#there were more people there but that’s all I can remember
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La Regina
Happy Nation: A Series of Standalone Fics
Charles Leclerc x Schumacher!Reader
Summary: a girl raised at her father’s knee goes from rising star to princess to queen (or in which becoming a legend runs in the Schumacher family)
You bounce excitedly in the passenger seat of your papa’s car as he pulls into the parking lot of the karting track. At 5-years-old, you’re too young to race officially, but he promised to let you drive some practice laps after the scheduled competition today.
“Remember, Maus, listen closely to the instructors and stay safe out there,” Michael says, ruffling your hair affectionately before getting out.
You scramble out after him, having to jog to keep up with his long strides across the parking lot. You reach to take his hand, but freeze when a small crowd starts converging around your papa. Men in bright vests are rushing over, cameras flashing rapidly.
“Whoa, what’s going on?” You ask, startled by the commotion.
Before Michael can respond, a curly-haired woman thrusts a baby into his arms. “Oh my god, can you just hold her for one second? I need a picture!”
Your papa looks bewildered but graciously cradles the infant, giving an awkward smile as more and more people start shoving pieces of paper and pens in front of him.
“Excuse me, please, I have my daughter with me today,” he tries saying over the chaos, but no one is listening.
You shrink back, overwhelmed by the pushing crowd and flurry of voices pleading for autographs and photos. Where did all these people come from? This has never happened before when you’ve gone karting with your papa.
Sensing your unease, Michael gently passes the baby back to its mother and kneels down in front of you. “Hey, it’s okay, Maus. Why don’t you wait for me over there?” He gestures to a bench off to the side.
Part of you wants to cling to him, scared of all the strangers crowding around so aggressively. But you also don’t want him to have to worry about you on top of everything else. You nod bravely and make your way through the throng to the little bench, watching apprehensively as your papa tries politely handling the requests.
After what feels like forever, the crowd finally starts dispersing, though a few linger behind like stubborn cats begging for scraps. Michael shakes the last few hands and accepts some papers to sign before gratefully escaping over to you.
“I’m so sorry about that, Maus,” he says, looking apologetic as he plops down on the bench. “I didn’t expect such a scene on what’s supposed to be our fun day.”
“It’s okay, Papa.” You lean against his side, still a bit rattled but comforted by his familiar warmth. “Who were all those people? Why did they want your … uhh …“ You can’t quite remember the word for the scribbles people ask famous people for.
“Autographs,” Michael supplies with an amused chuckle, wrapping an arm around you. “And they wanted photos too, I suppose. I’m … well, I’m quite a famous racecar driver.”
You cock your head, trying to process this concept of your papa being some kind of celebrity. As far as you’re concerned, he’s just your goofy, loving dad who takes you karting and makes the silliest voices for all your stuffed animals at home.
“Really? Like the famous famous people on TV?” You’ve seen the paparazzi swarming the actors and musicians during awards shows, but you’d never imagined that could happen to your own papa.
Michael nods, drawing you closer with a squeeze. “Yes, somewhat like that, though it’s a bit excessive at a small karting event.” He laughs again and brushes some of your wayward hair from your face. “But you’re right, to you I’m just Papa. I don’t expect anything more from my favorite Maus.”
You beam at the affectionate nickname, all the earlier stress melting away. Who cares if strangers want your papa’s autograph or photos? All that matters is you two spending the day together like always.
“Can we go get our karts now?” You ask eagerly, bouncing a little on the bench. “I want to show you how fast I can go!”
“Of course!” Michael jumps up and scoops you into his arms with a playful growl, making you shriek giddily. “My little speed demon is going to leave me in the dust.”
He swings you up onto his shoulders and you cling on tightly as he strides toward the pit area. A few more people spot him and make a move closer with cameras and sharpies extended, but seem to think better of it when they see you perched up high.
The two of you spend the next couple hours karting together, trading places taking warm up laps and cheering each other on. At one point, a young attendant working the pit area approaches Michael somewhat nervously.
“Um, excuse me, Mr. Schumacher?” He’s clutching a crumpled baseball cap in one hand, ducking his head shyly. “I’m just such a huge fan, would you mind taking a photo and signing this for me after your session?”
Your papa smiles kindly at the young man and takes the cap. “Not at all, no problem.” As the attendant walks away, looking elated, Michael turns to you with a wink. “See? That’s how you politely ask for an autograph.”
You giggle and mime zipping your lips. “Don’t worry, Papa, I won’t let the fame go to my head when I’m a famous racecar driver too someday.”
Scooping you up once more, Michael presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek. “That’s my girl. Now, last few laps — let’s see who can go the fastest without ending up in the grass!”
As evening starts falling, the two of you make your way back through the now nearly deserted lot after returning the rental karts. Most of the other karters have cleared out, leaving just you two strolling unhurriedly back to the car.
“Well Maus, despite the, uh, overexcited fans, I’d call this day a success,” Michael says, swinging your joined hands idly. “We both had our fun on the track, and I think you handled that crowd back there like a champ.”
You smile up at him, still so proud just to be his daughter. “I don’t care about all those other people, papa. As long as I have you, that’s all I need.”
Stopping beside the car, Michael crouches down and cups your face in his calloused racing palms, looking at you with such fierce adoration.
“Maus, you have me, always. No matter what happens out there,” he gestures vaguely at the empty track, “When I’m with you, I’m just Papa. My greatest accomplishment, my biggest award, is being your father. Verstanden?”
You launch yourself into his arms, hugging as tightly as you can. “Verstanden, Papa. I love you.”
“Ich liebe dich mehr, Maus,” he murmurs, pressing his cheek to your hair. “Now, what do you say we go get some victory ice cream?”
As the two of you climb into the car, you can’t keep the smile off your face, practically glowing with contentment. Sure, maybe your papa is some big famous racecar driver that everybody wants a piece of. But really, he’s just your papa — and you’re his whole world.
***
The ringing of the house phone cuts through the tense silence like a knife. You shrink further into the couch cushions as your mother rushes to answer it, shoulders visibly taut.
“Hello? No, I cannot make any comment at this time. Yes, I understand there is interest but-” Corinna breaks off, rubbing her temples wearily. “Please respect our privacy as a family right now. Thank you.”
She hangs up and leans against the wall, eyes slipping shut for a brief moment. Before she can even draw a full breath, the phone rings again, shrill and insistent. With a muffled curse, your mother snatches it up.
“What? I told you, I cannot give any statements! This is a private matter. How did you even get this number?”
You watch apprehensively as she responds again, her voice rising in distress. In the days since your papa’s skiing accident, it seems like the entire world has been hounding your family, desperate for any scrap of information.
On the TV across the room, the endless cycle of news reports drones on lowly. Images of your papa’s broken, still body being rushed from the slopes into a helicopter. Flashing advancer texts speculating on his chances of recovery from the traumatic head injury.
It makes you feel ill.
Beside you on the couch, Mick sits blank-faced, looking nearly as pale and worn as your mother. At 14, he understands the gravity of the situation all too well. Your big brother has always idolized your papa, hoping to follow in his racing footsteps one day as well. The thought of him not being there to see the realization of that dream is devastating.
Gina is curled up in the armchair, her shoulders shaking every so often with muffled sobs. At 16, she’s arguably been taking this the hardest of all you kids. She keeps her face stoically dry in front of your mother, but you can see how red and puffy her eyes are from constant crying.
As for you, at 11-years-old, you’re somehow both numb and feeling everything all at once. Part of you still can’t fully process that this nightmare is real. That your hero, your papa, could be lying comatose in a hospital, hovering between life and death. The other part of you is overwhelmed in a tsunami of terror, panic, anger, sadness — any and every emotion crashing through you at all hours.
“Kids, I’m so sorry about this,” your mother says, defeated, as she rejoins you in the living room after ending her latest call. The bags under her eyes seem to have deepened further overnight. “I know this is incredibly difficult and intrusive. But your papa is … he’s a public figure. People are concerned.”
“Incredibly insensitive is what they’re being,” Gina spits, uncurling herself from the chair enough to shoot your mother a resentful look. “We’re going through actual hell and all these people care about is getting a sound bite for the evening news!”
Corinna looks pained but doesn’t rebuke her. “I know, liebling, I know. But your papa has millions of fans all over the world who have followed his career for decades. Whether we like it or not, they care about him … and about us by extension.”
You think back to that day at the karting track all those years ago when you first realized your papa was what people called “famous”. How all those strangers clamored around him so aggressively just for a photo or an autograph. That level of fandom seemed exciting and novel at the time, when you were just a naïve 5-year-old. Now you see it for how intrusive and violating it is, this sense of entitlement people have to the private life of a public figure.
The phone starts ringing again, shattering the fragile quiet. Your mother squeezes her eyes shut and makes no move to get it this time. After four rings, the call goes to voicemail. A moment later, the tinny sound of an Italian voicemail being left blares through the speaker.
“Scusi, scusi, please, if there is any update on the condition of the great Michael Schumacher, any information at all! We are all holding vigils and saying prayers, but we must know how he fares! The world is watching and waiting!”
The words, pleading and demanding all at once, are like a slap across your face. The man’s voice is laced with such desperation, as if your papa’s life is mere entertainment to be consumedby the masses. You feel abruptly furious, incensed that a stranger’s morbid curiosity is given the same weight as your family’s anguish.
“Turn it off,” Mick mutters through clenched teeth, hunching over on the couch. “Just turn it off, Mama.”
Corinna nods numbly and reaches to end the voicemail, her mouth set in a grim line. Buzzing fills the room again as the TV drones on, the reporters’ voices a dull roar that you can no longer discern actual words from as your ears ring with white noise.
The shrill ringing of the phone cuts through once more, like a record scratching in your brain. Your mother flinches violently, hands coming up to clamp over her ears as she squeezes her eyes shut, finally at her breaking point.
Unable to watch this torture anymore, you surge to your feet and storm across the living room. You rip the phone from its cradle and hurl it against the far wall, the plastic casing shattering loudly. The ringing blessedly ends, leaving only an eerie silence in its wake.
Mick and Gina stare at you with wide, stunned eyes. Your mother simply deflates, sliding down the wall to the floor as the adrenaline drains from her body. For several beats, no one dares breathe too loudly. Then, Gina starts to shake her head slowly, tears slipping free.
“Brava,” she murmurs, the barest hint of approval in her voice.
Your mother doesn’t scold you for the outburst. She merely reaches out a hand, silently beckoning you closer until you slowly cross the room again and sink to your knees in front of her. She cups your face in her palms, her own cheeks glistening with fresh tears.
“You’re right, liebling, you’re right,” she whispers brokenly. “This is about our family, not … not the world thinking they’re owed something.”
She pulls your head against her shoulder and you cling to her tightly as she begins to weep in earnest, great shuddering sobs wracking her whole frame. Gina scrambles over and tucks herself against your mother’s other side, and soon all three of you are tangled in each other’s arms, letting the tidal wave of grief crest over you.
Mick stays frozen on the couch, watching over your huddle with dark, haunted eyes. For the first time since this ordeal began, the four of you are united in simply feeling, truly letting yourselves shatter. No more putting on brave faces or pretending to be okay — from this moment, you can finally grieve as a family behind closed doors, blockading out the rest of the cruel, prying world.
Later that evening, after crying yourselves into an exhausted stupor, you drift up the stairs and sequester yourself in your bedroom. You bypass the framed photos of your papa on your nightstand, the sight of his bright smile and twinkling eyes too searing at the moment. Instead, you sink to your knees in the middle of the floor and clasp your hands tightly, bowing your head to murmur desperate pleas.
“Please, please let my papa be okay. I don’t care about all his fame or the stupid reporters. I just want him to get better and come home to us. He’s not just the famous Michael Schumacher to me. He’s Papa. He’s my whole world.”
The words spill out in a torrent, all the fear and longing you’ve been bottling up for the better part of a week erupting forth. You plead to any higher power that may be listening, bargaining away your future, your dreams, anything — as long as your papa pulls through this nightmare.
How many times had you taken for granted those moments of him just being your dad — making you pancakes on Saturday mornings, dozing on the couch during family movie nights, playfully tossing you into the pool when you grew too whiny in the summer heat? You’d give anything to have those simple, precious daddy-daughter moments back.
“The world can have his trophies and titles,” you whisper fiercely, tears slipping free to patter on the carpet. “I don’t care about any of that. I just want my papa. Please, please bring him back to us.”
You curl in on yourself, forehead pressing into the floor as your shoulders shake with silent sobs. All the adoring fans, the fawning media, the hangers-on clamoring for a piece of his glory — they only know the manufactured public persona of Michael Schumacher, legendary racer and famous celebrity. But to you, he’s always just been the quiet hero tucking you into bed at night, the gentle presence reading stories in funny voices, the mighty protector pulling you in for all-encompassing bear hugs.
You miss that wonderful, silly, tender father more than anything in the world. You don’t give a damn about his racing accolades or his fame. You just desperately need your papa back home where he belongs — with his family, the people who loved and treasured him most as simply Michael.
Just Michael. Your one and only papa.
The raw ache of that longing consumes you utterly. You lay there amid the fading light from your bedroom windows, dreams and memories of your papa flickering behind your eyelids as you plead to any benevolent force that may be listening. All you want is the chance to make more joyful memories with him, to hear his rich laugh, to keep basking in his unconditional love for years and years to come.
Please, you beg the universe silently, one last time. Please let this nightmare end. Don’t let the brightest light in my world be extinguished before its time.
Let me have my papa back.
***
A tense hush has fallen over the dining room table, the clinking of utensils against plates the only sound cutting through the thick silence. Gina avoids everyone’s eyes, pushing food around her plate listlessly. Mick stares down at his half-eaten dinner, jaw working like he’s chewing over something weighty. You pick at a bread roll, too knotted with anxiety to muster much appetite.
Your mother is the one to finally break the stifling quiet, clearing her throat. “Kids, I know these last few weeks have been … incredibly difficult for us all.”
You risk a glance up at Corinna. Her eyes are tight at the corners, her mouth a taut line. Just like all of you, the constant vigil at your papa’s bedside, combined with the relentless badgering from the media, has clearly taken its toll.
“But we have to keep trying to be a family, yes?” She reaches across the table to grip your hand. “We’re all Michael has right now. We have to … to stick together for him.”
You nod numbly, swallowing hard around the lump in your throat at the reminder of your papa’s unchanged condition. The waiting, the not knowing if or when he’ll wake up, is a special kind of torment you wouldn’t wish on anyone.
Mick abruptly shoves his plate away, the porcelain scraping loudly across the wood. You all flinch a little at the harsh sound.
“I’ve been thinking ...” he starts, then seems to reconsider his words, shoulders tightening fractionally. “Well, Y/N, you know how I … how I race under Mama’s last name?”
You frown slightly, uncertain where he’s going with this. “Betsch, yes. Because you wanted to make your own name without the expectation and pressure of being Michael Schumacher’s son.”
He dips his chin once, looking almost pained. “Exactly. And I think … I think maybe you should consider doing the same.”
The words sit heavy and convolulenting between you all like a sack of wet cement. You blink dumbly, hardly comprehending what he’s suggesting at first. When the implication hits you, you actually recoil as if he’d slapped you across the face.
“What? No. No, absolutely not, Mick. How can you even say that?”
“Y/N, just hear me out,” he pleads, holding up his hands in a calming gesture. “With Papa … with what happened, the paparazzi and the fans, they’re going to be watching our every move even more than before. Especially you since you’re planning to continue competing-”
“Don’t you dare make this about his condition,” you spit, fury thrumming through your veins like struck lightning. “And of course I plan to keep racing — it’s what Papa would want! I’m not going to hide from his name like it’s some shameful thing!”
Gina is watching the exchange with wide, startled eyes, her food forgotten. Mick runs an agitated hand through his hair, shaking his head firmly.
“It’s not about hiding or shame, it’s about protecting yourself! Don’t you see how crazy things have gotten? All the reporters harassing us, the fans leaving awful messages online hoping for updates ...”
He leans forward, expression almost desperate. “If you race as Betsch, you can compete without having that extra spotlight. You can just be a normal kid on the track without people peering in.”
Heat rushes up the back of your neck in waves of humiliation and rage. How dare he insinuate that inheriting your papa’s legacy is some kind of burden to be shrugged off? That the name Schumacher is a burden to bear rather than a badge of honor?
“I’m not you, Mick,” you bite out, fists clenching beneath the table. “Maybe racing under Mama’s name helped you deal with the pressure better and that’s fine. But I’m proud to be Michael Schumacher’s daughter! And if people can’t respect that, if they think it means they own a piece of me, then they can go to hell!”
“Language!” Your mother gasps, both appalled and slightly impressed. But you ignore her admonishment, too fired up to rein it in now.
“What, you think pretending to be someone else is going to spare me from living in Papa’s shadow anyway?” You shake your head adamantly, leaning across the table towards Mick. “It’s not, and you know it. Even if I raced under a fake name, everyone is still going to know exactly who I am and make comparisons.”
Slamming your palms on the table, you surge to your feet, chair screeching harshly against the floor. All the pain and uncertainty of these past few weeks is bubbling over into bitter, biting words.
“So why should I hide it? Why can’t I take pride in my name and my heritage? Maybe it’ll mean more scrutiny, but it’s a million times better than feeling like I have to be ashamed! Like I can’t fully honor Papa and make him proud!”
Chest heaving, you stare down a wide-eyed Mick, almost daring him to challenge you further. He seems to read the conviction blazing in your eyes, features softening into chagrin.
“You’re right ...” he murmurs with a wince. “You’re right, Y/N, I’m sorry. That was out of line.”
You hold his repentant gaze for a long moment before deflating back into your chair with a muted thud. In the ringing silence, you can hear your mother’s soft sniffles from the far end of the table. When you look over, she has her head bowed, hands pressed to her eyes as she cries quietly.
“M-Mama?” Gina ventures in a small voice, reaching across to grasp her mother’s wrist. “What’s wrong?”
Corinna lowers her hands, swiping at the tears streaking her cheeks. When she meets your bewildered gaze, her expression is a complicated brew of pride and heart-wrenching sadness.
“Nothing is wrong, liebling,” she assures Gina with a watery smile, before turning back to you. “Y/N, you’re so much like your papa, do you know that? So brave and determined … so full of that same fighting spirit.”
She dips her chin, lips trembling faintly. “He would be so proud to hear you defend his name like that. To see you ready to take on the weight of wearing it, regardless of what the world throws at you.”
More tears spill forth, but she brushes them away impatiently with the backs of her hands.
“But liebchen, you have to understand … Michael spent decades bearing that scrutiny and expectation. People analyzing his every move, always under a spotlight so harsh it burned. I never wanted that for any of you.”
Sliding her chair back, your mother crosses to kneel before you, cradling your face gently between her palms. Her eyes are shining but intensely serious, almost pleading with you.
“The Schumacher name casts such a long shadow, one so great that your own light can be eclipsed before you ever have a chance to properly shine. I don’t want you smothered by that burden, mein schatz. I want you free to make your own amazing mark on this world, completely unchained.”
You feel your throat grow tight at her words, the weight of them ringing so true and terribly sad. You reach up to circle your fingers around her wrists, holding her hands to your cheeks like vices.
“I know, Mama, I know,” you whisper roughly. “But that light you want me to shine? Papa is the one who sparked it inside me in the first place.”
You meet her watery gaze steadily, willing her to understand the conviction taking root inside you.
“The joy and passion I have for racing doesn’t come from some anonymous dream. It comes from him — from the nights he spent giving me a play-by-play of his biggest victories, from the days we spent at the karting tracks making memories, from everything I want so desperately to honor.”
Leaning forward until your brows nearly touch, you let the pleasing words spill out directly from your heart.
“So please, please don’t ask me to race as anyone other than your daughter, yes, but also proudly as Michael Schumacher’s daughter. That name isn’t a burden or a shadow to me. It’s something I want to carry forward and make blaze even brighter.”
Your mother’s eyes slip shut as she draws in a shuddering breath. For a long moment, she simply holds your face cradled in her palms, seeming to bask in your impassioned words. When her eyes finally open again, they are overflowing with a fierce tenderness.
“Oh liebchen,” she murmurs, voice thick with an odd mix of grief and wonder. “You are your father’s daughter through and through. So determined, so unafraid to face the world head on ...”
She strokes her thumbs along the apples of your cheeks, swiping away the dampness there. “I only hope he knows just how brightly his fire still burns in you. How it is living on in the most brilliant way.”
Surging up onto her knees, your mother pulls you into a fierce embrace, tucking your head beneath her chin. You cling to her tightly, drawing strength from her warmth, her tireless support and love. Over her shoulder, you can see Mick and Gina watching silently, their own eyes overly bright.
When your mother finally leans back, cupping your face once more, her expression has regained some of its usual firmness and resolution.
“Very well, then,” she nods, offering you a watery but determined smile. “If you truly feel ready to take on the world, to claim that name and legacy as yours, then we will face it together. As a family.”
She rises lithely to her feet, drawing you up along with her. Gathering Mick and Gina in with the sweep of her arms, she folds you all in her protective embrace, holding your foreheads together in the center.
“You may be Schumachers, but that name does not define or limit you,” she declares, quiet but firm. “It is simply one part of your identity, one piece of the incredible legacy you inherited. What you choose to make of it, how brightly you make that legacy burn, is up to you alone.”
She pulls back just enough to meet each of your eyes in turn, her own gleaming with resolute pride.
“So let them watch, let them scrutinize and sneer and make their judgments. You will simply keep chasing your passions and living your truths. Yes, the world may know you as Schumachers, but you alone will define what that name represents, now and for generations to come.”
***
The roar of the engines fades as you cross the finish line, taking the chequered flag. The broadcast team erupts in excitement.
“Unbelievable! Y/N Schumacher has done it — the daughter of the legendary Michael Schumacher wins the Formula 2 championship in her rookie year!”
You can hardly believe it yourself as you start your cooldown lap, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The pit crew is cheering wildly, holding up the #1 sign. Your race engineer is on the radio, his voice cracking with joy. “You’re a champion, Y/N! A first-year champion!”
“What an incredible drive from the young German. Shades of her father with that relentless determination and racecraft. She’s carried on the Schumacher name proudly.”
As you return to the pit lane, you spot Mick getting out of his own car. He has a huge smile on his face, eyes shining with pride. You take a moment to drink it all in as you bring your car to a stop and he’s the first one there, ripping off your helmet so he can hug you tightly.
“You did it! I’m so proud of you!” He’s beaming as he pulls back to look at you.
“Aww, Mick ...” You blink back happy tears, overwhelmed by the magnitude of what you’ve accomplished. “I couldn’t have done it without you pushing me every single race.”
Mick shakes his head dismissively. “This was all you. You were the faster driver this season, plain and simple.” His face falls a little. “I really thought I had you there at the end, but you just wouldn’t give up.”
You grin cheekily. “Of course not! I’m a Schumacher — we never give up.”
“What a beautiful moment between the siblings. You can see the immense pride Mick has for his sister, despite coming up just short of winning the championship himself.”
The rest of the team surrounds the two of you, lifting you both up onto their shoulders as the celebrations kick into full gear. You lock eyes with Mick over the sea of smiling faces and he winks at you contentedly.
Later, after you’ve returned to the garage, you find a quiet moment alone with Mick. He pulls you into another hug, this one more lingering.
“I really am so happy for you, Y/N. You’ve worked so incredibly hard for this.” Mick’s voice is thick with emotion.
You squeeze him tightly. “Thank you, Mick. That means everything coming from you.”
He pulls back, cupping your face fondly. “I remember when we were kids, dreaming of following in Papa’s footsteps. And now look at us!”
You laugh, a few happy tears spilling over. “I know, it’s crazy! I couldn’t have done this without your help, you know. You’ve been by my side every step of the way.”
“A storybook ending for the Schumacher siblings. Y/N cementing herself as a future star, with her older brother not far behind.”
Mick shakes his head adamantly. “No, Y/N, this was all your talent and determination. I just got a front row seat to watching greatness in the making.” His eyes are shining with sincerity.
You throw your arms around his neck, struck by how lucky you are to have such an amazing brother. “I love you, Mick. Thank you for always believing in me.”
He hugs you fiercely. “I’ll always believe in you. You’re a champion now, but I know this is just the beginning for you.”
The team arrives then, champagne bottles in hand and ready to continue the celebration. You pull back and grin at Mick mischievously, cracking open the first bottle with a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you … for now.”
The bubbly liquid sprays everywhere as you both dissolve into laughter, reveling in this perfect moment of sibling bonding and love. Mick pulls you into a wet hug, so proud and grateful to share this with you.
“And an iconic image — the Schumacher children celebrating a Formula 2 title just like their father did in the upper series so many times before. A changing of the guard, with the name Schumacher set to dazzle racing fans once more for years to come.”
Later that night, after you’ve showered off the champagne and slipped into comfy clothes, there’s a soft knock at your hotel room door. You open it to find Mick standing there, shifting awkwardly.
“Hey, you’ve got a second?” His eyes are slightly red-rimmed, like he’s been crying.
“Of course, what’s up?” You gesture him inside, concerned by his demeanor.
Mick enters slowly, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie. He seems to be struggling to find the words.
You rest a hand on his arm. “Mick, you can tell me anything, you know that.”
He nods jerkily, finally meeting your eyes. “I really am so happy for you, Y/N. You have no idea how much it means to me to see you accomplishing your dreams.” His voice catches with emotion.
“But?” You prod gently.
Mick’s eyes water again. “But … it’s also really hard for me. This was my dream first, you know? To become a champion like Papa.” He swipes at the tears angrily. “And now you’ve beaten me to it. I’m just … I’m struggling with that a bit.”
Your heart clenches at his quiet admission. You pull Mick into a tight hug, rubbing his back soothingly. “Oh, Mick … I’m so sorry. I never wanted to take that away from you.”
He shakes his head against your shoulder. “No, no, it’s not your fault at all. You earned this, fair and square. I’m just … dealing with some complicated emotions, I guess.”
You push him back by the shoulders, looking him straight in the eyes intently. “Mick, listen to me. You are one of the most naturally gifted drivers I’ve ever seen. This is not the end for you, not even close. You’re going to be a champion too, I know it.”
Mick seems to deflate slightly at your words, the tension easing from his shoulders. “You really think so?”
“I know so,” you state firmly. “We’re going to take this to the top level together. And we’re going to make Papa even more proud than he already is.”
A slow smile spreads across Mick’s face. “Together,” he repeats, reaching out to take your hand and give it a squeeze.
You squeeze back reassuringly. “Always together. You and me, just like when we were kids. We’re a team, remember?”
Mick nods, the brightness returning to his eyes. He seems lighter now, the melancholy cloud lifted by your words of encouragement.
On impulse, you throw your arms around him again, nearly knocking him over with the force of your hug. Mick laughs delightedly, squeezing you just as tightly.
“Thank you, Y/N. I needed to hear that from you,” he murmurs shakily into your hair.
You pull back just enough to grin at him cheekily. “What are little sisters for?”
Mick lets out a surprised bark of laughter, warmth and affection shining from every part of his expression as he gazes at you fondly. “You’ll always be my little sis, champion or not.”
It’s your turn to laugh, swatting at his chest playfully. “Well this little sis just kicked your ass this season, so show some respect!”
Mick’s eyes crinkle with mirth. “I’ll remember that for next year, believe me.”
***
It’s a crisp autumn evening at the Schumacher family home in the Swiss Alps. You’re curled up on the plush couch in the living room, flipping through a magazine while your brother paces back and forth anxiously.
“Will you please sit down?” You ask, eyeing him over the top of the pages. “You’re making me dizzy.”
Mick runs a hand through his tousled blond hair. “Sorry, I’m just … worked up, I guess.”
You set the magazine aside. “About what? We haven’t had a race in weeks.”
He stops his pacing to face you. “You know the season’s almost over, right? And Haas still hasn’t said anything about re-signing me for next year.”
“Oh, Mick.” You offer him a sympathetic look. “I’m sure it’s just a matter of time. You’ve had a solid season.”
Mick flops down next to you, deflating a little. “I don’t know. There are so many other options on the table. What if Haas decides to go a different direction?”
“Then you’ll find another seat,” you say firmly. “Any team would be lucky to have you behind the wheel.”
He manages a half-smile. “Thanks. I just wish I had your confidence sometimes.”
“What can I say?” You flash him a cheeky grin. “It’s a gift.”
The peaceful moment is shattered as both of your phones start ringing in unison. You exchange a puzzled look before digging them out.
“My manager,” Mick says, furrowing his brow as he answers. “Hello?”
You do the same, pressing the phone to your ear. “Hey, Nicolas, what’s up?”
For the next few minutes, you and Mick are silent, listening intently with rapidly changing expressions — yours elated, his crestfallen. When you finally hang up, Mick is staring at the floor, lips pressed into a tight line.
“Well?” He asks, voice tight. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”
You take a deep breath, trying to tamp down your surging excitement. “Ferrari wants me for next season.”
Mick’s face falls even further, if possible. “You’re kidding.”
“I wouldn’t joke about this!” You can’t keep the grin from overtaking your features. “Can you believe it? Driving for the Scuderia! It’s a dream come true!”
“Yeah, for you maybe,” Mick mutters darkly.
You blink at his tone, smile fading slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He drags a hand down his face wearily. “Haas declined to re-sign me for next year.”
