that someone as genuinely good as Marcus Pike is has had his heart bashed so often is a fucking bummer, and Juan chews on his lip for a second before his head tilts in that Universal signal of natural curiosity. “I’ve got time today. If you want to hang out? Catch up?” He offers, knowing that drinks will most likely come later if the two old friends spend the day getting back on the same page.

Marcus chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Do I look that dejected?” He asks, even though he’s not really looking for an answer. “I was supposed to be on a date, I figured a farmer’s market/brunch date would be easy enough and yet thoughtful, but I was ditched.” He snorts. “I have zero luck it seems.” He nods his head towards the cannoli. “But you can’t leave your pregnant wife waiting on those.”

“No, I can’t.” Sydney is waiting back at the restaurant with bated breath, he knows that, but he does offer Marcus a smile. “But she does run a restaurant, so you don’t have to be brunch-less unless you choose to be.”

“Yeah?” He perks up at the idea of trying out a new place, always loving brunch foods. “Where at? I might have to take a spin over there.”

“Her place is called Il Corvo.” It takes a second, but Juan digs a business card for the restaurant out of his jacket pocket and hands it over. “It’s the in-house restaurant at The Inn at Jones Point in Alexandria.” He reports proudly, always ready to brag about his soulmate’s amazing success. Running a restaurant is no small feat. “I know the card says the dining room opens at 4pm, but ignore that. She does brunch for guests at the inn and for special guests from time to time.”

“Are you sure?” Marcus frowns slightly. “I don’t want to impose.”

“It’s not imposing, trust me.” Knowing his wife as well as he does, Juan is more than certain she’ll be doting on Marcus in no time. “As long as you’re on board for Italian food, come by any time you want.”

“I’m out on the bike.” Marcus tells Juan, remembering how the other agent also loved to ride motorcycles. “I might swing by sometime. Normally go for rides on the weekend.”

"Anytime you want," Juan repeats, and he hopes Marcus understands how entirely he means it. "It's good to see you again, man."

“Good to see you too.” Marcus means that, smiling at the former agent. “Nice to see that you are okay.”

The two men part with a smile and a nod, and Juan hustles away to get his precious cargo back out to his soulmate. Maybe he'll pitch the idea of inviting Marcus to their next board game night if Sydney and her best friend don't mind the extra company. Not that they ever mind extra company.

Marcus doesn’t mean for it to be two weeks from the chance encounter with Juan before he steers his bike down the country, winding roads towards this inn that he had been told about. He had a case that required him to travel. Then it was reports and the never ending budget fiascos that new presidencies always bring, his boss wanting a new projections for the fiscal year for some reason.

Now though, he’s enjoying the scenery as the wind blows over his face and he leans into the curve, enjoying the small thrill that races up his spine from the inherent danger.

The winter has been mild so far and all the snow left behind by the storm the area had gotten while he was traveling has melted, making the ride an easy and calming one. He had intentionally driven a long route around Alexandria and the surrounding area, letting him arrive at his destination a little after noon on that cold, sunny Sunday. The inn is a large brick farmhouse, probably originally colonial but it looks like it was redone sometime during the Federalist architecture craze of the early 1800s. Now its clean white painted window frames and front porch are as welcoming as the pristinely kept front garden. The Inn at Jones Point proclaims a sign out front, which is accompanied by a smaller complimentary sign with an impressionist painted black bird that reads Il Corvo in an artistic script. There are cars in the lot with a plethora of states listed on their license plates, another motorcycle that he has to assume is Juan's, and a very government-issued-looking black car parked close to the building.

Marcus is enough of a romantic to fully appreciate the appeal of the property and more importantly, grounded enough to be able to appreciate it without having a partner here to enjoy it with. Since working with his therapist, he's spent a lot of the last three years 'dating himself'. Instead of waiting to make a date to try out a new restaurant, he goes by himself. Not limiting himself to new experiences with partners, he has found that he enjoys the hunt for the perfect spots to eat. The little Indian restaurant he had found is an absolute gem and he is looking forward to discovering a new little brunch spot. If this place is half as good as Juan says, he might make it a monthly habit while he can spend some time with his old friend.

Inside, the lobby of the inn is bustling. Guests sit in plush chairs with travel brochures or excitedly type on their phones. A family is gathered around a display of pamphlets for different travel experiences and tourist attraction. Another guest is hovering around the front desk, seemingly waiting for someone to return.

From the rooms off to the left, wave after wave of stunning smells wafts past Marcus as he looks around. A set of French doors stands open but the hostess stand for Il Corvo stands empty while a small number of diners sit inside, happily chattering over their meals. The scent of fresh coffee permeates everything else just a second before he can see why, as a woman in a blue silk shirt comes around the corner with two travel cups — presumably full of coffee — for the guest standing at the desk.

“Here we are, Mrs. Richards. Thank you for your patience, the pot was just finishing brewing. These will keep you nice and warm while you walk around Old Town.” Smiling as the woman walks away, your eyes survey the room and land on the new arrival with a touch of confusion. “Good afternoon,” you greet, in your typical sunshiny tone. This man isn’t a guest and you genuinely almost thought it was Juan for a second — even though you just saw Juan in the restaurant. “How can I help you today?”

“Hi— uh, I—” Marcus realizes he knows you. Your mother’s picture hangs on his office wall next to the current FBI director’s, and furthermore, it’s hard to not see the darling First Daughter in some news story – although it doesn’t seem like you enjoy the press. “Yeah, sorry, Juan said that brunch is served here?” He asks with an apologetic smile. “I’m Marcus, uh, Pike. We were in the Academy together and I ran into him a few weeks ago.”

You’re prettier than he ever imagined the pictures and news reels, your voice curling into his stomach pleasantly. In true, Marcus Pike fashion. He finds himself instantly intrigued by you.

“Oh, you’re Marcus!” As bright and cheery as you sound, something flips in your stomach and clenches at your chest and you swallow down the oh god he’s really hot impulse that you haven’t felt in…well, in years. This guy looks like someone took Juan and gave him broader shoulders and better hair, and put a little bit more James Dean in his style. “It’s really nice to meet you.” You introduce yourself, probably unnecessarily, but it’s good manners and keeps you from getting nervous or going off track. “Come on this way. Juan said you might be stopping by but he wasn’t sure when.”

“I’m sorry, should I have called first?” He asks, feeling guilty and slightly in the way. The last thing that he wants is to cause an imposition.

“Not at all.” You slip out from behind your desk and wave for him to follow you. “He’s been excited to introduce you to everybody.” The inn is a decent size, with the ground floor being public spaces and all the rooms upstairs being ready-made for guests except for the attic apartment, and you quickly lead the way through the rooms toward the restaurant kitchen.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve caught up.” Marcus admits. “We were close in the academy, most people through we were twins to be honest.” He chuckles slightly.

“I almost thought you were him when I saw you,” you admit, glad to know you aren’t alone in it. Juan had said they look alike but it really is extreme. “Here we are.” Humming as you push open the door to the restaurant’s bar, you huff a soft laugh when a woman slightly taller than you with masses of curls in a tight bun at the nape of her neck in a black suit sidesteps the pair of you and opens the kitchen door to look inside before letting you in. “Thank you, Agent Bailey.” As odd as it is to have constant supervision like this, you’re doing your best to be patient and understanding with it. “Come on into the kitchen,” you offer to Marcus. “Brunch is almost over and this is where Juan sits when he hangs out.”

“Really? The inner sanctum already?” The tone is joking, but Marcus knows that for a lot of chefs, the kitchen is their sacred place. He wouldn’t know, because his kitchen is used to make coffee, but he’s had a few relationships with amateur gourmet cooks.

“Marcus!” There’s no question that this is where he’s supposed to be, when Juan is waving from a corner of the kitchen and immediately zips over to say hello. “How are you, man? Good to see you!”

“Hey.” He grins when he sees the other man, obviously happier here than any time in the Bureau and he’s happy for him. He seems like a completely different man, just from the quick glance. Perhaps it’s the fact that he found his soulmate. “Sorry it’s been a few weeks. Got caught up on a case.”

“I completely get it,” he assures his friend. “It’s been kind of crazy around here anyway. Weddings booked every single weekend and the restaurant stuffed full with reservations.” He beams, proud as a peacock, and waves slightly as you disappear back out through the bar to return to your counter. The inn is full up with last night’s wedding party and you have your hands full. “I want you to meet my wife,” Juan says, clapping Marcus in the shoulder and pulling him further into the kitchen.

There are only two people cooking right now and they are both winding down. Enough that the petite woman with tied-up hair and a look of intense concentration on her face can look up and smile. “I hear you talking about me,” she warns with a laugh.

“Syd, this is Marcus Pike.” Juan introduces, bringing his friend out in front of him. “Marcus, this is Sydney. The gorgeous goddess the universe decided to grace me with.”

“Nice to meet you.” Again that pesky pang of longing lurches inside Marcus but he throws her a smile and takes her hand after she offers it immediately. “I’ve only heard angelic things about you, so rest assured, he’s not talking ill.”

“He’s does nothing but tell stories about you since you guys ran into each other at Eastern Market.” Sydney tells him honestly. “Can I make you something to eat?”

“I was hoping to experience the brunch option that Juan was bragging about.” Marcus admits as he glances around, admiring the state of the art kitchen. “Didn’t expect to see this from the historical facade.” He admits. “It’s charming though.” He adds, hoping that neither one of you take offense.

"Charming is her specialty." Sydney points her thumb in the direction of the door, indicating the main lobby of the inn. "We took over running this place about three years ago now. The previous owners weren't able to keep up anymore so they sold to her and we updated the restaurant. Modern Italian dinners and brunch for the inn's guests. It's a big step up from the B&B that this place used to be." Grinning proudly, Sydney moves over to the nearest counter and plops a paper menu down at the stool beside her husband. "What would you like?"

Marcus looks at the menu and lifts a brow, impressed by the sophisticated menu. This isn’t some little spaghetti shop that pretends to be Italian. “It’s been so long since I’ve had good Uova in Purgatorio.” He moans. “Since the last time I was in Naples.” He clicks his tongue. “But I want to try the ricotta pancakes too.”

"Then you will get both," Sydney insists, clicking her tongue and getting to work. "A G-man in Naples, huh?" She barely glances up from her work as she moves. "Art crimes must be the fancy branch of the Bureau."

“I work on international cases with Interpol and Scotland Yard.” He explains as he sits down and admires the fluidity of her movements in the kitchen. She’s completely at home in her space and it’s evident she’s in command. He’s slightly envious of her comfort in a kitchen, if he’s honest.

"Oh, so it definitely is the fancy branch." She laughs. Juan hops up from his seat to grab coffee for himself and Marcus, brushing a kiss on her cheek as he moves past, and the other woman who had been cooking moves away to the other end of the room to work on cleaning up from the brunch rush.

"Fancy branch of what?" The kitchen door swings open again and you come strolling back inside looking infinitely more tired than you had just a few minutes ago but still in a generally good mood. "The wedding party is finally gone. I am officially taking my break."

Marcus stares at you for a moment and then looks down at his hands, feeling like he might be bragging if he were to tell you what they’ve been talking about. There’s something about you that is knocking him off kilter, he’s normally a little more confident than this.

"Art crimes is swanky, apparently." Sydney tells you, never stopping or slowing as she moves around like a controlled whirlwind. "Eggs in purgatory and ricotta pancakes for your brunch? I'll make up a big batch." They're two of your favourite things anyway and it's easy enough to just make a double serving of each when she knows that your break time is always mealtime.

"That sounds incredible," you moan in agreement, making a beeline for the industrial refrigerator in the corner of the room to make yourself an iced latte that is far more espresso than milk. A generous swirl of flavored syrup joins your cup before you plop down on the edge of the counter and sip your drink with a happy sigh. Normally people exclaim over you when they realize they recognize you but Marcus Pike hasn't said a word — and you wonder if he doesn't recognize you from the papers or if you even care. It's nice to not have someone make a fuss for once. To just be nice and not suck up to you for being the President's oldest child.

“Weddings take it out of you, huh?” Marcus asks, smirking a little at the drink in your hand, although it looks delicious. “Or were they just demanding?”

"It was a big party. Very specific needs." Sipping your drink and finally sitting is immediately relaxing, and you're always ready to meet new people. Especially when they're someone that your best friend's husband speaks of so highly. "Nothing I can't handle, but weddings are always tricky. It's the most important day of at least one person's life, so you always want to try to make it as perfect for them as you can. Thankfully," you gesture around you. "I have an incredible team. Syd is the best Italian chef in the Chesapeake Bay and Juanito is an incredible event coordinator."

Marcus snorts and cuts his eyes over at Badillo. “He always did have an eye for details.” He admits, snickering at the nickname you’ve bestowed on the former federal agent. “Although it’s surprising that it’s manifested in wedding planning.” He teases playfully.

"Event planning," Juan clarifies, but he's grinning regardless. "We host a lot here. Weddings, anniversaries, holiday parties, all kinds of personal events. I get to put my organizational mind to work on it. It's actually pretty rewarding."

"Don't let him sell himself short. Juan plans a hell of a wedding." There is pride on your face, pride for your friend and in your work "We've gotten written up in a bunch of bridal magazines and on websites the last few years."

“Good job, Juanito.” If there’s anything that Marcus enjoyed more than the courses in the academy, it was busting his friend’s balls. All in good fun of course, he had taken his share of ribbing as well. It was par for the course. “That sounds like a hell of a job, making people happy and sharing in their special moments.”

"We do our best." Juan will never take the credit for himself, always attributing the effort to the team as a whole. This time, though, he flashes a knowing grin at you. "Although the next one we plan might be a hell of a lot bigger than what we do here."

“Oh?” Marcus asks, turning towards you. “Are you getting married soon?” His eyes drop discreetly to your hand and he tries to remember what he’s read about you but for some reason, he’s drawing a blank.

“No, Juan just likes to tease.” You shake it off with a roll of your eyes, knowing that — unfortunately — your friend is completely right. If or when it does happen, it will be a damn circus. “It’s this…guy that I met last year, and it’s been really good and he really took all the stress of the last year in stride, and these two love to tease.” In truth, you’ve been intentionally moving forward slowly with the junior Congressman from Maryland that you met at a campaign event you attended with your mother last year. Sam is a good guy and has big ideas for the future. It’s just that you normally dive into relationships so fast and so deep that your heart does all the talking before your mind can catch up. And now that you’re a public figure, you can’t afford to have that happen again. “I’m perfectly content to watch other people have their big days for now.”

“I can imagine that it’s hard to have a relationship right now.” He sympathizes. “The press either treats you like a darling celebrity or some kind of public spectacle, right?” He asks, curious as to your view on the entire thing. Personally, he hated the idea of politics taking on a celebrity flare and you aren’t on politics, your mother is.

“I’m honestly lucky that my younger siblings take some of the focus,” you admit. So he did recognize you. It’s nice that he didn’t fuss. You’re grateful for that. “My brother is in law school and my sister is in undergrad and they’re both living in the White House while they study but…yeah. We all agreed to give up our privacy for a while so Mom can do some good work. That means relationships aren’t easy right now.”

“It’s good you had a choice.” Marcus admits. “Sometimes I watch the campaigns for some of the politicians and it’s obvious the family would rather be anywhere else and are putting on a facade.” He shrugs, not wanting to delve too deep into a subject you probably are uncomfortable with. “Nice that you don’t have too much interference here, except for the Secret Service agent.”

"Agent Bailey's okay." In fact, she's sitting outside the kitchen door right now, giving you a bit of space and privacy to try to pretend you still have a halfway normal life. "We're still getting used to each other. I had somebody else during the campaign, but she's been assigned to my sister now. It all works out in the end." Smiling, you take another sip of your coffee and wonder why your stomach is fluttering over this very kind man who has been introduced into your lives very much by chance. It's...unsettling. To say the very least. "But that's plenty about me. How about you, Special Agent Marcus Pike? Where're you from? How are you liking Art Crimes?" You grin, throwing him a mischievous expression. "Who'd you vote for, for president?"

Marcus laughs, a real laugh that comes from his belly and he relaxes. “Let’s see…I’m from the great state of Texas - Go Rangers.” He ticks off. “I love Art Crimes, especially when we can recover sentimental pieces and keep “collectors”,” he uses air quotes, “from locking away art from being enjoyed by all.” He grins at your last question. “And my momma told me never to discuss politics or religion in social settings….but….my candidate is currently hanging on my office wall.”

"Rangers, huh?" Glossing over the not insignificant tidbit that he did, in fact, vote for your mother, you find yourself thoroughly enjoying getting to know this friend of your friend. It's usually not this easy to click with a new acquaintance, although you've become an expert at seeming interested just to be polite. That doesn't seem to be necessary at all with this man. "When we get our Phillies/Rangers series this year we'll have to come up with a bet of some kind."

“It’s gonna be a losing bet on your end.” Marcus predicts. “We’ve got Darío Álvarez and then Elvis Andrus is going to continue stealing bases.”

"Oh thank god," Sydney huffs, flipping ricotta pancakes on her griddle top and grinning as she throws you a wink. "She's finally got someone else to drag to baseball games. I'm free!"

"My alleged best friend," you smirk and decide to tease her back. "And her husband are both hockey people. So I'm generally either stuck watching the game on my own or dragging Syd along with promises of beer and ballpark dogs."

“Nationals aren’t my favorite team. Since they are National League.” Marcus smirks. “But I have season tickets since it’s too expensive to fly back to Texas for every game.”

It would be bragging to admit that you've been asked to throw the first ball out at the Nationals opening game this season as the most vocally baseball-loving member of the new First Family, so you just smile. You know it can feel like a big sacrifice to leave something about home behind. "Maybe I'll see you there," you offer instead. "The Nationals aren't my team either, but the game are pretty fun."

“Oh they always are.” He admits wholeheartedly. “Plus the Navy Yard is close so it’s always interesting.”

"Heeeeere we go." Onto the counter in front of you, Sydney heaps four plates of food – making each of you identical breakfasts. "The fruit compote for the pancakes right now is cranberry lemon. And I threw a little extra chili into the sauce for the eggs." She grins. "Some folks who stay at the inn say it's too spicy but it's how we like it," she tells Marcus.

Marcus chuckles and Juan snorts, hooking his fingers towards the agent. “This man ate his way through a five alarm chili contest and didn’t even touch his beer.” He boasts to the two of you. “If it’s not spicy, I don’t want it.” Marcus confirms with a grin. “Thank you. It smells amazing.”

"Then next time you're getting Calabrian chili instead of just the wimpy flakes." Sydney promises with glee. "That's how our girl likes it, but that's too much even for me most of the time. I have to be in the mood for it."

“You like spicy?” He asks, smirking towards you. “How do you feel about the Indian food around here?”

"There's a place in DuPont Circle that is probably the best Indian food I've ever had in my entire life." Even as you're getting ready to dig into your best friend's comfort Italian fare, your mouth starts watering thinking of curries and dal. "The kind of place where they don't make it really spicy until you've been there a couple of times and they know you can handle it. I swear I've eaten there more than I've cooked my own food since moving out here."

“Rasika’s?” Marcus groans, nodding. “I love that place. They make the best curry I’ve ever eaten in my life. I’m sweating, but I never tell them to bring me the yogurt sauce.”

"If you don't sweat while you're eating there, you're doing it wrong." It's a slight point of contention with Sam, who generally considers mustard to be too spicy most of the time, but you ignore the side eye you're getting from Sydney and dig in to your brunch. Having come in early today, this is halfway through your shift and you're going to be excited to head upstairs to your little attic caretaker's apartment when the time comes this afternoon. "Mmmmm," you groan happily and do a little wiggle in your seat unconsciously. "Syd, I swear. If you hadn't already married Juan, I'd marry you for your brunch."

Marcus takes that as the best kind of advertisement and cuts into his own meal to fork up a bite of the eggs. “Christ.” He groans as soon as the flavors hit his mouth. “That’s amazing.”

"I told you," Juan boasts, sitting up in his seat a little taller with pride for his soulmate. "She's amazing."

“You weren’t kidding.” Marcus huffs, taking another bite. “If this got out, you could run on brunch alone.”

"We're considering offering an incentive package for events." Starting to clean up, Syd watches the two of you eat while she wraps the kitchen up from brunch to get everything prepared for dinner service. "Wedding brunches are coming back in fashion, but a lot of people are wanting to do morning after brunches for their families before everyone goes their separate ways."

“I can see that.” Marcus nods. “Lara and I had a lunch thing before we all said goodbye, but that was casual.”

"Your wife?" You guess, struggling to remember if Juan had mentioned that his friend was married. He's not wearing a ring, but some men don't — a habit that generally rubs you the wrong way because those men are always the ones who basically want their wives to walk around wearing a giant 'I'm married' sign but will never show any outward signs of commitment themselves.

Marcus gives a small shrug and smiles self-consciously. “Ex-wife.” He admits, knowing that soon enough the pitying looks will start. “We divorced a while ago.”

Sydney clicks her tongue, having remembered that fact, and says nothing more. You, though? For some reason you can't help yourself. Something about Marcus Pike compels you to offer comfort in whatever way you can. "If you ever find another Mrs. Pike, you let us know. We've got you covered."

Marcus chuckles. “So far, that search has been in vain.” He admits. “Apparently it’s not in the cards for me.”

"She's out there." Juan offers with confidence. "If I remember correctly, you've even got a couple of tattoos to prove it."

Marcus rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I do.” He snorts. “If I ever find her, I want to know why there is a hummingbird tramp stamp on my lower back.” He laughs. “I get why, but why???? Why a hummingbird?”

A glare of questioning moves soundlessly between you and your best friend — the perpetually meddling woman who sat next to you when you were eighteen and challenged you to answer trivia questions while you had your own hummingbird tramp stamp inked onto your skin in celebration of your high school graduation. "Oh yeah?" She asks, raising an eyebrow at you while you furious try to communicate with nothing more than wide eyes that you do not want her to ask what she's about to ask. "What kind of hummingbird? How trashy are we talking?"

“It’s not exactly trashy.” Marcus defends. “It’s actually a pretty blue and green.“

"Interesting." Sydney hums, practically giggling with glee as she cleans up the kitchen and you bury your face in your meal like it will help you escape the entire conversation. "Maybe hummingbirds are her favourite bird?"

I'm going to kill you in your sleep says the glare you send your best friend's way.

“Totally trashed my punk rock image.” He laughs. “Although I didn’t think of that at the time. Thinking I’m this hardcore next Kurt Cobain rocker and I’ve got a hummingbird tattoo on my lower back.” He snorts, shrugging slightly. “But it’s always been a question I’ve wanted to ask. What made her choose that? What’s special about it to her?”

"Hummingbirds symbolize love and devotion," you murmur next to him, not quite looking up and wondering if the world is really turning on its ear right now or if it's just that you've been thrown off kilter by the possibilities. It's not like you're the only girl in the world with a hummingbird tattoo, after all. Far from it. "And they're supposed to be good luck."

“I like that.” Marcus hums softly. “It’s wistful, hopeful.” There could be a thousand different reasons why his soulmate chose that symbol to etch on her body and in turn, his, but he would rather it be a loving sign. You aren’t looking at him, and miss the small smile he throws you. “Poetic.”

"So she's gotta be out there somewhere." Sydney needles the point a little bit, sounding breezy as hell but just about ready to pounce on any clues Marcus offers up. "Maybe a hopeless romantic with a stubborn streak and an encyclopedic knowledge of Lost Generation authors and impressionist painters?" She shrugs like she's just pulled the example out of thin air. "Who knows?"

Throwing Juan a look, Marcus smirks. “Sounds like your husband has been talking about favorite kind of woman.” He jokes, although he’s pretty sure that he would love it if his soulmate turned out to be just that. “I just want to have someone that wants to be build a lift together. A partner.” He shrugs. “Most people think that it’s crazy, but I think that your significant other should be your best friend and your lover.”

"Absolutely crazy." With as clearly sarcastic a tone as she can possibly muster, Sydney practically deadpans in Marcus's direction. "So weird. How dare you want to spend your life with someone you loves you as much as you love them?" Every single thing she's described has been about you, and while neither of the guys are picking up on that for even a single second, the fact that you have your head down over your plate means you're reading her loud and clear. "I bet your dream girl will even have a thing for your old rockstar days," she goes on, as if she's stringing out a hypothetical and not explicitly describing your opinion that musicians are sexy as hell. "Don't tell me. You were a bassist, right?"

“And vocals.” He admits, shaking his head ruefully. “It’s alright if she doesn’t like that. God, it’s been years since I’ve picked up my bass.” He realizes. “I should do that. Between the bass or the motorcycle, I just spent more time on the bike.”

Bass. Vocals. And motorcycle? You practically groan out loud but barely manage to swallow the sound and instead hop up from your seat immediately to hopefully combine the noise you just made with all manner of other commotion. "Just grabbing another drink," you explain, when all three of their heads turn toward you at once. "You, uh...you should do what makes you happy, Marcus. If that's not overstepping things for me to say. We just met today. But I've always heard that the best things in life tend to fall into your lap when you're not looking for them. So maybe just...enjoy yourself? And who knows what can happen."

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do.” Marcus admits. “My therapist agrees with you. That we need to enjoy ourselves and not just search.”

"Our therapists agree with each other, then," you admit with a chuckle. "I started seeing someone when Mom decided to run for president. I figured it would be good to have someone to check in with and make sure I was handling my stressors in a healthy way." The conversations you had had with them about whether or not to factor your soulmate into future plans when you had never met them were slightly less straightforward.

“That’s always a good thing.” He nods quickly. “I’ve never been one to think that therapists are a waste of time.” He shrugs. “My mom was a therapist all my childhood.”

"It's an incredibly important profession. And an incredibly important resource to have." Seeing as Marcus's mug was empty as well, you bring back two glasses of water to the counter and sit down again, hoping that Sydney won't keep pushing. Or at least that she won't reveal things if she does. "My little sister is a psychology major. She's thinking about medical school next, and talking about different paths she might taken with her studies. Therapist being one of them."

“It’s a good profession.” Marcus admits easily. “Just- let her know, most therapists have their own therapists they see. It’s draining to take on everyone’s secrets and burdens, trying to do the best you can to give them the tools to help themselves. So tell her that there’s no shame in that.”

"I will." It isn't worth negating the kindness of Marcus's thoughts and advice by telling him that all three of the First Kids started therapy at the start of the campaign. It's the care he has for other people — people he has never met and may never meet ever in his life, that touches you so very deeply. "Thank you, Marcus. That's very kind of you."

He nods and picks up the glass of water, needing to wash down the remnants of the eggs before starting on the pancakes. “So, Juan, how did you and your lovely wife discover you were soulmates?” He asks curiously.

"Uhm..." Juan chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck and looking to Sydney for her permission to tell the story.

"Go ahead," she laughs. "I've go to start dinner prep. Tell him as much as you want."

"It's not exactly PG," he admits, still laughing softly to himself. "The polite version is that we compared tattoos."

Marcus isn’t the head of his department because he’s dimwitted. “One night stand?” He asks, lifting his brows in surprise. It wasn’t like he had never had them himself, but both men had preferred to be in relationships rather than sleep around. Not that he’s judging.

“I was willing to take whatever that goddess was willing to give me,” Juan admits without shame. “One night would have been a memory to cherish. But the universe said it should be a lifetime, instead.”

“I’m happy for you.” Marcus promises with a slap on the back for his old friend. “You deserve it. Glad you found her.”

“You say that now.” His friend smiles happily though, beaming at the commendation. “But now it’s going to be my mission to find you that girl with the hummingbird tattoo.”

Marcus smiles, a little sadly, but he just shrugs. “I’ll find her when I’m supposed to.” He reasons. “Knowing my luck, she’s happily married.”

“Not as happily as she would be with you.” He’s confident in that, and Juan looks to you to bolster his encouragements. “How could anybody not be ecstatic to have a guy this good, right?”

It feels rude. Like a trick from the universe that you do not like one bit. Like the powers that be are rubbing your nose in your defiance of their plans. “They’d have to be blind.” You offer, with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Sam is a good guy. He’s been a good boyfriend and has made you happy. Why are you suddenly thinking about someone else after an hour of knowing them? That’s utterly ridiculous. “You…never really know how the universe is going to have things work out.”

She’s just being polite. Marcus realizes that when he sees your smile, his stomach churning unhappily. It doesn’t matter, you’re seeing someone. A woman in a relationship has always been off limits to him. He doesn’t like, nor respect cheaters and yet he’s upset that you don’t seem that attracted to him. Or, you’re reluctantly attracted to him. He stares down at his pancakes and sighs. “All that matters to me if that my soulmate is happy.” He decides.

Juan and Marcus talk about this and that for the next few minutes, but you quickly finish your pancakes and excuse yourself. It was very nice to meet Marcus, and you tell him so, but you’re a little rattled by the possibility that was just laid out in front of you and you need a few deep breaths of fresh air before your break is over and you have to go back to solving guest’s dilemmas.

Juan doesn’t miss the way Marcus’s eyes follow you out of the room and he smirks. “Thinkin’ about it?” He asks, knowing you are the other man’s type.

“No.” He shakes his head quickly. “I mean, I would if she were single, but she’s not.” Deciding to change the subject, he leans in. “Did they heighten security here, or just the one agent?”

“Updated cameras and increased security personnel. We turned the spare office into a surveillance room but her Secret Service detail doesn’t butt in on anything they don’t need to.” Juan shrugs, knowing that things always change over time. “So far.”

That’s good and Marcus nods. “Sounds like you might have had some input.” He knows that Juan is very analytical, he would know what the weakness were in a place like this.

Juan snorts, taking a sip of his drink and shrugging vaguely. "My wife's childhood best friend is the First Daughter of the United States. If I can help her be safe, I'm going to."

“I can certainly understand that.” Marcus admits.

"It's a good system." Juan acknowledges. "She always has a detail agent nearby and the place needs the security because we've gotten a hell of a lot busier since the campaign last year."

“I’m sure.” Marcus snorts. “Everyone wants to claim they have some insider pull.” He says, a little cynical, but he looks around. “And I’m sure a lot of it is the fact that this place is a little gem.”

"272-year-old farmhouse with restored gardens and a barn and a gazebo from 1823. The place has had so many owners and been used for so many things." It's clear that Juan has nothing but affection for the place, and that he really has leaned into a fully civilian life. "I'm glad you came out to say hi," he tells Marcus honestly. "Hopefully we'll see more of you around here."

“With food like this?” Marcus groans, throwing his buddy a grin. “Those are the best damn pancakes that I’ve eaten in forever.”

"And considering you're a certified pancake expert, that says something." Juan chuckles. When Marcus hadn't shown up for a few weeks he was afraid that maybe he had said something wrong or that his old friend had moved on from the comradery they used to have, Apparently, neither was the case.

“Still love pancakes. It’s finding the time to eat them, that’s the problem.” He snorts. “It’s getting better now that I run the department, but after I ran into you? I was flying out two days later.”

"Sounds like you earned a day to relax." Sounds like he earned a lot more than just one day, but Juan knows how the Bureau works. A single day can sometimes be a miracle to come by. "There's books and board games in the library if you want to stay and spend some time relaxing."

“What do you have going on?” Marcus asks, tilting his head curiously.

“It’s…board game night.” As silly and domestic as it sounds, it’s a nice tradition that they’ve managed to keep going among friends. “Every month we have a group of friends over and we do a potluck for dinner. Just to unwind and be social. Just catch up, eat some good food, and play board games. You’re more than welcome to join us.”

“I don’t want to impose.” Marcus shakes his head, wondering if he’s so desperate that it sounds like great evening or if it just really was.

“It’s not imposing,” Juan assured him. “We bring new friends all the time. There’s about six of us usually, so it fluctuates depending on how many other people we bring or if someone can’t make it.”

“Well, is there a store or something?” He asks. “I can pick up some wine or something to contribute.”

“Old Town has some good liquor stores.” The historic district of Alexandria has become increasingly popular in the last several years, and the revitalization of the neighborhood has helped the inn as well.

“Anything else you could possibly want?” Marcus asks seriously. He’s willing to go get anything that could be thought of, the prospect of not spending the night alone incredibly cheering.

“Get whatever you want,” Juan encourages. “Every once in a while someone will show up with something they’ve never tried just try to it together. So really — anything you want.”

“Okay.” Marcus grins, excited about this and reaches out to slap Juan on the back. “Do you still ride bikes or have you given that up?”

"Hell no." Juan tuts, glad to see the smile back on Marcus's face. "My Indian is back at our house. We take rides when we've got time off together."

“That’s good. Although the rides have taken a pause since the pregnancy, right?” Marcus asks. “I can’t imagine a doctor signing off on a pregnant woman on the back of a bike.”

“Yeah…these days we take rides in the station wagon.” He chuckles at that, and Juan knows how ridiculously domestic it sounds but he really doesn’t care. He’s in love with his life in a very unexpected way, and that’s okay. “It’ll be nice to have someone to ride with again.”