The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “What? No, that can’t be right!”
“Afraid so.” Mick’s voice is flat, resigned. “They said something about … needing to bring in fresh blood or some bullshit excuse.”
You scoot closer, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Mick, I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”
“Don’t be.” He tries for a nonchalant shrug, but it comes off as dejected. “At least one of us is moving up in the world.”
“Yeah, but at what cost?” You protest. “We’re teammates! We were supposed to take on Formula 1 together!”
Mick snorts humorlessly. “Looks like that’s not going to happen after all.”
An uncomfortable silence stretches between you. You open your mouth, searching for the right words of reassurance, but come up empty. How can you comfort him when your own dream has come true at his expense?
“Hey.” Mick’s somber tone breaks the quiet. “I’m happy for you, you know. Really, I am.”
You meet his sincere gaze, feeling your eyes start to well up. “I know. But that doesn’t make this any less shitty for you.”
He manages a rueful smile. “What can I say? I’m a realist.”
“So what are you going to do now?” You ask quietly.
Mick lets out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the couch cushions. “Keep grinding, I guess. Look for another seat, any seat, even if it’s not in F1 next season.”
“You can’t give up on F1!” You protest instantly. “You’re too good for that, Mick.”
“Am I, though?” He lets out a mirthless chuckle. “Face it, Y/N, you’ve always been the better driver. This just proves it.”
You shake your head adamantly. “That’s not true at all! You’re every bit as talented as me.”
“Then why did Ferrari pick you instead of me?” There’s no accusation in his words, just weariness.
You falter, mind churning as you search for an answer that won’t come. “I … don’t know.”
“Exactly.” Mick closes his eyes briefly. “Maybe it’s for the best. At least this way, one of us still gets to live out the Schumacher legacy and race for Ferrari. Carry on the family name, you know?”
“But you’re a Schumacher too,” you say, feeling your throat start to tighten with unshed tears. “It should be both of us out there, not just me.”
Mick reaches over to give your hand a comforting squeeze. “Hey, don’t cry about it. I’ll be okay, really.”
“How can you be so calm about this?” You swipe angrily at the moisture gathering in your eyes. “It’s not fair, Mick. It’s just not fair at all.”
He levels you with a look that’s decades older than his years. “Life rarely is. You know that as well as I do.”
You fall silent, unable to formulate a response. He’s right, you realize with a pang. The two of you, of all people, should understand that success and failure often go hand-in-hand, even for the most talented competitors.
Pursing your lips, you lean forward and pull Mick into a fierce hug. He tenses for a split second before wrapping his arms around you tightly.
“I’m still so proud of you,” you murmur into the crook of his neck. “No matter what happens, you’ll always be my incredible big brother.”
Mick lets out a shaky exhale against your hair. “And you’re the most badass little sister a guy could ask for. Ferrari has no idea what they’re in for.”
You pull back just far enough to meet his eyes, emboldened by the warm affection shining in them.
“Just promise me one thing?” You ask.
He arches an eyebrow quizzically. “What’s that?”
A mischievous grin tugs at your lips. “That you’re not going to take it easy on me whenever you’re back on the grid.”
***
You take a deep breath as you pull your sleek new Ferrari up to the iconic factory in Maranello. This place holds so many memories — some joyful, others bittersweet. Your father cemented himself as a legend here, and you can’t help but feel the weight of that legacy on your shoulders now more than ever.
The door swings open and there stands Fred Vasseur offering you a warm smile. “Y/N, welcome home.”
You return the smile, unable to mask the flood of emotions. “It’s good to be back, Fred.”
He gestures for you to follow him inside. “I’m sure this place brings back quite a few memories.”
“You have no idea,” you murmur, taking in the familiar sights and smells. The rosso corsa that coats every surface, the scent of machinery and high-octane fuel … it’s intoxicating.
A tiny you runs through the hallways, giggling madly as your frantic mother tries to catch up. “Mick! Y/N! Get back here this instant!”
Mick peeks out from behind a workbench, sticking his tongue out at Gina, who playfully swats at him. You spot the perfect hiding spot — a massive green recycling bin tucked in the corner ...
“Y/N? Are you still with me?” Fred’s voice breaks you from your reverie.
You shake your head. “Sorry, got a bit lost in thought there. This place just … feels like stepping into the past.”
Fred nods knowingly. “I can only imagine. But today is about your future with the team.” He leads you through the winding corridors, pointing out various departments. “Over here is aerodynamics, that hallway takes you to the design labs ...”
“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Your father’s voice echoes down the corridor, his tone playful but tinged with desperation. You stifle a giggle from your hiding spot as his footsteps draw closer.
“Michael, any luck?” That’s Paolo, one of the mechanics. You chance a peek and see half the team has been enlisted to search for you.
Your dad scrubs a hand over his face. “She’s too good at this game. Should’ve known better than to play hide-and-seek in a place this size.”
You chuckle softly at the memory, prompting a curious look from Fred. “Sorry, just … reminiscing again.”
He gives you an easy grin. “By all means, feel free to share. I’d love to hear some of those old stories.”
You take a breath, composing yourself before launching into the tale. “Well, there was this one time when I was maybe … four or five? Mick and I were causing an unholy ruckus as usual, and Papa suggested a game of hide-and-seek to wear us out. Big mistake on his part.”
Fred’s eyes crinkle with amusement. “Let me guess, you proved to be a master hider?”
“You could say that.” You grin mischievously. “I found this big recycling bin, crawled inside, and stayed completely silent while the whole team tore the place apart looking for me. Papa was just about to call in the overalls for backup when Paolo finally peeked in the bin.”
Fred throws his head back with a hearty laugh. “I can just picture your poor father’s face when they found you! He must’ve been both relieved and completely exasperated.”
You nod. “Oh, he wore that particular blend of emotions often when we were young terrors around here.”
The two of you continue chatting amicably as Fred shows you around the various facilities — the simulator room, the engine workshop, even the gym and physiotherapy center. With each new area unveiled, another flood of nostalgia washes over you.
You and Mick sprint into the wide-open workshop, engines and miscellaneous car pieces scattered all around. Gina is closing in, her longer legs giving her an advantage.
“Got you now, you little gremlins!” She scoops Mick up with one arm, then turns her sights on you.
You let out a shriek of laughter, dodging around a massive piece of equipment as your mother joins the chase. “Come here, Maus! It’s time for your nap!”
You shake your head furiously. “No nap! No nap!”
Corinna’s hand finally snags the back of your shirt, and you erupt into a fit of giggles as she pulls you into a hug ...
“That’s some smile you’ve got going there,” Fred notes with a wry grin. “I take it another happy memory?”
You give an embarrassed laugh. “Yeah, you could say that. Just … remembering how this place used to be our personal jungle gym. Mick, Gina, and I would run absolute loops around Mama while she tried to wrangle us for nap time.”
Fred chuckles fondly. “I can picture three tiny terrors leaving chaos in their wake.” His expression softens. “It must be incredibly special to be back here after all these years. To follow in your father’s footsteps like this.”
You swallow hard against the swell of emotions. “It’s … overwhelming, if I’m being honest. But in the best possible way.” You glance around at the familiar setting with new eyes. “These halls practically raised me. And now … now I get to write my own chapter here.”
Fred gives your shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “You’ve got a long road ahead, but I have complete faith you’ll make us all proud, Y/N.”
You straighten your shoulders, giving him a determined nod. “I’m ready.”
As you follow him further into the factory, you can’t help but revel in the rush of coming full circle. Yes, this team, this place, is indelibly woven into your childhood. But now … now it’s time to create new memories.
To race.
To win.
To become a legend.
***
The crowd outside the Ferrari headquarters swells as you emerge from the famous red doors for the first time as an official Scuderia Ferrari driver. Shouts and cheers erupt from every direction, fans pressing forward eagerly with pens and photos clutched in their hands.
“Over here, Y/N!”
“Un selfie, per favore!”
“Can you sign this for my daughter?”
You plaster on a polite smile, trying to graciously oblige as many autograph and photo requests as possible. But the throngs only grow more insistent, hands grabbing at you from all angles as the crowd closes in. Your heart races and you feel yourself starting to panic at the lack of personal space.
“Per favore, let her breathe!” An insistent voice cuts through the commotion in lightly accented Italian.
The crowd parts slightly as a familiar, lean figure pushes through — your new teammate. His green eyes meet yours with a reassuring look as he plants himself firmly by your side.
“Give her some space!” Charles barks out in English this time. “She can’t breathe!”
You shoot him a grateful glance as the fans reluctantly take a step back. Charles gently takes your arm and pulls you out of the scrum.
“Sorry about that,” he says with an apologetic smile, running a hand through his tousled brown hair. “I know how intense they can be around here.”
“No, thank you,” you reply earnestly. “I was about two seconds away from an anxiety attack.”
Charles chuckles. “Well, we can’t have the new driver cracking under pressure on day one.”
You make a face at his teasing remark. “Watch it, pretty boy.”
Laughing, Charles puts his arm around your shoulders in a friendly gesture. “Come on, I know just the place to escape the madness for a bit. Dinner’s on me.”
He guides you across the plaza and down a side street to a cozy trattoria — Ristorante Montana, known as the unofficial “Ferrari restaurant” frequented by team members. As you enter, a stout woman with a warm, welcoming smile emerges from the back.
“Ah, Charles! Welcome back. And this must be ...” Her eyes widen as they land on you. “Oh, la piccola principessa is all grown up!”
Flustered, you open your mouth to respond, but the woman has already swept you up in a tight embrace.
“Rossella, you’re smothering the poor girl!” A elderly man’s voice calls out in amused rebuke.
“Hush, Maurizio, and pour us some wine!” Rossella releases you and holds you at arm’s length, beaming. “Michael’s little girl, all woman now. I’ll never forget the first time your father brought you in here as a bambina.”
She gestures to a framed photo hanging on the wall of a much younger Rossella standing next to Michael, who is holding a grinning toddler — unmistakably you.
“He was so proud,” Rossella continues misty-eyed. “Just like I know he would be of you today, following in your father’s footsteps.”
You swallow hard, touched by the warm welcome and memory. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Charles watching you with a soft smile.
Rossella shifts gears abruptly, all business. “Now, what will you two have? The usual for you, Charles? And for you, la principessa, I insist you try the gnocchi al ragú. Just like my nonna used to make it.”
As Rossella whisks off to the kitchen, Maurizio appears with a bottle of deep red wine and two glasses.
“To new beginnings,” he toasts with a wink, pouring for you and Charles.
You raise your glass to clink against Charles’ with a smile. “New beginnings.”
Over pasta and wine, you and Charles fall into an easy rapport, bantering back and forth as the weight of the evening’s earlier stress dissipates. You find yourself repeatedly distracted by the dimpled grin that lights up his face whenever he laughs at one of your quips.
“So is this a regular hazing ritual you put all the rookies through?” You ask innocently. “Get them away from the crowds and ply them with wine so they’re too drunk to be nervous on day one?”
Charles barks out a laugh. “You’ve found me out! Although I do seem to recall my own initiation being a lot harder. Maybe I’m going soft in my old age.”
“Old age? You’re what …12?” You retort, eyes dancing with mirth.
The waiter arrives with the dessert menu, but Rossella shoos him away.
“No, no menu. I’m bringing you the tiramisu to share. My secret recipe.”
Charles groans in delight. “You’re a legend, Rossella.”
She pats his cheek affectionately before disappearing again. A comfortable silence falls between you and Charles as you each take a bite of the rich, velvety tiramisu.
“Mmmm, this is literally heaven,” you murmur happily.
Charles hums in agreement around another forkful.
Your eyes catch movement out of the corner and you turn to see Rossella returning, carrying a large framed photo under her arm. She sets it down on the empty chair next to you with a proud grin.
It’s a glamor shot of you from a recent photoshoot for Vogue Italia — hair and makeup impeccable, lips parted in a secret smile as you gaze directly at the camera.
Rossella rests a hand on your shoulder. “For me, bellissima? So we can hang la principessa right next to il padre.”
Touched, you take the proffered sharpie and scribble out a quick inscription before signing your name with a flourish at the bottom.
“Grazie mille,” Rossella breathes, throwing an arm around you to squeeze you against her ample frame. “You’ve made this old heart very happy tonight.”
When she finally releases you, you see Charles watching you both with a soft, almost wistful expression. You raise your eyebrows at him in question, but he just shakes his head with a smile.
As you and Charles prepare to depart, Rossella calls out once more. “You come back soon, eh principessa? I have more pictures to collect.”
You throw her a wink over your shoulder. “D’accordo, d’accordo. We’ll be back soon!”
Out on the street, you pause, conscious of the evening rapidly drawing to a close. You turn to Charles, studying him properly for the first time. His deep green eyes crinkle at the corners as he meets your gaze.
“Thank you,” you say sincerely. “Really. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t swooped in to rescue me back there.”
Charles shrugs nonchalantly, but his expression is kind. “We look out for our own in Ferrari. That’s what teammates are for, no?”
A beat passes, the momentary tension thickening between you. Then Charles seems to catch himself, clearing his throat.
“Anyway, I should let you get going before your handlers send out a search party. Need me to call you a car?”
“No, no I’m good,” you reply quickly, trying to mask your disappointment at the night ending. “My performance coach has the car around front.”
You start to turn away, then impulsively pivot back. Rising up on your toes, you throw your arms around Charles’ neck and pull him in for a brief, platonic hug.
“Seriously, thank you,” you murmur in his ear. “For everything.”
As you pull back, your faces are just inches apart. Charles’ eyes are warm, his gaze intense. For a dizzying moment, you’re certain he’s going to kiss you. Then just as suddenly, the moment passes and he steps back with a friendly smile.
“Anytime, princesse. I’ll see you bright and early next week for our first time running the SF-23 on the simulator.”
With a wink, he turns and saunters off down the street, hands shoved in his pockets in that effortlessly cool way of his. You let out a long breath, flustered and exhilarated all at once.
Your performance coach has indeed been waiting with the car, looking mildly concerned. “Everything alright?”
You flash her a bright smile, practically skipping to the car. “It is now, Mara. It absolutely is.”
Your first day as a Ferrari driver was certainly more than you bargained for. But as you settle into the plush leather seats, you can’t wipe the silly grin off your face. Something tells you this new chapter with the Scuderia is going to be an adventure — in more ways than one.
As Mara pulls away from the curb, you catch a final glimpse of Charles striding confidently down the street. Even from a distance, you can make out the dimpled smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
Leaning back against the headrest, you think back to the memory of his arm slung casually around your shoulders and sigh contentedly. Yes, you have a feeling this is just the beginning of what’s shaping up to be a very interesting partnership with Charles Leclerc.
***
Sebastian looks over the wine list, pretending to be engrossed in selecting the perfect vintage as he peers over the top of the menu. His eyes are fixated on the entrance to the upscale Italian restaurant, waiting for Charles and you to arrive.
This had better work, he thinks to himself. The two of you have been making googly eyes at each other for months now, but are both too stubborn to make a move.
Finally, the hostess leads Charles and you into the dining room. Sebastian ducks down, pulling the brim of his fedora lower over his face and adjusting the fake mustache he’s wearing as a disguise. He watches as the hostess shows Charles and you to an intimate table for two by the window, the soft glow of candlelight illuminating your faces.
“There must be some mistake,” Charles says, looking around in confusion. “I was under the impression we were meeting Sebastian here for dinner?”
You look equally perplexed. “That’s what he told me too. He said to meet at 8 o’clock sharp.”
“Well this is just awkward,” Charles runs a hand through his tousled hair. “Should we wait for him or ...”
Before you can respond, the waiter arrives with a basket of bread and butter. “Good evening, my name is Gerardo and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with something to drink?”
“Actually, we’re still waiting on-” Charles begins, but the waiter cuts him off.
“Ah yes, Mr. Vettel asked me to inform you that he will be unable to join this evening after all. A last minute obligation came up. He insisted I take excellent care of you both and that the evening is on his treat.” Gerardo smiles broadly. “So what will you have to drink?”
Sebastian smirks to himself at his cleverly orchestrated ruse from his secluded table in the back corner. He watches with bated breath as a flustered Charles and you exchange an awkward look.
“I’ll have a glass of Chianti,” you say finally, breaking the tension.
“Make that two,” Charles adds with a resigned sigh.
As Gerardo heads off to grab your drinks, an uncomfortable silence falls over the table. “You know, we don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Charles says, ever the gentleman. “I’m sure there’s been some misunderstanding.”
“Don’t be silly,” you reply, offering him a warm smile that makes Sebastian’s heart melt a little. “It would be rude to ruin the evening Sebastian so carefully planned, even if he’s not actually here to enjoy it.”
Charles visibly relaxes at your acceptance of the situation. “You’re right, of course. If it’s a free dinner, we would be fools to turn that down!”
You both share a laugh, finally breaking the ice. Sebastian feels a swell of pride watching the two of you start to let your guards down around each other.
Over the next hour or so, Sebastian is delighted to see Charles and you become more at ease, trading jokes and stories over several delectable courses of pasta, veal, and freshly baked focaccia. He’s never seen either of you look so lighthearted and carefree, nor has he witnessed two people connect on such an organic, genuine level before. It’s positively magical to behold.
Gerardo arrives once more, this time bearing a decadent slice of torta della nonna for you to share for dessert. “Compliments of the house,” he announces with a wink before departing.
You immediately dig into the lemony confection with gusto. “Oh my god, this is dangerously good,” you moan through a mouthful of pastry cream and flaky crust.
Charles tries and fails to stifle a laugh at your unabashed enthusiasm. “You’ve got a little ...” he gestures vaguely at the corners of your mouth.
“What? Where?” You ask, attempting to wipe the stray crumbs and smears of powdered sugar from your cheeks.
“Here, let me,” Charles says softly, reaching across the table with his cloth napkin.
Sebastian watches with bated breath, his heart pounding in his chest, as Charles tenderly swipes the napkin along your lips, his thumb grazing your cheek in the process. The moment seems to last an eternity, the two of you locked in each other’s smoldering gaze.
Then, ever so slowly, Charles leans across the table towards you. Sebastian can scarcely breathe as he witnesses the magnetic pull drawing the two of you together. This is it, this is finally happening, he marvels silently.
Sebastian lets out an inadvertent yelp of glee and instantly slaps his hands over his mouth. A table of nearby diners turns to gawk at the strange mustached man.
“Ahem, sorry! Hairball,” Sebastian rasps out in a terrible Italian accent. He slinks down in the booth, burning with embarrassment as the other patrons slowly turn away with disgusted looks.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Charles and you also turn towards the commotion, the heated moment effectively ruined. Damn it, he was so close!
You and Charles eventually turn back towards each other, the awkwardness having returned. “We should, uh, probably ask for the check soon,” Charles mumbles, unable to meet your eyes.
“Yeah, I’ve got an early training session in the morning anyway,” you reply, the disappointment evident in your voice as you stare down at the table.
Inwardly cursing his rotten luck, Sebastian motions for the bill and slips his black credit card into the folder when Gerardo brings it. He knows the only way to redeem this night is to insist you and Charles stay for one more drink. Maybe add a little more wine confidence to help reignite that spark you both nearly combusted over just moments ago.
As Gerardo whisks away to process Sebastian’s payment, the older German steels his nerves. He removes his ridiculous disguise, straightens his tie, and makes his way over to your table with purpose.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” Sebastian asks with an exaggerated wink as he reaches you. “It appears Mr. Leclerc and Miss Schumacher were stood up this evening. For shame!”
“Ah, Seb!” Charles laughs in surprise at seeing his friend and former teammate. “We should have known you were behind this madness.”
You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “You’re a menace! I can’t believe you tricked us like that.”
Sebastian claps his hands together and flashes you both a devilish grin. “What can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic who cannot abide two clearly smitten people tiptoeing around each other any longer. Now, Gerardo is going to bring you the finest Barolo they have, on my dime, and you are going to remedy this sexual tension situation once and for all over another bottle or three!”
Charles opens his mouth to protest, but you laugh delightedly and nod towards Sebastian. “You know what, I could go for another drink. What do you say, Charles?”
The older Ferrari driver seems to wilt under the weight of your brilliant smile, Sebastian can’t fault the man for that. “Ah, what the hell,” Charles shrugs, throwing his arm around the back of your chair. “Let’s see where this night takes us!”
Sebastian settles in, pouring you all generous glasses of the deep ruby wine when Gerardo delivers it. He may be getting on in years, but his matchmaking job has only just begun. One way or another, he’s determined to ensure his two protégés quit stumbling over each other and finally discover the romance that’s been blossoming under their noses all along.
Sipping his wine, Sebastian gazes at you and Charles, sees the tenderness flickering in both your eyes as you lean in closer together over the candlelight. He smiles contentedly to himself.
Mission accomplished.
***
The paddock is mostly deserted at this late hour, the muffled sounds of the teams packing up drifting in from the garages. You linger near the Ferrari motorhome, watching Charles sitting alone on a stack of tires, shoulders slumped. He’s been increasingly withdrawn these past few days leading up to the Japanese Grand Prix.
You approach slowly, not wanting to startle him. “Charles? You okay?”
He looks up, managing a small smile when he sees you. “Hey, mon amour.”
There’s a weariness to his voice that tugs at your heart. You take a seat beside him, letting your arm brush against his in a subtle show of support. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”
Charles is silent for a long moment, pulling his helmet off and turning it over in his hands. “It’s Suzuka,” he finally says, so softly you have to lean in to hear him. “Being back here … it’s difficult.”
Your brow furrows. Right, this is where Jules Bianchi crashed, his accident eventually proving fatal. Charles had been incredibly close with his mentor and godfather. “I can’t even imagine how painful this must be.” You cover his hand with yours. “Having to race on the same track ...”
“I relive that day over and over.” Charles’s accented voice is thick with emotion. “I can still see the footage of his car slamming into the crane, like it’s burned into my mind. He was my friend, my godfather, like a brother to me. And now every year, I have to come back to this place that took him from us far too soon.” He squeezes his eyes shut, a stray tear escaping.
“Oh, Charles ...” You wrap your arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. His body is rigid at first before melting against you, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You hold him tightly as his breath hitches with suppressed sobs, your own eyes stinging. How many times has he bottled up this grief, putting on a brave face for the world?
“I’m so sorry,” you murmur, stroking his back. “I can’t imagine the pain you’ve carried all these years. But Jules wouldn’t want you torturing yourself like this.” You pull away enough to frame his face with your hands, meeting his reddened eyes. “He’d want you to keep living, to keep pursuing your dream that he helped nurture. He’d be so proud of everything you’ve accomplished.”
Charles manages a watery smile, covering one of your hands with his. “You’re right. Thank you, chérie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He leans in, resting his forehead against yours with a shuddering sigh. “I just miss him so much some days. Like an ache I can’t shake.”
“I know.” You brush away the dampness on his cheeks with your thumbs. “Believe me, I understand that ache all too well.”
A crease forms between Charles’s brows as he regards you intently. “Your papa.”
You give a solemn nod. “Everyone talks about him like he’s gone. But he’s not, he’s still here, still breathing. It’s just … he’s not the same man I grew up with anymore.” You blink back tears of your own. “Sometimes I’ll see flashes that remind me so much of how Papa used to be. And then that illusion is shattered and I’m grieving all over again for the person he was.”
Charles’ arms wrap around you fully, tucking your head under his chin. “I can’t imagine how hard that must be. Seeing those glimpses of the man he was, only to have that hope ripped away.” He presses his lips to the crown of your head. “You’re the strongest person I know.”
You let out a choked laugh. “Yeah, definitely doesn’t feel like it most days.” Pulling away, you try for a smile. “But we Schumachers are fighters. We don’t stay down for long.”
“That’s my girl.” Charles grins, cupping your face and brushing his thumb over your cheekbone. “I’m lucky to have you by my side through all of this craziness. I don’t know what I’d do without your support, especially this weekend.”
“Are you kidding?” You turn to fully face him, clasping his hands in yours. “Charles, you’ve been my rock too, you know that? Signing with Ferrari this year, following in my father’s footsteps … the pressure has been immense. But you’ve never let me crumble under it. You’re always there with a laugh or a hug or some silly joke to make me smile even on the hardest days.”
Charles’s grin turns lopsided, eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always makes your heart flutter. “Well, someone has to keep that ego of yours from inflating too much, future champion.” He leans in until his lips are a mere breath from yours. “But in all seriousness, we’re in this together, okay? No matter what the future holds, I’ll always have your back.”
“I know,” you murmur, feeling his words like a soothing balm over the parts of your heart still aching for your father as you once knew him. “And I’ll always have yours. We’re a team, on and off the track.” You close the distance between you, kissing him deeply.
Charles returns the kiss with fervor, his fingers threading through your hair to hold you close. The worries plaguing you both seem to temporarily fade into the background amid the warmth and solidity of his embrace. When you finally break apart, breathless, his emerald gaze holds an intensity that steals the air from your lungs in the best way.
“Je t’aime,” he murmurs, the endearment like a vow falling from his lips. “No matter what happens out there tomorrow, or any other race day, that will never change. You and me against the world, princesse.”
You flash him a coy smile, feeling desire begin to simmer low in your belly. “Is that a promise, Mr. Leclerc?”
“Mmm, I can make it one if you’d like.” Charles waggles his eyebrows, making you giggle as his hands roam freely over your back and sides, pulling you flush against him. His voice drops to a husky whisper. “Maybe I can find more convincing ways to pledge my devotion once we’re back at the hotel.”
“I definitely wouldn’t be opposed to that,” you say breathily, leaning in to nip at his lower lip in a way that makes him groan. “Though if memory serves, I seem to recall you saying something about honoring the team’s curfew tonight?” You trail openmouthed kisses along the sharp line of his jaw. “Wouldn’t want to be … sleep deprived before the race.”
Charles’s fingers flex against your hips as he lets out a shuddering breath. “You’re really testing my willpower here.”
“Payback for all those times you’ve tortured me.” You punctuate the statement with a sharp nip to the sensitive skin below his ear, making him jerk against you with a strangled sound. Pulling back, you smirk at the glazed look in his eyes. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”
He blinks slowly, then his gaze narrows in a way that makes heat flare across your skin. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that later.” His voice is low, almost a growl that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.
“I look forward to it.” You lean in until your lips are nearly brushing his again.
“Tease,” Charles accuses, though his kiss quickly swallows any further retort.
You lose yourself in the press of his mouth, the exploring glide of his hands over your body, the undeniable chemistry that still sometimes takes your breath away. When you finally break apart, gasping for air, you stay wrapped in each other’s arms, foreheads resting together.
“Thank you,” Charles murmurs after a long beat of comfortable silence. “For always knowing how to pull me out of my own head. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“That’s what partners are for,” you say simply, brushing back the silken strands of chestnut hair falling over his forehead. His eyes are so warm, so full of love and adoration, you feel it envelop you like a cozy blanket. “I’ll always be here to lean on, just like you are for me.”
Charles catches your hand, pressing a lingering kiss to your palm. “And I’m grateful for that every single day. Facing the good times and bad, together.” His thumb strokes over your knuckles. “I know Suzuka will never be easy, not with the weight of the memories here. But you make the burden feel lighter. Like no matter what, I’ll be okay as long as I have you by my side.”
You lean in, brushing a featherlight kiss across his lips. “Always. No matter what the future holds, you’re stuck with me, Leclerc.”
A slow, utterly content smile spreads across his face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He steals another lingering kiss before glancing toward the pit area, where the last few stragglers are packing up for the night. “As much as I’d love to keep you all to myself, I suppose we should try to get some rest before tomorrow.”
Sliding off the tire stack, he offers you his hand, that warm gleam still dancing in his forest-colored eyes. “Though maybe we could indulge in a long, hot shower first? You know, to … unwind after such an emotionally draining evening.”
You raise an eyebrow at his transparent attempt at nonchalance, but can’t help a smirk from tugging at your lips. “Why, Mr. Leclerc, are you propositioning me?”
“Would that be so terrible?” He tugs you into his arms, leaving a trail of teasing kisses along your jaw. “After all, we did have quite the … charged conversation just now. I’d hate for all that pent-up tension to distract us on track tomorrow.”
You let out a breathless giggle as his wandering hands and lips leave tingles across your skin. “Well, when you put it that way … I suppose a nice, relaxing shower could be just what we need to clear our heads.” Looping your arms around his neck, you meet his heated gaze through lowered lashes. “Lead the way, liebling.”
Charles’ responding grin is nothing short of wolfish. “With pleasure.” Scooping you up in his arms, he heads for the parking lot at a swift pace, leaving the weight of Suzuka and its ghosts behind for the night.
***
The roar of the crowd is deafening as you bring your Ferrari across the finish line, tires smoking from the incredible pace. Your race engineer’s voice crackles over the radio, congratulating you, but the words are drowned out by the thunderous cheers echoing around the Autodromo Nazionale Monza.
You can hardly believe it. Your first season with the Scuderia and you’ve just won the Italian Grand Prix — on the hallowed ground that your father once ruled. The sea of fans decked out in red is a sight to behold, celebrating wildly as you complete the cool-down lap.
Pulling into parc fermé, you kill the engine, the high-pitched whine slowly dying away. Undoing the straps, you clamber out, still trying to process what just happened. This is really real.
“You!”
The familiar voice makes you turn. It’s Charles, beaming from ear-to-ear despite settling for second place today. He pulls you into a massive hug, squeezing you tightly.