“I can imagine.” Marcus is missing that, but on the bright side, he rides when and where he wants. “Do you guys know what you’re having yet?” He asks.

“Not yet.” Juan is excited, though, as evidenced by the way he lights up when asked about it. “It’s still too early to find out. Obviously we don’t care, as long as they’re healthy and happy.”

“Congrats, man, you’re living the dream, you know that?” As envious as he can admit to being, he’s also incredibly happy for Juan. “You deserve it. Especially after, you know…”

“Life is totally different now.” Leaving the Bureau is what was best for Juan. He knows that now, even if it was a painful decision to make back then. “I’m not going to ever downplay the things in my past, but the future is looking pretty fucking good, man.”

Completely understanding the fact that Juan doesn’t want to talk, he nods. “I’m happy for you. Truly.”

“I appreciate that, man.” Juan grins and pats Marcus on the shoulder. “Enjoy some time in town and come on back here around seven tonight. Syd isn’t working the dinner rush tonight so we’ll all be able to relax.”

“That sounds good.” The comfortable jeans and a sweater will still look sharp enough for game night and he sends his friend a smile before he walks out of the kitchen.

Things have calmed down in the lobby when you return to the front desk to pick up a few papers and check in on your concierge before retreating into your office for the rest of your shift. The inn may have calmed down but you're still spinning wildly on the idea that your soulmate might have walked through the door of the inn this morning with absolutely no fanfare and a nervous smile on his incredibly handsome face.

Nope. Stop it. Sam is coming for board game night tonight and you really fucking like him. Don't give up your whole stance on freedom of happiness just because some absolutely dishy FBI agent has your tattoo.

"Everything going okay, Malachi?" You will be professional, and not a blithering mass of nervous energy. Even if it takes all the energy you have to force it.

“Everything’s fantastic, we had another couple call to book a room for next weekend. So we officially will have no vacancies.” He reports proudly, like he had recruited the couple himself.

"Good. That's actually excellent. That means we have no vacancies at any point for two week on either side of Valentine's Day unless someone cancels." It's always possible. After all, break up happen around that particular holiday. But with the way they've been booking rooms lately, they should be able to fill a hole more easily than not. "I'm going to go to my office and work on the schedule. If you need me, just call."

“Of course.” Malachi cranes his neck as that handsome guy walks out to a beautiful motorcycle. “But before you go.” He hums. “Who is that?”

You can't help but chuckle, your concierge's obvious interest making you recognize the ridiculousness of the whole situation all over again. "That's Juan's friend," you tell him, gathering up your paperwork. "He'll be around more, and he's allowed into the kitchen. So you know he's special."

“And does Juan’s friend have a name?” He asks, smirking slightly.

"Special Agent Marcus Pike." You smirk right back at him, giving Marcus's title along with his name. By now Agent Bailey has probably done an entire workup on the agent. Why wouldn't she?

“Special Agent.” Because it’s the two of you and there’s no guest around, Malachi watches out the window with unabashed interest. “He can mount me like he mounts that bike any time.”

"Mal!" There's no reason for you to be taken aback by that comment considering how well you know Malachi Debose, but you still find yourself stifling a laugh with wide eyes. You tell yourself to joke, ignoring the twist in your chest at the idea of Marcus with anyone else. It's not up to you. He's his own person. And he might not even be your soulmate to begin with! "I'm pretty sure he's straight, honey, but you never know. It would not be the first guy you've swept out of the closet who didn't even realize they were in there in the first place."

He sighs dramatically, even though he’s smirking proudly. “You’re right.” He admits. “We’ll see how mister Special Agent Marcus Pike acts and then I’ll decide.”

"Behave yourself." Is the playful warning you give him before turning and nodding to Agent Bailey. "Time to sit in the office while I swear at my computer," you tell her. As the Secret Service agent who is with you most of the time, Kendra Bailey has learned your past, your friends, your job, and your habits like a book. She appreciates that you're not throwing yourself into politics because it means her days are a little calmer than they could be, but the coming and going of all sorts of people through the inn on a daily basis presents its own challenges.

She nods, already curious about the FBI agent that she’s encountered here. It’s not unusual to run background checks on people who continuously hang around the inn, and it sounds like he will become a fixture for the foreseeable future. “Of course, Hummingbird.”

You groan softly, realizing that that is going to get said around Marcus Pike at some point or other, and just try to shake it off for now. "You can call me by my name around here, you know." She won't. You've had this conversation more than once, but sometimes you think you'll never get used to being ma'am or Hummingbird at all times to your Secret Service detail.

“Yes ma’am.” She nods, both of you aware that she’s not going to break protocol like that. Instead, she’s turning to the chair that has been placed outside your office, tucked into a discreet corner so it’s not completely obvious that you are being guarded. Giving you the illusion of privacy.

"Someday I'm going to get you to at least come into the office." There are rules. A hell of a lot of them, in fact, and you know that they exist for a reason. But Agent Bailey is allowed to be in your office with you, and you hope it won't take your mother's entire first term in office for her to get comfortable enough with you to do that.

“I understand that, but if I’m in your office, you won’t concentrate.” She reminds you with a small, unseen smile. The first time you had insisted, you hadn’t gotten anything done.

"Too social for my own good, I guess." With a small smile exchanged between the two of you, you nod in agreement before heading down the hall to your office. She's right, and you both know it.

Outside, a snazzy sports car pulls up. Not too flashy, because a junior congressman from Maryland can’t be seen throwing money away frivolously, but sporty enough to make him grin as he changes gears. The door pops open, sunglasses tossed on the dash and Sam hustles out of his car, eager to see you.

"Hey Sam." Malachi looks up from the desk when the door opens and offers up a smile. Professional, but friendly. So far, Congressman Chase hasn't done anything to warrant the cold shoulder. "Is she expecting you?"

“Not until later, but I was hoping to surprise her.” He admits, sending the concierge a wink. “She in her office?”

"Just went in to work on the schedule." Malachi reports, but his smile morphs from professional to earnest in half a second. "The new software is giving her a headache and a half. I bet coming in with a cup of coffee with also be a welcome surprise."

“You are a good man, Malachi.” Sam slaps the antique reception stand and grins. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” He lifts his brows and points at him as he changes directions to the kitchen to beg a cup of coffee from Sydney.

A knock on the kitchen door is odd but not unheard of, and Sydney glances back over her shoulder when the swinging door pushes open to admit the six-foot Congressman she now affectionately calls, "Sam Sam! As happy as I am to see you, your lady friend is not in the kitchen."

“I know.” Sam tosses the chef an easy grin. “A little birdie told me that she might appreciate a cup of coffee, so I’m here to be her runner.”

Sydney smirks, never ceasing in her work but nodding to the coffee pot in the corner of the kitchen. “Go right ahead. I’m sure she’ll be grateful.”

“Thank you.” He immediately beelines for the coffee maker, intent on also making himself a cup. Though he would prefer a cocktail. “It smells great in here, like always.” He tosses over his shoulder.

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” She hums happily in return. “I made a lasagna for game night. Are you staying?”

“Unless an emergency session is call.” Sam snorts. “And you know half those crusty old bastards don’t want to work.” He adds some creamer and sweetener to his, doctors yours and turns back. “Is this the lasagna with the pancetta?” He asks, giving her a pleading look.

“It is, and I did a little something different with the ricotta layer this time, so you’ll have to tell me what you think.” One hand shoos him playfully away, but she does laugh. “I’ll feed you later. Go see your lady.”

“Thank you!” He laughs as well, zipping out the door to head in to see you. Hopefully you aren’t working on anything too important that you can’t steal away some time for him.

Two short knocks on your door could be anyone, but you save your progress in working on next week’s schedule and call for them to come in. It’s probably Malachi with a guest accommodation question, which is no problem. You can hit pause on scheduling the housekeeping staff around their various class schedules to answer just about anything.

After getting the okay to enter, Sam juggles the cups and pokes his head in the door. “Can you spare a few minutes, beautiful?” He asks.

The grin that spreads on your face is surprise and relief, and you hop up from your dream to open the door fully. “If that’s coffee in your hands, I can spare more than just a few.”

“Of course it is, fixed just the way you like it.” While he doesn’t drink it nearly as sweet as you do, he also doesn’t make fun of you for it.

“To what do I owe the early visit?” The door clicks shut behind him and you sit back in your chair with a happy sigh.

“We let out early.” Sam explains. “Figured we could spend some time together .”

“I’m always glad to see you.” It’s true. It genuinely is. Which is why you hate the nagging guilt of the fact that you had just been telling yourself to stop speculating about your possible soulmate and focus on work.

“That’s a good thing.” Despite the idea that dating the First Daughter was good for his career, Sam genuinely cares for you. It might not be the passionate love he had imagined years ago, but he’s mature enough to understand that a solid connection was a good thing.

“So your meeting went alright?” The committee that he’s on had an unofficial lunch meeting today, which must have gone well if he’s already here saying hello. “I was afraid they’d have you all day and you’d miss out in lasagna and the new Clue game that Sydney’s sister picked up.”

“No.” Sam snorts. “They wanted it done as quickly as possible.” He tells you. “I’ve got to admit that I’ve never seen people that hate to work more than politicians.”

“Well that’s hardly encouraging,” you snort, and shake your head before taking a sip of hot coffee. “I guess you’ll just have to whip them into shape, Congressman. No two ways about it.”

“I’m trying.” He laughs and shrugs. “Right now I equate it to herding cats.” He jokes, sitting down on the other side of your desk and watching you for a moment while you savor your coffee.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever called a member of the House of Representatives.” The two of you share a laugh, and you shift in your seat a little with an awkward expression before talking again. “I…got an email this morning. From Mom’s office. Informing me of my first few expected photo ops as First Daughter.” It’s a big part of the job, for you at least, to look the part and play the part and help the country to see your mother as not just the president, but a family-oriented professional as well. Being the first female President has its challenges and your mother is plowing into them head on. Which, honestly? You give her a lot of credit for. “They asked if I would be willing to release some social media photos from our Valentine’s date…” The fact that you hadn’t planned one yet is slightly beyond the point. Now you pretty much have to.

“Well, what kind of pictures would you like?” Sam asks easily, aware that you don’t relish the attention, but it’s part of the job. “We can do a dinner at home, appeal to the base of Americans.” He suggests.

“I don’t love the idea of someone recognizing an aspect of your house or neighborhood and you getting doxed for it,” you admit ruefully. It would have to be Sam’s house, since you don’t actually have one. You can’t exactly put out photos of your attic apartment and expect the White House press core not to make noises. “I was thinking we could put the spotlight on a minority-owned small business or go to some low-key arts event? If they’re going to ask me to be in the spotlight then I want to use it for good.”

“Do you want to decide?” He asks, aware that you can be quite choosy at times. He doesn’t really mind. “Or do you want me to come up with something?”

“It’s probably easier if I figure it out.” You admit. It’s not your favorite option, all things considered, but since it’s dumb for you to be even vaguely upset that your boyfriend didn’t announce he had secret plans already in the works — which your stupid romantic comedy loving brain had hoped for but knew was a longshot — it’s better to just be practical. “So the Secret Service can tell me if wherever I pick is insecure or something like that. Even though I can’t imagine that anybody is out to get me. That’s absurd.”

“You’d be surprised what humans are capable of.” Sam reminds you, having read some of the most horrific reports imaginable. He likes that you are practical, even if you are a bit naive.

“Not a super fun thing to hear from your boyfriend, but okay.” It’s nothing you can’t brush off, and you do so with a wave of your hand. “There is also a state dinner coming up in a few weeks that I definitely do not want to go to without you.”

“I’m available.” He promises. “I’ve got a couple of events in my district coming up. But I’ll mark that on my calendar.”

“Thank you.” Though you aren’t blind to the ways that attending these things helps him, you appreciate the company. You aren’t effortlessly charismatic like your brother or a star student with enigmatic insights like your sister. You’re the least comfortable in the public eye out of your whole family, and that is what it is. At some point in the night when he inevitably veers off to shake hands and schmooze politically, you’ll sit quietly at your table and smile politely while you wait for Sam to come back, and that’s okay. “I really really appreciate it.”

Sam huffs, sending you a small smirk. “A night where you are wearing a beautiful dress, we eat an elegant dinner, what’s not to love?” He leaves the part about making connections unspoken, both of you know how this game is worked. “And maybe you can come spend the night at my place after.”

"What an absolutely scandalous suggestion." One hand clutches your nonexistent pearls, pretending to be aghast, but you throw him a wink. Intimacy in your relationship unfortunately does have to be scheduled at a certain point...just on the basis that you have a Secret Service agent you can't simply ditch, and he has a personal assistant that might be even more invasive than the Secret Service. "I love it."

“Good.” Sam smirks back at you and sends you his own wink. “I’ve missed a cute little snore, and I need to get some cuddling in.”

"I do not snore." Despite pouting at him – and knowing that you do, in fact, snore – you end up grinning. "But we have been low on cuddle time lately, I agree."

“Yeah, I know my job is hectic and yours isn’t a walk in the park.” He acknowledges wholeheartedly. “But I want this to work. Maybe we just need to move in together.” He hadn’t meant to just blurt that out, but he’s been thinking about it.

“I—what?” You nearly spit out the sip of coffee you had just taken and sit up arrow straight in your chair, staring at him without the ability to stop yourself. “You—you want me to—to move in with you?” It’s never been discussed. Not really. At least not with a timeline, and that’s probably your fault. You’re so prone to jumping into relationships head first that you had told yourself you would move slow with Sam. That…seems to not be the case now.

“It doesn’t have to be now.” He promises. “Just something to consider. That’s all. We would get more time together.”

"I can honestly say I was not expecting that today." It's shaken you up a little, if you're honest, but you reach over your desk and squeeze his hand before leaning out of your chair to kiss him.

“That’s not a bad thing, is it?” It’s not quite the reaction he was expecting, if he is honest with himself.

"No, not at all!" You're quick to reassure him, realizing that Sam's expression is a little more guarded than usual. You've disappointed him. That's not a feeling you like at all. Not even a little. "I'd say the fact that my boyfriend wants to spend more time with me is a very good thing." If it's such a good thing, why is your mouth dry and why are you all tense with nerves? "And I want that, too. You just surprised me, that's all."

“Of course we need to talk about it more in depth.” He relaxes slightly, happy that you are at least open to the idea.

"Is that...something you want to talk about soon?" There are ideas rolling over in your head with varying levels of comfort, but the fact is that you hadn't realized that Sam was already there. Sure you had said your I love yous already, but you really had been trying to go slower this time, and that pace had seemed to suit Sam just fine. And why is it suddenly now that your mind is stuck on the idea that he isn't your soulmate? Is it just because you met a man who could be? You had always told yourself it didn't matter before now...

“We are coming up on our one-year anniversary of dating.” He reminds you, wondering why all of a sudden you look like you’ve seen a ghost. He’s been patient, letting you move slowly since you were afraid of diving in too much too soon, but this is the natural next step. Otherwise, it will be random sleepovers whenever you can manage it for the rest of your lives and Sam doesn’t want that. “I figured we could discuss what our next steps were.” He smiles softly. “I want the next steps, whenever you’re ready.”

"You're right." He is right. The logic is there, and the sweetness, and you do genuinely like him. In fact, loving him came easily and naturally. It's just that today has you a little shaken up and you don't want to admit it to yourself. Any other day and you would have been ecstatically throwing yourself into his arms. "You're absolutely right. This is definitely next." Composing yourself into a smile and reminding yourself to goddamn relax, you pick up your now cold coffee and finish the cup. "Why don't we pick a night this week to cook dinner together and talk through what we want our future to look like?"

“That works.” He flashes you the boyish grin you claim to love and nods. “Little food. Little wine, little….cuddling while we talk. It’s exactly what we need. You’ve been peddle to the mettle lately, and so have I. It will be good to decompress and hash out our concerns.”

"Perfect." And you will, you tell yourself sternly, get your shit together by then.

“But tonight…” he winks at you. “I’m going to whoop your ass at Clue.”

Because it's your turn to host, your small apartment has been cleaned top to bottom in preparation for the night. Sydney took care of making dinner, you have dessert in the refrigerator, and you have it on the authority of the group chat that garlic bread and salad are both coming as well. Juan said he and Marcus were supplying drinks, so everything is set up with plenty of time for everyone to arrive.

Agent Bailey is sitting on the couch waiting for her evening relief so she can go home to her own family and Sam is setting a stack of mismatched plates on the dining room table when Juan, Marcus, Sydney, and her sister Anna Leigh all show up very promptly on the turn of the hour.