“I can’t believe you just did that! Amazing drive!”
You laugh, giddy with joy and adrenaline. “I still can’t believe it either! Everything just … clicked.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Charles chuckles, ruffling your sweat-damp hair. “You were incredible out there. Absolutely brilliant.”
Hearing the praise from your boyfriend means everything. You know how hard he’s worked, how much he’s sacrificed to get this far. And he’s still your biggest supporter.
The two of you finally pull apart as the rest of the team makes their presence known, congratulating you with bearhugs and massive pats on the back. You did it — you brought the victory home for Ferrari at the Temple of Speed.
After the chaos of the post-race celebrations dies down a little, it’s time for the podium ceremony. You can’t wait to stand up there, basking in the adulation of the wildly passionate Tifosi. As you make your way out with Charles and the third place finisher, the crowd’s cheers swell to a new eardrum-bursting level.
Climbing the steps, you take your spot on the top level, heart racing as you look out over the endless sea of fans. The air is filled with brilliant red smoke, passionate flag-wavers creating mesmerizing patterns. You’ve seen Grands Prix in Italy before, but being up here, having actually won — it’s on another level entirely.
Speeches are made, anthems are played, and then it’s time to crack open the podium champagne. As the bottles are picked up, a rolling chant starts building in the grandstands:
“La Prin-ci-pess-a! La Prin-ci-pess-a!”
The sound shakes you to your core. Tears instantly spring to your eyes.
Charles, beside you on the second step, grins and nudges you. “Listen to them! You’ve done it — you’ve made them fall in love with you just like they did with your father.”
Looking down at him with misty eyes, you mouth, “Thank you,” so overwhelmed that you can’t speak. He slips an arm around your waist, pulling you close. The two of you share a soft kiss as the chanting grows louder and louder.
As you pull back, gazing out over the surging tide of humanity, faces beaming up at you in adoration, it finally sinks in. This moment — winning at Monza for Ferrari, with Charles by your side, the Tifosi embracing you wholeheartedly — is beyond anything you ever could have dreamed.
The emotions pour out in waves of joy and pride and disbelief. You raise your bottle high, echoing the chants and cheering your heart out to the crowd. They roar back even louder, feeding off your energy in the way that only this group of diehard fans can.
Once the champagne showers subside, giddy fans whistling at you and Charles canoodling on the podium, it’s time to head back down. But the celebrations are just getting started. The team wants to keep the party going.
On the drive over to Maranello, you find yourself sandwiched in the backseat between Charles and your race engineer, Ricky. Everyone is grinning like maniacs, high on the thrill of victory, singing drinking songs at the top of their lungs.
“Solo per lei! Principessa di Monza!” Ricky bellows, gently elbowing you. The rest join in, filling the car with the chant of “Only for her! Princess of Monza!” You can’t stop giggling, leaning into Charles, deliriously happy.
Once you finally roll up to the factory, the party spills out of the car and into the streets. The entire workforce has turned out, waving huge Ferrari flags, beating drums and sounding air horns in celebration. You’re immediately swarmed, being passed from hug to hug as champagne is sprayed in joyful arcs.
They finally manage to sweep you, Charles, and most of your garages inside the factory, where long banquet tables have been set up in the main hall. An enormous cheer goes up as you enter, sparkling wine sloshing from hastily poured glasses all around you.
The meal that follows is a total blur — amazing food, flowing alcohol, raucous toasts, and the happiest pandemonium you’ve ever witnessed. You keep getting tugged from conversation to conversation, everyone wanting to hear how the race played out from your lips. Charles sticks by your side the whole time, looking on with sheer pride.
At one point, you end up going shot for shot with Fred Vasseur, the team principal pouring vodka like his job depends on it. “La mia principessa!” He chuckles, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears of joy. “You’ve made us all so proud today!”
He hoists his glass. “To our Princess! The Princess of Monza!”
The chant starts up again all around you. “La Prin-ci-pess-a! La Prin-ci-pess-a!”
You beam at them all, squeezing Fred’s hand. No words can describe this feeling, being embraced so completely by your team — your family. This is what you’ve dreamed about since you were a little girl. Following in your father’s footsteps, bringing glory to Ferrari, carrying on the legend.
The party rages on long into the night. At some point, you lose track of time completely, delirious with exhaustion from the whirlwind of emotion.
You come around for a moment, blinking in the dim glow of the factory lights. There’s quiet rumbles of laughter around you, echoing off the walls. Looking around blearily, you realize you’ve been tucked into a makeshift bed fashioned from a pile of Ferrari t-shirts, nestled in one of the car assembly spaces.
Charles is there too, cradled against your side, one arm wrapped protectively around you. The rest of the team — your PR officers, engineers, mechanics, everyone — is strewn about in similar nests, all of them totally conked out.
With a contented sigh, you snuggle deeper into Charles’ embrace, feeling his lips brush the top of your head. This bizarre, wonderful scene seems to encapsulate everything about being part of the Ferrari family. It’s chaotic and overwhelming and unlike anything else in the world.
But most of all, it’s home.
As you start to drift back to sleep, savoring the lingering scent of champagne and motor oil, one final chant echoes in your head:
La principessa di Monza.
La principessa di Ferrari.
***
11 Months Later
The last few laps feel like they’re happening in slow motion. Every turn, every gear shift, every tiny input to the steering wheel is magnified tenfold as the circuits count down. The pressure is immense, but you’ve been here before. You can do this.
“Stay calm, stay focused,” your race engineer’s voice crackles over the radio. “The calculations look good. Just bring it home steady.”
Nodding to yourself, you downshift entering the stadium section, the roar of the massive crowd surrounding the Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez swelling in your ears. This is it — your chance to join the likes of motorsport’s greatest heroes by winning the Formula 1 World Championship.
Your first victory at Monza, being crowned the “Principessa di Ferrari” by the adoring Tifosi, was a dream come true. But this … this is what you’ve worked towards since you were old enough to understand what your father achieved. To etch your name into the history books forever.
The laps tick by agonizingly. Every time the pitboard comes into view, your heart rate spikes. But you’ve got a comfortable gap to second place, managing the race perfectly. Just a few more corners now.
“Final lap, final lap,” your engineer calls out. “Looking brilliant. Stay comfortable and you’ve got this!”
You suck in a deep breath to steady your nerves. Out of the sweeping Curve 3 and onto the pit straight, the crowd’s thunderous cheers are reaching fever pitch. You can see the seas of red-clad fans absolutely losing their minds, knowing the woman they idolize is about to achieve immortality.
Crossing the finish line, you finally let out the breath you’ve been holding for what feels like ages. The emotion is overwhelming — a combination of pure elation, disbelief, and total exhaustion.
You did it.
World Champion at last!
You cruise around, yelling unintelligibly into the radio as the celebrations kick off around the circuit. There’s confetti in the air, smoke flares going off in brilliant shades of red, and a full-throated roar that could probably be heard all the way back in Europe.
Pulling into parc fermé, you switch off the car, letting the weight of the moment sink in. Tears of joy prick at your eyes as the magnitude of your achievement hits home. Ever since you were a little girl, running around watching your papa, this has been the ultimate dream for you.
And now, it’s finally happened. You’re a World Champion. Just like him.
The first person to reach you is Charles. He comes sprinting over from his own car, bounding past the marshals without a second look. One glimpse of the huge smile plastered across his face is all it takes for you to dissolve into giggles and delirious tears.
“You did it! You brilliant, brilliant woman, you did it!” He shouts, grabbing you up in his arms and spinning you around in a whirlwind hug.
“I can’t believe it, Charles! It felt like a dream … like it wasn’t really happening!”
You’re both laughing and crying at the same time, drunk on the euphoria of the moment. Clutching each other tightly, you press your foreheads together, trying in vain to compose yourselves.
“I’m so proud of you,” Charles murmurs, gazing at you with adoring eyes. “You worked so incredibly hard for this. You deserve everything.”
Surging forward, you capture his lips in a searing, passionate kiss. For a few brief moments, the two of you are alone, lost in the depth of your emotions and your all-encompassing love for each other. Nothing else in the world matters but this perfect second frozen in time.
You finally break apart, breathless, when the rest of the team sweeps in to congratulate you. They swarm around in a laughing, whooping mass, jumping up and down, hugging, chanting your name over and over.
“To our champion! The Queen!”
The cry comes from Antonio, one of the veteran mechanics who’s been with the team since your papa’s days. He clasps your hands tightly, gazing at you with pride.
“Sei la regina! The Queen of Ferrari!” He hollers over the raucous din, tears shining in his eyes. “Just like your father, you’ll reign forever!”
Your eyes start brimming over again, overwhelmed. The tears roll down your cheeks, smearing streaks of sweat and grime from the race. But you can’t stop beaming.
All at once, the rest of the crew picks up on Antonio’s declaration. Their cheers and chants coalesce into one booming refrain:
“La Re-gi-na! La Re-gi-na!”
The sheer adulation washes over you in waves, every face beaming up at you in utter reverence. You find yourself struggling to take it all in. In a few incredible seasons, you’ve elevated yourself into the realm of legend in their eyes.
Charles wraps his arms around you from behind, steadying you as your knees start to go weak. You can feel his smile radiant against your neck as he cheers and whoops right along with the rest of them.
“You hear them?” He chuckles, kissing your temple. “It’s all for you, mia regina! My Queen.”
Hearing your love, your partner, your other half call you that sets off a fresh round of giggles and sobs. Turning in his embrace, you loop your arms around his shoulders, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him deeply.
When you finally part, you look out over the still-roaring crowd, many of them carrying elaborate signs with intricate drawings depicting you as a regal sovereign. Some have fashioned ornate crowns out of random merch and foam, holding them high. Others set off flares and smoke bombs in Ferrari red.
For a moment, their euphoric cheers fade into the background, drowned out by the pounding of your heart and the rush of blood in your ears. Closing your eyes, you let the enormity of the moment wash over you, embracing the pride and humility and disbelieving joy.
This is your coronation. The new ruler of the Scuderia — la regina di Ferrari.
“La Regina di Ferrari! La Regina del Mondo!”
You can only chuckle in disbelief, Antonio and Ricky carefully taking your hands to hoist you up onto their shoulders in throne-like celebration. Charles is right by your side, standing vigil as your King Consort.
As the party spreads out around you, confetti and smoke filling the air, you look out across the ecstatic crowd. All you see are fervent faces, worshiping you as their new Queen of the World.
It’s a delirious scene that you never, ever could’ve imagined. And yet it feels so natural, so right. Like you were born to be in the center of this storm of jubilation. This is your true home.
And now, you’ve taken your rightful place as its ruler.
Mexico City burns long into the night in tribute to the newly-coronated Queen. Tomorrow, the party will likely continue all the way back to Maranello. But in this moment, you’re lost in the swirl of ecstasy, allowing yourself to be swept up in the currents of adoration.
La Regina di Ferrari.
La Regina del Mondo.
***
Eight Years Later
Jules can barely contain his excitement as you and Charles help him into the little red race suit. He’s practically vibrating with energy, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.
“Easy there, petit coureur,” Charles chuckles, ruffling Jules’ hair affectionately. “We’ll get you suited up and on the track soon enough.”
“I’m gonna beat everyone!” Jules declares confidently. You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.
“That’s my boy,” you say with a wink. “Just like your Papa and me.”
Charles grins and pulls Jules into a hug. “We’ll see about that, won’t we? Today’s just for fun though, remember? No official points or anything.”
“I know, I know,” Jules says impatiently. “But I’m still gonna win!”
You laugh and swing him up into your arms, peppering his face with kisses until he squeals with delight. “Whatever you say, liebling. Now let’s get you out on that track!”
The three of you make your way out to the karting circuit, hand-in-hand. You can already see a small crowd starting to form along the fences, phones and cameras at the ready. A familiar scenario, even at such a low-key local event.
“Mama, Papa, look!” Jules points excitedly. “Those people want to take pictures!”
“That’s right, schatzi,” you say gently. “Your Papa and I are pretty well known in motorsports.”
“Like movie stars?” His eyes go wide.
Charles laughs. “Something like that, I suppose. More like … really famous racecar drivers.”
“Whoa ...” Jules seems to be processing this new realization. “You’re the best ever, right? The bestest?”
You share an amused look with Charles. “Well, we’ve had our fair share of success,” you hedge.
“Your mother is a multi-time World Champion,” Charles says proudly. “As am I. We did pretty okay, I think.”
“Woooaahh!” Jules looks absolutely awestruck, like his little mind has been blown. It’s both adorable and bittersweet — your own child, only just now grasping the level of your accomplishments and fame.
The crowd has grown considerably by the time you reach the pit area, people pressing against the barriers in hopes of getting a glimpse of the royal family of Maranello. A small team of event staff try valiantly to keep order, but it’s a losing battle.
“Excuse me! Y/N! Can we get a photo?”
“Charles! Over here, please!”
“Oh my god, is that little Jules? He’s so cute!”
Jules clings a bit closer to you and Charles, startled by the commotion. You pull him protectively against your side.
“It’s okay,” you murmur. “Just some fans who are excited to see us.”
Charles gives the crowd a regretful smile and a small wave before ushering you both past the security team and into the pit area. The calmer, more controlled setting seems to ease Jules’ nerves.
“Why were all those people yelling and taking pictures?” He asks with a small frown.
“Like I said, we’re pretty famous racers,” Charles explains patiently. “A lot of people know who we are and want our autographs or photos with us.”
“Like celebrities!” Jules says, the admiring light returning to his eyes.
You laugh and ruffle his hair again. “Something like that, yeah. Your Papa and I have had a very successful racing career over the years.”
“The best careers,” Charles amends with a wink at you. “Multiple world titles each.”
“World titles?” Jules looks utterly baffled by the concept. “Like … the best in the whole world?”
“Exactly,” you confirm, feeling that familiar swell of pride. “We were the fastest drivers in the world, for a few years at least.”
“Whooaa ...” Jules seems torn between awe and disbelief. “You’re like … superheroes!”
You and Charles both crack up at the adorable comparison.
“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Charles laughs, “but I suppose to some we come pretty close, eh?”
He scoops Jules up and swings him around, making him shriek with laughter. You watch them with a content smile, suddenly aware of how blessed you are to have this life — your incredible husband, your precious son, the career successes you both achieved. It’s more than you ever could have dreamed.
“Alright,” Papa says, setting Jules back down. “Why don’t you go grab your kart and we’ll get you out on the track? Think you can take on the world champions?”
Jules gives a determined nod, that familiar fire blazing in his eyes — the same look you’ve seen in your husband’s familiar green ones a thousand times over the years. “You bet! I’ll show you how it’s done!”
With one last hair ruffle, you send him scampering off excitedly. Charles slides an arm around your waist, pulling you close.
“He’s something else, isn’t he?” He murmurs against your temple. “So much like us at that age. I can already tell he’s going to be a hell of a driver someday.”
You lean into his embrace with a contented sigh. “He is … and just look at how the crowd reacted to him. He’s barely grasped that we’re famous, and now he’s already getting mobbed himself. Our little star in the making.”
Charles makes a rueful sound. “We’re going to have to get used to that, I suppose.”
“Oh, I think we can handle it,” you say lightly. “We’ve had plenty of practice being in the spotlight, after all.”
He laughs and drops a kiss to your hair. “That’s true enough. As long as we stick together, we can get through anything.”
“Exactly.” You turn in his arms to face him properly, cupping his jaw tenderly. “You, me, Jules … nothing else matters as long as we have each other.”
Charles’ eyes are warm with devotion as he gazes down at you. “My soulmate. My family. How did I ever get so lucky?”
He leans in to kiss you, slow and sweet, the rest of the world temporarily fading away. You lose yourself in the familiar comfort of his embrace, the love you share-
“Ewww, gross! Stop kissing!”
You break apart with a laugh to find Jules making over-exaggerated gagging noises nearby.
“And the moment’s ruined,” Charles teases, keeping an arm looped around your waist.
You bend down to Jules’ eye level with a mock stern look. “You just wait until you’re all grown up with a sweetheart of your own. Then you’ll understand.”
He scrunches up his nose theatrically. “Never! Girls are gross!”
You and Charles share an amused look.
“If you say so,” Charles chuckles. “Now let’s get that kart fired up.”
Jules’ entire demeanor shifts in an instant, that fierce competitiveness surfacing once again. He scrambles into the cockpit of his little kart and takes firm hold of the wheel, looking suddenly years beyond his age.
“You’re going down!” He declares brazenly. “I’ll leave you both in the dust!”
And just like that, the proud parents are replaced by your familiar racing mentalities — the thrill of competition, the desire to win. You share a conspiratorial grin with Charles.
“Is that so?” He taunts playfully. “In that case, no more taking it easy on you two.”
You bend down to kiss Jules’ forehead, unable to resist a parting quip. “Promise you won’t be sad … because Mama always wins.”
With that, Charles heads off to grab his own kart, leaving you and Jules alone for a brief moment. He looks up at you with shining eyes.
“You’re my hero, Mama,” he says simply. “And Papa too. I wanna be just like you when I grow up!”
You feel your heart swell fit to burst, filled with more love than you could possibly put into words. Bending down, you pull your beautiful little boy into a fierce hug, eyes shining with unshed happy tears.
“Oh liebling … you already are. You’re everything we could have dreamed of and more.”
You press a lingering kiss to the top of his head, overwhelmed with affection. When you finally pull back, there are indeed tears shining in your eyes.
“Now go show your parents what you’ve got, baby,” you say with a watery smile. “I can’t wait to see you out there.”
Jules gives you a determined nod, eyes blazing with that trademark fire. “You got it, Mama! Get ready to lose!”
With that, he slams down the visor on his helmet and revs the little engine. You step back with a laugh, watching him peel out onto the track with all the confidence and flair of a seasoned pro. Like parents, like son indeed.
By the time Charles rejoins you, his own kart idling beside yours, Jules has already completed a couple of warm up laps. You can’t resist shooting Charles a smug grin.
“Well, well … looks like the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. He drives just like you.”
Charles snorts, clearly trying to downplay his obvious pride. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. That’s all your genes coming through.”
You open your mouth to protest, but a sudden commotion from the fences draws your attention. The crowd has grown even larger, people pressing against the barriers with raised phones and voices calling out excitedly.
“Oh my god, it’s them!”
“They’re so cute together!!”
“Over here, please! This way!”
You share a resigned look with Charles as event staff rush to try and control the growing swarm.
“This is what it’s going to be like from now on, isn’t it?” You murmur. “Our little family, constantly in the spotlight.”
Charles shrugs, slinging an arm around your shoulders as he watches Jules blaze by. “What else is new? We’ve been there our whole careers. At least this time, we get to share the fame together … as a family.”
You lean into his side with a contented smile. Out on the track, Jules whips past in a blur of determination, completely unbothered by the fawning crowd. Just a little boy living out his dream, regardless of who his parents might be.
“You know what?” You say softly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Charles drops a kiss to your hair as the roar of the crowd and engines swells around you. “Me neither, mon amour. I wouldn’t change a single thing.”
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#charles leclerc#cl16#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x y/n#scuderia ferrari#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc drabble
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two geniuses (playing love)
masterlist!
synopsis; feelings flourish in between the two of you as you’re forced to act as a couple. could a kiss finally let the two of you understand what was really going on underneath your supposedly hatred? you’re scared to find out.
cw; +18 content! minors dni!!, guns, shots being fired, girls being bitches, bickering, lots of teasing, so much flufffffff, spencer and reader being confused, pining, neck kisses, making out (their first kiss!!), violence, guns, shots being fired, spencer gets flustered a lot, also gets a boner… (so much more that i probably can’t remember)…
“so what do we know about this unsub?” hotch asked, all of you were sitting on the police station around the table, trying to understand this killers motive.
“well, we know his killings evolve around y/n.” morgan stated the obvious, to what you sighed.
“stalkers may exhibit a range of psychological issues, including personality disorders such as narcissistic personality disorder, borderline personality disorder, and delusional disorders like erotomania. stalking behaviors can also be influenced by insecure attachment styles rooted in childhood experiences.” spencer added, and you nodded.
“erotomania is a delusional disorder that makes a person believe the person of their infatuation hace reciprocated feelings or love and affection, when they don’t. it may even be a person they’ve never met. they might even be famous, like a politician or an actor. people with this disorder can be so sure of this love that they think they’re in a relationship with this person. they may not be able to accept facts that prove otherwise. it is also called de clérambault syndrome, and it’s rare. it can happen on its own. but it’s usually linked to another mental health condition, like schizophrenia or bipolar disorder. it can last for weeks or years.” you recited as if you were reading it off of a book.
“you two are like an encyclopedia.” emily smiled, chuckling.
“so this killer will go to the extreme of killing for you if needed.” jj nodded.
“seems like it.” you answered.
“he also seems pretty possessive and protective of you. he seems to have noticed spencer too.” morgan pointed out.
“you think he might think we’re dating?” you inquired with disbelief.
“it would play to our favor. if our profile around him is right, he might not be able to control the need to stay quiet about it and take action.” gideon said, what made you scoff.
“so what now? we should hold hands and act like a happy couple? fuck no.”
“y/n.” hotch scolded you.
“i’m sorry but that’s not gonna work. if none of you have noticed, spencer and i don’t really get along.”
“shocker!” emily sarcastically said, to what you squinted your eyes at her.
“come on guys… i can’t be the only one who doesn’t see this working out.” you tried to make up their minds and spencer pitched in.
“yeah. and to be honest i don’t want to become the unsub’s new target.” spencer pointed out.
jj stepped in. “it's true that your relationship has been strained, but you're both intelligent individuals. i’m sure you can put aside your differences to sell this lie. it's not about whether or not you like each other; it's about stopping this unsub at all costs." you listened to her words, groaning. she was right. you needed to stop acting like children and work together to catch this unsub.
you looked at spencer, who was already looking at you, communicating with a nod.
“you’re right.” you sighed at jj. “i guess it’s the only way, huh?” you gave in.
hotch stepped in, a flicker of relief crossing his face. "good. now, let's think through the details. we need to create a plausible backstory for your relationship, make sure your body language and interactions are believable, and be prepared for any curveballs the unsub might throw at us. this isn't going to be easy, but I have faith in both of you, and I know you can make this work." you pinched the bridge of your nose.
“how should we… how should we act around each other?” you inquired, cringing internally.
rossi answered “for your relationship to appear authentic, you'll need to display a certain level of intimacy and affection.”
“holding hands, touching each other frequently, being in close proximity… you can't come across as distant or awkward, as that would immediately raise suspicions.”emily added.
“you need to convince the unsub that you're truly in love with each other." jj finished and you scoffed.
“well that’s gonna be easy…” you sarcastically said, bracing yourself for what’s about to come.
-
his hand is warm, big engulfing your own. and clammy. spencer is nervous, awkward, you can feel it as you two walk through the beach, the light breeze hitting your skin, the salt engulfing your lungs.
you two have not said one word since you’ve left the headquarters, not on the way back to the hotel, or when you moved your things into his room, or on the way to the beach…
silence. total and absolute silence.
this was your new reality. to play fantasy with the person you hated the most. to act as if only love was what stood between the two of you and not this immense hatred that gnawed at your insides.
“did you know that by the amount of germs a hand holds it’s actually safer to kiss?” he asks, and his voice sounds hoarse by the silence he has buried himself in.
you hummed. “does that mean you’d prefer me to kiss you instead or hold your hand?” you asked, and he choked.
“what? no! no, what i meant is… i just…” you chuckled.
“relax, reid. it was a joke. i want to kiss you as much as you want to kiss me.” you rolled your eyes. “you’re so tense that whoever saw you would think im holding you hostage and making you hold my hand.” he scoffs.
“sorry. it’s just… awkward.”
“tell me about it…” you sighed, leaving your beach bag down onto the sand. “i think this might be a good spot.”
“for what?” he inquired, letting go of your hand.
“we’re supposed to be on a date, reid. doing things a couple does. you know… watch the sunset, spend time together… all of that.”
“oh.” he muttered. “yeah. that makes sense.” he nodded, watching you take out a couple of towels to spread them across the sand.
“gonna help me or stand there watching?” you chuckled, and he quickly moved to help you, muttering a ‘right, sorry’ that made you laugh internally. who’d know spencer could act like this? embarrassed and coy in front of you?
then he sat, book in hand. of course. “seriously? you’re gonna read right now?” you inquired him and he looked up at you.
“why not? the beach is one of the most relaxing places to read.” he shrugged, and you shook your head, pulling from your beach dress to get it off, leaving yourself on a blue bikini.
his eyes trailed down your sun kissed skin, the sun was setting, giving you a golden hue that made you shine.
“come with me.” your words took him out of his mind, his eyebrows raising as you offered him your hand. “come on.” he seemed suspicious, but again, he had to trust you if this lie was gonna be bought. and so he took your hand and got up. he tried not to think about the fact that your body was mostly exposed, and about the feeling of your soft smaller hand on his bigger one.
you let him go once he was up on his feet, and he took off his shirt, leaving him on his swimwear.
“so i wasn’t actually hallucinating it the last time… where were you hiding that?” you teased him, looking at his soft but toned body. he rolled his eyes.
“stop looking at me.”
“why? does it make you nervous?” you rose your eyebrows. “do i make you nervous, spencer?” you leaned in and he took a step back.
“no. i just don’t like it.” his nose scrunched up and you hummed.
“yeah, right.” you rolled your eyes, giving him your back to start walking towards the shore.
“no. really.” he followed you with a frown, feet fast behind you.
“it’s okay, spencer. your little crush on me it’s cute.”
his eyes widened. “what?! i don’t have a crush on you!”
your feet met the water and you walked in. you heard his splashes behind you as the water met your knees. it was just the perfect temperature.
“you’re dumb.” you said while facing him once again. and he gave you an incredulous look.
“i’m not dumb! why would i be dumb?”
“because of this.” and with a quick movement you were maneuvering him into the water, leaving him splashing your thighs and tummy. you laughed at his glare and shocked expression, his pretty hair now mildly soaked. “god. reid. it’s the second time this happens to you. you don’t learn!”
“you think this is funny, do you?” he asks you, looking up at you.
“definitely.” you nodded, still chuckling, your chest heaving up and down with ragged breathing.
“yeah?”
“yea-“ but before you could finish he was grabbing your hand and pulling you down into the water with him. you froze as you fell on his lap, water splashing around the two of you.
“well, check who’s in the water now, huh?” he was laughing at your shocked expression and damp face before he noticed the position in which the two of you were in, his laughter dying quickly enough.
his eyes met your body, wet in droplets that slid down your chest and navel towards your hips submerged in the water and on top of his. he swallowed at the feeling of your soft weight on him, the swell of your chest right in front of his face, centimeters away from his lips. the curve of your neck… your hair falling over it and down your collarbones… the warmth of your hands on his shoulders, the softness of the skin of your hip under his unconscious grip.
you looked down at him. at his messy hair that had started curling due to the salt, at his thin yet toned build, his heaving chest, his sharp jaw, his hazel puppy eyes, his long lashes… the way he was now looking at you…
“uhm…” he cleared his throat. and the spell in between the two of you broke. you shook your head.
“i should probably…” you pointed at your back, trying to gesture that you should get up, and he nodded, pulling his hands away from your body.
“yeah. yeah.” he nodded, and you used him for leverage to get back on your feet. it was awkward. the tension in between the two of you as he too got back on his feet, neither of you looking at each other. the sun was setting.
“i think i’m gonna… go read.” you nodded.
“yeah. okay. i’ll… i’ll meet you there.” he copied the shaking of your head, and after a couple of seconds in silence he staggered in turning around and getting out of the water. you only went in deeper, submerging your head under the waves, where there was no noise, and no thoughts clouding your head. no doubts. although you could still feel the vivid heartbeat of your heart, crashing harshly against your ribs.
spencer tried to focus on his book, but as much as he’d like to not admit it, his eyes were zeroed on you.
-
“okay…” you hummed. “ursa minor.” you pointed at the sky.
the sun was long gone, and yet, spencer and you still were on the beach, lying on your towels, admiring the map of stars above your heads.
spencer took his turn, pointing just a little bit far away from your constellation. “ursa mayor.”
“now that’s and easy one.” you rolled your eyes teasing him, and he couldn’t help but copy you.
“okay. what about… camelopardalis?” he pointed it out in the sky and you hummed.
“now you’re just showing off.” he groaned.
“oh, so now i’m showing off?” he smirked and you nodded.
“yeah, come on. you could have just pointed out draco. instead you chose camelopardalis? you’re a show off.” he chuckled.
“okay. maybe i just wanted to shut you up.” he shrugged and you laughed.
“now, that’s not easy.”
“tell me about it.” he mumbled. “hey look. it’s saturn.” he pointed it out, it shining more than a normal star.
“and mars.” you said, pointing it out as well.
“and dwarf planet 1 ceres.” he added and you looked at him with your eyebrows raising.
“you’re bluffing.”
“i’m not!”
“yes you are, reid. that planet can only be seen with binoculars. you wear glasses!”
“how do you know that?” you laughed.
“caught you!” he rolled his eyes.
“okay. maybe i memorized tonight’s sky map, so what?” you chuckled at his response.
“you’re a nerd.”
“yeah? well so are you. what’s your iq, 170?”
“177.” his eyes widened. “what?”