Marcus is a little nervous aware that he has a tenuous tie to the game night, but he is quickly at ease when everyone starts greeting people like old friends. He hadn’t quite known what to get, so he had bought several bottle of whiskey and wine, figuring someone would appreciate it. The bottle of ‘76 Statesman Reserve a personal favorite of his and the little store he had stopped at had one last bottle.

"Hey, we didn't scare Marcus off!" Maybe you're a little happy to see him, but you excuse that as being glad that Juan has his friend back and ardently ignore the way your chest clenches when he walks into your little apartment.

“Hope you don’t mind.” He offers instantly, holding back from flirting like he wants to. You are seeing someone. “But I brought gifts.” He holds up the bottle, the others in his bag.

“Statesman.” You practically groan with delight at the sight of the bottle. “When we were campaigning in Kentucky, my little brother and I toured their distillery, I love this stuff.” Fighting the instinct to offer him a hug — and it really is an instinct — you grin and wander toward the kitchen to complete introductions. “You already know Syd and Juan, of course. The beautiful agent of chaos currently throwing garlic bread in the oven is Syd’s sister Anna Leigh, and the intimidating lady on the sofa with the New York Times crossword in her lap is Agent Bailey. I don’t know if you two officially met earlier or not. Looking around, Sam is not in sight, but you chew your lip for a second and smile. “My other half seems to have disappeared, but I’m sure he’ll be right back.”

“Oh, okay.” He shouldn’t be disappointed that your boyfriend is here. That’s what he keeps telling himself. “Congressman from Maryland, right?” Okay, he might have read up on you.

“Right.” There’s a note of something off in Marcus’s voice but you can’t figure out what, so you just smile. “I promise we don’t use official titles over board games.”

“Good.” He cracks a lighthearted grin. “I hate when I’m made in charge of the jail in Monopoly.” He jokes. He hands you the bottle and looks around the little apartment. “Anything I can do to help?”

“I think we’re just waiting for Issy and then everyone will be here. So for now if you want to maybe pour drinks while we all get settled?” This is always an informal setting and you want everyone to feel relaxed as much as possible. “Let me give you the grand tour first?” What a stupid thing to say in your little, tiny space. But now you’ve said it, so you just have to pretend it was something charming to say instead of awkward.

“That sounds good.” Marcus quickly agrees, although it’s obvious that there’s not much to the small space. “The private sanctum.”

“Eat it kitchen.” Is the space you’re standing in, with a too-big dining room table that is also your prep counter because there is basically no counter space — just enough to put a few grocery bags on and nothing more. “I have an unholy love of dinner parties, hence the big table. Over here is the living room. Mandatory bar cart with the tv, and as many throw pillows as the couch can hold.” Agent Bailey currently has her arm resting on the head of a pillow shaped like a horse that you brought back from a campaign trip out West. “Bathroom is down the hall, just here.” The door is closed, so that must be where Sam is. “And just turn the corner and you’re in the bedroom-slash-library.” You have to call it that — you really have to, because the entire room is covered in wall to wall bookcases that are pretty much entirely full. The only exceptions are where your sleigh bed and writing desk sit on opposite ends of the tight room. “It’s more library than anything else.”

“Obviously like to read.” He nods. “What genre? Or is it too embarrassing to mention in company?”

“I’m not embarrassed at all to read romance novels.” A whole section of the shelf by your bed is dedicated to them, in fact. Healthy sexuality and healthy explorations of that sexuality are vital, but you won’t get that far into the topic. “I have a lot of various things here, but the majority are probably mystery, thrillers, and classics from all over the world.” The shelf you’re standing by has your collection of writing by both F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, and you smile. “Of course, some of the classics are romances. That’s to be expected.”

“They are. I find that if you limit yourself in what you read, you are missing out.” He looks over your shelf with interest. “It looks like a wonderful collection.”

“Thank you. A compliment for my books is the highest compliment possible.” There’s a warm smile on your lips when the bathroom door pulls open a few feet away and you feel like you’ve been caught although there isn’t a single thing wrong about showing a new friend around your apartment. There’s no reason to jump out of your skin, but here you are with burning cheeks feeling embarrassed.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Sam doesn’t frown, but he wonders who this man is and why he is in your bedroom.

"Hey." Your smile does widen of its own accord, and you motion between the men in a sort of vaguely formal way that is definitely odd for you. "Sam, this is Marcus. One of Juan's old friends. He came by the inn earlier today and we thought it would be nice to introduce him to the group." It's awful, and very unnecessary, how heavy your tongue feels when you go to make the introduction the opposite way. "Marcus, this is Sam. My boyfriend."

It’s a little awkward, Marcus can admit that but he extends his hand. “Nice to meet you, Sam.” He offers, smiling in a friendly, first meeting kind of way. “My connection to the group is through Juan.” He explains. “We were at the academy together.”

"Ah, a government man." That seems to win Sam's approval, though his handshake might be just a hair tighter than it would otherwise be based on the tension in the air. "Well, welc—"

"Babe!" Sydney's voice comes loud and clear from the other room as the door opens and the sound of chaotic friends can be heard. "Issy's here! Let's gooo!"

The introductions are interrupted and it’s probably not a bad thing. Marcus lets go of Sam’s hand and immediately makes for the door. “Guess that’s our queue.”

“Coming!” You call back, eager to be standing anywhere but your doorway between these two men. “Issy is a friend from college.” That’s the easy explanation you give Marcus as Sam steers you back to the kitchen with his hand on your back. “Syd, Anna Leigh, and Issy and I were suite mates at Mount Holyoke.”

Marcus nods, committing everyone to memory. “Nice to meet all of you. Thank you for letting me join you tonight.”

Getting everything set up doesn’t take much longer, and a buffet of cheesy garlic bread, a huge salad, Sydney’s pancetta lasagna, and the lemon tiramisu you made for dessert is all laid out on the counter. Everyone digs in and says a loud chorus of rowdy good nights when your Secret Service detail has its changing of the guard in the middle of it all. It’s a lot, and it’s chaos, but it’s so comforting because these are all people you love to spend time with. Even Marcus, as new as he is, fits right into the group effortlessly.

“Oh! Sydney.” Marcus dives back into the bag and pulls out a bottle of sparkling white grape juice and some sodas and grenadine. “I figured you might like my family’s version of Shirley Temple’s?” He offers. “So you can have a mocktail with the ladies?”

“Absolutely!” Syd’s eyes light up at the offer, and she brings her overstuffed plate over to the table to sit beside her husband. In her favorite baggy sweatshirt, no one could ever tell she’s pregnant, but one of her hands rests on the side of her belly anyway. “That sounds fantastic.”

“So my grandmother used to make these for all the kids, so we could feel special too.” Marcus explains as he grabs a wine glass and starts to mix together the non-alcoholic drink. “It had to be sparkling grape juice because of the bottle shape.” He chuckles now, but back then? He had felt grown up. “When she died, we served these at her wake.”

“That’s so sweet.” Sydney awes softly as Marcus carefully pours out the drink. “These are Birdie’s favorite, actually,” she points her thumb back at you while she chats at him. “We usually spike them with rum, of course. To be a Shirley Temple Black. I can’t remember the last time I just had a regular old Shirley Temple.”

“A dirty Shirley?” Marcus gasps in faux horror. “The best way to spike that is with Statesman.”

“On it!” You hop up from the table immediately to grab a glass and line up next to Sydney at the counter. “I’ve heard of people doing them with rum and vodka, but never with whiskey. I have to know.”

He chuckles and nods. “You won’t regret it. The grape juice plays off the smoky, oaky flavors very nicely.” He tells you. “It’s almost better than a robust bouquet on a red.”

“I can’t claim to know anything about wine, but I’m trying to learn.” Sam prefers wine, and you’ve been trying to not feel foolish when people discuss wine pairings at official dinners. It’s been a fairly deep learning curve. “But I’ll take your word for it.”

“More of a whiskey girl?” Marcus asks, filing away the information even though it’s not like he’s going to use it. One of those odd little quirks of his time in the Bureau, he tries to read people.

“Always have been.” As evidenced by the Whiskey Makes Me Frisky sweater still stuff in your closet from college, which won’t see the light of day again until your mother is out of office. “You too?” Your eyes widen immediately and you stumble over correcting yourself. “Guy, I mean? Whiskey guy?”

Marcus laughs and gives you a guilty grin. “I learned to enjoy wine. My ex was a wino to the point where we honeymooned in Napa Valley.” He snorts. “But my first love was a Jack and Coke.”

“The next time you’re sick, have a whiskey and ginger beer.” The advice comes as he hands you your glass but he looks skeptical. “I mean, it’s a good drink no matter what, but I swear it knocks out my colds faster than anything else.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Marcus hums and decides that he will make one for himself. “Tell me what you think.”

One sip has you groaning, and you bring the glass back to the table like you’ve found the Holy Grail. “Sammy, try this. I know you’re not usually big in whiskey, but this is fantastic.”

Sam wrinkles his nose, really uninterested in trying it, but he politely takes a sip. Pleasantly surprised, he makes a face. “Huh. That’s not as horrible as I imagined.”

“And that,” you look back at Marcus and laugh. “Is the highest compliment he’s ever given a whiskey drink.”

Marcus chuckles politely and motions towards the table. “There’s a nice Cabernet that he might like better.” He offers.

“That sounds perfect.” You move back to the counter to collect a wine glass, corkscrew, and the bottle to bring back, knowing that Sam will open it far more neatly than you can.

“So how has everybody been?” Prompting conversation once everyone is at the table gets the ball rolling nicely, and conversation starts as everyone starts to eat their dinner.

“Well, everyone knows that Sydney is expecting.” Juan boasts proudly, obviously loving the prospect of becoming a father. “But she started experiencing her first cravings.”

“Oooo, what are they?” Issy sits up in her chair immediately. “Please tell me it’s something non-gourmet. If this baby is a food snob I’m not going to have anything to tease you about.”

“Right now….” Juan grins and sends his wife an utterly besotted look. “Ranch flavored bugles.”

“Oh my god!” Both Issy and Anna Leigh practically scream with laughter immediately and your jaw hits the table with maniacal giggle.

“I know,” Syd moans in embarrassment. “I know! The baby likes ranch!”

“There must be a joke there somewhere.” Marcus laughs, enjoying the lighthearted atmosphere of the group and how they are all so easy with each other.

"Syd's current greatest fear is having a kid who doesn't care about food." You explain, picking up a forkful of lasagna. "If they turned out to not like food or hockey, she'll be doomed."

“I see.” He chuckles, although he himself had a less refined pallet when he was younger. Now he enjoys trying new things.

"They're exaggerating." Sydney promises, not wanting her husband's old friend to think she's that much of a snob. "Obviously no kid comes out loving caviar and oxtail."

“No, I can see why you would expect your child to give you cravings for something like this.” He praises, lifting a forkful of the lasagna. “I gave my mom cravings for salami and bologna. Which she couldn’t eat.”

"My mom had a lot of cheese cravings." Not expecting baby-oriented conversation was probably an oversight on your part, but it's fun and your best friend just absolutely glows whenever it's brought up. "With me it was gruyere, with my brother it was cheddar, and with my little sister it was asiago." The memory makes you grin, and you laugh a little, mostly to yourself. "She ate so many asiago bagels when she was pregnant with June."

“Ohhhhh I could see how that could be an easy craving.” Issy snorts. “I have cravings for those all the time and I’m not pregnant.”

"Right?" You're nodding in agreement instantly. "I'm honored that my pregnancy craving was gruyere. That's quality cheese."

“Maybe the craving will change to truffle cheddar fries.” Marcus suggests with a grin. “With ranch.”

“See, this is the kind of encouragement we should be thinking about. Positive thinking all the way.” Sydney grins, beaming across the table to her husband’s friend. Even if her hunch about the true nature of Marcus’s soulmate marks isn’t true, he’s still a good addition to the group. “What’s everybody else been up to.”

Everyone starts talking and Marcus leans back. Watching the dynamic of the group and it’s obvious that everyone is comfortable with each other. Talking over one another and laughing, poking fun in a gentle way. It seems as if Juan - and you - have a solid friends group.

The tempo of the night is unchanged from any other — there is as much laughter and fun as any game night you’ve had in years. The joy of having your friends nearby is never tempered, but tonight it is…just a little bit different. As for first time ever — with your boyfriend sitting next to you — you have to wonder if maybe your soulmate is actually sitting there at the table. And what will you do when it isn’t the man with his arm around you?

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

HHL: @haileymorelikestupid

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #The Mentalist #soulmate au #First Daughter reader #Juan Badillo #Graceland #Juan Badillo x f!OC #Juan Badillo x OC #love triangle

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luvj4key · 6 days

Text

── to all the boys i've loved before

you write a letter when you get a feeling so intense that you can’t hold it in anymore. these letters are your most inner, personal thoughts that were kept safe in a little blue box that you stored in the top of the shelf. so how is it that heeseung convinced you to fake date him, jaeyun wrote your letter back, sunoo came out to you, and jungwon stop talking to you?

the blue box is missing and so are the four letters that you stamped and wrote their addresses on.

casting: reader as lara jean, heeseung as peter kavinsky, jake as john ambrose, sunghoon as reader's older brother, jungwon as josh sanderson, jay as greg, sunoo as lucas, ni-ki as kitty | ft... yunjin as chris, chaewon as gen

directors' note: hello everyone! we are proud to announce that @j4keluver and i are doing a collab!! we will be making a series based on netflix's "to all the boys i've loved before" series. disclaimer: this is not an accurate representation of the series, we try to incorporate many details from them. this is our version of the series :) so we hope that you enjoy reading this as much enjoyed writing it <3

₊˚⊹♡ 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝘀 𝗶'𝘃𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲; ; 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗵𝗼𝗺 𝗶𝘁 𝗺𝗮𝘆 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗿𝗻, 𝗶 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 | wc: tbd

when you were a little girl, your mom would tell you the classic old tale bed time story of “princess and prince happy ever after.” she would talk about how lovely it is once you find “your prince,” the one who truly loves you for who you are. ever since then, you were hooked on romance novels - and finding the picture perfect boyfriend.

your older brother sunghoon, would roll his eyes at you, stating that “all men are disgusting shits and the only boy you can talk to is me.” you would just wave him off and stick your tongue out that him, saying how he’s just mad that he hasn’t gotten a girlfriend and he mumbles a “whatever.”

the only issue with trying to find a boyfriend was that you DID NOT know how to express your intense feelings. so that’s when you started to write letter. these letters were the most intimate things you’ve probably ever written in your life besides smut on tumblr. there were four of them in total.

lee heeseung, your 7th grade crush and first kiss

sim jaeyun, your partner in model UN

kim sunoo, from homecoming

and

yang jungwon, your next door neighbor

play...

₊˚⊹♡ 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝘀: 𝗽.𝘀. 𝗶 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 | wc: tbd

after the whole fake dating fiasco, you and heeseung seem to be doing perfect until it wasn’t. a new problem snakes its way into you and heeseung’s relationship; jaeyun wrote back. yeah, remember the letter you wrote years ago but was sent out by your little brother who thought was doing you a massive favor? yes, that one. you had no idea THE jaeyun would write back. you really did not need this right now especially since you and heeseung are in a good place.

there was two ways you could deal with this; respond to the letter or ignore it and pretend that it doesn’t exist. the two options lead to one option for your relationship; don’t tell heeseung. it’s not that you didn’t want to but everything was so good right now. why ruin it with a letter that probably only talks about jaeyun’s acceptance into NASA as a quantum physicist… right?

play...

₊˚⊹♡ 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝘀: 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 | wc: tbd

your recent trip to korea made you realize two major things; you have go to start learning more korean besides duolingo and you can’t be away from heeseung too long. the countdown till graduation has started and with college decisions coming around the corner, life was falling into the perfect book ending.you knew heeseung’s dream school was stanford; it’s always been stanford. with his good GPA, athletic abilities, and extracurricular, it’s not shock that he gets accepted. you get ready to open your letter. this was it. you guys were going to be high school sweethearts that turn into college sweethearts that turn into husband and wife.

that whole image comes crashing down when you see that you’ve been rejected and the only thing on your mind is how are you going to tell heeseung? heeseung keeps pestering you about your status until you do what you do best when nervous : lie. he’s bouncing off the walls when you tell him, it’s all he can talk about. he starts to plan how much to deposit for your shared apartment on your senior class trip to new york city !

whoopsie, how are you gonna tell him that you DIDN’T get accepted into stanford and that nyu, a college almost 3,000 miles away, is becoming your dream school?

play...

this is a work of fiction. it does not depict any of the artists in any way, shape. or form. ©luvj4key and j4keluver, all work is written by us. do not copy or repost

155 notes · View notes

saintescuderia · 7 days

Text

pancakes (pt. 6)

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :) / antinal reference ;)

A/N: to make up for being MIA (and that this sunday might be another miss) here's a double update. enjoy.

P6 - pre-workout for jet-lag

You still found it odd to call Australia home.

You had mixed feelings about the country stamped across the front page of your passport. Your auntie had been the one to organise the papers so that Australian would be your identification. Never mind the hospital bed in Monaco that you were birthed. Or that you were first words were in Arabic.

Still, your travelling auntie’s own experiences meant that when you came into her care, she would raise you Australian. Never mind any of the other stuff.

So, when you walked into the house in Melbourne, you were met with an Egyptian lady playing French music, dressed in a Korean football jersey, cooking Greek food. Such was the life of a nomadic English teacher that was your aunt Nadia. Dia for short.

“Ah, it's you." She sat, spying you hauling the suitcase through the door. She looked at the clock by the fridge and then frowned. "You weren't supposed to land yet."

"I landed an hour ago." You said. She looked at the clock again and took it off the fridge. She banged it with one hand and then shook her head, muttering under breath.

"I'm sorry. Did you take an Uber?"

"No. Oscar gave me a lift." Well, technically his father had driven the car.

Oscar’s parents were apparently super excited to meet you and gushed all through the way about how glad they were that their son had you to help him through F1. They had even insisted on dinner but Oscar knew you had stayed up - you had made him do the same thing as you - and thankfully postponed it for a breakfast tomorrow after you both got to finally got to sleep.

Upon leaving Jeddah, you had looked at the flight times and decided to overdose the 400mg of pre-workout and strategically placeyour workout just before leaving the hotel so that you and Oscar could both avoid the jet-lag many other F1 personnel were struggling with.

So far, it was on track to working. You just needed to push through a few more hours. To do so, Oscar was going to watch the footy. You were going to watch football.

“Ah, this young Oscar." Your aunt was nodding. "I like him. He has a trusting face.” She laughed at you, doing nothing to help but continue to watch you clamber into the well-loved and mis-matched dining furniture in her kitchen. “You hungry?”

“Tired.” You said, checking the time. It was 5pm but you were ready to knock out. Just a few more hours. You willed yourself to push through and avoid the jet-lag.

“Did you eat?”

You hadn’t. You never ate airplane food.

The silence was answer enough as your auntie plated up some gyros for you. The smells of the seasoned meat filled your nose and your stomach rumbled at the site of it. You picked up your fork, ignoring the bread for the sake of your cut but helping yourself to tzatziki.

"What's with the Korean jersey." You couldn't help but ask. You watched your auntie's back with CHO GUE-SUNG.

"Oh, he's such a handsome man. So polite too. I met him when I was teaching abroad in Seoul."

You opened your mouth but closed it. Your auntie lived a very unbelievable life at the best of times.

"He was nice. Nice face. Good hair. You should date him." Dia said as if she was commenting about the weather and you rolled your eyes, chewing through the food. She gave you a look. "Better a footballer than a driver."

You gave her a look. She never did like Danny. Much less you two together.

"Speaking of footballers, your uncle called. Went on and on in Italian about how your talents are wasted with cars and you should come to a real sport."

You snorted hearing this. Your uncle's work in football (not soccer, football) and your line of expertise had some people baffled that you hadn't joined him. Only the select few who knew your mother understood just why that was.

Still, every month your uncle sighed at the wasted talent! that you, a world class performance trainer! was stuck making coffee! for some fancy drivers!

Save that your uncle would add in a few choice Italian expletives in the mix.

"So, the usual?" You concluded.

"The usual." Dia nodded. She came to sit down in front of you. Pulling out her phone, she began showing you pictures of her recent teaching stint in South Korea. Your aunt had been there for about six months, working at an international school. And befriending Korean football players apparently.

“I thought you were teaching in Paris.” You said between mouthfuls of seasoned meat.

“That was before.” Dia waved a dismissive hand. She dropped her phone and then stood up to pull out two wine glasses. Your aunt gave you a look and you shook your head. She put one back with a roll of her eye. “Wine is good for you.”

“I’m already taking resveratrol.” You said. “And I’m on a cut.”

“That’s why no bread.” Dialooked down at the plate full of untouched pita bread. She was well aware of your health habits. “Actually, I went to Egypt recently! Ah!” She went to the cupboard above the microwave and pulled out a shoebox full of small boxes. You knew immediately what it was. Bringing the shoebox to the table, Dia began pulling out various medicines she had brought from Egypt.

“You will need this for your travels.”

“I have all of this.”

“Do you have Antinal?”

“Yes.”

“Take some extra." Dia still pushed it to you. "Give it to Charles.”

“I don’t speak to Charles.” You said.

Your aunt huffed and looked up at the ceiling, calling to God. “Ya rab. This fight with Charles needs to stop. Pascale and I are sick of it.” You didn’t comment any further on it. It was, admittedly, quite hard when there were so many other people involved. Pascale and Nadia were best friends. It was how you and Charles had grown up so close. The fact that you were family friends made it hard since Charles had pretty much cut you off. Granted, he was polite and you knew he still greeted your aunt Dia with a kiss on each cheek every time she’d visited Monaco. But still.

“I will give them to Charles.” She said, taking a box back.

“You do that.” You said as she still pushed one boxes of the yellow medicine in front of you. “Dia, I already have this.”

“For Oscar. Yallah.”

“Anti-diarrhoea pills?"

"Oi, mate. You better be grateful. That shit's a miracle." You said, dropping the yellow box in Oscar's hands as you both walked down the Paddock. You had checked your phone this morning to the beautiful news that you would be working for McLaren today. You texted Oscar the news and the next day he had your coffee order ready in the cupholder of the car he picked up you up in.

It didn't feel odd. It should've, but it didn't. Maybe it was because you and Oscar had already spent the most of the morning together. You had breakfast with his parents - his dad taking a moment to quietly pull you aside to say thank you for supporting Oscar - and then hit a gym sesh.

In fact, you almost forgot that you and Oscar was supposed to be working in different domains until you both had to get dressed and found him waiting for you outside the Paddock dressed in shorts, a McLaren t-shirt and accompanying brand cap.

It made you look down at your black Hospitality wear and wonder just how things would go if you were wearing the same clothes as him.

Well, for one thing, you would have to wear those ugly ass shoes. You looked down at your feet clad in some Nike Cortez and tried to take that as consolation. You weren't dressed in team uniform but at least that meant you had your shoes.

Still, the oddity of seeing a driver openly interact with the Hospitality staff turned some head as you walked down the Paddock together. You were half tempted to tell Oscar to go ahead but it didn't make sense. You were both going to the same place - the McLaren motorhome.

Oscar, however, was barely paying attention to any of this. No, his attention was still stuck on the medicine you had given him.

"Why do I need," He paused and flipped the box over to read the label that was in English, "Antinal?"

"Because you're travelling around the world more now that you're in F1 and have an additional ten or so race weekends added to your calendar." You explained as Oscar read what minimal English was on the medicine box "And so you're gonna be trying a lot more foreign food. Gotta be prepared, man." You patted him on the shoulders as a form of consolation. Oscar just laughed.

"I must say, when you texted me that you had got me something, I didn't think it would be this."

"Technically my auntie did." You said before explaining how you would probably needed to purchase another 23kg suitcase from all the things your aunty was adamant you have with you for the rest of the season. Oscar was laughing at the five packets of sunflower seeds your aunt thought was an essential when you clocked it.

Or, better yet, them. Charles and Carlos.

Both staring at you. And Oscar.

You felt a jolt rush through you realised. Oscar's latest girlfriend update went to background noise as you took in the two Ferrari drivers stood there.

Carlos was appraising, his head slightly tilted as he clearly was observing the two of you. You could only imagine what he noted.

You. Oscar. Laughter. Gift exchanged. Mention of relatives and close family.

Still, the kind Spaniard's eyes were a lot easy to take in than Charles.

Charles who was clearly fuming.

Or, clearly to you. You knew his angry tells. Right fist clenches then unfurls. Left hand runs through hair. Lips are pursed. And then he walks off.

You watched as Charles said something to Carlos and then turned around to stalk off. You watched his retreating form with forlorn eyes and before you caught Carlos looking at you. The furrow between your brows where you had probably stared longingly after the best friend who left you in the dust immediately fell when you looked at Carlos.

That was the first time that Charles was actually acknowledging your existence in how long.

You drew your eyes back to Carlos who was still looking at you. You smiled you found yourself even lifting up a hand to wave. You saw his eyebrows raise slightly and his lips lift into a smile. He waved back. Then someone called his name and you saw his cousin and manager appear from the Ferrari motorhome. You turned back to look at Oscar who was still talking, unaware of anything that happened in the past minute.

"... anyway Lily wants to meet you and - "

"Have you copped any shit?" You interrupted Oscar and turned to him. You had both neared the McLaren Motorhome and knew this would be where you both parted ways.

"Copped shit from who?"

"Other drivers." You specified.

"I mean I haven't really had a chance to speak with them." Oscar said, pursing his lips as if he thought about it. "The Williams guys are nice. Alex is funny."

"Alex is funny." You agreed. You did like Alex. He had a good heart. You would forever be salty at what Red Bull did to him.

"Lewis said hello, which was nice. Fernando reminded me his career is older than me." You couldn't help but snort at that. Oh, Nando.

"And Lando is... well, Lando." You perfectly understood just what Oscar meant by that. His words, however, also confirmed what you had suspected. None of the 'core' drivers that surrounded Ferrari or Red Bull's circles had come near him. You knew that many of the guys had gone out a few times to celebrate the start of the season and the fact that Oscar had very clearly not been invited was, well, getting to you.

Especially since you were 99.9% sure you were the reason why.

You stared at the young Australian boy in front of you and felt two things wash over you.

The first was sadness.

A lame word but there was no other way to describe it. Infuriated, annoyed, hurt - sure. But you were also just sad. Sad that this was your life and that anyone close to you still managed to get tainted by the things you were forced to lug around yourself.

The second was fondness.

The boy was young and innocent but carried himself with wisdom and dignity beyond his mere 20 years. And his dry ass sarcasm was a special type of humour you missed having around you. He was caring, loyal and an overall good sport. Having Oscar around made you realise how long it has been since you've laughed. He drove you the airport, bought you food and stayed up to watch old FRIENDS reruns after finding out Daniel Ricciardo had cornered you in the gym.

"Your love language is quality time." Was his reasoning when he had arrived at your hotel room. And so he ordered some KFC and got comfortable in your hotel room to watch Chandler and Joey forget Ross' baby on a bus. You knew Oscar didn't like sit-coms -- it was a recurring argument -- but he watched five episodes that night after you had texted him feeling panicked and needing help when Daniel arrived drunk at the gym.

In short, in that moment, you were suddenly hyperaware of how much you really, really, really fucking loved Oscar Piastri.

So maybe that's why you just came out with it.

"Jos Verstappen has a restraining order against me."

Oscar blinked. Once. Twice. Clearly he wasn't expecting you to say that. You weren't even expecting you to really say it.

"Come again?"

"Well his wife does." You corrected. "Because the courts wouldn't accept a man of his size him to need protection from little old me." You rubbed your arm, feeling the full vulnerability of what you were doing. You thought of your next words carefully, making sure to not step over the NDA you had signed. "I used to train Max when he was at Torro Rosso and then at Red Bull. I always saw bruises on his arms. One day I..." you huffed, hating that you legally couldn't say what had actually happened. "Well, I ended up beating Jos Verstappen half to death."

Oscar was silent. His face was void of much reaction. He wasn't even looking you in the face but staring at the ground in his pensive state. You were aware that you both had stopped walking and were stood to the side.

"Is that why you don't officially work as a trainer and had to be all pedantic with training me?" All you could do was nod to his question. Oscar shook his head. "I mean, I've heard the stories about Max and his dad but..."

Now it was your turn to blink. Once. Twice. You frowned and Oscar finally met your eyes and you were stunned to see the easy going grin on his face once more. It hadn't disappeared. "I can only guess you had to sign an NDA and this isn't the full story. And even if it is, well, it's enough to know you were protecting someone from a -- well, an abuser."

"I... Yeah. Thanks." You weren't sure what you were thanking him for. For believing you? For not treating you differently? For taking your side when everyone in Formula 1 had dropped you and treated you like a leper?

"Is that why you and Ricciardo fell through?" Oscar asked. It wasn't nosy. You had explained enough to him. It was enough he knew what happened.

"No Danny, he, uh-." You hated how small your voice sounded. Or that you immediately fell back to his nickname. "He cheated."

Oscar was silent, waiting for you to continue. And so you did so. You told him everything. From Daniel to Charles to the moment you punched Jos Verstappen in the face.

Carlos Sainz was ready to punch someone in the face.

He sat there at the table, fist curled tight as he tried to calm down from all that he was hearing. It seems like his name would only be an added tag to an otherwise Charles Leclerc fest of a season. Carlos knew, sure, that coming into a Ferrari where his teammate was known as Il Predestinato would mean that he needed to prove himself, put himself in the spotlight and make the Tifosi give him a name like that.

However, as the current race strategy meeting was showing, it seemed like no one in Ferrari was going to give Carlos the chance.

"Now, boys, I have something to discuss with you two." Fred said as people were starting to leave and the meeting seemingly coming to an end. Carlos wanted nothing more than to get up and storm off but he reigned it and listened to the change in Fred's tone.

"What's up?" Charles asked, sitting up.

"Quietly, there was a team principal meeting with Domenicali." Fred said, and this time Carlos sat up also. His anger was momentarily forgotten as his interest piqued. "McLaren have unofficially started working with a girl to train their rookie." Charles was playing with his APM Monaco bracelets, somewhat paying attention. Carlos watched him. There was one particular bracelet he always fiddled with, a small gold chain tucked amidst all the other extravagant pieces.

"She's a Hospitality worker."

Carlos saw how Charles froze. His teammate looked up. Carlos saw the horrified look on his face.

"Quoi?" The French slip was only further proof of something. Carlos's mind raced to make the connection.

The lighbulb went off just before Fred said it.

"She was your friend, non?" Fred said. "Worked with Max Verstappen in Torro Rosso." His eyes flickering over to Carlos. They had been teammates back then.

Charles's years and years of media training went out the window as he struggled to make sense of what he was hearing. Carlos, however, was suddenly thrown back a few years and thinking about just who had caused this whole shitstorm.

You.

Carlos said your name, feeling something swell up in him by saying your name in front of Charles who was your former best friend. Maybe it was ego from the recent meeting, but Carlo wanted to drive the knife in a little deeper.

"She's a very good trainer. I watched her sessions with Verstappen." And that wasn't on showing up Charles; it was the truth. Max's dominance needed to be at least somewhat accredited to you.

"Turns out she is not allowed to work for new teams." Fred spoke. "That means for McLaren to hire her goes against some contract Formula 1 put in place after an incident with Verstappen."

There was a pause. Carlos waited for Charles to say something - to say it. He didn't. So Carlos did.

"She was defending Max." Carlos said, defending you when he thought the silent Monacoan beside him would've. Didn't you two grow up together?

The Verstappen Incident, Carlos was well aware of. However, whatever happened between you and Charles... well, Carlos was out of the loop.

"It doesn't matter." Fred waved. "I'm not here to speak of the drama. But I did have a look. Mattia never told me but she has ties with Ferrari from before - "

"But she's a Hospitality worker!" Charles finally spoke up. "Mattia he-- I spoke to him about her."

"You did?" Fred took that piece in. Carlos wanted to scoff. Clearly Mattia hadn't mentioned that in the hand over notes. "What did Mattia say?" Fred asked.

"Peut-être on peut parler juste nous deux." Charles said, the switch the French reigniting Carlos' anger once more. He forced himself to breathe steadily while Fred nodded. Both men had often tried to keep to English in front of him for the sake of manners and being polite, as opposed to using their mother tongue and making Carlos feel, well, like he felt now. Excluded. Enraged.

Still, Carlos' French skills were okay enough for understand what Charles had said. He stood up and, in French, said. "I'll leave you two." Without looking back, he walked out the motorhome trying to steel himself.

He really wanted to punch something.

Walking a little ways down the Paddock, he took deep breaths and shot a flurry of texts to his dad. He needed his advice on what to do given the way the meeting had gone. It was then that a girl on rollerblades holding the Australian flag zoomed past him and Carlos looked up.