“i mean. i knew you were intelligent. but we almost share the same iq. that’s… that’s impressive.”
“was that a compliment, doctor reid?” you smirked.
he shook his head with a smile, scoffing. “no.”
“it was though.”
“it wasn’t.”
“it totally was.” your bickering caused him to laugh.
“you’re insufferable.” he groaned, and you smiled.
“i know.” you two rested in silence, looking at the sky. “this isn’t so bad…” he looked at you. “i mean, sure. i don’t like you. and acting as your girlfriend totally sucks, believe me. but i thought it would be worse.” he hummed.
“you have a way of complimenting someone and at the same time insulting them that is fascinating.” he said, and you chuckled. “by the way… what time is it?” you took your phone.
“almost one am.” you answered his question.
“we should probably get going.” he muttered and you rose your eyebrows.
“you want me back into your bed so soon, reid?” he scoffed.
“you really like to assume those kinds of things. in the end i’m gonna start thinking you’re the one who wants me in your bed.” your eyes widened.
“fuck no!” you said while getting up from the towel, and he smirked up at you.
“you sure?”
“of course i am.”
“then why are you avoiding my eyes?” he got up to stand beside you, a smirk on his face. you wanted to punch it out of him.
“i’m not.” you scoffed.
“but you are.” your skin rose in goosebumps as he stepped closer, your breath hitching when he took your chin and made you look up at him into his hazel eyes. the moonlight made them shine. and for a moment you forgot that he was teasing you, playing with you.
“i don’t want you in my bed.” you said, straight into his eyes, pushing away his touch. he smiled.
“okay. i’ll believe you.” you looked away from him as he started gathering his things and put on back his shirt. you wondered why your cheeks were burning. why your heart was racing.
he put your beach bag over his shoulder. “let’s go.” and even though your body jolted underneath his touch as he took your hand to guide you down the shore back to the hotel —and you reminded yourself that this was all part of the lie you were playing—, you let him.
-
“how are our lovebirds?” garcia asked through the phone and you rolled your eyes.
“would be better if you’d catch this guy now…” you said, and heard snickers from the other part of the line.
“he’s behaving, isn’t he?” morgan inquired and spencer frowned.
“what?! what do you mean behave?” you shushed him.
“he’s not being so bad… usual reid.” morgan laughed. “any news on the unsub?”
“actually, yeah.” jj said. “we caught him lurking on the beach you guys visited, but he was far from our reach. seemed pretty angry.”
“so he’s getting closer…” you nodded.
“he seemed to buy into the lie of the relationship.” spencer hummed and you nodded.
“you guys need to keep it up. if our profile is right he will not stand still and watch, he’ll confront the two of you soon.” hotch said.
“alright. we will.” you promised.
“we’ll keep in touch.” emily said before the line went dead and the two of you looked at each other.
“what should we do now?” he inquired.
“go to the pool.” you smiled and he groaned. “come on. he needs to see us.” you said while getting a bikini and entering the bathroom to get changed. once done you got out and found him with a pair of red trunks. “now that’s the spirit.” you smiled and he rolled his eyes. “come on, reid. the sun is up and shining for us. time to sunbathe!” he took some of his books and his sunglasses, following after you out of your room and though the hallways of the hotel until you two were met by happy squealing and laughter from the children enjoying their time in the pool, splashing each other.
you two took a sun lounge each, his umbrella staying open while yours stood shut as you applied tanning oil to your skin after getting rid of your shorts. spencer kept his summer sheer shirt, laying sat up straight in the sun lounge as he quickly went through the pages, reading 20.000 words per minute. you laid on your own, bathing in the warmth of the sun as it prickled your skin.
you were enjoying the tranquility until some shadows took over your sun. you peeked your eyes open to see three girls standing over the two of you, sweet smiles on their faces as they stared at your right. more like… at spencer.
“hey.” one of them caught his attention, and his hazel eyes pulled away from his book towards the blonde.
“what are you reading?” a brunette asked him next, and he stuttered just the slightest before answering.
“uhmm… anna karenina. it’s from leo tolstoy from 1878. it deals with themes of betrayal, faith, family, marriage, imperial russia, society, desire, and the differences between rural and urban life. it’s actually my second time reading it. this time in the original russian.” he spat out, babbling as the three girls listening. more like ate him up with their eyes.
“you’re cute.” the third and last girl, another blonde smiled, and spencer’s eyes widened.
“could i get your number?” the brunette inquired him and you sat up straight, slightly clearing your throat, what made them look at you. “and you are…?”
you smiled. “his girlfriend.” spencer looked at you scandalized, what almost made you laugh. “i mean i get you guys…” you said with a smirk, leaning over him, your chest pressing against his as your arms circled his neck. his breath hitched as you hummed, looking at him before looking back at the three girls that now stunned looked at you. “he’s just too cute, isn’t he?” you took his face with one of your hands, making his lips pout out. he looked at you with furrowed eyebrows and widened eyes. you smiled at him, his cheeks flushing at your words and the way your body just pushed closer against his. “but he’s mine.” you crooked your head towards the girls. “so if you don’t mind…”
“actually i do mind.” the brunette said. and your eyebrows rose. “i don’t see your name branded on him.” you slowly pulled away from spencer, getting on your feet.
you smiled softly at her. spencer didn’t like it one bit. you never smiled. not like that. “what’s your name?”
“ashley.” she answered, and you saw spencer getting up get beside your from the side of your eyes as you gave her a once over, your eyes landing on her pool heels. he was cautious, he knew something was wrong. sweet intelligent spencer…
“i like your shoes.” you started, simple, and she looked confused at you. “you gonna… be able to run in those?” you inquired.
“what?” and before she knew what was happening you were launching yourself towards her. good timing spencer was fast enough to catch you in between his arms as her friends pulled her away, running from you with ‘let’s go!’s.
“yeah, that’s more like it. see you, ashley!!!” you said while fighting spencer’s tight hold on you. “bitch…” you murmured when they got lost into the hotel. he let you go when you had seemingly calmed down and stared at you.
“what was that?”
“what? she was being a bitch.” you shrugged and got back to your sun lounge.
“no. i mean. what was that?”
“reid. i’m supposed to be your girlfriend… don’t you think that’s how a girlfriend would act?” you inquired him, and he looked around, scratching his nape.
“i mean, yeah but…” you cut him off.
“then it’s settled.” you said before closing your eyes and getting back with your sun.
he stared at you, still in shock and with flushed cheeks. his mind got filled with images and moments from the last days; you in the pool the night you’d thrown him in, how you had teased him, how your lips had almost touched his, last night at the beach when you had fallen on top of him… and now… seeing you that way, had done… things to him. things he didn’t want to accept. his whole body was tense, his heart was stuttering, his eyes whole face was red, and his stomach was feeling bubbly and… well. okay. no. enough.
he cleared his throat and sat down beside you, retrieving his book, trying to dismiss the knot in his throat. he looked at you. at your slowly tanning skin, the shine it had due to the oil you had bathed yourself in, your beautiful curves accentuated by the white bikini you’d gone for today, your soft features, your long lashes, your plump lips, your soft jaw, the soft skin of your neck, your…
when his eyes dropped too low he looked away, clearing his throat.
he tried to go back to the russian, but he was flustered. after minutes of trying to get back in focus, he gave up, getting up and pulling his shirt off, what caught your attention.
“where are you going?” you inquired.
“i was gonna go for a swim.” he pointed to the pool, and you sprung up.
“i’ll join you.” you smiled, and his heart stuttered at the recurring memories of that night in the pool. let it go, spencer.
following him into the water, you sigh at the fresh feeling of it engulfing you and making your overheated skin find solace.
spencer dampens his hair, pushing it backwards in a slick manner that exposes his strong cheek bones. but it’s when you finally stop staring at him that you notice it.
his breath hitched when your arms surrounded his neck, pulling him closer, your chest pressed against his as you spun in the water.
“what are you doing?” he inquired you, his hands subconsciously grabbing your hips. to push you away? to pull you closer? who knew…
“your twelve o’ clock. i think it’s our guy.” you muttered in his ear swiftly, smiling at him as if you were absolutely smitten, playing with his hair. spencer looked just for a moment. it was a white male, in his late thirties, wearing glasses and a cap, staring straight at the two of you with clenched fists.
“he surely doesn’t look happy.” he muttered to you, pulling you closer. “looks like it might be him.” you hummed. “what should we do?”
“well you should definitely act like you love me.” you smiled, cupping his cheek. “like this…” you looked straight into his eyes, and his breath hitched. if he didn’t knew better you’d have fooled him, ‘cause you were looking at him as if you craved nothing else, no one else but him.
you almost chocked when one of his hands found your hair, his breath pressing against your neck just before his lips did. “does this work?” he inquired you, pressing another chaste kiss on the sensitive skin.
you had to come and get back your trail of thought, ‘cause he had stolen it away just that easy. it was unnerving.
“you tell me. you’re the one facing him.” you whispered, and he hummed against your skin. you had to pretend as if it y didn’t send shivers down your spine.
“he’s just staring.” he stated.
“he wouldn’t dare do something with this much people around.” you figured.
“or maybe he just doesn’t want to taint his image before you. he wants to meet you in the perfect way, perfect place, perfect time.”
“what a romantic…” you rolled your eyes.
“he’s moving.” spencer announced.
“leaving?” you inquired and he nodded, his soft stubble scratching your neck and making you shudder in his arms.
“seems like it.” once out of sight he let you go, and you looked away from his eyes, the imprint of his hold on your hips still lingering on your skin, his kisses still burning your neck.
“he won’t be able to hold on for much longer...”
you nodded, fidgeting. “i’ll… i’ll go tell the team.”
“yeah. okay.” spencer copies your shake of head, and you got out of the pool, his eyes training on your back and down your body before he caught himself staring, quickly looking away and pushing his hair back anxiously. he could still feel the softness of your skin, smell the coconut tanning oil you’d lathered yourself in, remember how right you’d feel in between his arms, taking whatever he gave you…
he sighed. get it together reid.
but he had to spend a while in the water to properly calm down before making his way back to you. this was gonna end badly.
-
dinner with spencer was easy. it was a warm night. and he looked good. with a blue button up shirt and white pants along with his brown shoes. it was easy to talk to him, even easier to let him pay and let him walk you by his hand through the hotel and into the gardens of it. it was so easy to live this lovers lie that it terrified you. the moon and stars were shining bright above your heads, and the silence that filled the distance in between the two of you was as comfortable as it could get.
that was until he was breaking it to stutter about theories of the universe. theories you already knew. but for once you decided to keep quiet and listen to his rambling, enjoying the way his eyes sparkled with knowledge, the way his lips curled into a smile with every little fact that spilled from them…your heart was hammering inside your chest. it has been since the time in the pool. you were scared he could feel your heartbeat by how tight he was holding your hand. you’d come to understand that he wasn’t that bad. sure, he sometimes could get under your skin and make you lose your temper, but spencer reid could be as soft as a feather when he wanted to, and that made it all even worse. you were used to his narcissism, to his hatred, not to his ‘love’. was this how he really was or just another lie? just another façade? you were haunted by the feelings that this side of him flourished in your body.
“there’s someone following you.” since the spotting in the pool, the team had made sure to give you an earpiece each to communicate with you in case of emergency. jj’s voice made spencer’s waver, but to play along he just pulled you closer and continued with his theories. “seems like the man you told us about, y/n.”
you two slowly stopped walking, looking at each other as he kept talking, waiting for orders.
“he stopped. he’s just… watching.” emily announced and you inquired spencer and the team.
“what should we do? he’s not gonna come to us that easily…”
“reid, kiss her.” hotch ordered and his eyes widened, breath hitching and his hold on your hand hardening.
“what? no! i’m not going to kiss her!” he whispered-yelled, completely astonished.
“the physical contact will drive him to approach you both. we’ll be right there.” morgan chirped in, trying to convince his friend, soothe his anxiety. but spencer wasn’t scared of the unsub. he was scared of you. terrified. terrified by how good it felt to have you this close, to hold your hand, to see your smile, to share time with you… he wondered if this last thing would make him crack. would make him understand that it wasn’t hatred all along. he wasn’t sure he was ready to know the truth.
“there must be another way, i-“ he tried, but you groaned at his hesitation, taking the matter into your own hands.
“for the love of god, reid.” you grabbed at his curly hair, and in a tug, you pulled him down against your mouth. he froze at first, surprised, in shock at the soft feeling of your lips against his, at the feeling of your chest tightly pressed against him. but then it all completely changes, he can’t get enough. he cupped yor face in between his warm hands and pulled you closer, until there was no space between you two, something he must hate, but only finds himself enjoying. you gasp into his mouth and he takes the opportunity to push his tongue inside, pushing you against the wall of the hotel, devouring you as if he had been waiting years for this moment. you were air. and he was drowning.
“slow down…” you breathily moan against his lips, and he groans.
“i can’t.” he confessed.
the kiss that follows is just as desperate and harsh, your tongues dancing around the other as he kisses you like you’re everything he’s ever craved. you feel him press against you, and the feeling of a bulge on his crotch surprises you.
“you seem to be enjoying this a little bit too much, reid.” you said with a smirk as you felt his growing erection pushing against your thigh to find solace, some friction, anything to make him feel better. he’s losing control, he knows. but he looks into your dazed eyes and he knows you are falling just as hard. he hopes the fall doesn’t hurt as bad as his heart right now.
“i hate you.” he muttered against your lips.
“say it like you mean it.” and before he could kiss you again, the sound of a gun being loaded sounded.
“get away from her.” a male voice filled your ears and spencer stepped away from you, leaving you cold, confused and in need of more you thought you’d never crave. “get away!” he repeated pointing at him with the gun.
“okay, okay… calm down…” he softly said, taking a couple of steps away from you.
“how do you dare touch her?!” he screamed. he seemed scattered. “nobody should touch her. she’s mine!”
“no, she’s not.” spencer said just as morgan knocked the unsub to the ground, a shot being fired, the bulled burying itself inches away from you on the wall. he was quick to reach out for you as you looked down at yourself. “are you okay?” he inquired, taking your face, inspecting it.
“don’t touch her!” the man screamed again as you nodded.
“easy!” morgan yelled as he cuffed him up.
“yeah… i’m alright.” you muttered and spencer nodded, looking right into your eyes. you could still see his flushed cheeks, and his swollen wet lips, could see traces of you left behind. you wanted to taste him again. and again. and again. until the only thing you could remember was him and his lips, and the feeling of his body pressing against you.
that night. something changes. and it scares not only your bones, but your soul as well.
-
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third party || ingrid engen x mapi leon x reader ||
mapi and ingrid invite you to join them.
tonight had been a long time coming. you were no stranger to tension in the locker room. by the time that you arrived at barcelona, your body count had well-exceeded your jersey number. your paths had crossed a few times with a couple of the girls on the team already, even if it had only ever been on the pitch.
within your first month there, you had managed to find your way into a couple of your new teammates' beds. it hadn't been intentional, just a few drinks and dancing gone a bit too far. it had been a bit of a shock to mapi when she had heard patri and pina talking about you, and even more so whenever ingrid had been unphased.
"she was much more wild at wolfsburg." mapi's jaw had dropped at ingrid's simple comment. you knew ingrid's bed well, and a part of mapi felt jealous whenever she looked at you. their sex life wasn't stale, but a part of her longed to know what it would have been like with you in their bed as well.
ingrid had figured it out almost instantly. mapi was flustered around you, something that ingrid found amusing. you had picked up on it as well, but your soft spot for ingrid kept you from flirting or seeking it out. if they wanted you, then they'd just have to make the first move. you had confidence that ingrid would eventually come talk to you, but you hadn't expected it to be during a team bonding night.
you were no stranger to the club scene, but you felt out of place in alexia's apartment for movie night. there were some drinks flowing for those who wanted them, but you didn't want to embarrass yourself. besides, there were a lot of young players there that you wanted to be a good influence for. barcelona was interested in you for the long run, and you didn't want to mess that one up.
"it's been a long time since we've been close like this," ingrid whispered in your ear. she had her arm draped across your shoulders loosely. mapi shifted on the other side of her to steal a kiss, which was when ingrid tugged you even closer.
"what are you doing?" you asked her. ingrid just shrugged your question off as she let her hand fall down a bit.
"act natural like i know you can," ingrid told you. she let her hand roam a little, brushing against places that you didn't know she remembered. you took a sip of your drink and tried to keep your attention on the movie. it was no use, not once ingrid's hand squeezed your hip. she was smirking when you glanced over at her after jumping a little.
"it is late, we should go," mapi announced. the girls were putting on another movie when ingrid stood up. your building was on the way to theirs, so mapi offered to drive you home. ingrid clung to your side, leading you out of alexia's apartment. most of the team had no idea of what you were in for, but the few that you had hooked up with knew better.
you had gotten pretty good at ignoring judgemental or knowing looks from people, but the look in frido's eyes got to you. the two of you hadn't ever slept together, but she knew about your feelings for ingrid. she had been there at wolfsburg whenever you and ingrid had been sleeping together, and she had heard all about the aftermath of it all from former teammates.
"don't hog her," mapi said as she tugged you out of ingrid's grasp. you hadn't expected her to be so forward, especially not in the parking lot. it was possible that there could be prying eyes, but mapi didn't care. her hands found their home on your ass as she pulled you against her body. "ingrid tells me that you're quite the kisser."
"you'll just have to find out for yourself," you teased. mapi bit her lip as she glanced at you. the two of you were at eye level with each other, but neither of you cared to hold eye contact. mapi's eyes were fixated on your lips up until she leaned in for the kiss. you hadn't known what to expect, but she was very forward with the kiss.
you leaned back a bit as ingrid moved in behind you. you happily found yourself pinned between them for the first time that night. mapi's lips were soft and tasted a little bit of whatever fruity drink alexia had in the pitcher for everybody. mapi pressed deeper and deeper with her kiss until she managed to pull a moan from your lips.
"come on, there are better places to be doing this." ingrid pulled you out of mapi's arms and into the car. she drove with a hand on your thigh the entire time. her fingertips dipped past the bottom hem of your shorts, nearly brushing against your underwear.
a part of you wanted to think that ingrid didn't mean to rile you up so much, but you knew better. ingrid wanted you begging and pleading with her to fuck you before the three of you managed to get into the bedroom. ingrid was more mindful of her touches whenever the two of you were in the elevator and hallway, but mapi wasn't.
"i bet you look unreal coming apart on my strap," mapi whispered in your ear. she grabbed you by the hips and pulled you back to grind against her. ingrid bit her lip as she glanced over at the two of you. she had been nervous before tonight about inviting you into their bedroom. mapi was jealous, but the woman was having her fun with you, which excited ingrid more than anything else. ingrid already knew how good of a fuck you could be, and now mapi would get to experience that as well.
"maria wants to fuck you in the ass," ingrid told you. your cheeks turned a deep shade of red, despite your lack of surprise. you had caught mapi staring at your ass in practice several times before. ingrid didn't say anything else as she tugged you into mapi's apartment. "you already know how i want you, don't you?"
"here?" you questioned. ingrid shook her head and brought you back to the bedroom. mapi rushed in behind the two of you. both women helped you strip out of your clothing before ingrid laid you out on the bed. your head was hanging off of the side as you watched mapi and ingrid undress each other.
it was a bit odd to look in from your position, but you were grateful for it. there was a sense of longing as you watched them together, but it was quickly overshadowed by desire when you caught ingrid's eye. she whispered something to mapi, who climbed onto the bed to join you.
"tu eres bonita," mapi mumbled against your skin. she started on your neck, kissing and sucking little marks to the skin there before moving south. you threaded your fingers in her hair, gently guiding her head down in between your legs. mapi happily moved where you wanted her, eagerly lapping at your cunt.
"don't go quiet on us yet," ingrid said as she cupped your jaw. she pulled your head back, forcing you to look away from mapi between your legs. ingrid pushed her thumb past your lips and watched you suck. she let you get a rhythm with that before she switched to her two middle fingers.
ingrid fucked your mouth with her fingers. the thrusts of her fingers were fairly shallow except for the odd one or two that she pushed in further to make you gag. ingrid pulled her fingers away from your mouth, making a show of wiping your spit off against your cheek as she did. mapi glanced up from between your legs to see ingrid slowly thrust her hips forward to have you deep throating her strap-on.
"fuck," mapi groaned as leaned back a bit to get a better view. ingrid shot mapi a warning look to continue with you. she glanced back down between your legs to admire the slickness of your arousal. mapi used one of her hands to rub at your clit as her other one focused on fingering you. "you're taking my fingers so well, bebita."
"don't let her cum," ingrid said. mapi let out a little whine, but ingrid assured her that it would be worth it. between them, you felt your stomach tighten a little as they spoke about the things they wanted to do to you. mapi got you right up to the edge with her fingers, but then pulled her fingers away at ingrid's insistence.
"if it was up to me, you'd be cumming all night long," mapi told you. she trailed kisses up from your stomach, moving to make room for ingrid between your legs as she did. ingrid positioned herself in between your legs, lazily stroking the head of her cock between your folds.
"we have all night, there's no need to rush," ingrid said as she pulled your legs up to wrap around her waist. she didn't outright thrust into you, instead grinding in a way that you knew was getting her off as well. you thought it was a bit odd that ingrid seemed to be stalling, but once you looked over to see mapi approaching you with another strap-on, you knew why. "(y/n) is very good at eating pussy. mapi, sit on her face."
ingrid had pulled your body back enough so that your head wasn't leaning over the edge of the bed anymore. mapi knelt over your face, surprised when your arms tugged her down to settle a little deeper. mapi didn't doubt what ingrid had just told her about you, but she hadn't expected you to be so eager in eating her out.
"you love the taste of maria on your tongue, don't you? she's already rutting against your hips like a whore. make her cum, and we'll both have you seeing stars. come on, i know how much you like showing off," ingrid said as she fucked you. ingrid knew how much her words affected you. she knew exactly how much you liked hearing her talk about how well you were taking her cock or how well you ate her girlfriend out.
"ingrid, i'm so close," mapi huffed out. her hips had been bucking wildly on your face as she ground her cunt against your tongue. ingrid slowed down her thrusts as she watched you push mapi over the edge. the angle wasn't good to see exactly what your mouth was doing, but she got a good idea. there weren't that many forms of stimulation that had mapi cumming that quickly, and ingrid knew from experience how much you loved focusing on the clit.
"do you hear that (y/n)? mapi's gonna cum for you, and then, you get to cum too. after that, we're gonna flip you over and fuck you until you're begging us to stop. i want personally want to see how many times you can cum on my cock," ingrid told you. mapi's body was spasming above you, but all you could think about was the way ingrid was talking to you. she had changed a lot since wolfsburg, becoming much more confident in her dominance than you remembered.
one of ingrid's hands moved down from where they had both been gripping your waist. there wasn't much room for her hand to squeeze in between your bodies, but ingrid found it. she knew that she could thrust into you all night, but if she wanted you to cum, you needed more. ingrid was happy to give you that. she wanted to watch you cumming and crying out her name with mapi's arousal absolutely coating the bottom half of your face.
your cries of pleasure echoed off of ingrid's bedroom walls. mapi was squeezing her thighs together as she watched you and ingrid together. she could tell that ingrid wasn't far behind you, the few little deep thrusts she took once you had stopped clenching around her being the trick to push her over the edge.
the squeeze of ingrid's hands on your waist were a bit rough, but served as a reminder of the things she could do to you. ingrid was the softest and most gentle person that you had ever met, but in the bedroom things were different. ingrid manhandled you a little as she flipped you onto your stomach. she leaned down and kissed you, serving as a distraction as mapi moved in behind you.
"are you okay with mapi fucking you in the ass?" ingrid asked you. the question was blunt and direct, enough so that you were blushing deeply as you nodded. "use your words. she won't touch you until she hears you tell her that it's okay. if you don't want that, we can find something else to do. we could take turns with your pussy if you wanted instead."
"i want this. i want mapi to fuck me while you're fucking me," you told them. mapi leaned over and started trailing kisses from your upper back down your spine. ingrid laid back against the pillows and pulled you up to lay on her lap. ingrid grabbed your jaw with one hand and pulled you in for a kiss.
behind you, you could feel mapi try to position you. she seemed slightly afraid to move you around like ingrid had been all night. ingrid seemed to sense this as well and started to help mapi get you laid out how they'd need you to be. you could feel the length of ingrid's strap pressing against your cunt, occasionally grinding as either of you moved.
"your ass is perfect," mapi muttered as she spread you apart. this wasn't a completely foreign position, but it was all still new to you. mapi moved slowly, easing you into each of her motions. at the first feeling of her tongue, you knew that you'd be back in their bed again. the sensation was addicting, and you longed to feel her tongue elsewhere on your body.
"you don't have to hold back with us," ingrid told you. she knew that you could be a bit shy about the noises you made while getting fucked. ingrid wanted to hear all of them, but more importantly, she wanted mapi to hear you. she wanted mapi to hear you completely falling apart with both of them inside of you. she wanted mapi to hear the way that you screamed out in pleasure once ingrid would get to fucking you again.
things had slowed down drastically as mapi stretched you out from behind. there was no rush to any of her movements, not even once she had you stretched enough to comfortably take her strap. it felt much smaller than ingrid's, which was still being ground against your cunt as mapi began to slowly thrust inside of you.
"how does it feel bebita?" mapi asked you. she leaned down, whispering her words into the shell of your ear. you shuddered, quiet moans and whimpers escaping you.
"good, so fucking good," you mumbled. "ingrid, please."
"we've got you." ingrid pressed a kiss to your cheek as she shifted her hips and began to slide inside of you. as much as ingrid wanted to pin you down against her body and thrust into you wildly, she knew that you needed to be slowly worked up. your arousal was dripping down onto ingrid's thighs, having made a complete mess of yourself, but you were far from finished. "mapi, you need to start moving."
mapi glanced down at you to check before she made any real movement. slowly, she inched her way inside of you. each thrust was shallow, and mapi made sure that you were comfortable before she started to get deeper. it was torturously slow, but ingrid allowed you enough space to move freely. mapi was so caught up in making sure that she didn't hurt you that she didn't realize you rocking back until you urged ingrid to move as well.
"this isn't too much for you?" mapi sounded surprised, and if it was any other time, you would have been blushing with embarrassment. now, you were shamelessly rocking yourself between the two of them, setting a pace that you could just barely handle.
"no, i want more," you told her. mapi glanced down at ingrid who just nodded. you felt mapi's hands grip your hips from behind as she began to fuck you harder. ingrid started to thrust up, matching mapi's pace easily. ingrid's thrusts were harder than mapi's, a small show of ingrid's somewhat hidden strength.
both of them fucking you at the same time felt wildly different than when you had been fucking yourself between them. you felt consistently fuller in a way that you hadn't felt before. your body felt like it was constantly on edge, just waiting for ingrid or mapi to let you know that you could cum.
"we're going to move you," ingrid told you. it was impressive how ingrid and mapi managed to completely flip your positioning without having to pull out. now, mapi was thrusting up into your ass from beneath you while ingrid rougly drove her hips into yours. she had your legs spread wide open as she fucked you, not allowing for any of the noises to be muffled.
"don't bite your lip. i want to hear you," mapi said as she grabbed at your jaw. she hooked two of her fingers under your jaw, holding your mouth open. you were sure that it had to be quite the sight, especially with the way that ingrid stared at you. her eyes flicked from between your legs to your face, occasionally stopping to watch the way your breasts bounced as you were fucked.
you were pushed well beyond being able to form anything coherent. mapi's fingers in your mouth didn't help your case, but they both seemed to understand your attempt to warn them of your orgasm. this time, ingrid didn't stop, fucking you straight from one into another. mapi stalled in her movements, waiting until ingrid moved to pull out.
"do you need anything?" mapi asked as she pulled you into her arms. you had been with couples before, and normally, you were forced out as soon as the fun was over. maybe it was a spanish thing, or maybe it was just mapi, but you liked being kept around for a bit longer and looked after.
"i'm okay. i can leave if you need me to," you said. ingrid shook her head as she leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
"you stay right there for now. i'll be back, i promise." you weren't sure who the last part was for, but both you and mapi watched ingrid grab some clothes and disappear. you heard the door to her apartment shut, leaving you alone with mapi for the first time.
"do you want to take a shower?" mapi asked you. laying against her was nice, especially with the way her hand gently stroked your high and the outside of your thigh. you had been a bit nervous with mapi, knowing that your body was simply built different than ingrid's. however, mapi had shown your body love and attention while you were in her bed. "i can go with you if you'd like, or not. if we go now, we can be done by the time ingrid gets back with the food."
"together? you want to shower with me?" you asked her.
"we don't have to, but it will be quicker," mapi told you. you knew that there was more she wanted to say, another reason, but the two of you left it in the air. the idea of it sounded nice, so you agreed to it. you had no idea how intimate it was going to feel, but instead of running away from it, you let yourself lean into it.
mapi doted on you inside and outside of the shower. she let you borrow a pair of her sweatpants and a sports bra. the two of you sat on the couch wrapped up in a big blanket with a german reality tv show that ingrid had gotten obsessed with in germany queued up. you felt less like someone they had just brought over to fuck, and more included than you had thought possible.
even after the impromptu midnight snack and reality tv binge, they brought you back to their bed. mapi changed the sheets as ingrid leaned against your body, sleepy kisses pressed along the side of your neck. you curled into ingrid once the three of you were settled on the bed. she held onto you tightly, like she was afraid you'd run off if she did anything else. mapi laid on ingrid's other side, but kept one of her hands threaded in your hair as she scratched lightly at your scalp. it was all almost too much for you, but you openly embraced the comfort that you had denied yourself for so long.