The entertainment at Albert Park never missed. Carlos smiled slightly. Australia was a fun circuit. Not his favourite track by any means but the actual circuit itself had a lot going on that he enjoyed. It was lively, music always pumping and the weather was nice.

Still, the sounds of laughter and the faint dance music that echoed through the Paddock weren't enough to lift his spirits.

And then he saw you.

You were walking with Lando's new teammate, the infamous Oscar something. He hadn't paid much attention to the newbie, hearing something vaguely about Alpine drama from Lando. It all had gone in one ear and out the other.

Now, Carlos saw you walking with him and suddenly he wished he knew more about the kid. Why him? Why were you friends with him? Since when did you have friends? And why risk it all just to train him?

Carlos had always been perfectly polite, nice. Why didn't you laugh with him? Why didn't you reach into your bag to pull out a small box and hand to him as you explained him whatever gift you had brought him? What made this Oscar kid so lucky?

Maybe it was just the Australians seeking out one another? Everyone on the Grid knew you had dated Ricciardo. That had been a painful experience. It was one thing to have pined after you, as Max his teammate's trainer. It was another to see you get swept off your feet by the senior Red Bull driver that everyone adored. Carlos' days at Red Bull sucked since all he did was think about you - and you barely paid him any attention.

Sure, he was now no longer Ricciardo's junior but it still got to him. Daniel Ricciardo had waltzed in and you had gone wide-eyed before Carlos could've even tried.

Because he would've. He really would've. Even before his dad told him who your uncle was. Even before he tried your cooking, your coffee. Even before he knew your name. A young Carlos Sainz had seen a pretty girl walking around in the same Real Madrid kit that he owned at home and immediately wanted to go up to her, to ask her name, to ask her out.

Carlos felt the door behind him open and out came Charles. He looked completely at ease despite what had occurred before. He patted Carlos on the shoulder. And just as he did that, Carlos' phone beeped. His father.

Don't get mad. Just get even on the track.

Carlos pocketed his phone but felt something ignite inside him. He would do that. It wasn't Charles' fault for Ferrari's favouritism. Carlos had to admit the Monégasque was a genuinely nice guy.

"You alright, mate?" Charles asked. "I'm really sorry about before."

"I'm alright. Excited for the race." Carlos said, changing the subject and not mentioning it at all. If anything, he would stay out if it all and just focus on the race, on proving everyone wrong. He take his father's advice and make his own mark in this team.

"Ah, Australia is always special." Charles said.

Despite what his father had said, anger came back within Carlos. It was the same anger he felt towards that Australian kid. And Daniel Ricciardo. And, to an extent, Max.

Carlos was jealous. Not for Charles' favouritism from Ferrari, but the favouritism from you. Charles had you and he'd thrown you out for whatever reason.

Carlos' eyes came back to you and suddenly he couldn't help himself. Sure, he could stay out of all the Ferrari drama but this was you. He couldn't stay out of it when you were right there, walking beside the new kid who didn't know that Charles had essentially banned every driver from interacting with you.

"Yeah?" Carlos spoke before he even realised. "What's so special about Australia?"

The answer was obvious: you.

You were what had been so special. Carlos' days at Torro Rosso meant that he knew about how you felt towards Albert Park, that it was almost like your home race.

For one, you didn't stay at the Crown Casino hotel like the rest of them. No, instead you stayed at your auntie's place by the beach. Carlos knew that from the time he had to drive a passed out Max Verstappen to said home back in 2017.

Charles' smile dropped slightly. Then he brought it back up. "Ah, you know. The sun, the people. There is a special energy here that - "

He stopped talking.

Carlos knew that his teammate had finally spotted you also. Turning his head to look over at Charles, Carlos took in the look of utter rage on his teammate's face.

And then, you looked up. You noticed him. Them. You met his eyes and then you looked at Charles. The McLaren driver was still talking beside you, oblivious to how you had clearly stopped listening to him. Charles took a deep breath.

He stormed off.

Carlos couldn't help but roll his eyes. He didn't know the truth, but Carlos had heard the many rumours as to why Charles had cut you off. He thought they were all rubbish.

Looking back at you, Carlos met your eyes once more and he thought about his options.

He knew that you were in part responsible for training one of the best drivers on the grid. He also knew that it would take a bit of a miracle to help him outperform Charles Leclerc and show Ferrari what was what.

But hey, if this Oscar kid was going to go against the grid's treasured and unspoken rule, why couldn't he?

You really jinxed yourself.

At first, the Australian Grand Prix was off to a great start. Sleeping at home meant that you had more comfortable waking in a bed that was familiar - and not stuck in some isolating three star hotel room that made you question the hotel rating system.

Three stars with suspicious smells coming from the closet? No, thank you.

Instead, you got to wake up to your auntie humming as she prepared her own version of pancakes. It had been a long time since anyone had made pancakes for you. And even though you had breakfast plans with Oscar and his family, you still ate some of her and kissed her goodbye as you went to the circuit.

By car. You drove yourself. In your beloved Supra, the one that had essentially taught you everything you knew about cars (that and Top Gear) were finally united.

And that in itself was a beautiful fucking thing.

There were a small handful of circuits in where you had a car in the country and could actually drive yourself. Australia was one of them. Japan was another. Monaco was the other.

Then again, Monaco was far too crazy to be driving during a race weekend anyway. Still, it was nice to be able to play some calming lo-fi beats as you drove the familiar Lakeside Drive that led up to the street circuit that was built around the lake. Your lake.

You had found yourself a good parking spot and the cafe vendor recognised you and gave you a free latte. Some marshalls walking by were joking about something nonsensical but the banter and accent made you feel warm inside. No matter the complicated feelings that being Australian brought up, you still enjoyed the laid-back attitudes that came with the softened ds and ts.

You had a good gym session, showing progress with your training. You dropped another kilogram off with the cut working well and then you were ready to go to the safe confined of the McLaren motorhome.

And then you saw the message from your co-worker.

Sorry bro. There's been a change in the roster because Mack called in sick. You're going to be covering him at Ferrari for the rest of the race weekend.

You really had jinxed yourself.

taglist: @eugene-emt-roe@spookystitchery@vicurious28@taytaylala12@c-losur3 @hiireadstuff @samantha-chicago @fionaschicken @casperlikej @bookstore-of-dreams @itsjustkhaos@sam-is-lost @laneyspaulding19@formula1mount @bokutos-babyowl @stampiej @alilcloudy @bingussthirdtoe @sisinever @lilymurphy03 @inlovewmarlenemckinnon

162 notes · View notes

yawnzzznnn · 9 months

Note

could you please make wonbin of riize as boyfriend?

𖤐Wonbin bf Head Cannons𖤐

Special thanks to: anon , Riize

Note: here ya go! Please ignore the time stamp I written this days before

TW: jealousy : I think that's the only TW :

Words:

Taglist: @eumppappasgrippers

8-19-23

𖤐music dates are his favorite

𖤐He teaches you how to play the guitar I mean like the cliché kind of teaching where he sits behind you and places his hands on yours

𖤐He likes rapping his arm around your shoulder when you two are out together

𖤐He doesn't really hide anything from you he's very open

𖤐On the jealousy Meder he's kinda in-between he leans more on the protective side of the meder

𖤐On the topic of him being protective he always has you wear an item of his clothes when your out alone so people know you have him

𖤐matching ear rings that sums him up

𖤐On the topic of dates shopping dates are normally your go to

𖤐The amount of matching ear rings the two of you have-

𖤐His favorite way to cuddle is when you curdle into his side where his ribs are with your head on his heart

𖤐He loves when you play with his hair he finds it relaxing so when training gets too much he lets you run your hands through his hair

#x reader #riize #riize wonbin #riize x reader #wonbin #wonbin x reader #wonbin head cannons #riize head cannons #riize imagines #riize one shots #wonbin one shots #wonbin imagines #riize wonbin x reader #riize scenarios #wonbin riize #riize wonbin imagines

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junicult · 10 months

Note

the bachelors and their thoughts on tattoos and piercings?? and if they have any/want any

!! the bachelors & tattoos / piercings

contains ; talk of piercings / tattoos. farmer has piercings tattoos (not specified). sfw. one minor nsfw comment in shanes (i seriously can’t help myself).

note ; i made this super quickly in literally like 10 mins😭

harvey

- he doesn’t have either.

- and he doesn’t plan on ever getting them.

- i don’t think he necessarily hates them, (on other people at least) but it’s not something he personally seeks out. like, if you just so happen to have tattoos or piercings, he doesn’t care.

- …he might be the type that doesn’t really like extensive amounts of facial piercings, tho.

- at least, if he met you and you already had those piercings, he might not want to seek a further relationship.

- if you’re already together, and extremely committed, you wanting piercings or tattoos wouldn’t change how he loves you.

- if he did have any piercings, they’d probably just be his ears. but i can’t even picture him getting any.

sam.

- LMFAO i just know he’s the person that doesn’t have any tattoos, but he constantly talks about all the tattoo’s he wants to get. (me)

- piercings, however, are a different story🤭

- he started off simple by getting his earlobe pierced for sure. definitely thought it was very “rockstar” to have.

- overtime he got a few more, (all of which taken place in sebastian’s basement), such as an upper lobe & orbital.

- and he definitely has an industrial. ik it.

- it’s probably healed too which is crazy.

- also, i think it’d be cute for him to just have a dainty little hoop on his nostril.

- when it comes to his partner, he couldn’t care less if they have any piercings / tattoos or not.

- butttt he thinks they’re so attractive. piercings especially.

- lip piercings if we’re being even more specific. ik that if u had snake bites, or an ashley piercing…phew.

- it just gives him an excuse to stare at ur lips lol.

- i feel like he would want to have his nipples pierced, but he’d never go through with it.

- same reason why he doesn’t have any tattoos.

- in general, because he skateboards and stuff, i feel like he’s immune to scratches and scrapes.

- he was also definitely the kind of kid that always had his arm in a cast or something.

- but i’ll still die on this hill: he has a low pain tolerance.

- sebastian can attest to it.

- mf is constantly squirming each time the needle even approaches his skin.

shane.

- he’s more of a tattoo kind of person then piercings.

- is it safe to say i think the majority of his are from when he was drunk😭?

- his pain tolerance is fairly high. he’s got a couple tattoo’s, that’s for sure.

- one on his arm of something gridball related to reminisce back on those days, and one on his back or maybe chest.

- of what? he doesn’t even know.

- as for piercings, definitely his regular & upper earlobes. he never changes the jewelry, it’ll always be that.

- i feel like he also has a daith just bc he heard it helps w migraines 😭

- but he is totally attracted to piercings.

- have any kind of facial piercings you want, he doesn’t care.

- but he’s an absolute sucker for body piercings, whether you have them or not.

- if u have ur belly button pierced, or even…u know…ur nipples dare i say; lord😭😭

- if ur dating, believe me he’s not ignoring those.

- when he sees u naked for the first time, or for the first time after u got those pierced—he’d be such a little asshole.

- “oh, these are nice.” he just raises his eyebrows, smirking down. “they healed?”

- if they are then…well. you already know.

- also he’s a sucker for a tramp stamp😭

- those were so popular in the 90s ik he’d lose his mind if u had one.

sebastian.

- pelican town’s unofficial piercer.

- lord.

- aside from multiple stick and pokes when he was in his teens, he doesn’t have any tattoos.

- they’re all definitely of things he looks back on and physically cringes. he doesn’t even tell people he has them, (besides sam & abby who were around when he was in that phase)

- the only reason you’d find out about them is if you saw them and asked him about it.

- as for piercings, he’s decked out.

- i’m talking lobes, orbital, helix, industrial, daith, conch. his ears are HEAVY.

- his eyebrow, nose, and lip is pierced too.

- his eyebrow might be one of his favs, and i also wholeheartedly believe that was his first ever piercing on himself when he was like 16. he stuck with it since.

- he also just has a nostril hoop. it’s black ofc.

- and…his lip piercing…

- a vertical labret 🤭🤭🤭.

- & u can disagree with me on this, but i’d like to think all of his piercings are properly cared for, cleaned, and healed. he’s not wasting any time caring for an infection.

- i also wanna say he has a few that he’s taken out as he’s gotten older.

- like his bridge piercing. he had it for a couple years before he decided to take it out, so he has a little scar there.

- i feel like abby has snake bites, which convinced him to get snake bites at one point. but when he got his labret, he took those out.

- lastly, i definitely think he had a septum at one point, but pretty quickly he realized it just didn’t suit him so he took it out.

- as for his partner, if you had any piercings—he doesn’t care. why would he?

- he’s incredibly impartial. whether you have them or don’t.

- but let me tell you…if you don’t have any, he’ll gladly change that if you ever asked😇😇

alex.

- he has none.

- zilch. zero.

- he’s not the biggest fan of a ton of piercings. unfortunately i feel like he was raised in that kind of household, so he was conditioned to feel the same way (we’ve all met george).

- like, if you have ur ears pierced or maybe one little face piercing, i don’t think he’d mind that much.

- it definitely depends on how much he likes you.

- if he met you while you had face piercings, he’d probably judge you by cover.

- but if you slowly got them after you’ve been dating a while, i feel like that’s when he’s realize how attractive they can be.

- if you got your lip pierced, and he got to see how plump your lips get from swelling—that might drive him crazy.

- everytime he leans in for a kiss you’d have to pull away, tutting, “ah-ah, no kissing.”

- it’s like ur torturing him.

- and if you ever convinced him to get a piercing, he’d only allow his ears.

- for tattoos, i think it’d be so sweet to imagine him wanting one that linked to his mom.

- like something she’s said before, a nickname she gave him, maybe even if she had a tattoo he’d get the same one.

- because he’s not that emotionally available, he never told anyone.

- not until u asked, and since he’s trusts you more then anyone, he doesn’t mind being vulnerable to you.

elliot.

- he has both.

- but his are just so beautiful that you’d literally see them on pinterest, y’know?

- he’s so tasteful with his piercings and tattoos.

- he’s a patchwork fan. like small separate tattoos on his arms and torso.

- each of which have meaning to him in someway.

- and his piercings are soo small and dainty. (GOLD TOO. he’s strictly gold.)

- he has a little stud on his nostril, and his ears are similar to sebastian’s.

- but he’s much more organized then anyone else. his piercings all took place over time, and they’re all matched. he’s a strict gold jewelry person.

- it just makes him look so clean and put together.

- when it comes to you, he in general doesn’t care whether you have them or not.

- physical attraction isn’t the biggest deal to him. so what if you do / don’t have piercings.

- but he can definitely appreciate if you’re just as dedicated to your jewelry / tattoos as he is.

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txtaetertots · 11 months

Text

hopelessly devoted. — choi beomgyu x fem!reader

status on-going (230619 - ?)

schedule whenever…

cw/genre swearing, twt humor bc twt humor, lots of bantering between friends, slowish burn ??, slice of life, romcom, probably gonna be corny hfdjjz, social media au w/ written parts, also pls ignore time stamps they're not important nor accurate lol

synopsis choi beomgyu has spent his entire senior year slacking off and causing mischief. but, due to his inattentiveness, his slacking off went too far and if he doesn't improve the grade in his literature class he'll guarantee himself a seat in summer school. yn has big dreams to be on stage and star on broadway. however, she needs to impress recruiters with one last production as the lead in order to earn herself a spot in a new york based school. when beomgyu's literature teacher makes him join their drama club for extra credit, their futures quickly become intertwined and dependent on each other.

featuring le sserafim members, hanni (newjeans), bahiyyih (kep1er), ocs, and mentions of others

taglist CLOSED

profiles four and a half girls, the nba (benchwarmers), others

note my first social media au on tumblr !! hopefully it's an enjoyable read :')) i have so many ideas for txt aus i can't wait to share them! i'm most excited to share this beomgyu one so i hope you all enjoy ♡︎ - yuri

Acts

01. report and block soobin

02. nyu decision day

03. second review

04. spring production (written+)

05. i'm sandy

06. auditions (written)

07. cast list from hell

08. wtf mr. kim (written)

09. welcome to hell

10. first read through

11. perfect harmony (written+)

12. it’s just a little infatuation

13. it’s just coffee

14. annoying friends (written+)

15. cruel and unusual punishment

16. the deal

17. shameless

18. very interesting

19. it comes so naturally

20. awfully close

21. please believe me

22. predicament

23. nopenopenope

24. i’ll kick you

25. it’s just a kiss (written+)

26. it’s called method acting

27. long time no talk

28. apology(?)