#woso x reader#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso smut#ingrid engen x mapi leon x reader#ingrid engen smut#ingrid engen imagine#ingrid engen x reader#mapi leon smut#mapi leon imagine#mapi leon x reader#minors dni#minors do not interact
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Long Story Short
Pairing: Single Dad Cassian x Bestie Reader
Synopsis: Cassian loved Reader for as long as he could remember, but there never seemed to be any opportunity for more. Then what was meant to be a random one night stand ends with Cassian, alone, with a baby in his arms. Throughout this new journey in his life, Reader is there for him in ways that he never could have expected.
Based on this request! 🩷
Warnings: smut, pregnancy, swearing, a lil angst, mutual pining
Word Count: 6k
Cassian’s heart ached as he watched you settle in beside your lover, his arm slinging around your shoulders, your smile bright and loving as you looked at him, in your own little world as your friends talked and laughed at the table around you.
He hated it when you brought him along to what he considered to be family functions, meant for the people Cassian loved. And that asshole certainly did not fit into that category.
Okay, he could concede that this guy wasn’t that bad. But, he certainly wasn’t good enough for you. Nobody ever could be, but certainly not Zaden.
Cassian knew he wasn’t good enough for you either, but he would try his damn hardest to be everything you needed if you ever gave him the chance. He had loved you so intensely for so long, he couldn’t imagine how you hadn’t already figured it out. He felt like the whole world dimmed in your presence, with you standing out in vibrant color against everything else.
Suddenly, Azriel nudged him subtly with his elbow, and Cassian came back to real life, to the one where you loved him as a friend and nothing more, where you went to Zaden’s bed every night --
Rhysand was looking at him expectantly. Cassian cleared his throat. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked how training is going in the mountains,” Rhysand purred, clearly amused to catch Cassian in the middle of a daydream.
He was glad for the distraction, and gave them all updates about how the Illyrian armies were shaping up, before suffering through the rest of dinner with you across from him.
Cassian bolted out of his seat as soon as the plates were cleared, heading into the city, needing fresh air, needing some kind of distraction that would make his heart stop hurting for just a little bit.
He ended up at a bar, tossing back glass after glass of amber liquid until a stranger sat right next to him, her arm brushing against his as she settled on top of the stool.
When he looked at her, her eyes were already locked on his, her mouth curved into a sultry smile. She was beautiful, he had to admit. Not as beautiful as you obviously, but attractive nevertheless.
She turned fully towards him, making small talk as she brushed her fingers along his arm.
And he thought this could be a damn good distraction.
---
Weeks later, you burst through Cassian’s door, tears in your eyes.
Cassian stood up immediately, and you ran to him, burying your face in his chest as he held you close. “What is it?” he asked.
“Zaden broke up with me,” you sniffed.
He held you tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “What? Why?”
You groaned. “He said it just wasn’t working.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said, tilting your chin up so he could look at you. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Can we just hang out today?” You asked. “Is that okay?”
“Of course it is,” he said, his heart leaping that he was the one you ran to.
For the rest of the day, the two of you lounged around, and Cassian was doing everything he could to make you feel better.
When the sun dipped below the horizon, you were settled under his arm, your head against his chest. “I can’t believe I wasn’t good enough for him,” you said quietly.
“No, don’t do that,” he said, and you tilted your head up to look at him curiously. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”
“Cassian,” you whispered.
“I mean it,” he murmured. Surely, you had to know. After all this time, how could you not see it?
Your breath hitched, your gaze dipping to Cassian’s lips for a moment.
Then you were leaning toward him, your lips gently meeting his. He sucked in a breath, and shifted you so you were sitting on top of him. You were holding his face in your hands, kissing him and this is all he’s ever wanted, and he longed to melt into you and stay there forever, but…
He pulled back from you, his heart breaking. “You’re sad and you’re vulnerable. We shouldn’t.”
“Cassian,” you said, your voice breaking. “Have you ever thought about… us?”
His heart lurched, his mind reeling, trying to decide how much to tell you. “Of course I have,” he said quietly, running his thumb lightly across your cheekbone.
Something like hope flickered in your eyes, and Cassian’s heart swelled. “You have?” You whispered.
Cassian almost laughed, years of pining over you flashing through his mind. He couldn’t stop himself from leaning in and kissing you softly. “You’re incredible,” was all he could manage.
You laughed lightly. “So are you…” Your voice trailed off, your eyes darting away from his, a habit he knew meant you were trying to find the courage to say something. After a moment, your eyes locked on his again and you said softly, “Maybe we could be incredible together.”
Your name rushed out of Cassian’s mouth like a gasp before he could stop it. His heart sank into his stomach. He wanted you. Of course he did. But he didn’t want to be your rebound, the one you only noticed right after someone else had broken your heart. He wanted to be your first choice, the only one that mattered.
He ran his thumb along your cheekbone. “If you really want to give us a shot… I think we should wait. Your emotions are all over the place right now, and I don’t --” he stopped short.
Your eyes were swimming with pain as you looked at him, your hands on his shoulders. It broke his heart. “You don’t what?” you whispered.
I don’t want to get my hopes up. I don’t want you to hurt me, because I wouldn’t survive it. Not from you.
He swallowed. “I just think we should wait a few weeks. Give yourself time to get over Zaden.”
You slid off his lap and stood up, hardly looking at him. “Okay,” you said quietly.
And without another word, you were gone.
Cassian prayed to the Mother that he hadn’t just fucked up his one chance.
---
A few days later, Cassian was still reeling from what you said. You had barely spoken since then, which was putting him even more on edge.
Multiple times, he had contemplated throwing his dignity out the window and running to you, begging you to forget everything he had said and be with him already.
But he wouldn’t do it. If he was going to be with you, he had to know it was because you actually wanted him.
He ended up back at the bar that night, to drink away his problems, to soothe the anxiety he felt every time he thought of you just the slightest bit.
Cassian had been sitting there for about an hour when a woman sidled up to him. He was about to brush her away, not in the mood, until he realized he knew her. It was his hookup from weeks ago.
“Oh hey,” he said, wondering if she would even remember him. “Lana, right?”
She nodded, shooting him a tight smile that was nothing at all like the one he remembered. “I’m glad I ran into you. We -- umm. We need to talk.”
The tone in her voice sent him immediately on edge. He straightened, turning to face her fully. “About what?”
Lana winced slightly and that’s when it hit him. He didn’t pick up on it at first in the crowded room, but he could scent it now. “You’re pregnant,” he blurted.
“Yes,” she said quietly, looking at him sheepishly. “It’s yours.”
“You’re sure?” Cassian choked out, his mind reeling.
“Trust me, I’m sure,” she ground out.
“Wow.” He said. “Okay. Wow. This is -- Cauldron, this is…”
“Insane?” she offered.
He nodded, in a daze. “Sure. That works.”
Lana stayed silent, watching Cassian digest it.
“I mean, I’m happy, I think,” Cassian said. “I’ve always wanted a family someday, and children are such a blessing. I just didn’t think it would be…now.”
“With a stranger,” she added.
“Right.” He turned to Lana then, feeling like a complete idiot. “Gods, how are you feeling about all this?”
She smiled weakly. “About the same, I think. I hadn’t really thought about it, to be honest. Being a mom, I mean. Children are so rare, it wasn't ever something I really considered. But, I’m happy, I think. To have a baby.”
“Okay,” he said, nodding. “So… what do we do?”
Lana shrugged. “I have no idea.”
Cassian was almost embarrassed about what he was about to say. “We should… date, right? We should be a family?”
A slow smile lit up Lana’s face. “A family. I like that idea.”
“Me too,” he said.
And that’s when Cassian remembered you. And what you had said. And the chance that he had just lost.
But then he thought of the baby. His baby, his child.
Maybe dreams could change. And maybe that was okay.
---
You had never been so embarrassed in your life. You understood where Cassian was coming from, of course. You understood how it looked, running right to him after Zaden had dumped you.
But, his rejection still stung.
Cassian had been a near constant in your life for the past few decades, to the point where now you couldn’t even imagine how you had made it through anything without him.
It wasn’t until more recently, when things with Zaden had started to go downhill, that you thought maybe it would be wonderful if your relationship with Cassian… changed.
He was a good man. Endlessly attractive? Of course. Hilariously funny? You thought so, anyway. But, his heart. When you really sat down and thought about it, you realized you didn’t know anyone better on the planet.
And to top it all off, he was your best friend. You already had such a strong foundation, you imagined it would be remarkably easy to fall into something else, something deeper.
So, when he was holding you and calling you incredible, and looking at you in that way that only he ever has, you laid it on the line. You took the chance.
And it had completely backfired.
He hadn’t said no, exactly. Just not right now. But wasn’t that the same thing?
A loud knock on your door roused you from your thoughts.
You knew who it was before you even opened the door, but you weren’t expecting him to look so frazzled. You had never seen Cassian look like he wasn’t in control.
“What’s going on?” You asked.
He barreled into your apartment, barely stopping to look at you. He ran both his hands through his hair, and your eyes lingered for a second on the way his biceps flexed as he did so. You had to blink to force yourself to focus back on his face.
“I’m going to be a dad.��
You laughed, but when he faced you fully, his eyes full of panic, you sobered. “Wait, you’re being serious?”
His jaw was clenched. “Completely serious. I hooked up with someone at a bar a few weeks ago. And she’s pregnant.”
“Cassian,” you breathed. It was all you could say.
“I know,” he said, and his expression became pained as he looked at you. “We’re going to try to be together. To be a family, for the baby.”
And that’s when you realized, he wasn’t just here because you were his best friend and he needed to talk to someone. He was here to tell you it wasn’t going to happen between the two of you. Ever.
You swallowed, trying to keep your voice even. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need, okay? I mean it.”
He looked so incredibly relieved that your heart swelled with love. “I’m so sorry. I know we said--”
“It’s okay,” you cut him off, unable to hear him say it. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter,” he said softly, stepping forward and taking your hand in his. “It’s just -- I wasn’t expecting this.”
“I know,” you murmured, trying to keep your tears in. “You should be a family.”
His eyes softened. “I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice breaking.
“Don’t be,” you whispered.
It wasn’t until much later, after Cassian left, that you let yourself sob until your eyes burned, until your head was throbbing.
You had your chance. And now it was gone.
---
It was a while before things felt normal between you and Cassian again.
And as far as Cassian and Lana… well, it wasn’t exactly the epic romance that Cassian had always hoped to find. They got along, they had fun. But Cassian couldn’t help but wish there was more of a spark.
Maybe when the baby came, he thought. Maybe when they had this beautiful little life to bond over and protect together.
But that worried him, too. As much as Lana said she was on board, he could tell she wasn’t as happy as he was. She had mentioned more than once that she never saw herself as a mother. And Cassian had no idea what it was to be a good dad -- what the hell were they going to do? What if they messed everything up?
As the due date drew closer, he could tell Lana was getting even more anxious, which was to be expected. Right?
When the due date was only days away, Cassian met up with Lana and immediately he could tell that something was wrong. She was wringing her hands nervously, trepidation coursing through every part of her.
“I can’t do it,” she blurted out, before Cassian could say so much as a greeting.
“What?”
“I can’t be a mother,” she said, tears suddenly streaming down her face. “I can’t play house with you. I can’t give this baby a good life. I can’t do it, Cassian.”
Cassian was suddenly furious. “What? You’re telling me this now?”
“I thought I could get used to the idea. I thought maybe if you and I fell in love, it would make it easier, but we're not. And we’re not going to be, are we?”
He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “No, I don’t think so.”
“See?” she said. “We’re fooling ourselves if we really think the three of us could be a real family.”
“That’s bullshit,” he seethed. “We don’t have to be romantically together to be a family. To be there for our kid.”
“I don’t want to be,” she spat. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want this baby. I never did.”
Cassian reeled back a step, like she had slapped him. “You’re going to abandon your child?”
“It doesn’t feel like mine,” she whispered. “I don’t want it.”
He couldn’t stand to hear anymore, and didn’t want to be around to say something he would surely regret. Instead, he stormed past her, out into the night.
---
“She said what?”
You were furious, pacing back and forth in your apartment.
“I’m going to be raising this kid on my own,” Cassian said, panicked. “What the fuck.”
“No, you won’t be,” you said, taking his hands in yours, trying to steady him, forcing him to face you. “I’m here. Rhysand and Feyre can help. I’m sure Az will help when he’s here --”
“I appreciate that, but it’s not the same,” he said sadly. “I can’t believe this is happening. I am not prepared for this.”
“I know,” you said quietly. “I’m so sorry, Cass.”
He sighed, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. Despite everything, despite how long it had been since there had been any possibility of something more between the two of you, your heart leaped at the contact. “What am I going to do?” He whispered.
“Take it one day at a time,” you said softly. “You’ll be okay.”
You prayed that it was true.
---
Unsurprisingly, as soon as the baby was born, Lana hit the road without so much as a goodbye. Everyone rallied around Cassian for the first several weeks, you more than anyone.
Cassian was exhausted, more terrified than he had ever been in his life, but also more in love than he could have ever thought possible.
She was his whole world, the little bundle in his arms. She was the only thing that mattered.
“I can take Asteria for a bit,” you said. “You should rest.”
It was the middle of the night. He had for all intents and purposes, moved into the river house, and you had basically moved in too. There was always someone around him, which he was endlessly grateful for, but he felt guilty that his whole family had essentially put their lives on hold for him, especially you.
“It’s okay,” he grumbled. “I got it.”
“Cassian, when was the last time you slept?”
He paused, trying to remember.
“If you don’t know, it’s been too long,” you said gently as you came up to stand next to him, resting your hand on his shoulder.
Cassian leaned into your touch for a moment before he sighed and passed Asteria to you. “I won’t be long,” he said.
He passed out right there on the bed.
When he woke up, the sun was shining through the window.
Cassian sat bolt upright in bed, and there you were, sitting in the rocking chair in the corner of the room with his daughter in your arms, freshly clothed.
“Afternoon, sunshine,” you chirped, smiling.
“Afternoon? I was out that long?”
“You needed it,” you said.
“You should have woken me up,” he grumbled.
“This is a team effort, remember? I love you, Cassian. I want to help.”
And for about the millionth time in his life, he thanked the Mother that he had you.
---
Asteria bounded out the front door, crashing into your legs, holding you tight with a grin. “You’re here!”
“Of course I’m here! I’m here all the time, you goof,” you teased, brushing some windswept curly hair out of her face.
“Will you come color with me? Dad and Uncle Azzie were coloring with me, but they’re not very good,” she said, her voice dropping conspiratorially.
“Well, sweetheart, we all have our different ways of expressing art,” you said, trying to hold back your laugh. “But, yes of course, I will color with you.”
She took your hand and led you inside. You shot an apologetic glance back to your boyfriend Landon, who followed you with a small smile. He wasn’t quite used to Asteria and Nyx yet.
You followed Asteria into the kids’ playroom at the river house, where the whole family was meeting for dinner tonight. Cassian, Azriel, and Nyx were sitting on the floor, all coloring with crayons and pencils.
Asteria motioned to Cassian’s and Azriel’s artwork, which just looked to you like random splotches of color. “See?” she whispered to you.
“See what?” Cassian grinned at the two of you.
Laughing, you said, “Asteria was just telling me about the art you and Uncle Azriel were creating.”
Azriel’s mouth quirked up into a tiny smile, looking fondly at Asteria. “You were making fun of our masterpieces, weren’t you?”
“Nooooo,” she said, grinning.
Slowly, his eyes locked on her, Azriel stood up. Asteria froze beside you. Then immediately he was across the room and had her in his arms, turning her upside down and jogging around the room while she squealed with delight. “You should always stay a terrible liar, kid,” he teased.
Grinning, you sat down at the table next to Cassian, and Landon settled in next to you, somewhat awkwardly.
Soon, you were all coloring contentedly, Asteria and Nyx talking all of your ears off.
“Would you be able to pick Asteria up from daycare tomorrow?” Cassian asked you quietly. “I have to go to the mountains for a bit, and I’m not sure what time I’ll get back.”
“Of course,” you said, and felt Landon shift slightly beside you.
Cassian glanced at him, a muscle in his jaw ticking.
You fought the urge to sigh. Cassian and Landon didn’t get along, even though you had been dating for nearly a year. It was exhausting. Landon thought that Cassian relied on you too much to raise “his” kid. Cassian thought Landon wasn’t understanding enough about the situation. It had led to many fights between you and Landon, mostly because you usually sided with Cassian.
Mercifully, Rhysand walked in then, announcing that it was time for dinner.
“Wow!” Rhysand said dramatically, kneeling in front of her. “That is beautiful. Much better than what the grownups at the table accomplished.”
“Uncle Rhys! Look at my picture!” Asteria beamed, holding her paper high above her head.
“Not you too,” Cassian groaned. “I was going for an abstract piece!”
Rhysand chuckled, “Maybe we can have Aunt Feyre give your dad some art lessons, what do you think?”
Asteria’s eyes widened. “That is a great idea.”
You all laughed as you filed into the dining room and settled in for dinner, pleasant chatter filling the room as you dug into the food in front of you.
Everything was going well, even Landon was socializing with everyone.
Until, Asteria looked at you, casually saying, “Can you pass the potatoes, mom?”
Everyone glanced at you, but kept chatting as you passed the plate to her.
Landon stiffened beside you, and Cassian’s eyes locked on yours across the table for a moment, his expression unreadable.
The rest of the dinner went by fairly smoothly, except for Landon not saying a word to anyone for the rest of the night.
Cassian pulled you into a hug as you were leaving, murmuring in your ear, “Good luck.”
You laughed and Landon raised his eyebrow at you.
It wasn’t until the two of you made it back to your apartment that Landon finally turned to you, his eyes on fire. “You’re seriously just going to act like it didn’t happen?”
“What?” You asked, already annoyed. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“She called you mom.”
“So?” Honestly, it warmed your heart that Asteria saw you that way.
“You’re not her mom. This is what I’m talking about, Cassian takes advantage of you,” he said, his voice raising.
“Don’t talk about him like that. He’s my family, Landon. Everything I do, I offer to do because I love them,” you said, your temper rising. “That’s not taking advantage.”
He shook his head, exasperated. “I don’t think I can do this anymore. You and Cassian -- It’s too weird.”
“It’s too weird?”
“Oh, come on,” he said angrily. “Don’t act like you don’t know that he’s in love with you. No wonder he wants you to play house with him so often.”
Your heart lurched. Cassian and you hadn’t talked about the possibility of something more since that night ages ago, before Lana, before Asteria. After Lana and Cassian had called it off, you thought that maybe something would happen, but Cassian had never brought it up again, and you had assumed that he didn’t feel that way anymore. You pushed through it, helping him in any way that you could. But, you never quite stopped having those feelings, couldn’t help but let your mind wander to what could have been every once in a while.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said finally.
Landon let out a humorless laugh. “And you’re kidding yourself.”
“Leave then,” you spat. “We're done.”
As he left, all you could think about was Cassian and Asteria. And what you really wanted out of life.
---
Cassian was carefully braiding Asteria’s hair when you stopped by a few days later.
“Braids before bedtime?” You asked, smiling as you leaned against the door frame, watching Cassian's rough hands gently running his daughter's hair through his fingers.
“I want my hair to be curly tomorrow!” Asteria smiled.
“Good thing your dad got so good at braids, huh?”
Cassian smiled at you warmly as he tied the end of her braid.
“You ready for bed, honey?” Cassian asked.
Asteria nodded, but looked at you. “Can you put me to bed?”
Your heart swelled, and you looked to Cassian, who nodded, his eyes swimming with affection.
“Of course,” you said, following her to her bedroom in Cassian's apartment.
You tucked Asteria into bed, and she looked up at you, looking contemplative. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, what is it?” You asked, surprised by how serious she was being.
“Are you mad that I accidentally called you mom? I didn't mean to, it just came out,” she said.
“No, I'm not mad,” you said, surprised. “Did I seem mad?”
“You didn't, but… Landon did.”
Your heart broke a little. “Oh sweetheart, I'm sorry he made you feel like that. You don't need to worry about him. I won't be seeing him anymore.”
Asteria looked surprised. “It's just… you kind of are my mom. You do all the things that other kids’ moms do.”
You smiled, taking your hand in hers for a moment. “I do?”
She nodded. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. And you can call me whatever you want, okay?”
Asteria beamed, leaning back into her pillow. “Okay.”
You said goodnight, and found Cassian lingering in the hallway, his eyes slightly wide.
“What happened with you and Landon?” He asked.
You sighed, walking with him to the living room, out of Asteria's earshot. “Nothing. It doesn't matter.”
He raised an eyebrow as the two of you settled on opposite chairs, facing each other. “It was because of that night at dinner, wasn't it? Because of what Asteria said?”
You bit your lip, hesitating, unsure how he would react to the truth.
The lack of response was enough for him to figure it out. He scoffed angrily. “You've got to be kidding me. Cauldron, I always hated that guy.”
“I know you two didn't get along--”
“That's an understatement,” Cassian growled. His hands were gripping the chair’s armrests so tightly, you thought he might break it.
“What are you so worked up about?” You asked. “If you hated him so much, shouldn't you be glad that we broke up?”
“I'm worked up because I'll never understand what you could have possibly seen in him,” he seethed, his eyes boring into yours. “Explain it to me. Please.”
You looked at him incredulously. “Explain what?”
“Why you stayed with him! Why you liked him in the first place!”
He was furious and for the life of you, you couldn't understand why. “I don't know,” you said, searching for an answer that would be enough for him. “We hit it off at first, and I guess the problems we had seemed small until they weren't anymore.”
Cassian's eyes narrowed as he looked at you. “That's it? You hit it off, and that's why you stayed with him? Gods, he was never good enough for you,” he said, rising from his chair and looking down at you, his eyes on fire.
You rose too, stepping up to him, still confused by his anger, but it spurred on some of your own. “Who would be then, Cassian? Since you clearly know what's best for me, who would be good enough for me?”
“I would!” He roared.
Your heart stopped. Your face must have shown your shock because his body relaxed, exhausted. He was breathing heavily as he looked back into your eyes and said quietly, “I would be. I would try my hardest to be.”
“Cassian,” you whispered.
“You're my family,” he said gruffly. “You, me, and Asteria. The three of us, we're a family. And… gods, I've loved you for so long,” he said, his eyes swimming with pain, with want.
“Why didn't you ever say anything?” The words came out like a plea.
He loosed out a breath. “You were always with someone. And then when you finally showed interest in me, Lana showed up… and by the time we had ended it, I had a baby to worry about. I didn't have the energy to think about anything but her. When she was older and I was thinking about that aspect of my life again, you were with Landon! When was I supposed to tell you?”
Your head was spinning. “I -- Cassian,” you choked out.
And then you surged forward, taking his face in your hands and pulling him to you, kissing him the way you had been wanting to for ages.
---
Cassian wasn't sure if he was breathing. He didn't mean to lose it with you like that, to lay it all on the line, but picturing you with that jerk who hated him and his daughter made him see red.
The fact that he broke up with you because his daughter loved you so much made him see red.
So, he lost it. And he finally, finally told you the truth.
And now he was holding you in his arms, and your hands were on his face and your lips were on his and he didn't think he was breathing.
He groaned your name, pulling you closer into him, his hands roaming down your sides, wrapping around to grip your ass.
You jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and he couldn't help but smile into the kiss, carrying you through the hallway into his bedroom.
Slowly, he laid you down onto the bed, leaning over you as you sunk into the mattress, kissing down your throat. You sighed his name and he nuzzled his face into your neck.
Your fingers curled around his bicep, and into his hair. “I love you, Cassian,” you said softly. “I've loved you for a long time.”
He pulled back to look at you, his thumb running across your cheek. “The people you dated?” He asked.
Your eyes softened as you gazed up at him. “I didn't think you were interested. I was trying to… move on.”
Cassian laughed humorlessly, letting his forehead rest against yours. “Guess we kept missing our window, huh?”
“Not anymore,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into another kiss.
“Let's not waste anymore time,” he said against your mouth.
You immediately clawed at his chest, working his shirt off. He laughed, helping you pull it over his head.
Heat ran through his entire body at the look in your eyes as you stared at the exposed skin of his chest, his arms.
He reached for you, but you sat up and caught his wrists, forcing his arms to his sides. You looked mesmerized as you traced a finger along his collarbone, then ran your hand down his chest, across his abs, down to his waistline, stopping at the top of his pants.
Cassian sucked in a breath as you toyed with his pants, your eyes trained on his body.
“You're drooling now, just wait til you get my pants off,” he teased.
Your eyes flicked to his, darkened with lust.
That look set him off. He growled, taking your face in his hands and kissing you hard. You gasped into his mouth, and he took your hand in his, settling it on his bulge.
You gripped him through his pants, stroking up and down lightly. He groaned, bucking his hips.
“Off,” you mumbled against his lips, tugging at his pants.
“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he said, and rose from the bed before letting his pants drop to the floor, kicking them behind him.
Your eyes were wide as he stood bare before you.
He laughed lightly, then sauntered over to you, tugging on your hand to stand you up next to him. “I think you need to catch up to me,” he murmured, reaching to pull your shirt over your head.
His breath caught as his eyes raked down your body. He pulled you against him, kissing down your neck, down your chest, running his hands down your sides, pulling your pants off slowly.
You gasped quietly as he wrapped his hands around the backs of your thighs, picking you up and laying you down on the bed, hovering over you, kissing you deeply as his hands roamed your body.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamed about this,” he groaned against your skin.
“Show me,” you said quietly, your hands scanning down his back.
Cassian didn’t need to be told twice. He lined himself up at your entrance and slid into you slowly.
The two of you moaned in tandem as he filled you completely. His eyes were locked on yours as he started moving inside you, slowly at first, but his thrusts became deeper and harder the longer you clung to him, the more gasps and mewls that you made.
He twined his fingers with yours, holding your hands above your head as he pounded into you, gazing down at you.
You bit your lip when your legs started shaking and Cassian grinned. “Don’t wake up the kid,” he smirked.
“Cassian,” you whined.
You glared at him and he laughed, gently covering your mouth with his hand as you came undone, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him even deeper and he groaned, finishing inside you.
He collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing heavily. Cassian kissed your forehead before nuzzling his face in your neck.
“I can’t believe this is real,” he said wistfully as he rolled off of you, brushing the stray hairs off your face, tucking them behind your ear.
“But it is,” you smiled.
The look in your eyes, the utter love and affection made his heart race. After all this time, he had you in his arms. And he wouldn’t let anything screw up this chance he’d been given.
---
“Mom,” Asteria whined from outside. “Uncle Rhys isn’t sharing!”
Rhysand gasped dramatically. “You’re tattling on me?”
She giggled, covering her mouth with her hands.
“What isn’t Uncle Rhys sharing with you?” You asked, waddling out to the doorway, your hand resting on your swollen belly.
“It’s my turn!” Rhysand claimed, holding Asteria’s new ball above his head.
You laughed at your ridiculous family. “Asteria, honey, it sounds like you’re the one who’s not sharing.”
Asteria crossed her arms over her chest, frowning. “Fine. Uncle Rhys can play with my new toy.”
“That’s very nice of you,” Cassian called to her, wrapping his arms around you from behind, lovingly placing a hand over yours on your stomach. “How’re you two doing?” He murmured in your ear.
You couldn’t help but smile, leaning into his touch. Cassian had always been protective of you, but since you had gotten pregnant, he had barely left your side. “The same as the last time you asked two minutes ago,” you teased.
He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Glad to hear it.”
You turned in his arms, holding his face in your hands and kissing him sweetly. “I love you,” you smiled.
“I love you,” he grinned, leaning in to kiss you again.
“And I love you!” Asteria beamed, bounding up to the two of you.
Cassian grinned, scooping her up into his arms, bringing her into a group hug. “And my baby brother,” she added, patting your belly gently.
“One big happy family,” Cassian murmured, gazing at the two of you, his eyes twinkling with all the love in the world.
@loving-and-dreaming @birdsflyhome @hanuh @sheblogs @iambored24601 @thalia-as-blog @ecliphttlunar @melmo567 @headacheseason @yourqueenlilith @halibshepherd @azrielshadows1nger @cigvrette-dvydrevms @evergreenlark @bookloverandalsocats @sillysillygoose444 @mariamay02 @andreperez11 @lilah-asteria @marina468
#acotar fic#acotar one shot#acotar x reader#ACOTAR fanfiction#ACOTAR fic#cassian x reader#Cassian x you#Cassian one shot#Cassian fanfic#Cassian actoar#Cassian fluff#Cassian smut#cassian x reader smut#cassian fic#cassian acotar#request
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Meaningful Kiss 2
SUMMARY: Would they make Public Displays of Affection? If not, are they protective instead? And how do they show you how much they truly love you through their kisses? 💋
CHARACTERS: Freshmen (Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Sebek)
TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Romantic Relationship; Kissing; Flirting
WARNING: Spoilers from Ace Suitor Suit Card Vignettes
WORD COUNT: An average of 330 words per character.
COMMENTS: The first Meaningful Kiss with the Overblot Students went so well and so many people liked it that I thought about doing another one with the next most popular group, the Freshmen. And according to a poll more than 80% of the votes were for "OMG! YES PLEASE!" So here it is.
I hope you all enjoy 😘
CONTEXT: For some of them I needed to think first about what the beginning of the relationship would be like. But this would already be how they would act in an established relationship.
Ace is kinda into PDA, but more to tease you and mess with you. He is very comfortable with you. He has no problem putting his arm around your shoulders or waist with a playful smile. Often to try to convince you not to be the voice of reason and join him in trouble.
In public he may hug you a lot, but the only kisses he gives you are on the forehead or cheek. Because on the lips, those are the special ones! And those are reserved for your private moments.
You two are usually alone in Ramshackle Dorm, mainly in the Lounge. You would have many movie sessions where you would make popcorn and snacks together. And it is in these moments, where there is a high chance of you messing with each other, like throwing flour at each other or smearing each other's noses with chocolate, that his most meaningful kisses can happen. In a fun atmosphere.
His most meaningful kisses are playful and grateful. He hugs you like he never wants to lose you. His kisses are passionate, not in a sense of desire, but in a sense of gratitude. You know those moments when something happens that makes a person remember why they love someone else? These are those moments and those kisses. These kisses mean "thank you for being in my life".
However, there are also certain other times when kisses like this can happen. Imagine him getting into trouble and you ending up in trouble too. But of course, instead of handing Ace over, you protect him, help him hide or even hide with him. It is in these moments that you can also receive a passionate kiss from him. “Thank you for being my partner in crime” kisses.
Deuce is very new to these things, so he's not a fan of PDA. But even when he's gotten used to your relationship, he doesn't see PDA as something necessary. You love each other and you only need to prove that to each other.
BUT if you really like it when he hugs you or gives you a kiss on the cheek, he might do it for you. On the lips, those are the special ones and he is very embarrassed to give them to you in public because he needs to be comfortable to kiss you properly.
At first, he will still get flustered easily and probably blush a lot. It's all very new to him. So, even holding your hand will take a little while for him to get used to it. But once enough time has passed, he won't have any problems even linking his arm with you. And also given enough time, he will start to be that boyfriend who gives you a kiss on the cheek every time he greets you and every time he says goodbye.
For his most meaningful kisses there will be special places. Places where he will take you on his Blastcycle (Magical Wheel). If he takes you on a date. These kisses can also happen in sporadic moments where he feels so happy to have you that he forgets everything else.
His kisses are passionate, urgent, like it's something he needs to give you. You know when he gets so angry that his ex-delinquent self shows up? Now think about that intensity and lack of control, but with love and affection. He is more sentimental than rational, so I believe he is the type of person who is not ashamed to tell the people closest to him how important they are. And he won't think twice to decide whether to show you how much he loves you or not in a romantic moment.
Jack tries not to do PDA, or at least he tried more in the beginning. It's all still very new to him and he knows that you are his partner for life, so there is plenty of time to get used to the relationship.
Wolf beastmen only have one special someone, ever. They choose a single partner to care for. He chose you, the same way you chose him and now he is committed to you for life. And both he and you expect this to be a long time, so there's no need to rush anything.
He's not much into PDA, but eventually he'll feel more comfortable holding hands with you or letting you link your arm through his. At first, any kiss was still awkward in public, but after a while he ended up having no problem giving you a quick kiss on the cheek if you asked, or if he was very happy. And only some time after this phase, he will feel more comfortable giving you a quick kiss on the lips, usually to say goodbye.
Why are all his kisses in public quick? Because the slow ones are the private ones. Despite his tough wolf exterior, with you, especially in private, he can be a puppy. Rare are the times when he isn’t wagging his tail when he's with you. Or smiling, even if it's just a little. He likes to cuddle! The best moments alone with you are when you can rest in each other's arms. You can pet him. Please do.
He gives you sweet, light and lingering kisses on your cheeks and lips, but the most meaningful ones are a mix of gentleness and excitement. Do you know when dogs are so happy that they get excited? Think of that excitement, but gentler, more caring, more careful. He wants to show you how much he loves you, but he is also aware of his strength and that you are a human, less strong than a beastman/woman.
Being faithful to the character and his complexes, I don't believe Epel would have a relationship with someone more masculine than himself. So I believe his significant other would be more feminine than him or a girl.
If you're not a girl, it might take longer for him to get to this stage. But if you are, at first he may see you as a bit of a trophy, just a little. You will find him more cocky than usual and he won't have any problems with PDA, quite the opposite, he wants to show everyone your relationship. He'll put his arm around you a lot, whether it's around your shoulders or your waist. He'll try to get over the fact that you're taller than him if you are, but if you're shorter, he might feel like the protective boyfriend he so wants to be.
It will be a rocky start. And you will have to have a talk with him about the sudden change in attitude towards you. He will apologize a lot and reveal that yes, he is proud of himself for being in a relationship with you, because he is proud to be someone you can trust and fall in love with. The last thing he wants is to be disrespectful to you. This is still new for him, so can you help him be better?
After this beginning of learning, you will discover that yes, he genuinely likes PDA. He is a prideful person. Proud of himself for the person he is becoming with you and proud of you for... everything. And he wants to show everyone how much you deserve his affection.
He can hold your hand, hug you, and give you kisses on the cheek, but kisses on the lips are special, and less confident, at least at first. He has no experience and he doesn't want to ruin the moment. But once he gets used to it, you'll find that his kisses are just as sweet, cute and delicate as the appearance he's learning to embrace.
Good Luck! Sebek is... intense, but slow. Especially because he follows Lilia's “advices” too much. According to Lilia, once he falls in love with someone, he must pen them a letter. With a fountain pen since that and stationery are the true weapons in matters of love. He shall pen his feelings, slip a photo of his smiling visage into every third missive, and repeat this until the twenty-fifth full moon.
Of course you won't be able to bear this for long and you'll have to have a talk with him and Lilia. He’ll ask Lilia what to do from now on, and seeing that things are real now, he'll probably just reply: "Whatever you feel you should do. Trust your heart, but never overlapping yours with (Y/N)’s. That's it! Good luck."
Just like he does with Malleus, Sebek's way of showing that he likes someone is by admiring and protecting them. So, at first it will be just that, he will be close to you and you will receive many words of affirmation.
However, even after he becomes more comfortable with you, you will find that he is indifferent to PDA. At least PDA initiated by him. But if you say you want to hold hands, a hug, a kiss, whatever it is, your wishes are orders! Literally!
In that case, he will never have any problem doing any of the things you ask. Do you want to walk hand in hand? He will extend his hand like a gentleman asking his date to dance. Do you want a hug? He'll open his arms and let you in, maybe even give you a kiss on the forehead if you're feeling down.
Do you want a kiss? What kind of kiss? On the forehead? Granted! On the cheek? For sure! On the lips? Then you have to be careful. Remember that he never hides how much he likes and admires someone. He doesn't exactly have one kiss more special than the other. he will give you any kind of kiss you wish. Like I said, your wishes are orders and you will feel it in his kisses. His most meaningful kisses are all, because they are all to make you happy.
If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX
#Twisted Wonderland#twst#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#twst imagines#twst fluff#Twisted Wonderland Fluff#Ace Trappola#Ace Trappola x Reader#Ace x Reader#Deuce Spade#Deuce Spade x Reader#Deuce x Reader#Jack Howl#Jack Howl x Reader#Jack x Reader#Epel Felmier#Epel Felmier x Reader#Epel x Reader#Sebek Zigvolt#Sebek Zigvolt x Reader#Sebek x Reader
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hey not trying to be a shithead but genuinely curious; and not saying it isnt, but what makes honest hearts like super racist? because, okay its been a while but i dont remember it being *that* bad?
am i missing something? (probably)
well, essentially, the whole dlc hinges its plot on its idea of 'tribal' society vs. 'civilized' society. this is like... a distinction with origins in 19th century scientific racism used to argue that indigenous peoples were 'primitive' and 'backwards', a lesser form of life compared to the more developed 'civilized' people. and this is a distinction that is everywhere in all the fallout games, including new vegas (i think it's super fucking racist that the white gloves practice of cannibalism is constantly narratively linked to their 'tribal origins' and described in the terms of a regression or degeneration)--but honest hearts is about it and so it's really inescapable.
joshua sawyer can say whatever he likes about multi-ethnic diverse groups or whatever but the tribes in honest hearts are very clearly inspired by racist stereotypes about native americans--they are naive, gullible morons (follows-chalk can't understand the concept of a casino) at worst and noble savages with (textually) biblical innocence at best. their names, their art, their societies--all just a white guy's idea of "vaguely native american" without any research or care.
and imo worst of all (and this is something im aware the devs have properly acknowledged) they have absolutely no agency--your role in the dlc is to be a "civilized" outsider who tells them which of two white "civilized" mormons to listen to. none of the 'tribals' are able to make their own decisions or lead themselves--they need a mormon missionary to tell them what to do! there is no way to resolve the dlc without picking which white mormon missionary they should listen to other than just murdering everyone indiscriminately.
and, like--i am aware that honest hearts thinks it is gesturing towards a critique of these ideas. you can criticize the paternalism daniel shows towards the sorrows, and the dlc clearly intended it to be criticized--but that criticism is weak and hollow when the only way to follow up on it is to put a different white mormon in charge. it is the most archetypal white saviour narrative possible--and yes, i also know daniel was 'supposed to be asian', but that doesn't change anything because he is in fact, as the "civilized" missionary preaching paternalistically to the "primitive tribals", fundamentally white-coded
so i mean yea it's racist because it relies on racist stereotypes about native americans, mandates that a white person come and take charge of these poor stupid 'tribes'--but even if you changed all that, it's fundamentally about an idea of 'civilization vs. tribal society' that it accepts as a true and meaningful distinction as its core premise, and that is just a straight up racist premise.
(and the reason i keep bringing up that both daniel and josh are mormons is that mormons have a long and storied history of brutal violence and colonialism against indigenous peoples, from their original violent settlement of utah to their 'indian placement program' to their deeply racist scripture, which makes their portrayal as benevolent white saviours particularly galling and repulsive)
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So you're a go to source for all things Dick&Tim bros and you tend to write primarily from Dick's POV. So, odd question, but if you were to summarize their relationship from his POV in FIVE panels which panels would you pick? Keeping in mind that one specific aspect of their relationship that you love needs to be clearly represented by each panel (loyalty, trust etc). I hope this is a fun challenge and not an annoying question so if you don't want to answer that's cool! Have a wonderful day!
No more talk. The same thoughts run through two minds... (SotB 29) / You're my equal. My closest ally. (RR 1) / I can't stop thinking how much I rely on him. (GoG 3)
25 Feelings Dick Has About Tim
This was such a kind ask & a cool challenge which I totally failed; here are TWENTY-five panels of Dick's POV on Tim sdfdsfds Look, I got carried away! Marcia and Cindy! The boys!!
OKAY SO BEFORE I GET TO THE PANELS A FEW NOTES:
WARNING THAT THERE ARE SOME NEGATIVE EMOTIONS IN HERE because I love conflict but but but you gotta remember those are not the final word!! They are complicated people and sometimes they get mad at each other BUT ultimately their relationship is so hugely important in both their lives & they love each other and rely on each other so much -!!! <3
Also I have CONCLUDING THOUGHTS at the end about what Dick's POV leaves out (mostly: a lot of Dick defending & protecting & supporting Tim, which Dick does instinctively but isn't very self-aware about most of the time)
I have loosely organized my list into 5^5 format (5 categories with 5 examples each!), so if you want to skip to a relevant one, here are the categories!!
Below the cut:
I hate him and find him infuriating (#1-5)
On second thought, he's endearing & fun (#6-10)
Grief is complicated & he's all tangled up in mine (#11-15)
I love him & think highly of him (#16-20)
I rely on him & though it's hard for me, I trust him (#21-25)
I hate him and find him infuriating (#1 - 5)
1) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze me and Bruce, but he doesn’t know me at all, he should get lost (New Titans 61)
2) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze Bruce but he doesn’t know Bruce at all, he should get lost (Gotham Knights 26)
3) He is so nosy about stuff that is MY business (Robin 0)
4) He sounds like an insincere suck-up half the time... but okay, fine, if you push him he's got a sense of humor about it (New Titans 65)
5) I'm sure he's a better vigilante than me. It's my fault for being a failure, but I resent him anyway. (Nightwing 9 - Dick's having a nightmare)
On second thought, he's kinda endearing (#6-10)
6) He worries too much and gets anxious so easily, but it makes him fun to tease (Robin 67)
7) I'm not that competitive - okay, so maybe I'm a little competitive, I gotta make sure he doesn't get a swelled head (Prodigal)
8) I'm supposed to be his favorite! It is not cool for him to be fanboying over my not-girlfriend's not-boyfriend!! (Birds of Prey 19)
9) We have fun together. I can kick back and relax when it's just the two of us. Plus I get to boss him around a bit. (Prodigal)
10) He’s always trying to reassure me, and I guess it's a little comforting, but also he doesn’t really get it. Or me. He makes excuses that he shouldn't, because he doesn't understand that I suck. (Nightwing 64)
Grief is complicated and he's all tangled up in mine (#11 - 15)
11) He reminds me of everything I try not to think about. Sometimes the memories are so strong it hurts to look at him. (Batman 441)
12) WHY IS HE BEING IMPOSSIBLE ALL OF A SUDDEN??? THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING (Nightwing 139)
13) We're the same. He says all the things I don't let myself think about. It's like arguing with myself. (Nightwing 139)
14) He thinks he gets to tell me what to do but he doesn’t, fuck him (Battle for the Cowl)
15) Life sucks, so what. I sucked it up so he should too (RR 1)
I love him and think highly of him (#16 - 20)
16) He’s the closest thing to a brother I’ll ever have. If someone hurts him I will hurt them harder. (Nightwing 6)
17) I can't handle the idea of losing him. (Nightwing 97)
17) He’s so good and I’m not. I'm afraid I’m bad for him. (Nightwing 110)
18) He’s better than me, and it’s kind of a relief because I know no matter what he’ll be okay. (Gates of Gotham 3)
19) In my head he’s the responsible one. (Gotham Knights 10)
I rely on him, and though it's hard for me, I trust him (#20-25)
20) I know I have to trust him but I'm afraid he'll make the wrong choices and get hurt (Nightwing 139)
21) I'm sure I know what he should do because I see myself in him - not that I can take my own advice, but he should (Blackest Night 3)
22) I trust him. When I’m losing my grip on things, he pulls me back. (Gotham Knights 10)
23) I want him to trust me (Red Robin 12)
24) He can tell when I'm lying. Sometimes he sees my weaknesses better than I wish he did. (Detective Comics 874)
25) He’s always there when I need him. (Teen Titans / Outsiders Secret Files)
Final rambling thoughts:
TIM: Uhh, okay, so I'm just skimming this list - do you really trust me? you're not just saying that? - but anyway, I'm confused because you left some stuff out? Like some stuff that's kinda important?
DICK: No? I think I got everything?
TIM (starts counting on his fingers): The time I was having a bad day but then I called you. The time I got captured by Two-Face but then you saved me. The time I fell off a train but then you saved me. The time I fell off a building but then you saved me. The time I fell off a different building -
DICK: I feel like you're trying to make some kind of point but I'm not sure what it could be.
SO THE THING IS, I put 25 panels in here and not a single one has Dick catching Tim when he’s falling!!! But I think that's a central motif of their relationship from Tim’s POV, not Dick’s. I love Dick, but in some ways I think he is spectacularly un-self-aware.
And I think he especially has a lot of blind spots about Tim. He kinda intermittently gets that Tim admires him, and he enjoys it in a playful I-get-to-boss-you-around way. But Dick tends to consistently underestimate all of his own good qualities & skills, and he meets Tim at a point in his life when he's especially down on himself & his abilities. And so he's unable to see his own influence on Tim, & therefore unable to fully understand a lot of Tim's priorities and loyalties and motivations, because you can't actually understand Tim without understanding Dick's impact on him. There's a fascinating moment in Bruce Wayne: Murderer when Dick's completely blindsided & upset to discover that Tim doesn't entirely trust Bruce, even though this has been a definitive fact of Tim's whole thing ever since he showed up with his Batman needs Robin theory, and Barbara has to actively remind Dick of the obvious-to-everyone-except-Dick fact that a lot of Tim's loyalty is to Dick, and Tim loves Bruce but feels free to be more wary of him. (And to give Bruce credit: this is not something he ever begrudges.) But anyway Babs points this out, and Dick manages to sorta process it for about five seconds, but he cannot actually accept it into his worldview so instead he discards it at the speed of light and goes off and has an argument with Tim instead sdfsfdsf
All of Dick's virtues - Dick's kindness at the circus and Dick's determination to fight through grief and Dick's rigid sense of morals and Dick's vigilante skills and every time Dick has ever backed Tim up or listened to him or protected him or saved him from something or just been casually kind to a stranger in Tim's presence etc etc etc - all these things loom really large in Tim's mental story of Who Dick Is, and What Dick And Tim's Relationship Is. Tim meets Dick before he meets Bruce, trusts Dick more than Bruce, aspires to be Robin instead of Batman. And so in Tim's default version of the story, Dick is the super-special and admirable hero and Tim is... nobody in particular, a tagalong outsider who's barely managing to be a hero, not part of Dick and Bruce's family and not part of their story, who, if he's VERY LUCKY and tries REALLY HARD, might be able to fight his way to proving himself and offering something to Dick that Dick will value, if Dick doesn't get fed up with him first.
But that's not Dick's version of the story!!!
Dick's version of the story is almost the exact opposite, a story where Dick's an outcast failure black sheep who's screwing up everything he tries, and meanwhile Tim is The Sudden New Perfect Robin Who's Better Than Me And Probably Bruce Loves Him More And Probably They Gossip About What A Loser I Am, mixed with a complicated edge of Tim Thinks He's So Smart But He Doesn't Know Me/Us At All. Dick gets much more attached to Tim over time, and Tim gets unnervingly better at the know-it-all psychoanalysis so then Dick gets to have complicated feelings about him being right instead of just annoyance at him for being wrong, plus Dick's relationship with Bruce improves a lot, so Tim stops feeling so threatening. But Dick never fundamentally changes his basic theory of their relationship in which Tim is highly impressive and capable, and Dick is not so much.
And so asking Dick about Tim is kinda like if you asked George Bailey to tell you about Harry Bailey in It's A Wonderful Life; like, you'll be there for five hours while he tells you how great Harry is, and how accomplished Harry is, and how he doesn't really get how or why Harry does the things he does, and maybe George does feel a little resentful or jealous sometimes, but that pales in comparison to all his admiration and trust for Harry who he loves so much, who's better than him in so many ways, and he's not gonna openly gripe but secretly he can't help but feel sometimes like he's such a failure in comparison to Harry, a perfect person who emerged fully formed from Zeus's head with all the virtues and also all the accomplishments, etc. etc. etc. --
-- and he will not actually remember the part where he changed and saved Harry's whole entire life unless you literally send him to an alternate timeline in order to force him to remember it. <3
#i enjoyed thinking about this so much i wrote a novel with All My Thoughts sorry sdfsdfs#tim drake#dick grayson#somewhat tangential but as i was writing this i was thinking about zahri's post#about how different types of stories offer different kinds of emotional payoffs#and i think for me for dick and tim the main two payoffs are:#1) someone who sees & understands your grief for deaths that will never get fixed or get better#and who will face your ghosts with you EVEN WHEN you're also mad at each other#2) someone who you look at and you see all the ways that you suck & he's better & you're a loser who's failed him etc etc#but it turns out that you're wrong. that you're good enough. not that none of the failures were real or that they were all in your head#but it turns out that it's okay that you didn't always immediately do or feel the right thing#and it's okay that you weren't perfect. you can fuck up six thousand ways & everything you did right will still matter#not because of making excuses or allowances or somebody pityingly trying to make you feel better#but because in the end the things you did right are just Genuinely More Valuable than anything you did wrong#all the times you tried & everything that you tried to give - everything you think wasn't good enough - it was.#IN OTHER WORDS they are both convinced they're not good enough & they are both wrong <3#anyway dick and tim are both INCREDIBLY SIMILAR and also CONSTANTLY misreading each other and i love that for them#and like. they will sometimes totally misread each other & then never figure out the part that they misunderstood#but then they manage to keep going anyway. we love each other on purpose <333#ask tag#dick&tim
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Slow Bloom, (18+)
♡ Pairing: Inexperienced!Changbin x Experienced Fem!Reader
♡ Genre: fluff and smut with a lil plot <3 a tiny bit of angst during the build up but it doesn't last long at all!
♡ Word Count: 8.5k
♡ Summary: In which a misunderstanding while cuddling leads to discovering exactly how Changbin feels about you.
♡ Smut Warnings: not intended to have overt dom/sub dynamics but i may have written bin a bit subby lol oops, references to porn watching, kinda pervy bin?, his lack of experience is not outright stated to the reader as it is implied that they already know, nipple play, thigh grinding / humping, fingering (f rec), protected piv
♡ Notes: so quite a few ppl showed interest in an inexperienced binnie fic after i posted my inexperienced chan fic and i am here to deliver <3 this was also the perfect break from the longer, more plot heavy fics i've been working on as this took a lot less mental effort :') i hope you enjoy this while waiting for those!
♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.
There aren't many things in life that make Changbin nervous.
He navigates the world with security and confidence, sure of himself and in the actions he takes. He can speak in tense or awkward situations with relative ease, nerves never eat him up in social settings, and he's never afraid to speak his mind or do what he wishes to.
But then there's you. You, while laying in bed next to him with an arm draped over his body and one of your legs tucked between his, make him extremely, effortlessly nervous.
It wasn't always this way; at least, not as far as he can remember. You've been friends since forever, and closeness such as this is par for the course. He's used to impromptu sleepovers, to you making yourself comfy in his space, tossing your belongings to the floor without a care before you take over his bed.
He's used to cuddling while watching tv, to squeezing each other into tight hugs, to limbs tangled under blankets. He's used to the lingering smell of your shampoo mixed with perfume, used to the feeling of your breath tickling his skin when you pull him close, to the feeling of your soft skin beneath his fingertips.
He's used to it, and it doesn't affect him; or so he thought.
Somewhere along the line, something within him shifted. Whether the reason lies with you or with himself, he doesn't entirely know. What he does know is that he no longer sees you the same way he did when you were growing up together. And it wasn't until that shift occurred that he realized maybe "your friend" isn't the only thing he wants to be.
Maybe it's a natural, gradual progression from where you both began, a shift in desire brought on by new maturity and life experience. Maybe you've been this radiant and beautiful since the very first day you met, but he was too young and oblivious to realize it then.
Maybe it's because of that strange, sharp and twisting feeling in his gut every time he sees you with a new partner. If it wasn't for you showing interest in other people, would he have ever realized at all that what he feels for you transcends what he feels in his other friendships?
While he loves his other friends, he doesn't get jealous when they bring a new partner around, or talk about their love life to him. He doesn't spend every night lying awake thinking about them, nor does he wonder what it'd be like to kiss them. He doesn't dream about seeing their bare skin, or about touching them, about them touching him.
He doesn't imagine their tongue lavishing over him, or of returning the favor to them. He doesn't fantasize about them in dirty, naughty scenarios, during his private moments in bed or in the shower. You occupy his every thought, to the point that even while watching porn he has to close his eyes and imagine it's you making those sounds instead, replacing the scene before him with a mental image of you and him together.
That's what makes Changbin especially nervous right now. You're cuddled up to him, as you always are when you spend the night at his place, but he can't get his brain to please shut the fuck up and stop pushing him to the brink of embarrassing himself.
He needs to stop thinking about the placement of your hand on his stomach, just above his waistband. He can't linger on the fact that your tits are pressed against him while you hug him, or about how pleasant the soft, content sighs that leave you sound to his ears.
If he thinks about any of it, he'll get hard- and that'll easily be the most mortifying moment of his life, because you would definitely notice with the way your leg is snaked between his and resting between his thighs. It's moments like this when he misses the days of innocence- when cuddling with you like this didn't feel quite so intimate.
He makes a conscious effort to focus harder on the tv in front of you both, playing some sitcom he has long since stopped paying attention to. He guesses the jokes are landing if your occasional giggles are any sign, but if you asked his opinion on anything going on he wouldn't be able to answer. Changbin has never been the type of person who was easily able to divide his attention, but God, does he fucking try.
Because if you realize he's getting hard, and you feel it, there are very few scenarios he can imagine where you're okay with it. And if you decide to question him on it, he'd be done for- because there's no way he'd be able to outright deny his attraction to you. Playing it off would feel too much like lying, and this is not the kind of scenario he imagines when he thinks about the way he'll admit his feelings to you.
You've noticed since the beginning that his body has been tense; you've been cuddling since you were young, and you're more than familiar with how he feels when he's relaxed. It's almost amazing how someone so muscular can still feel so soft when their body is at rest- and right now you can't help but notice that he feels very far from soft.
You tried to ignore it and focus on the show you're watching, and it worked for some time, but the longer he stays tense the more you can't help but wonder if you've been bothering him lately. It's become a growing pattern- you touch Changbin, in some ways small and menial like a passing tap to his arm as you slip past him in the kitchen, or large, in which you hug him tight and envelop him with your entire body.
Either way, the reaction is the same; he instantly tenses. You're not sure if he intends to do so, or if it's an unconscious reaction he doesn't even realize he's doing, but it hasn't gone unnoticed by you. The two of you have always been a match when it comes to being clingy and affectionate, but maybe that isn't the kind of attention he wants to get from you anymore.
Are you being overbearing? Did you unintentionally do something wrong? Maybe he wants to distance himself from you but is just either too nice or too scared to say it out loud and hurt your feelings.
When you tilt your head to look at him, his cheeks are pinker than they were just moments ago, with his gaze fixed solely on the tv. You're sure he can feel you looking at him, but he doesn't turn his head to meet your eyes. You want to believe he's just really engrossed in the show, but you can't help but doubt it. You know him, and you're certain that for whatever reason, he's avoiding your gaze.
"Am I bothering you?" you ask abruptly, and perhaps a bit more vulnerable than you would've liked. Not that you can help it, really; you just really care about Changbin, and you can't stand not knowing if you've done something to upset him or make him want to separate himself from you. You have to know, because you can't stand it any longer.
"What? No, I- what?" Changbin finally looks at you, furrowed brows peeking out between strands of his long, messy curls. You didn't expect him to be so surprised by your question; admittedly, it is sudden, but this has been building for weeks hasn't it? You thought he'd be relieved that you're bringing it up first so that he doesn't have to.
You've never been happier to be wrong, or to see such genuine confusion on his face. Thank God. "Sorry, I just.. You've been acting different lately, and I thought that maybe it was because I did something wrong," you explain, following it with a small, awkward laugh.
Really, you're relieved; at the same time however, you do feel a bit embarrassed and silly to have been questioning what's been happening with him now that he's so clearly taken aback. You jumped to conclusions and got a bit ahead of yourself, it’s true- but.. If that’s not it, then what is it?
Surely there’s a reason- his behavior wouldn’t have changed if everything is really the same as it's always been. If nothing's wrong, why does he tense up every time you try to act affectionate with him? Why does he hesitate to meet your gaze when he never had a problem doing so before? Why does it always feel like he's putting distance between you?
Changbin swallows, you notice- a nervous response that you guess is from putting him on the spot. Because if it's not what you've been thinking, you need to be provided with another explanation- an explanation that only he can offer you. He needs to clear up this misunderstanding if he doesn't want you to wrongfully think you've done wrong by him, but what can he say that also omits the truth he isn't ready to admit?
His cheeks grow pinker, and you can tell he's struggling to find words- something you'd typically never expect to see in your charismatic best friend. You've untangled yourself from him enough to lift yourself up, weight propped up by your elbow while you look directly in his eyes. He's slightly beneath you at this angle, eyes having to travel up to meet your own, and again he swallows.
He's so fucked. There's nothing he can say right now other than "I really fucking like you and being this close to you all the time is making me crazy."
But he can't actually say that. Changbin wants his confession to come with a grand, romantic gesture. He wants to say the sweetest, more perfect words he can come up with. He wants to be a man of action, someone as cool as they are sincere, someone who can make you swoon with suave, but genuine effort. Admitting his feelings to you now, like this, would be the furthest thing from charming, or cool, or perfect.
As if all of that wasn't enough, now he has to make a conscious effort to not let his eyes wander down to look at your chest- because he's been chubbing up since the moment you started cuddling, and if he catches a glimpse of your cleavage now, he's done for. It feels vaguely pathetic to be this affected by you when you don't even realize you're doing it to him.
Changbin's eyes act against the purposeful efforts of his brain and travel to your chest, met overtly with the sight of your breasts pressed together. Fuck. He looks back up to your face quickly, hoping you haven't noticed where his eyes wandered. He wishes he could reach between your bodies and discreetly adjust his pants to hide his growing erection, but he can't, and God help him, you're going to notice any second now.
And you're looking at him so sweetly and earnestly, patient and caring, totally unaware of what you're doing to him and what his actual struggle is. He wants to clear everything up, doesn't want you to feel like the fault of what he's going through lies with you, he wants to answer every question you have, he really does- but he's found himself in a vicious cycle.