29. focus on me (written)

30. beomie

31. i never said that

32. yeonjun and soojung

33. soulmates

34. you’re the one that i want (written)

35. mixed feelings

36. everybody talks

37. yunjin’s plan

38. baby jungie

39. i don’t feel so good

40. you’re not who i thought you were

41. i’m not a bad guy

42. yeonjun and beomgyu

43. one last date

44. best friends and brothers

45. my love

46. we’re done

47. last day

48. the promposal (written)

49. the aftermath

50. beomgyu’s aftermath

51. friends night

52. hiyyih tells all

53. regroup new plan

54. please forgive me

55. the truth comes out

56. operation: save yeonjun

57. getting ready

58. opening night (written)

59. yeonjun’s aftermath

60. the decision

762 notes · View notes

nezuscribe · 2 years

Text

𝐟𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫

pairings: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: it's not expected of the head cheerleader to go to the run-down bar to watch eddie munsons' band. but it's also not expected of the two of you to ever meet. and what can eddie do, ignore his number one fan?

fic warnings (mdni 18+): reader is over 18, smut, blow jobs, messy make-outs, oral sex (fem and male receiving), fingering, teasing, cum eating, unprotected piv, Eddie kind of having a corruption kink but when does he never

Friday nights. That’s when they play. Leather jackets, smudged eyeliner, voices all yelling in harmony as they play for their usuals, you included. Sometimes they were a bit off beat, or just completely forgot the lyrics, but it didn’t stop you from coming back every week, soda in hand as you giggled at their funny antics before and after the show.

And you’d also be lying to yourself if you thought that the only reason you were coming was because of their little jokes. Because deep down you knew that the lead guitarist had caught your eye ever since you first saw him.

You couldn’t lie, Eddie Munson was just irresistible.

And yes, by your school, (and society’s) standard, Eddie Munson was supposed to be untouchable, and not in a good way. You were supposed to avoid him like the plague, pretend like his sort never existed, and get along with your day. He was satanic, or so your mother would say as she angrily chopped her vegetables, and was the leader of your highschools so-called “cult”.

You called bull, but you knew it would take a lot more than logical thinking to convince the town of Hawkins that the Hellfire Club didn’t exactly keep true to its name.

So after a lucky mistake, you found yourself searching for cheap food and stumbled across the mangy bar, not expecting to find your school's most decorated student riffing on his electric guitar.

Unlike you, Eddie could still recall that night almost like it happened yesterday. It was rather crowded, meaning that there were more than five people filling the empty seats as he introduced the band and what they were going to sing. His eye scanned the crowd, almost like they almost did, but they stopped, widening for a second in recognition.

“This song's a cover from the one and only…” He trailed off, his hand wrapped around the microphone loosening when he saw you sitting in the crowd, Hawkins High’s golden girl, still in your cheer uniform from practice as he stammered, getting a hold of himself as he cleared his throat and mumbled out a quiet; “Black Sabbath.”

He thought that maybe you were here for a date, but you looked relatively cheery for being there by yourself, giving them encouraging claps whenever they’d start a new song, obviously enjoying your time as you munched on the complimentary chips.

Eddie thought it was strange, sure, but he figured that you came that night out of ennui. But you kept reappearing every Friday, getting familiar with the people as you stayed up to midnight to listen to them sing. He knew that while he tried to convince himself that this band was going places, he knew that they weren’t professional or all that good; so you must have been really bored to come here in your free time.

For him, it was definitely new. Out of all people to keep coming back to their shows, he never would have bet his money on you. You who always kept your shoes and clothing clean and painted your nails a light baby pink as you walked around school flashing everybody who passed you by a friendly smile.

It eventually became a standard for you to go, though, feeling almost as if it were rude had you been a no-show. Clad in that green skirt, your cheer logo stamped on the jacket as you walked through the door, giving the woman behind the counter a grin as she waved to you.

“May I have a diet coke?” You ask, leaning over the counter as you tap your shoes on the floor in a little beat, “Please?”

“F’course,” She gave you a kind wink as she slid it over, the drink already prepared because, at this point, everybody knew that you were coming and what you liked to order.

“Thanks Suz,” You pay, pulling out a straw from the holder as you make your way over to your regular spot, drinking a little bit to quench your thirst. You looked around, noting that it was emptier than usual, but maybe this Friday people just weren’t up for metal music and room-temperature beer.

But the more closely you looked, the more confused you got. The stage was empty, which wasn’t unusual, but none of their usual pieces of equipment were up there, instead replaced by a lone maraca resting on a stool. And you were sure that the last time you checked, none of the four members used that instrument.

Your forehead wrinkled in bewilderment,

“Hey, Suz?” You called out as you turned in your seat, looking over to see him cleaning out a cup, “Are they playing tonight?”

She opened her mouth to speak but paused as her gaze fell to something behind you, giving you a knowing grin, jutting her chin to something behind you as she went back to cleaning her cup.

“Sorry, but,” You perked in your seat at the familiar voice, glancing back to see Eddie Munson standing right there, hovering over the seat next to you as he gave you an apologetic look, “Gareth’s got carpal tunnel at the moment. Can’t really work any magic on the drums when the hand holding the wand is immobile.”

Your eyes widen for a second, mouth running dry as if the weeks of preparing yourself to just talk to him had fallen short on you. He leaned against your little table, staring at you through furrowed grows as you gaped up at him.

“Oh…” You swallowed, rubbing nervously at your nose as you gave him an awkward chuckle, “Well, that um, that - that sucks.” And you watch as Eddie grins boyishly at your stammering, clicking his tongue against his teeth.

“Tell me about it.”

You feel like your heart was about to beat out of your chest, the silly little crush that was growing on the boy surely about to be the death of you as you try to adjust yourself to look less gauche. It was stupid, really, just how minuscule you felt under his gaze, and even when he’d walk by you could feel your body heat up. You watched through nervous eyes as he silently motions to the empty seat next to you, a quiet question as you slowly nod.

“Fortunately, Per said he’d fill in on the, uh…” He motioned his hands to the maracas, “Cha-cha instruments.” A small giggle falls past your lips as you snort into your drink, some of the soda splashing on your cheeks as Eddie grins in triumph.

“Per?”

“Yeah, well, his name’s Casper but…” He shrugged, his nose wrinkling, “I can’t say that name without thinking of Casper the friendly ghost.” And your already contagious smile grows as you lean a bit on the table, your hand rubbing at the little beads of water falling down the sides of your drink.

He stared at you for while you took another tentative sip, your fingers drumming on the table as you rubbed at your nose. Yeah, he thought, you were really pretty up close.

“So…” You bit your lip as you tried to think of what to say, your leg bouncing up and down as you looked up at him, “When do you think you’ll be able to play?”

Eddie couldn’t help but feel his lips tilt upwards at your genuine curiosity, pursing his lips as he tried to think.

“A week, maybe two. Don’t sweat on it, Gareth’s got abnormal healing time.”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek, trying to contain your smile. You glance away as you twirl the straw around in your drink, the afternoon sun lighting up your features as Eddie stares at you, unknowingly. He couldn't help it. He thought you’d be off-put by him, giving him a short answer as you slowly pretended like he didn’t exist, but he wasn’t prepared to be bombarded with the same treatment you give everybody else.

“What about you?” He sits up in his seat at the question as you take another sip, looking him in the eyes as you wait for an answer.

“What about me?” He says through a little laugh, tilting his head to the side as you duck your chin down in embarrassment, heat flooding your cheeks under his scrutinizing gaze.

“Your fingers,” You muttered as you pointed to his hand, “Don’t they hurt? With playing the guitar and all?”

He looked down at his fingertips, the little indents from the guitar strings still there even after days of not playing, but he waves it off.

“Soak them in ice-cold water right afterward and don’t feel a thing,” He pauses, scratching his chin, “Might be because my fingers go numb from the cold, but it works.” You laugh again, the sound sweet and soft as a bell as your eyes wrinkle around the edges, your cheeks pulled up in the fullest way and he can’t help but understand why everybody at the school loved you so much.

“Y/n.” You say, sticking out your hand, your palm facing the left as you sit up a bit straighter in your seat. Eddie huffs, his hand grasping yours as shakes it lightly, his fingers lingering on the back of your hand.

“Eddie.” He mirrors and you give him a sheepish smile, embarrassed as you nod.

“I know. I’ve been coming here, and it’s-” You swallowed as your fingers fiddled with each other, “It’s hard to miss your name.”

Eddie contains a grin, cocking a brow at you as he interlaces his hands together, leaning back in his seat as he rubs at the corner of his eyes, the little dimples on the sides of his face about to make an appearance as you wait for him to say anything.

“Yeah,” He shakes his head in disbelief as he lets out another chuckle, “Yeah it’s kinda hard to believe that if I’m being totally honest.”

Your little smile falls as concern fills in.

“Hard to…believe?”

He nods, his curls bouncing as he tucks some of his loose hair behind his ear, fidgeting with some of his rings as he clicks his tongue, leaning into the table as you nervously sip on your drink.

“Well, the golden girl of Hawkins High just never really struck me as the type of person to…enjoy metal music, with the, y’know…” Eddie explains as he imitated pom-poms and you roll your eyes as you twirled the ice around, watching as the bubbles of carbonation rose to the top and popped.

“You guys do play a lot of Ozzy for die-hard metal fans. I’d prefer a bit of Pantera or Anthrax but,” You shrugged, never breaking eye contact as you take a sip, “I guess I’m just not into it as much as you are.”

Eddie almost choked on his spit, his eyes widening as you innocently looked up, a teasing smile on your face as you soaked in his reaction. Fuck, he was a total goner now. The biggest fool to underestimate just how much a grasp you could have on him in seconds because you knew his music. Knew it well enough that he could barely think of a witty comeback that could save him from this embarrassment. And you were easily using that as leverage against him.

He hated how he thought that maybe he could twist you over, see just what you were up to because surely you couldn’t be coming to their gigs out of enjoyment. But maybe he was being small-minded, and maybe that small-mindedness was coming back to bite him.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” He rubbed at his chin, perplexed by you who was sitting right there in front of him.

“I like keeping people on their toes.”

Eddie chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief as your hands fiddled with the delicate necklace you wore, moving the pendant around as Eddie tried his best to keep his eyes glued onto your face. But he felt as though you were teasing, maybe even testing him as his gaze dropped a bit, his eyes glazing over as you smirked consciously.

“Wanna see it?” He asks suddenly, and your brows instantly furrow in confusion. Eddie seemed to have been snapped out of his trance, happy to know that he caught you off-guard with his question.

“See what, Munson?” Though it could have been a genuine question, heat crawled up his neck as you used his last name, something ne never realized could sound so sweet falling off your tongue, and it took him an embarrassing couple of seconds to remember what the original question even was.

He stammered, and you tilted your head to the side, worried for him as he cracked his fingers, “The vessel that carries sound to showcase all that is good and holy with the world.” And damn you were fast to figure out what he meant because you waved off his exaggerated speech with a hand, your fingers grazing him as your shoulder shook with laughter.

“You mean your guitar?”

“Sure, if that’s what they’re calling it these days.”

Rolling your eyes you let out another giggle, ducking your head as you fiddle with the hem of your skirt, never expecting your little interaction with Eddie to go this far as he sat there waiting for your answer.

“Depends. Where is she?” Eddie smiles at your wording.

“This place is very accommodating to its attendees. She’s still in the backroom.” You purse your lips, your eyes giving away your pure excitement as you shrug unbiasedly, but Eddie could tell that you had already given in to his offer.

“Show the way,” You say, standing up from your seat as you pass Suz your empty cup, pulling at your skirt and uniform as you wait for him, “Rockstar.”

Eddie quietly groans, his eyes shutting for a second as he covers it up with a lame cough, missing the way you smiled triumphantly to yourself. Eddie muttered a couple of things to Suz, throwing her a thumbs up as the old lady sighed, shaking her head as she went back to cleaning the cups.

You felt a lingering warmth on your back, tentative and unsure as Eddie looked down at you, his doe eyes almost worried that you’d quickly change your mind and leave. But you just looked back up at him, almost defiantly as you squirm around, impatient as you wait for him to show the way.

“This way,” He jutted his chin towards one of the back doors, maneuvering around the sea of chairs and tables as he trailed a bit in front of you, opening the door with a happy little grin, seeing that they still hadn’t locked it yet.

You followed him down a small halfway, stopping at another door as he jiggled the knob around, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. Partially because he knew his guitar was in there and didn’t want to go through the trouble of breaking down another door to get it.

The room was cramped, with a tiny little couch up against one wall, a mirror, and a chair facing you as you looked around in curiosity. You saw Eddie head for a black case resting on the couch, and you quietly shut the door behind you, a little bit awkward as you wondered to yourself what you were doing.

“There she is…” Eddie murmured to himself, gently taking his guitar out while he proudly showed it off, his hands gentle as he watched your face break into a big grin. You walked over, crouching down by the couch to get a closer look.

“Holy shit,” Your fingers hovered over the gloss, careful not to touch it as you looked at him in approval, “Warlock. You’ve got taste, Munson.”

Eddie’s heart squeezed his throat in a grip because how could he talk to you now? Knowing that you could dominate over every single field and he’d probably have zero knowledge in comparison to you.

“Y-yeah, you could say that. Either that or I just hate my savings.” You giggle, shaking your head as you sit back down, careful that your skirt didn’t move that much as your palm ran over the carpet.

“You’re dedicated.” You correct him and Eddie gives you a goofy smile, putting his hair behind his shoulder as he stares at his guitar and then back to you. There was a beat of silence, and you tapped your shoe on the ground, debating on whether or not to tell him something that had been weighing on your mind.

“I have a question.”

Eddie cocks a brow, stopping as he was mid-putting his guitar back in the case as he looks down with interest.

“Shoot.”

“Are you self-taught? Private instructor? Anybody who’s helped you out?” You ask, stammering out as you nervously play with your fingers, bending them back and forward as Eddie huffs out another laugh.

“Self-taught,” His head tilts to the left as a ghost of a smile lingers on his lips, “Why do you ask?”

You shrug, pouting a bit as you sit on your calves, now in front of him as you glance shyly at his guitar.

“I’ve been interested, and I don’t really know anybody who can play.” You explain your voice dying off in the end as Eddie just stares, his hands twitching as he squints his eyes at you.

“There’s a guitar club at school, y’know.” You wave that off, shaking your head in frustration because you’ve already gone back and forth on that very idea. It just didn’t play out well in your mind, joining this late in the year.

“Who can play well.”

Even you could now see the bright blush that overtakes his face, he moves his hand to his mouth, rubbing at his chin to keep himself from looking like a total fool as you look up hopefully at him.

“If you’re trying to flatter me, it’s working very well.” He muttered, moving his guitar so that it lay over his lap. He motions for you to move up a bit, and you oblige, standing up as he tries to make room for the two of you on the small couch.

“Yeah?” It felt like the words were sticking to the back of your throat, caught on your tongue as Eddie nodded slowly, eyes darkening as you swallowed thickly. The air was getting hotter and you felt like you could barely breathe.

“Yeah,” He muttered, his voice as dim as yours moving around in his seat feeling little beads of sweat roll down his neck.

This was really bad, he told himself over and over as a reminder, you were untouchable.

But maybe you didn’t seem to wholeheartedly agree with that ideology.

“Eddie?”

“...yeah?” He loathed how his eyes kept falling down to your lips as if he couldn’t make his feelings any more obvious. You grinned a bit, trying to contain it as you hitched your leg up onto the cushion, your knees touching as Eddie felt his heart lurch around in his chest.

“How far does that flattery go?” He could feel your little puffs of air hitting his cheek, and he just realized how close the two of you were. This wasn’t happening, there was no way he was sitting with the queen of Hawkins High.

“Far.”

It was comically quick how quickly the two of you advanced, his hands almost moving fast than the speed of light to tug you closer into his chest as if the two of you weren’t close enough. It’s much more different than what the two of you are used to. He liked going fast, to feel your teeth clashing with one another as the two of you begin to run out of air, and the feeling is something that simply encourages him.

He could taste the chapstick that lingered on your lips, artificially sweet as they always were, but he still moaned helplessly into the kiss because he just couldn’t get enough of it.

Everything about him was driving you crazy; from the way he carefully held your thigh, to his hand smoothing down your skirt from where it had gotten flipped over. He had a cologne wrapped around his neck, and the more you moved onto his lap the more the scent flooded your senses.

Your hand moved up to his chest, wrapping around his leather jacket for leverage as you slowly pulled away, not missing how his eyes fell for a second in trepidation, worried that he was being too rough and that he’d pushed you away.