Trying not to think about the position you're both in, of how pretty you are looking down at him, or of your chest that he can't seem to ignore despite how badly he needs to focus on anything else just makes him dwell on it even more. The more he tries not to, the more space it takes up in his mind, until it's entirely clouded, preventing him from conjuring a thought worthy of being spoken to you.
Fuck thinking of an excuse or explanation, he can't think of anything other than your tits being so close to his face. He wants nothing more than to kiss them, to feel your fingers running through his hair as he sticks his tongue out to lick your nipples, has thought about squeezing them between his palms so many times.
So can he offer you a reasonable enough excuse that hides the truth of the matter? Absolutely fucking not- not when all he can think about is how you'd feel and taste. "Changbin?" your questioning voice snaps him out of it, looking up at you like a deer caught in headlights behind his thick rimmed glasses.
He looks guilty, face entirely flushed red all the way to the tips of his ears. And you're convinced now that he was trying to spare your feelings, and was stuck on finding the right way to break it to you. He didn't know what to say, and was trying so desperately to think of something that wouldn't crush you.
He can see the hurt wash over you, and he opens his mouth, ready to blurt out anything in a futile attempt at damage control, but you're already speaking before he even gets the chance to try. "You don't have to spare my feelings, you can be honest, just tell me-" you say as you start to push yourself away from him, very clearly misunderstanding the situation that's been unfolding.
Before he can even begin to figure out if he should be relieved or devastated by your incorrect assumptions hiding what he feels, the process of moving your leg from between his causes him to let out a gasp that takes you both by surprise. You feel it- his semi-hard erection brushes against your leg as you attempt to move it out from between his thighs.
"Oh," is suddenly all you can manage to say. Is Changbin attracted to you..? Is that why for months he's slowly but surely become so different in your presence? When you look back to him, he's covered his face with his hands over his glasses, his pouty bottom lip quivering in what you can only assume to be mortification over his body betraying him.
The question now is, is this simply a physical reaction to being close or something more than that? Would it happen to him no matter who was pressed against him, or is it you in particular that causes his body to react this way? You won't know until he tells you, but you hope more than anything he wants you as much as you've always wanted him.
The idea that he may view you romantically is not something you ever allowed yourself to consider a possibility, but oh, how you've wanted it. Changbin has always been perfect to you; a gentleman in all aspects, attentive, considerate, thoughtful, your very best friend. You always thought you'd be lucky if someone like him were to love you, and you always held your partners to the standard he showed you.
You thought that even if you couldn't have Changbin, you could at least have someone like him; and while no one ever made you feel the way he does, disappointing you in one way or another, you still tried. Perhaps it was unfair, as no one can compare to Changbin, but if he wants you then you'll take him in a heartbeat, no questions asked. Even when it wasn't entirely conscious to you, your heart has always belonged to him.
He flinches when you call his name again; your tone is soft, but he's still afraid to meet your gaze and discover what kind of expression is on your face. He thinks he'll die if he sees anything even remotely resembling disgust or anger. He cares about you so much, and he wouldn't be able to live with himself if you lost your trust in him because of this.
You reach for his hands, and despite his nerves threatening to eat him alive for perhaps the first time in his life, he lets you take his hands away from his face. The apprehension in his eyes is clear, though there's a flash of relief when he can see that you're not upset with him. "I'm sorry, really," he blurts out quickly, feeling like he should apologize even if you aren't going to chastise him for getting hard simply from being close to you.
“Does this happen a lot when we..?” you ask, watching as his blush spreads down his neck while he hesitantly nods. You’ve never seen him so red and shy before- and honestly, you like it. You’ve always considered Changbin to be cute, but this is cute on an entirely different level. You hope this won’t be the only time you get to see him this way. But before that can happen, you have a more pressing question to ask him.
"Do you want me to help you?" is the next question to leave you, and fucking hell, does that send him reeling. He can’t believe this is really happening, that you’re even asking him so casually. And while it isn’t the way he pictured something happening between you after his many months of pining, he could never say no to you- he's been obsessively thinking about you all this time, how could he say anything but yes?
Still, he hesitates regardless; not because he's unsure about continuing, or because he doesn't want to, but because what if it means different things for the two of you? For Changbin, it'd be everything. You're the only person he's ever liked this much, he might even be in love with you, and he doesn't think he'd be able to recover from having a casual fling with you. He'd never be able to go back to before and pretend he doesn't feel as much for you as he does.
"If you say no, we can pretend this never happened," you assure him when you see the nervous hesitance in his eyes. It's not what you'd want to hear, but he deserves to be offered an out if he needs it; because as much as you want him, you don't want him to feel stuck and uncomfortable. And then you continue, hoping more than anything that he shares the sentiment of your next words, "But I think you should know, I really like you, Binnie. And I'll be really happy if you say yes."
With your admission, all his doubts and fears are cleared in an instant. Really, that's all he needed to hear to be sure what he plans to say next is the right thing to say to you. It's not how he ever intended to ask you this question, but he’d never dream of passing up the opportunity presented to him- the opportunity to be yours, and for you to be his in turn. "If I say yes, will you be my girlfriend?"
He’s smiling, sweet and cute as he asks, and it makes you smile too- because this is much more like the Changbin you know and love. He giggles when you accept, and as the word "boyfriend" leaves you in reference to him, absolutely giddy to finally be yours. Maybe this is better than the way he always pictured it would happen; because this is more organically you, what is more natural to your dynamic and the care you have for each other.
Leaning down, you softly press your lips to his, and even just a gesture so small is enough to spread goosebumps over his skin. It's so soft, slow, every sensation lingering even as you pull away to take a breath before kissing him again. No kiss he's ever had before compares to how it feels to kiss you; he doesn't think he's ever felt as positively electric as he does right now.
Is it normal for every touch of your lips to make him tremble so much? And his heart is already beating so fast, thumping loudly against his chest with each additional kiss and tracing touch of your fingers over his body. Down his arms, over his chest, underneath his shirt and across his stomach- all of it adds to the sparks in his veins.
His hands explore you too- eager, and a bit clumsy, but you find his enthusiasm infectious. He's so perfectly warm and soft, and you can't resist the urge to squeeze him in your hands- his soft tummy, his love handles, his defined pecs; you squeeze everywhere your hands can reach. Changbin lets out a soft, surprised squeak the first time, but he quickly grows used to it, and finds himself mimicking the way you touch him.
He starts with the leg not tucked between his thighs, hand trailing up and down the length of it before he squeezes. Then he moves on to your hips before traveling to your backside, then your waist, and finally your breasts. Even just feeling them over your clothes excites him beyond words, eager and happy to be touching you like he's dreamed of so many times before.
He likes the pleased hums and sighs you let out almost more than he likes the act of squeezing you in his palms, each sound just as pretty and soft as you are. He shivers when he feels your tongue swipe across his bottom lip, and he eagerly parts his lips for you. Your tongue slipping inside his mouth and swirling around his own makes him practically vibrate with desire for more.
Changbin follows you when you start to pull away from the kiss, eyes remaining closed for several seconds before he finally opens them to look at you. His pretty lips, still wet and parted, turn into a pout when you've gone further than he can still reach. His pout vanishes, however, when you start to pull up your shirt, and it makes you giggle; he really is just so cute.
You weren't wearing a bra beneath your shirt- you never do when you're relaxing before going to bed, even at Changbin's place. You always felt comfortable enough around him that you didn't feel like you had to sacrifice your comfort during your sleepovers, assured in the fact that he'd always be respectful towards you even if he happened to notice.
And while you're comfortable and confident, there's still a certain tinge of nervousness that bubbles up in the back of your mind that comes from being exposed to his eyes now. Tits are pretty- doesn't matter who they're on, or what shape they're in, they always look good; but it's almost funny how simply showing them to the person you like so much makes you nervous regardless of this fact.
You're not ashamed to say you've slept with a lot of people, and that a majority of said people have seen you completely bare- but there's none you've ever liked quite as much or in the same way that you like Changbin. It makes it more intimate somehow, so real, and you suppose that's the part that makes you nervous.
But oh, how his gaze fills your stomach with butterflies- because you don't think anyone's ever looked at you the way he is right now, with eyes sparkling in awe as he takes the sight of you in. He looks at you with pure wonder and adoration, in a way that is as sweet as it is full of lust and desire.
In his eyes, you may as well be one of the 7 wonders of the world- something worthy of reverence and worship. He'd do it if you'd let him- worship you until the sky itself falls and everything around the two of you crumbles. He'll show you in any way he can, with every kiss and every touch, that you always have been and always will be the only one for him.
"Can- Can I touch them? Please?" he asks, polite, sweet, and full of hope that you won't deny him. It's a little funny, considering how just moments ago he was touching you all over- but it's sweet too, how considerate he's trying to be now that you're bare before him despite how eager and worked up he is.
And really, you'd never dream of denying him anything- but you do have a request of your own to make too. "If you take your shirt off for me first," you tell him, fingers ghosting over his torso, "I want to touch you too, want to see every inch of you."
"Oh," he blinks, his cock that has been semi-hard for the better part of an hour stiffening more as it twitches in response to your words. "Yeah- yeah, of course, want you to touch me too," he finally breathes, wasting no time in lifting his back off the bed to pull his shirt up and over his head.
You giggle at the urgency in which he gets his shirt off, and he smiles back at you when he falls back against the bed. He knows he's eager and excitable, and he has no shame in showing it- he's wanted you way too much and for way too long to act like this is just a typical Saturday night for him.
Even if he makes a fool of himself, he'll be happy and it'll be worth it- because it's you he's doing it for, doing it with, and that's all he's ever needed. "You're so cute, Binnie," you tell him, and he smiles brighter, cutely scrunching his nose that way you love so much, and does whenever he's truly happy.
His hands reach for you first, cupping your breasts with an adorable pout of concentration and determination on his face. He's careful with his squeezes, well aware of how strong his grip can be and not wanting at all to hurt you. He rubs over your nipples with his thumbs, and then between his fingers, licking his lips as he watches them get hard enough to gently roll them.
He looks to you for approval, blinking up at you with hope for praise and affirmation that you like it, that he's doing it right. It makes you want to coo at him- but you resist, and simply reach your hand to his cheek, stroking it with your thumb as you instruct him to keep going. He all but melts into your touch, nuzzling his cheek into your palm and closing his eyes for just a moment to relish in it before he continues.
Changbin sticks his tongue out next, watching you carefully as he brings it to one of your pebbled nipples. You meet him halfway so he doesn't have to strain his neck from lifting it off the pillow, leaning closer to his face as you move your hand to thread your fingers through his curls.
His eyes stay on you as he alternates between where he licks, one of his hands always playing with the nipple that his mouth isn't giving attention to. The moan you let out when he sucks one into his mouth makes his cock throb, and truly, he's never felt as blessed as he does right now, with one of his many fantasies finally becoming a reality.
Still, he's thirsty for more- he wants to feel you everywhere, to hear your pretty voice sing him praises, to become so absorbed in each other's pleasure that everything else in the world fall away. He wants to envelop you with his body, he wants your touch to consume him, he wants you to both be equally messy and dirty and engrossed in bliss.
"Touch me now, please, anywhere, want you to," he pleads after releasing your nipple from his mouth with a small pop. His face is flushed the prettiest shade of pink, dark eyes soft and pleading behind his glasses, lips wet and hair a mess- you don't think you've ever seen anything more perfect and alluring than this.
It makes you want to dote on him, and you'll do just that- especially if it's something he wants as badly as you. "Anything for you," you oblige, giving him a quick, sweet peck to the top of his head before your hands are once again traveling over his body. You scoot down just enough to be able to reach his neck, pressing kisses beneath his ear before trailing them down.
Changbin intended to keep playing with your chest as you touched him, but he quickly loses focus, sucking in a breath and eyes fluttering closed as your tongue presses against his sweet spot. It's almost overwhelming for him- your hands squeezing the thick muscle of his arms and pecs while you tongue dotes on him, body squirming when your teeth lightly graze over the sensitive skin near his pulse point.
Similar to when you first squeezed him in your hands earlier, another squeak of surprise escapes him when you brush your thumbs over his exposed nipples- you guess no one's ever done that to him before. You hesitate a moment before repeating the action, wanting first to make sure it's something he's open to experiencing again. He's biting his lip and looking at you not with apprehension like you half expected to see, but curiosity and excitement.
So you do it again, and he gasps, back arching off the bed as his teeth sink further into his bottom lip. Fuck, he never thought he'd be so sensitive there- and he whines from deep in his throat when you comment on it. "You're so sensitive, Bin," you whisper in near awe, and he's half tempted to cover his mouth with his hand to suppress the moan you threaten to bring out of him with your soft fingers.
His cock is the hardest he thinks it's possibly ever been. You can feel it prodding against your thigh, and poor Changbin, he's so worked up and eager for stimulation that he can't help but grind it against you as you continue to rub his nipples between your fingers. In a different scenario, it'd be the bed or his own hand he'd be helplessly rutting against- but your thigh is all he has access to.
It makes him feel positively dirty, naughty, but he can't stop- even when the friction from the fabric of his clothes overwhelms him, his hips don't stop moving against you. You look down between your bodies, watch the wet patch on his pants grow as he continues to rut against your thigh.
You want to take one of his nipples into your mouth, but you don't want him to lose the friction against you- so you bend carefully, conscious of keeping your leg pressed against him between his thighs as you wrap your lips around the nipple easiest for you to reach. He whimpers- a high pitched sound you never expected to hear from him as you swirl your tongue around his hardened nipple.
"Fuck, oh fuck, oh my god-" Changbin whines, bringing up his hands to once again cover his heated face. It's so embarrassing- how good it feels, how loud he's being, how he just can't seem to stop himself from seeking the delicious friction your thigh provides him. Overwhelming too, how close he is to cumming already, his body taut and high strung.
His hips begin to stutter, sweat steadily building on his brow, his stomach clenching as he tries his best to hold back the inevitable. "Are you close, Binnie? Gonna cum just like this?" you release his nipple from your mouth to ask him sweetly. Against your expectations, he quickly shakes his head- as if fighting against himself before he lowers his hands and looks at you with glassy eyes.
"Don't- don't want to," he tells you after another obscene whine, "wanna fuck you first, don't wanna cum until I fuck you." The way he looks at you as he says it makes your heart jolt and stomach twist. Messy hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, pouty bottom lip swollen and red, eyes pleading and desperate.
God, he's fucking cute- positively delectable. You'll have to save eating him for next time, though; right now, you just want to give him everything he asks for. "You want to fuck me?" you ask him, reaching your hand down to dip under the waistband of his pants and underwear. It's sticky and wet, pre-cum smeared all over the inside of the fabric.
He keens, nodding eagerly as he squirms beneath the touch of your soft, warm hand. It's such a contrast from the prior sensation, but just as equally overwhelming. You stroke him slowly; just enough to keep him worked up, but not enough to make him cum. His eyes are fluttering closed, hands twisting the sheets beneath him, hips jolting up to meet your strokes.
"You're so thick, Binnie," you tell him, and he throbs from the compliment, whining almost helplessly. It's true too- you're not just saying it to make him feel good. It's not the longest you've ever held, but it's definitely the thickest- you can't even wrap your hand entirely around it. "Think you can help me get ready to take it?" you ask, needing to suppress the urge to giggle when he enthusiastically nods.
"Anything! I'll do anything for you, anything you need," he babbles, and you thank him with a sweet kiss that he happily returns. He whines when you stop touching him and pry yourself away, hips chasing your touch even though he's the one who wanted you to stop- his body just can't help it.
He watches breathlessly as you stand from the bed, sliding your thumbs into the waistband of your pajamas and slowly pulling them down along with your panties. He decides to follow your lead, scrambling to lift himself from the bed and pull the rest of his clothes off in one quick motion.
Both bare, you take a moment to stare at one another. You get a better view of Changbin's drooling cock, while he finally gets a glimpse at your pussy- and fuck, is it the prettiest thing he's ever seen. How did he get so fucking lucky?
You come back to the bed, and instead of letting you crawl back on top of him, Changbin gently guides you to the side of him and onto your back. You spread your legs for him once you're comfortable, and he props himself up on his elbow, looking down at your body, so gorgeous and perfect.
He isn't well practiced, so he mimics the actions taken in one of his favorite, more intimate porn videos. He starts with kissing you, slow but messy, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. His hand travels down the length of your torso, and he can't help but gasp and break away from the kiss when he reaches your core, and your arousal coats his fingers.
"Oh my god, do you- do you always get this wet?" he asks, almost mesmerized by how effortlessly his fingers glide between your folds. "Only for you," you answer; you don't know if he believes it, but it's true. The only other times you've ever gotten this soaked were in the privacy of your bedroom, when you touched yourself with Changbin's image at the forefront of your imagination.
He continues to rub his fingers up and down between your folds until his fingers are completely coated, and only then does he finally ask, "Can I.. is- is it okay to put my fingers inside?" He blushes when you smile at him and nod, spreading your legs further apart while telling him exactly what he wants to hear. "Yeah, please, I want you to."
He presses the tips of his fingers to your hole before he slowly pushes one inside, watching in breathlessly awe as it disappears inside your warm, wet heat. You're so slick that it slides in and out easily, and soon enough you're instructing him to add another, and then one more, to which he easily obliges.
He can't decide where he wants to look more; between your legs, where his fingers thrust steadily in and out of you, or to your face, beautifully contorted in pleasure- so he ends up alternating between both. "Is this- is it good for you?" he asks the next time he looks at your face, desperate to perform well for you.
If there's anything he can do better, anything he needs to do differently, he needs to know- he'll follow any instruction you give him in a heartbeat. "Your fingers- when they're all the way inside, can you curl them for me, please?" you ask, and he's immediately doing exactly as you tell him, curling his fingers right against your sweet spot.
"Like this?" he asks, sliding his fingers out and quickly pushing them back inside, curling them to hit your spot, and then pulling them back out to repeat the motion. You let out whines and breathless moans, voice quickly growing shakier and shakier as you try to keep talking him through it.
"Y-Yeah, just like that, keep- keep going just like that," you tell him, voice unsteady between your whimpers and moans, but it's easily the prettiest sounds Changbin's ever heard- he just knows he'll become addicted to them.
He's addicted to everything about you, really- all of it is so captivating. The sounds you cry out, as well as the ones coming from between your legs as his fingers thrust in and out of you. He's mesmerized by how your thighs tremble and twitch when he picks up his pace, by the rapid rise and fall of your chest, by the way your eyes roll back as he drives you closer to sweet release.
"Bin, Binnie- 'm so close, just need- need a little more," you tell him between quick, shaky breaths. "Tell me," Changbin requests, slowing down the motion of his fingers just enough for you to be able to speak with more ease, "tell me what you need."
"Here, touch me here," you instruct, reaching your hand down to point him to your puffy, neglected clit. "With your thumb," you add after you show him, and he nods, pressing his thumb to your clit as he resumes the previous, quick motion of his fingers inside you.
He can feel you clench tighter around his fingers, while the sounds that escape you soon pick up in volume. Your thighs squeeze together and limit the motion of his hand, so he sticks to simply curling his fingers while rubbing your clit with his thumb. It only takes a few more strokes of his thumb to have your back arching off the bed, his name coming out in a choked sob.
Changbin doesn't slip his fingers out of you right away, instead keeping them inside until your breathing starts to steady and your thighs relax. "Was it.. did I do okay?" he asks after you've caught your breath, and God, the way you smile at him- he's sure he's never seen anything more radiant.
"You were perfect," you answer, leaning up to wrap your arms around him and pull him into a kiss. "So perfect, felt so good," you continue between pressing kisses to his lips, "want you now." A shiver is sent straight down his spine; is this finally, really going to happen after so many nights spent hoping for it? “Do you have protection?” you ask after pulling away, and he pouts as he considers it.
He did have some, but.. how long has it been since the last time he had sex? He’s not confident he even remembers where he put them last; it hasn’t really been something pressing on his mind considering he discovered casual flings weren’t really his thing, and he thought the only person he wanted to have sex with, you, was unavailable.
“Uh, I think so! ..maybe?” he mumbles as he crawls over to his nightstand and starts haphazardly shoving things aside while searching through it. You giggle as you sit up and crawl over yourself, deciding to help him look for one in his messy drawer. “Ah, there’s one!” you point to where you see the corner of a packet sticking out from under the book you’re pretty sure he’s been reading on and off for like, 6 months now.
“Thank God,” you hear him mutter under his breath as he lifts the book up to grab it, and you giggle again; you don’t think there’ll ever be a time you don’t find him endlessly adorable. It wouldn't have been a big deal if he didn’t have one, of course, as you usually carried around spares in your bag, but there was something really endearing about his urgency to find one.
He’s pretty sure that the condoms expiration date hasn’t passed, but he still checks first regardless- better to be safe than sorry, and all. “All good?” you ask as you watch him check it over, and smile when he crawls back to you and plants a giddy kiss to your lips.
“Yep! All good,” he smiles, settling himself between your legs after you rest back against the bed. He’s honestly pretty nervous, but his joy to be with someone he loves so much does wonders for distracting his brain from the fear of not performing to some imaginary standard of perfection in bed.
Changbin stops when it’s time to open the condom, staring at it for a moment as if considering what to do. You’re about to ask him if he needs help, but he ends up speaking again before you can. “Uh, I know tearing it open with my teeth is sexy or whatever, but I think I’d fuck it up so I’m not gonna do that,” he says, and you can’t help but laugh. Your silly boy.
“Don’t worry, you’re already plenty sexy without doing stuff like that,” you tell him. “Am I?” he asks, another cute smile spreading on his lips when you nod, and confirm that he’s very sexy. Cute too, you tell him, easily the cutest person in the whole world. And his eyes crinkle and nose scrunches in the way you love again as he giggles.
What amazing duality your boyfriend has; so strong and intimidating in physique, but with the softest, sweetest personality you’ve ever known anyone to have. He’s so perfect.
He rips open the packet with his hands, and the condom slips from his fingers when he first pulls it out, but he thankfully manages to catch it before it falls on you, or the bed. "My bad," he says with a shy, slightly awkward laugh; maybe he's more nervous than he initially thought.
He's suddenly extremely conscious of how fast his heart is beating, and of the tremble in his hands. "Want me to help?" you ask, smiling at him sweetly when he timidly nods. "Ah, yeah, if you don't mind," he mutters, and you quickly sit back up, placing your hands over his.
"Keep this one here," you instruct as you bring his hand to the base of his cock to hold in place and keep still. "And then we're gonna roll it down, like this," you guide the hand holding the condom to the tip of his cock, helping him spread it smoothly down his length with your fingers atop his.
If it were anyone else, he might feel embarrassed or a little ashamed over needing help, and for needing to be guided like this with something he feels most guys his age already have perfected. But with you, it just feels sweet and intimate; he can tell there's no judgment, and you're not going to make fun of him for not quite knowing how best to do things.
He's safe with you. And he's glad that out of all the billions of people in the world that he could've met, befriended, and then fallen in love with, that it was you.
You lay back against the bed after Changbin thanks you for your help with a kiss, but you notice he still looks nervous, so you hold up your hand to offer it to him. He smiles as he takes it in his, and you give him a reassuring squeeze after he intertwines his fingers with yours. He uses his other hand to align himself with your hole, and takes a breath before starting to finally push himself inside.
You both squeeze each other’s hand; Changbin because fuck, it already feels so good even with just the tip inside, and you because even with 3 of his fingers prepping you for his cock, it’s still a stretch. He’s pushing inside slowly, and it’s thankfully to both your benefit- because he’d definitely cum if he didn’t, and you’re sure there’d be a sting if he pushed it all in at once.
He whimpers as he bottoms out, his hand still squeezing yours as he tries desperately to ground himself. “God, you feel so good, can’t- can’t believe how tight you are, oh my god,” he whines, absolutely sure that if it wasn’t for the condom he would’ve cum from the very moment he felt your walls squeezing around him.
“You’re big,” you reply breathlessly, reaching your free hand up to the back of his neck to pull him down, closer to you, “so fucking big, feel so full.” “Fuck, don’t say that, I’ll cum-” he groans, and you can feel his cock twitch and throb, as if it to confirm to you he means it. A kiss is the only apology you offer now that his lips are in reach of yours, and he lets go of your hand to prop himself up on his elbows.
He rests his forehead against yours when he pulls away, and slowly, he starts to pull out. “Gonna- gonna fuck you now,” he breathes, pulling out almost completely before slowly pushing back inside, “gonna, oh- fuck, gonna make you feel good too, promise.” You bite your lip, muffling a whine as he continues to build his slow, but steady pace. You don’t think you’ve ever been fucked slowly by anyone, but fuck, it feels good.
You hold his face in your hands, kissing him deep and messy, with your tongue shoved as far into his mouth as it’ll go. You’re both panting by the time one of you pulls away, and oh, when he looks at you- his heart feels like it could stop right then and there. You’re so beautiful, he’s so in love with you, and the way you look at him so full of tenderness and adoration makes his head spin.
He buries his head into your neck as he starts to fuck you faster, genuinely afraid that he’ll cry if he looks in your eyes any longer. You wrap your arms around him, clinging to his body as you start to roll your hips to meet his thrusts and help him to hit your spot. He moans your name, one of his hands snaking underneath your body to pull you even closer.
You’re pressed to him, chest to chest, bodies hot and sweaty. His face feels unbearably hot, and when he lifts his face from your neck, the lenses of his glasses have almost completely fogged over. “Bin, oh my goodness,” you giggle as you reach up to take his glasses off for him, and he giggles too, though it’s quickly cut off by another moan.
It’s easy to tell that he’s getting close, and it really comes as no surprise- he’s been so hard for so long now, and he purposely staved off his orgasm just for this moment. His thrusts become more desperate, the throbbing of his cock more constant as he squeezes and holds you tighter. His pace isn’t perfect and his thrusts aren’t precise enough, he knows, but he hopes he’s still doing well enough to at least uphold his promise to make you feel just as good as he does.
He can feel you trying to snake your dominant hand between your bodies, and he pulls away from you enough to make it easier for you once he realizes what you’re trying to do. He tries to watch, but the very moment your fingers start to rub your clit, you clench around him and it makes his eyes roll back as he moans.
Changbin whimpers when you moan his name, hips stuttering and thrusts becoming erratic. “C-Close, oh my god, ‘m so close,” he whines, begrudgingly letting you go so he can dig his fingers into the mattress instead so he doesn’t accidentally hurt you. His knuckles quickly turn white, and though it makes him emotional to do, he looks you in the eye.
It’s now that it really sets in just how much Changbin cares about you. There’s no one else he’d ever do this with, no one in the world he wants more than he wants you, and you can see it in the way he looks down at you. His furrowed brows and watery eyes, his bottom lip that trembles, the desperate, almost pathetic cries of your name. He lets you see his most vulnerable self, because he trusts you and loves you.
You reach to his face, cupping his face in your hand to guide him down to you. He thinks you’re going to kiss him, and you are close enough to, as he's able to feel your breath against his lips. But you don’t- instead you whisper words that make his world tilt on its axis, a loud, desperate moan escaping from deep in his chest as he cums.
"I love you.”
He fills the condom with long, thick and sticky spurts, his entire body trembling. In turn, it only takes a few more strokes of your fingers to cum again, your eyes rolling back as the white hot pleasure licks over every inch of your skin. Changbin collapses first, careful to fall in a way that won’t completely smother you beneath him.
He pulls out slowly after he catches his breath, and then carefully removes the condom from his softening length. He leans over your body to toss it in the trash bin near his bed before he falls back down next to you, and wraps an arm around you to pull you closer. You end up in the same cuddling position you were in at the start of the night, with Changbin half on his back, and you with an arm thrown over his body and leg tucked between his.
You’re naked this time, there’s an “Are you still there?” pop up on the tv that’s since gone ignored, and you told Changbin you love him. So it’s better, he thinks; everything about where you are now is better. “I love you too,” he finally says, and you giggle, scooching up so you can kiss him. “Took you long enough to say it back,” you say, and he giggles too, happy beyond words to finally have everything he’s ever wished for.
network tags: @skzstarnet @ksmutsociety additional tag: @bookobsessedfreak
#ksmutsociety#skzstarnet#skz x reader#changbin x reader#skz smut#changbin smut#skz scenarios#skz imagines#skz fanfic#mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune
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Tommy can remember the day he knew he was going to kill Vincent Gerrard. Or, not kill exactly, but do some serious, irreparable damage to him.
He'd kind of figured this day would come, if the way he felt like ripping the old man's mustache right off his face whenever Buck came home upset was anything to go by. He just didn't think it would happen quite so soon. He's held Buck plenty of times after rough shifts, where Gerrard would make him man behind for no other reason than "I want this place clean and perfectly organized. That's what you people do, isn't it?". He's heard enough stories from Eddie, and Hen, and Chim, about the abuse they were all getting but how most of Gerrard's hellfire seemed directed towards Buck.
But nothing could prepare him for the fury he felt when that day arrived.
He'd gotten a text from Eddie, a short and simple "he needs you", and he'd been in his car in a flash. The whole drive he'd been worrying, not sure what he'd be arriving to.
When he gets there, he knows it’s bad. Hen and Chimney are locked in a furious screaming match with Gerrard, their faces all varying shades of puce, and it looks like Hen's about to punch Gerrard in the nose, based off the hand Chimney has wrapped tightly around her wrist.