But much to his relief you gave him a small smile, your other hand coming up to his neck, fiddling with the curls of hair as you leaned down just enough so that your noses brushed up against each other.

“You alright? Too much?” He murmured gently into the skin of your jaw, his lips brushing against your cheek as you shivered in his hold, weakly nodding as you tried to regain some of your dignity.

“N-no, just fine.” And you knew you were lying to yourself because it wasn’t just fine. You could swear you’ve never been kissed like that ever before. Held so close to somebody this tenderly as if he actually wanted you there.

And before he could even continue you swooped in, some of that confidence from earlier coming into play as Eddie groaned into your lips, biting and nipping at them as they traveled down his jaw to the upper side of his neck, swollen as they attached to his pulse. His hands clenched as you sucked, licking at the spot every now and then as you made your mark on him.

He was a fucking goner.

“S-shit, that’s,” His breathing was coming out choppy, and he threw his head back to give you more space, “That’s fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart.” The little pet name fell from his mouth, accidental in nature, but it still managed to give you little butterflies as you smiled a little to yourself.

Your hands mindlessly roamed his chest, ducking under his shirt as your nails grazed the skin of his stomach and you felt it clench underneath you, his uneven breaths cute as you giggled quietly.

His mouth fell open for a second as your fingers palmed at his growing length, his eyes shutting momentarily as he pawed it through the material of his jeans, acting like a total menace as you pressed your thumb deeper into it.

Eddie went to move, to tell you that you didn’t have to but you shook your head, tugging at his zippers as you glanced up at his beet-red face.

“It’s okay, Munson,” Your fingers tug at the elastic of his boxers, his eyes already giving away his true feelings even though he felt terrible for allowing you to do this, “It’s the least I could do as your number one fan.” You pull his underwear and pants down, his cock springing free as it hits your cheek. You press a quick kiss to the tip, red in color as you clench your thighs at the sheer size of him. Forgetting where you were, you go back to attending to his hard-on, your tongue running up and down his length, spreading the precum on your tongue as he gives up, his head falling back against the wall as he grips tightly at the cushion.

His hands moved on their own, gripping the back of your head as he looked at you, a silent question in his eyes as he asked you if this was okay. When you gave him a faint nod, grinning against his tip he let out another moan, guiding you to where he wanted your mouth.

Your tongue was so, so hot as it enveloped his cock, wrapping around it as you enveloped him in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down with the help of his hand as a flurry of curses followed.

“F-fuck that’s, that’s amazing sweetheart. You’re taking me so well, shit,” He groaned as you suctioned around him, his head almost hitting the back of your throat, causing tears to spring to your eyes as he cooed at your reaction, “You’re fucking amazing, yeah? S-shit, never felt this good before, god. You’re gonna make me cum if you keep d-doing that,” He’s trembling, his thighs shaking as you grip onto them for support. His hands curl around your scalp ever so gently to make sure he doesn't hurt you in the process.

His eyes glance over to the door, widening when he realized you two had forgotten to lock it, and the sheer thought that somebody could walk in on him fucking your throat sent him into a whining mess.

“Shit, it’s not even locked,” You don’t bother to care as your hands' pump and down the places your mouth couldn’t attend to, the extra stimulation causing him to see white, “But you want that, huh? Want people to see you getting wrecked? That your makeup’s getting all ruined because you’re my number one fan?” His words make you whine a bit, “S-shit, sweetheart, they’d never guess to see their golden girl on her knees, would they?” The thought of anybody just walking in on your tear-soaked face, eyeliner smudged as it trekked down your cheeks made you moan against him, the vibrations enough to push him over the edge as he spurts all over your tongue, his eye squeezing shut as a low groan escapes his lips.

“D-damn…” His chest heaved up and down, a lazy smile gracing his lips as he tugs you back up onto his chest, his fingers delicately running up and down the expanse of your arms as he pecks your lips, his thumb swiping at your cheeks to get rid of the tears, “You’re just as much of a freak as I am, huh?” It wasn’t a question so much because the way you smiled against him told him all he needed to know.

“I’m just a very devoted fan, Munson.” You reason with him and he lets out a weary chuckle, his hands roaming up and down your back, flying under your uniform as they travel up your navel. You whine slightly when his calloused fingers find your bra, tugging it down as they flicked your little nubs, smiling at him as you go limp in his hold.

“Don’t think it’s really fair that I’m basically naked while you’re all clothed up, hm?” He asks, his brows furrowing in mock annoyance, “And as much as I love your little uniform, believe me, I do, can I get this off of you? Please?” His weariness to approach just made you even more desperate, and you dimly nod as you let him slowly remove your top, his hands skimming your sides as you let out an airy giggle at the feeling.

“Sorry,” He whispers, smiling slyly against your lips as his fingers graze the same spot in a faster manner, “Didn’t know you were ticklish.” You shake your head as you let out another laugh, too focused on how he was making you feel, inside and out, to realize he had unclasped your bra in a single flick. However, what you couldn’t miss was how he tensed up a bit, his eyes dropping as his hands cupped your tits, groaning at how soft they felt against his rough skin.

“Can you sit up a bit sweetheart?” His hands moved under your thighs, tugging at the hem of your skirt as he looked at you with those damn eyes, and you nodded again, your words catching in your throat as you struggled to find something to say to him.

“Y-yeah, here…” You stammered, helping him move the flimsy material off your leg as you tossed it off somewhere to the side. His hand traveled up to cup your ass, squeezing it as you squealed, his curls tickling your bare chest as you fell deeper into his embrace, somewhat aware of how he was careful to take your panties off. You couldn’t see what he was doing but you melted when you saw him place the now-folded clothing somewhere where it wouldn’t get soiled.

“Don’t know why I waited s-so long.” You breathed out, your huff hitting his neck as he shivered, pulling away to look up at you to see your expression.

“So long for what sweetheart?” His voice was hoarse, coming up to straddle your hips as you squirmed around on his dick, the two of you groaning slightly at the feeling, almost forgetting to answer him as he rubbed against your swollen clit.

“To just talk to you, Eddie, to do this…fuck,” And the way you muttered his name, coaxing it out of your honeyed mouth made him almost go feral. Alongside the way you were grinding on him, he felt like he was slowly losing his mind.

“Don’t know either,” He kissed your neck, his wet lips trailing down to the crevice of your collarbone, his nose rubbing against your soft skin still scented with your perfume as the smell infiltrated his senses, “Seems weird coming from my number one fan, no? Where’s the devotion, sweetheart?” You roll your eyes, laughing as your head tilts back, the sound so genuine and pure that Eddie can’t help but feel his lips tug upwards to a gentle smile.

“You’re shameless Munson. Downright shameless.”

“D’you want me to stop then?” His fingers pinched your nipple, tugging on it as you wrung your eyes shut.

“N-no, don’t…just,” Your face heated up in embarrassment as he laughed again, his hand trailing down your stomach to find our mound as you sighed out in relief, the final gratitude you had been waiting for awarded as his thumb found your clit,” Y-yeah, perfect.”

Eddie laughed, dragging his thumb up and down your bundle of nerves, flicking it back and forth as your head fell into the crook of his neck, sweat lining your forehead and lips as you sucked onto his skin, not wanting him to hear your wanton moans as his finger rubbed against your slick entrance. He prodded at the skin of your inner thigh, teasing and testing the waters as he looked up for your approval. You gave him a small nod, your breath hitching as his cold rings dragged up the burning sensation of your pussy, something you longed for him to do again even though the first time was a total accident.

“You’re so wet, f-fuck,” He muttered, eyes in a trance as he watched his fingers disappear inside your pussy, groaning instantly at the way you clamped down needily on him, his fingers coming out glistening each time he went back to pump them in, “And so tight, fuck, let me know if it hurts, yeah sweetheart?” You nod limply against him, your hands cradling his neck, afraid to let go and become a total mess as he finger fucked you.

“Mhm…” You hummed, your hot lips pressing up against him, your hands playing and tugging on his curls as he huffed out a groan, “Fuck, f-faster Eddie, it feels so g-good, mm!” Your eyes snap open when he adds another finger, his thumb still on your clit as you moan loudly at the feeling.

“Shhh,” He said, clamping his free hand over his mouth as you rid his hand, his palm glistening with your essence as he kisses your forehead the act too innocent and sweet for the way he was ruining you, “Don’t want others to hear…do you?” He tilted his head, his answer rhetorical as you shook your head, not even knowing what you really wanted, “Or maybe you do…want people to hear the way you’re being absolutely fucking ruined, yeah? To see their little cheerleader soaked?”

He adds in his third finger, stretching you out, his motions never seizing and you feel like you're about to burst all on his hand when he stops. Your eyes snap open, whining as your climax dies down, and Eddie can only offer you a grin as he carefully slides you off of him, falling to the food as he lets you get comfortable on the couch as he lewdly spreads your legs open for him, his eyes darkening as he takes in your wet pussy.

“Fuck,” He moaned, whining as he glances up at you, “You’re so fucking pretty.” And it really shouldn’t make you heat up in the way that it did after everything he’s done to you, but you can’t help the warmth that quickly spreads through your chest.

He kisses your thighs, all the way up to your pulsing cunt as he smiles against your clit, giving little licks to the nub as your legs shake in his vice grip.

“F-fuck, Munson, h-holy shit…” You can barely speak as he continues, replacing his mouth with his finger as his tongue moves down to your pussy, his nose nudging at your folds as your words edge him on.

You move against his face, your wetness staining his lips and chin as you grind up and down, his tongue working at a faster pace than your hips can go as you tug his head even impossibly closer to your heat, guiding him where you wanted him most as he kneads the meat of your thigh.

His tongue is so skilled, his finger working on your clit as your climax quickly approaches and it’s not long until your back is arching on the sofa, your eyes squeezed shut as you see white, gushing all over his pretty face as your chest heaves with labored breaths.

When he pulls away you can see the sick that lines his face, glowing in the dim light of the room as you sling your arm over your face in embarrassment, groaning as he laughed, pulling himself up by the arm of the couch as he pecks your lips, his thumbs rubbing at your cheeks as he tries to coax you to let him see you.

“There you go,” He murmurs, fingers hovering over your cheekbones as he sees your fucked out and embarrassed smile, “Prettiest eyes in the goddamn world.” You turn your head to the side, swatting at his chest as he laughs along to your adorable reaction.

“You’re a lot of bark no bite,” You whisper, turning back so that you were facing him, your fingers trailing around his chin and jaw, pulling him closer as you kiss him, biting down on his swollen lip as he grunts in surprise, smiling as you run your hands along his back and up to his neck.

“Really?”

You would have argued with him that he was, that he liked seeing you flustered but did nothing about it but he never let you because he pushed himself into you in one thrust, the size of him making you choke on your words.

“F-fuck!” Your nails dig into his shoulder, and he hisses at the way you clamp down on him, “E-Eddie! S’big, f-fuck, you’re so big,” You wail, whining as his head falls into your shoulder, kissing your neck in his own form of an apology as his hands steady themselves on your hips.

“No bite, remember?” He murmurs and you would have pushed him at the audacity, but you could barely move as he slowly began to pull out of you, his tip still feeling your flutter around him as he pushes back in, your head thumping against the wall as he holds you tightly to him, moving you up and down on his dick as he pleased.

“S’tight, f-fuck, you’re m-milinkg me right now,” He groaned as he felt your heat wrap around him, the sinful smell of both sweat and sex swirling around your intertwined bodies as he got high off of it all.

His eyes rolled back into his skull in immediate pleasure as your nails left angry marks down his back, your walls fluttering beautifully around him as he continued to fuck you, rough but gentle in a way as he moved one of his hands up to the back of your head so that it didn’t hit the wall.

“Eds, please, please, hmmm…” You whined as he quickened his pace, his cock twitching inside of you as his brow lined with sweat. He watched as he disappeared back inside of you with every thrust, your slick staining his dick as he moaned at the sight.

“Shit, shit, you’re so fucking hot right now, I’m, oh my fucking god - you’re so tight…” His hands aggressively groped your breasts, and the two of you could feel how he stuttered, his hips faltering as he was getting closer and closer to his edge. And with the way you could barely let go of him, your hand trailing down your stomach to circle at your clit, you could feel your seconds release creeping up on you.

“Eddie! E-Eddie holy fuck, d-don’t stop, please! I’m going to - I’m going to c-cum oh fuck…” And you trialed off as the words slurred, your eyes rolling back, your mouth hanging open as your tongue rolled out, all of it rolling off of you as Eddie pulled out, coming all over your naked chest with a loud groan, falling onto you as the two of you tried to catch your breaths.

Your hand finds its way into his mess of curls, pulling them out of his face as you lean down, cupping his cheeks as you sloppily kiss him, overcome with a mix of euphoria and emotions as he chuckles into it.

You giggle as he pecks your lips once again, pulling back as he flicks your forehead, his eyes squeezing shut momentarily as he tries to pull his boxers up before he gets another hard-on by just staring at your tits.

“Can’t feel my dick right now.” He murmurs as he steadies himself, not missing how you snorted as he ruined the tender moment. He went to stand up before he momentarily behinds over, kissing your forehead as he smiths out your tears, kissing the corner of your eyes as he looks around the room for your clothes.

He finds your skirt and then your uniform, his nose wrinkling as he touched the scratchy material, feeling bad that this is what you’d have to wear after he just fucked you.

“Wait…” He turned around, going to the little closet in the back room, opening it up as he rummaged around old leather jackets and ripped jeans, his eyes widening in happiness as he found a comfortable enough looking shirt, (surely more comfortable than whatever that was).

He turned around to see you already tugging your panties and skirt back up, and he held up his finding, his face gleaming with pride as he waited for you to look up. When you finally did your eyes narrowed in confusion, mid-putting your bra on as your head tilted to the side as he wiggled the shirt around by the hanger.

“This looks a bit more comfier than your uniform, no?” He says, now nervous that he had taken a step too far into whatever had just happened, his smiling dropping as his hand fell, going to put it back, his mouth opening in an already forming apology before you ran over to him, taking the shirt into your hands as you grinned up innocently at him.

“You’re such a saint,” You take it from him, setting the hanger back in the closet as you tug the old band shirt over your chest, nodding as you smile contently. This was definitely better than your uniform, “Thanks, Munson.”

Eddie stammers, nodding his head as he mutters out a quiet no problem, not able to keep his eyes off of you as you try to tug your shoes back on.

“So…” Your hand's fiddle with each other, looking back to him as you give him an awkward smile, the air around you two heating up as his gaze follows the marks he sucked onto your skin, his bite marks, and everything that wasn’t covered up by the shirt and your skirt almost made him go feral again, “You still owe me a lesson.”

His brows furrow until he laughs, remembering just what started it all as he nods, tucking his hair behind his hair as he moves around something with the tip of his boot.

“Yeah, well, for my expertise, it’s gonna cost you, sweetheart. Can’t be giving away my secrets if I’m not getting rewarded for it.” You scoff, rolling your eyes as you play with the hem of your skirt, suddenly away from how soft his eyes looked in the afternoon glow and that he had the most kissable lips you’d ever seen.

“Oh yeah…?” You laugh, your cheeks tugging up as he mirrors you, the distance between the two of you becomes smaller and smaller as each of you takes a tentative step forward, still new to whatever this was, but still yearning for more.

“Yeah,” He grinned, twirling his rings around as he shrugged, “Otherwise you’d just be robbing me blind.”

You smile like an idiot, standing on your toes, your hand cradling his cheek as you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, a reminder of what had just happened minutes ago as his hand curled to your back, not wanting to let you go even as you slowly pulled away.

“Think that would count as a downpayment?”

He pretends to think about it, his hands rubbing the back of your neck as he slowly nods. His rings clink against each other as they rub against your flaming skin, working both to cool you down but also rile you back up.

“It’s a start.”

“I’ll take it, hellfire.” And he smiles against your lips at the nickname, kissing your cheeks and forehead as he wonders who he appeased that’s working up there to give him such a miracle, to have you the most sought-out girl in your high school to be giddily laughing away in his arms as though you two had known each other for long. You kiss his nose, going to pull away when a loud knock interrupts you, both of you freezing in your spots as your necks snap over to the door.

“Hey, uh - Eddie? Is that you, man? Listen, it’s Casper. My shows in a couple of minutes and I f-forgot my headband there. I told you how it’s my good luck charm, right? A-anyways, I really don’t want to interrupt your hanky-panky time, really. But bro, please, for the love of god, don't have your dick out when I come in."

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