He spots Eddie and Buck immediately; they're in the locker room and Eddie has his arm around Buck's shoulders. When he looks up and locks eyes with Tommy, he can see the flames of rage licking behind Eddie's eyes. Buck's got his face in his hands, and his shoulders are shaking in a way that tells Tommy that he's crying. Tommy's across the station in 3 quick strides, dropping to his knees in front of Buck and taking his face in his hands, stroking his thumbs over his cheekbones.
"What the hell happened?" he asks Eddie, because Buck's not in any shape to breathe right now, let alone talk.
Eddie doesn't reply immediately, but his jaw ticks and he looks like he's carefully picking his words. Just as he's about to speak, Buck's voice, quiet and broken, cuts through the silence.
"He made me watch."
Tommy's brow furrows in confusion, and a ball of dread settles in the pit of his stomach. Buck swallows convulsively and even Eddie looks like he might throw up. It's bad.
"Watch what?" Tommy asks carefully. He doesn't want to push it, not if Buck isn't up to speaking, but he needs to know.
Eddie speaks up first, and his voice is shaky too.
"We were called to a massive haemorrhage at the Pride Event in West Hollywood. A man and his husband had been attacked by one of those bible bashers that stand there and tell everyone they're going to hell. A bystander said they'd been arguing with him and he pulled a knife. Got the first guy in the stomach, second just above his heart. There was nothing we could do."
Buck takes a deep breath, a whine issuing from the back of his throat. Tommy puts a hand around the back of his neck and rubs soothing circles just below his hairline.
"He made me watch," Buck repeats again, a little louder this time, and Tommy's heart clenches cause he knows, he fucking knows what Buck is going to say next. "He said "ride with Wilson, Buckley. This is a good opportunity for you to increase your medic skills." He knew they weren't going to survive but he made me...." Buck trails off, unable to finish his sentence, and Tommy's vision goes red. He's never hated anyone more than he hates Gerrard right now.
That is, until Buck finishes his sentence.
"He said "you might learn something valuable," but he wasn't talking about the job."
Buck's fists are clenched so tight his knuckles are white, and there's blood under his fingernails. Eddie's got a fistful of Buck's shirt clenched tightly in his fist and he looks like he's doing all he can to not run upstairs and tear Gerrard limb from limb.
There's a ringing in Tommy's ears and everything sounds kind of muffled, like his head is underwater. He's clutching the back of Buck's neck so hard that it's got to be painful, but he can't make himself let go.
When he left the military, Tommy made a vow that he would never take another man's life. But for this - for Gerrard - for what he did to Buck, the light of Tommy's life, he might just make an exception.
#james writes#bucktommy#bucktommy ficlet#bucktommy headcanon#evan buckley#tommy kinard#911 abc#911#911verse#911 fanfic#911 ficlet#vincent gerrard#tevan#kinley#firepilot#evan buckley x tommy kinard#tw: death#tw: murder#tw: homophobia
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The Wrong Robin Au (part five)
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Danny sat back with a wince, watching as Bruce and his butler (The man introduced himself as Alfred) collected themselves. Jason's book was now sitting on a shelf, displayed for everyone to see. Bruce's desk was moved back into place, and the chairs were repositioned. There wasn't any evidence of what had just occurred.
"would you like me to get you a rag, young sir?" Alfred asked, turning to glance at Danny with a raised brow.
Danny lifted his hand and gently touched his nose, hissing when it stung and throbbed. Pulling his hand back, Danny found his fingers covered in blood.
Well, that was going to be hard to explain later...
"yeah, thanks." Danny finally agreed, moving his hand back to hopefully keep more of his blood from staining his hoodie. His ectoplasm was just begging him to heal it, but he held back, watching as Bruce turned to face him.
The man was no longer crying his little emo furry heart out or blinded with rage. Instead, he was standing still with a calculative gleam in his eyes. Danny just knew the man was going to do a background check as soon as Danny left. (Or when Danny wasn't paying attention, he was Batman after all. Who knows what he was going to do?)
It's a good thing there was nothing that connected him with Phantom. Besides the drop in grades and convenient absences, but that can be excused by the trauma of his accident and all the ghost fights. Otherwise, Danny would be screwed.
No one besides Jazz and Wes has been able to figure it out, and he'd like to keep it that way, thank you very much. He's retired now, or well, was retired. He might be getting back into the crime-fighting part again, but he was going to do everything in his power to keep from getting pulled back into ghost-fighting and dealing with the occult every day.
He could handle following Batman around at night and punching a few goons here and there, but the ghost fights? The world ending catastrophes? The annoying cult summoning? He didn't think he could handle it again. And sure, if there was no other option he would go out and protect the world. (It would be very shitty of him not to if he could do something when no one else could. He lived here too, you know.)
But that's not his job anymore. No, that's what the Justice League is for. (was for... He had forgiven them for not being there for him when it mattered. They were here now. So it was fine. No, it wasn't) They're the ones who are protecting Earth now. They're the ones who have to drop everything and help save the world. Not him. Not anymore.
Maybe he could think of this as a really shitty vacation? Then once he's sure Batman is stable and that Tim won't do something stupid, Danny could go back to Amity and figure out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. Maybe he could even go to college?
"Why are you here?" Bruce asked, his calculated eyes still boring into Danny's head. Danny, having gotten used to ghosts popping up and speaking to him at all hours of the day, didn't flinch as he glanced back up at Bruce.
"To keep you from killing yourself, seriously dude. Did you not hear when I told you earlier?" Danny spat, pointedly wiping the blood off his chin.
Bruce barely even moved, but Danny could tell he had winced. Sensing people's emotions was going to become one of the more useful powers he had, wasn't it?
...
How long was his nose going to bleed, again? Didn't broken noses stop bleeding after a few minutes?
His core flared in annoyance, finally making him remember a very important fact.
He was half dead. As in his body doesn't heal or change without the influence of his ectoplasm. This means he's going to keep bleeding until he either doesn't have any blood to bleed or he lets his ectoplasm heal it.
Great.
That's not going to make Bruce suspicious at all. Nope. Definitely not.
Focusing on his nose, Danny let his ectoplasm rush to the area and start healing it, but held it back before it could do more than stop the bleeding.
Alfred entered the room not even a second later, "here you go, young sir. Just hold it there for a minute while I prepare my med kit."
Danny grabbed the rag handed to him and pressed it to his nose, ignoring the sharp pain. He watched as Alfred placed his med kit on the side table and started digging through it. After a few minutes, Alfred leaned back and pulled on some gloves.
"let me have a look," he demanded, turning to kneel in front of Danny. Danny sighed, removed the rag, and leaned forward to let Alfred get a closer look. The man clicked his tongue, but gently grabbed his face and studied the injury.
Bruce shuffled awkwardly in the background, looking like a child waiting to get scolded. Good. He was a grown-ass man for crying out loud, he should get scolded for breaking Danny's nose.
"Alright, this will hurt," Alfred said, moving his hands to gently rest next to Danny's nose. Danny, having dealt with many broken noses before, looked away from the older man and stared Bruce dead in the eyes.
With sure but quick movements, Alfred straightened his nose with a loud crunch. Bruce's eyes narrowed as Danny bit his tongue, keeping any other sign of pain to himself.
"There," Alfred sighed, "it was a clean break, so you'll only have to keep some gause on it until you go to the doctor. Master Bruce?"
Bruce grunted, before finally looking over to his butler. "I'm fine, Alfred."
"good," Alfred nodded, "then I shall put on some tea. In the meantime, I recommend you two have a civil conversation."
Danny leaned back, taking the wet rag Alfred handed to him, and cleaned his face. Now that his nose looked normal, Danny allowed his ectoplasm to start healing it. He didn't plan on seeing Bruce again anytime soon, so any bruises or swelling he should have, won't matter.
Alfred finished placing his medical supplies away and held his hand out for the rags, once Danny gave them to him, the man swiftly left the room. bruce will probably want to test his blood later now that Danny thinks about it. Well, that's definitely something Batman would do, Danny thinks.
Oh well, it's not like his blood would reveal anything. It's literally just his human blood. Now if he was bleeding as Phantom? This would be a whole other problem.
"Who are you and how do you know who I am?" Bruce grunts, stepping closer to Danny in an attempt to be intimidating. And it would have been if Danny hadn't just watched the man breakdown ugly crying not even thirty minutes ago.
Rolling his eyes, Danny leaned back in his chair and huffed, "I told you this already. My name's Danny. I'm here to keep you from killing yourself. And it's pretty obvious who you are if you just think about it." Because it was obvious. Once Tim pointed it out to him, that is.
He wasn't about to just tell Batman that though, Tim didn't deserve to have the man breathing down his neck just for being smart enough to figure it out.
Before Bruce could respond, Danny's phone rang once, twice, then stopped. Glancing at the clock, Danny found it was only six. This meant, it was either Sam texting him to figure out where he was (which wasn't likely, since he usually disappeared in the mornings) or it was Tim.
Grabbing his phone, Danny unlocked it and was met with a message from Tim.
TIM: thanks for listening to me.
Before Danny could send a response, another text came through.
TIM: when did you want to meet up and discuss a plan?
DANNY: tomorrow, after you get some sleep.
TIM: I did! I took a nap!
DANNY: not a long one.
TIM: I'm not tired though!
DANNY: Then pretend to sleep or something, I don't care. Could you just make sure you sleep before I text you tomorrow? please, kid?
TIM: whatever. you're not even that much older than me, you know that right?
Danny: sure kid.
"Who is that?" Bruce suddenly asks, making Danny glance up at him.
Shit, uh... "The kid I'm babysitting later."
You know what? That works. And it's technically true.
Bruce just hummed, allowing Danny to turn back to his phone.
TIM: I'm thirteen!
DANNY: Yeah? Well, I'm seventeen, almost eighteen. Anyone under the age of fifteen is a literal baby. which makes you? that's right. a child. and what do children need? Sleep. They need sleep, Tim.
TIM: I'm not a child! and if you've forgotten; I still have all the evidence proving that you're Robin. I'm petty enough to release it.
DANNY: Go ahead. If it'll make you sleep at night.
Tim left him on read after not responding for a few minutes. Bruce had wandered over to his desk to work on something, probably Danny's background check.
Sighing, Danny sent a text to Sam letting her know he'd be busy for the rest of the morning and to let Tucker know. Once that was done, he shoved his phone into his pocket and stood up. Bruce glanced at him for a moment before going back to what he was going, leaving Danny to look around the office.
Pictures were hanging on the wall, books covering the shelves, and random objects covering everything else. Basically, Bruce's office was filled with all sorts of things. Things that could give Danny an idea of who Bruce was as a person. Something he was going to need to know if he planned to stick around and help him. which he was. because he'd promised Tim that he would.
Reaching out, Danny picked up one of the photos and examined it. It was Bruce, Alfred, and some boy Danny didn't recognize, though they looked eerily like him. They could even pass as his clone if you squinted.
"Hey, Bruce," Danny started, "Who's this?"
Next
#Danny pretends to be Robin#Post Jason's death#The Wrong Robin Au#danny's only had tim for two hours#but if anything happened to him#he'd kill everyone in the room and then himself#danny fenton#dp x dc#dc x dp crossover#dc x dp#tim drake#Wrong Robin Au#bruce wayne#batman#danny phantom#dpxdc#dick grayson#alfred pennyworth#clockwork#sam manson#tucker foley
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𝖆𝖋𝖋𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓[𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘] - 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 1
no way. there's absolutely no way you're tutoring sukuna. never in a million years, not if there was a gun to your head, not if.... gojo's willing pay?? maybe you can make arrangements, after all you're always happy to help >_<
college au - various x fem! reader
warnings: swearing, sukuna, ooc characters, mentions of pregnancy (NOT the reader)
w/c: 2500 words+ (somewhat proofread)
a/n: this chapter took so so long and i apologise for that :(( thank you to @storiesoflilies for beta reading and for the encouragement!! and thank you to everyone who left a lovely comment too. they honestly give me so much motivation and energy to write more <33
series masterlist :: general masterlist
join the taglist here to be tagged in future chapters <33
previous chapter :: next chapter
it was a beautiful and blessed day. somehow, the stars aligned, and you and shoko managed to wrap up your lectures early and go for lunch together. heaven knows you needed a break, and its light truly was shining down on you.
shoko, being a med student, had a packed timetable, and you rarely saw each other. you missed your best friend and spending your free time tutoring was taking a toll on you.
with your lunches comfortably settled into your stomachs, you both turned to your favourite pastime. gossiping.
“you know that one third year?”
“which one shoko? there’s literally hundreds?”
“the rude one, shit i’ve forgotten her name,” shoko rubs her forehead with one hand, a cigarette in the other. she puffs out smoke, manoeuvring her lips so it avoids hitting your face. “with the long brown hair? spilt her drink on you on purpose?”
“ohh you mean yorozu?” you say, finally realising who she was talking about.
you remembered that day like it was yesterday. you were sitting in the library tutoring geto when all of a sudden gojo comes waltzing in looking for him, his entourage hot on his tail.
apparently, yorozu didn’t like geto’s attention being on you (even though you were there for strictly business purposes), and ‘accidentally’ dropped her drink in your lap.
that might’ve been the only time gojo had been somewhat nice to you, grabbing a bunch of tissues from his pocket and offering you his jacket to cover up the stain.
still, it didn’t make up for the other 99 times he was a prick. and it only made yorozu hate you more.
you pause, taking a sip from your mug. “i don’t want to be mean, but she’s such a bitch.”
“she literally made fun of professors toji’s daughter who’s terminally ill, there’s a special place in hell for her,” shoko paused and took a long drag of her cigarette before continuing. “anyways apparently she’s pregnant with that one third year with the facial tattoos.”
your mouth falls open in shock, and the mug nearly falls out of your grasp.
“choso?!? choso got her pregnant?!!? there’s no way, choso would never, he’s so sweet! and if he did he’d tell me!”
“not choso you dumbass. sukuna.”
“oh,” you deadpan. “him.”
sukuna, whilst you’ve had the pleasure of never really interacting, was one of gojo’s little friends. you really didn’t want to judge people on appearances, but sukuna lived up to his expectations.
for the most part, he’d ignore you when gojo relentlessly bothered you. but sometimes you’d catch him giving you the dirtiest and most scathing looks. as if you personally replaced the feathers in his pillow with dog shit. how he and yuuji, the absolute sweetheart of a first year you tutored, were brothers was beyond you.
snorting at the look on your face, shoko brings her cigarette up to her mouth once more.
“wait sukuna?” you said somewhat confused. “i thought she was with geto?”
“they weren’t together. she was fucking both and was trying to sleep with gojo too.”
“how on earth do you know all of this?”
“gojo has a big mouth, and we have lab together.”
you hum in acknowledgement, remembering shoko complaining at the beginning of last semester, about how much of an annoyance he was.
“what about nanami?” you asked, trying to act nonchalant and disinterested. he was part of their friend group, and he could be considered attractive by a lot of people (definitely not your own words), so it was only natural to ask, you rationalise. shoko gives you a pointed look, slightly raising her eyebrow.
“she hasn’t slept with him if that’s what you’re worried about, she thinks he’s ‘too boring’.”
‘too boring my ass’ you mutter to yourself. nanami was one of the best listeners and conversationalists, you know, if not the best. and he was funny! sure, maybe his humour wasn’t for everyone, but his dry and witty remarks had you snorting ten out of ten times.
a part of you almost sighed in relief that nanami hadn’t fallen into her trap. she was beautiful and looked like a model. and whilst you were confident in your looks, you were certain you didn’t stand a chance next to her.
a sudden ping pulls you out of your thoughts. sheepishly apologising to shoko, you turn to put your phone on silent. she waves her hand at your apology and takes one last drag of her cigarette before stamping it out on the ashtray.
you quickly check the notification, eyebrows furring at the unknown number. shoko sees the look on your face and asks if everything’s okay. instead of responding, you show her the message.
‘hey it’s sukuna. need a tutor u free?’
speaking of the devil, you wonder how he got your number and why he thought to message you of all people. probably through yuuji, but he would’ve asked if you were okay with it first. you just got rid of a student, and you wanted some time to yourself. also, sukuna of all people wanted a tutor?!? he barely shows up to lectures and seminars there’s no way he’s serious about studying.
“just ignore him,” shoko said, seeing the turmoil on your face. for once, you decided to agree with her and took her advice. she’s right, you’re not obliged to tutor anyone, especially not someone like sukuna. you were trying to distance yourself from that group to avoid trouble anyway.
sighing you lock your phone, ignoring his message and turning back to shoko.
before long you’ve completely forgotten about his message, caught up in shoko’s wild escapades.
it had almost been a week since sukuna first messaged you, and you still hadn’t responded. truthfully, sukuna had forgotten about it after a day or two. but then his academic advisor scheduled a meeting for him to discuss his future at the university, and he panicked, suddenly remembering his message.
‘too nice and too scared’ to refuse him his ass. nothing but pure waffle comes out of gojo’s mouth, he doesn’t know why they’re still friends if he’s being honest.
“why the sour face?”
sukuna turns to the girl lying beside him and resists rolling his eyes. he was hoping she’d have left by now, but here she was, on his bed. her hand on his chest was slowly moving further down.
“none ya business, don’t ya have anywhere to be?” he bites back.
the girl’s eyes narrow as she stares at sukuna coldly. retracting her hand, she moves off the bed and picks her clothes up off the floor, taking her time in putting her tights on.
“scan’s next week, baby should be the size of a plum, you coming?”
“’s not mine, go ask the twelve other guys you’ve slept with.”
yorozu falters, her dress still bunched up around her midsection. she turns away from him, rushing to roll her dress down and moves to the door. a part of sukuna feels bad, he really shouldn’t be nasty, but he was adamant the child wasn’t his. even at her insistence on her being on birth control, he never once went without a condom.
once she hurried out of his room, he let out a massive sigh. god, where did it all go wrong? here he was, about to flunk out of uni, potentially be stuck paying child support for the rest of his life, and loveless.
at least his brat brother was doing well. yuuji and sukuna were like night and day, but he thanked every god out there for the way yuuji turned out. sure, he was a little stupid at times, but his brother always gave it his all and had the purest heart. the effort he put into raising yuuji really paid off.
“morning kuna,” yuuji chirped as sukuna walked into the kitchen of their shared apartment. of course, he was already up and making breakfast for the two. “i’d ask if you slept well, but i saw that girl running out of your room.”
sukuna only grunted, scratching his bare stomach in response. yuuji continues scrambling the eggs as sukuna grabs two plates from the cupboards and places them next to the stove.
“dunno why you’re still with her kuna. i support all women, don’t get me wrong, but she’s horrible! the things she’s said about gumi’s sister, i’m embarrassed to know her by association!”
“s’nothing to do with me, quit yappin.”
yuuji side eyes his older brother with a look of disgust on his face. why sukuna insists on sleeping with her is beyond him. he knows for a fact sukuna has zero feelings for the girl and is just using her.
yuuji tuts and shakes his head, plating up the eggs and moving to the dining table where they both tuck in.
“thanks for breakfast brat,” sukuna says, mouth full of food,
“no problem big bro,” yuuji beams.
the youngest itadori glances at his watch and jumps up suddenly, realising the time and leaving his breakfast half uneaten. he runs into his room and comes back out 3 seconds later with a bunch of textbooks and papers.
“(name)’s coming over for our study session, she should be here now.”
you tutored yuuji? since when? just as sukuna’s about to ask his little brother someone knocks on the door of their apartment.
you were feeling good today. with a lecture in the afternoon, you thought you’d fit in one of your students for an early study session, and who better than yuuji. he worked better in the mornings, and he was a pleasure to teach, so you were actually quite looking forward to it.
you knock on yuuji’s door and anxiously wait for him to open the door. you hear the lock turn, and the door creaks open; your face falls upon seeing who’s on the other side. the universe must hate you.
you’ve never once ran into sukuna whilst tutoring yuuji, thanking your lucky stars every day. but the one time you wanted to avoid him at all costs he’s there in all his glory.
there sukuna’s stood, topless and in his boxers, his bulky torso managing to take up the whole doorframe.
eyes naturally falling to his chest, you notice the tattoos across his body. the rings around his biceps and wrists, the delicious markings across the expanse of his torso, they complement the ones on his face so well, and you can appreciate good art when you see it.
wait, delicious? you snap out of your thoughts and meet sukuna’s gaze, who’s smirking down at you, having noticed your oogling. your face instantly morphs into a scowl.
“take a picture it’ll last longer”
“is yuuji home?” you say, choosing to ignore his words for your own sanity.
“aww you embarrassed about being caught staring?”
“it’s too early for this, if yuuji’s not home i can come back another day.” stepping back, you turn to walk away, but yuuji’s out-of-breath shriek stops you.
“kuna stop bothering her! ‘m here (name), was in a rush getting everything ready, just come in.”
you brush past sukuna, your elbow grazing his warm, bare skin. willing yourself to not think about it, you follow yuuji into the living room, where everything’s set up.
surprisingly, sukuna leaves you both alone whilst you’re tutoring yuuji, choosing to take his breakfast into his room after forcing yuuji to finish his first. sukuna was many things, but a bad brother was not one of them you realised.
a part of your heart softened seeing him take care of yuuji, glad he had that support system in his life. but the other part of you got the heebie jeebies.
still, the last thing you wanted was sukuna to confront you about his message, knowing you had ignored it. as yuuji’s session was drawing to a close, you started forming an escape plan. if you ran fast enough, you could avoid ever bumping into sukuna on the off chance he decided to confront you. and if you just grabbed your shoes and put them on outside the apartment complex you’d be even quicker!
with your plan ready and all thought out, as soon as yuuji finished his last question, you packed up, said your goodbyes, and bolted towards the door. it was like you had developed tunnel vision, blurring everything out except the door. you were so close, and so far, there was no sign of sukuna. you could do this! you could pull this off!
“leavin without saying goodbye?”
you stopped in your tracks, recognising the irritating voice coming from behind you. maybe if you just ignored him he’d go away?
you couldn’t though, you raised yourself with good enough manners, so begrudgingly, you turn around to face sukuna.
sukuna had a massive smirk on his face. he saw the way you almost ran towards the door, evidently trying to avoid bumping into him. it was actually quite comical, to be honest.
he did feel a little bad for you. you didn’t have the best experiences with him and his friends, so it was somewhat understandable. but gojo would not stop talking about how you were smart and a great tutor, and he really needed someone’s help.
sukuna would never admit it, but the textbook and the hundreds of research papers were completely inaccessible to him. he couldn’t understand the results sections to even decipher whether the results were shown to be significant or not. and why do people accept the null hypothesis? what even is the null hypothesis? and what is that funky little r he sees everywhere?
anyway, the bottom line is he really needed the help. sukuna sighed and realised he needed to come at this from a different angle.
“listen ‘m sorry about ambushing you, but i really need a tutor.”
the apology and defeat in his voice struck you off guard. maybe you were wrong about sukuna. maybe he just had a really angry resting face all those times he stared at you like you murdered his family.
“can’t you ask anyone else,” you replied
“not many people can get through yuuji’s thick skull, so you must be one helluva tutor. and gojo'll pay for your time.”
you raised your eyebrows at that, not believing satoru gojo would be willing to pay you for tutoring someone else. regardless if he truly was, you weren't going to say no to money. especially since he was known throughout the university for his trust fund.
your shoulders dropped, and you looked up at the ceiling, trying to think of what to do. he was being uncharacteristically nice about it, and you can never say no to people when they’re polite. plus the money would be good.
“fine,” you acquiesced. “i’ll do it.”
“wait seriously?”
“yes, but i can only do wednesday afternoons.”
“perfect-“
“but not this wednesday, we’ll start next week.”
“got it, next wednesday.”
sukuna was half expecting you to say no, but he’d take it. he gruffly thanked you, saying he’d message you about further details later and left you to put your shoes on in peace.
slipping them on, you mourned your no longer free wednesdays. you’d worry about lesson plans and everything later, but for now, you needed some strong coffee to get you through the rest of the day.
what had you gotten yourself into?
© ffsg0jo 2024 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way shape or form; i will piss in your cereal if you do. all work belongs to me and me only.
#🌻.sunspell#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#sukuna ryomen#ryomen sukuna#sukuna ryoumen#ryoumen sukuna#nanami kento#kento nanami#suguru geto#geto suguru#gojo x reader#sukuna x reader#nanami x reader#geto x reader#gojo satoru x reader#nanami kento x reader#sukuna ryomen x reader#suguru geto x reader#satoru gojo x reader#kento nanami x reader#꩜— interstellar communications
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this isn’t exactly a question, but has twisted wonderland ever expanded on gender norms before? I know in sunset savanna women seem to be highly respected, but it seems like that is a behavior unique to sunset savanna. It seems like gender discrimination might be uncommon in briar valley because Mallenoa was so respected by her subjects, but Sebek, silver, and grim were surprised to find out she was so self sufficient and powerful when they met her in Lilia’s dream (this is more my interpretation tho) . in the endless night event, silver tells a story about a warrior who taught for her country, which is a reference to mulan i think, and the person he is telling the story to is very surprised that the strong warrior is a girl. I think silver told that story to Leona but I don’t remember. I’ve heard that royal sword academy is a school boys and girls can both attend, but night raven college is one of the most prestigious magic schools out there, so it being boys only makes me wonder if gender is a part of magic politics, although we have been shown female characters who have high educations and magical abilities such as Mrs . Rosehearts
No, not really? It’s explicitly mentioned and touched upon in extended conversations maybe a total of… 3ish times. Of those instances, most are referring to the Sunset Savanna.
Gender norms and politics are some of those elements of world-building that can come off as really ham-fisted and preachy if the characters stop everything altogether and just start expositing about it. Thankfully, TWST largely doesn’t take that “telling” route and instead “shows” us what they mean through subtle implications.
Now, for the most part I think the gender norms of Twisted Wonderland are similar to the real world, but may be more progressive overall.
For one, Twisted Wonderland has many male characters (both in NRC and beyond it) who openly wear cosmetics. No one ever comments on men wearing makeup or dressing up in a negative light. Sometimes they complain about putting makeup on (ie the effort) or certain fashions they don’t vibe with but never do they say it’s “not manly” for them to put on makeup/perfume/jewelry, care about their clothing, etc. Even the characters we traditionally think of as masculine (Jack, Leona, etc.) wear eyeliner and eyeshadow, jewelry, or try new styles of clothing. Floyd and Ace express interest in fashion. Jamil cares about the quality of textiles and Kalim is willing to buy tons of jewelry for himself (and his classmates!!) if the mood strikes him. Rook regularly compliments people’s looks and Cater has an eye for aesthetics too. Lilia brags that he is “cute” and likes to show off his cuteness to others. And, of course, we cannot forget our queen Vil, who champions the idea of challenging and redefining gender norms. He also shares these ideals with Epel, who has been called out by Vil for having “outdated” gender norms. Given that Vil is such a popular celebrity (5 million followers on Magicam), I get the impression that the sentiments he extols is a popular way of thinking and is the direction that TWST society wants to move toward. (This is assuming that his fans are mainly younger people.) The boys often “dress up” and wear different makeup when visiting new places such as Silk City and and Clock Town, so it appears that a lot of Twisted Wonderland society that we’ve explored leans more liberal when to comes to gender expression.
Another detail I think is important is that many of the Great Seven—in fact, over half of them—are women. This is notable because oftentimes history glosses over the achievements and accomplishments of women in favor of their male peers. The fact that NRC and all of Twisted Wonderland seems to honor them in addition to their male counterparts says something. The G7 women aren’t even the only instance of female figures who shaped history. Azul and Floyd, for example, have brought up the Mermaid Princess on multiple occasions, talking about how her union with a human prince and personal efforts have strengthened the bond between land and sea.
Gendered terms to refer to mages exist, but according to Lilia, “witches” and “wizards” are outdated (they were used during the human/fae war era of ~400 years ago). Currently, most prefer to use the gender neutral terms “mage” or sometimes “sorcerer”.
There does not appear to be gender restrictions in terms of the modern day workforce either. We know of the boys’ family members who are great mages or hold significant power or status. Mrs. Rosehearts is an accomplished medical mage, Mrs. Ashengrotto runs the most popular restaurant in the Coral Sea and his grandmother is a benefactor to those in the neighborhood, Mrs. Shroud is STYX’s Chief Engineer, Meleanor is an integral leader of Briarland’s military forces, Maleficia is queen, etc. Even the women in more mundane roles play vital parts in their communities: Mrs. Clover is a baker alongside her husband, Mrs. Zigvolt assists her husband in his dental clinic, Granny Bucchi supports him as his only relative, Marja travels and helps sell her family’s produce, etc. There are many economic opportunities for women in this world.
Some may point out that NRC is a prestigious all-boys school, so there aren’t opportunities for women in education. The same goes for RSA, which is another prestigious all/ boys school. To that, I say… that’s because NRC is a very limited scope of magic education as a whole. We don’t know how many other schools are out there or if all magic schools are boys only. It’s not impossible to think that there may be girls only or mixed schools out there—but the NRC cast are the ones this game focuses on, so we view things from that perspective. I’d also like to add that we only see male students from other schools because of meta reasons: 1) there are limited game assets, so some details are accurately conveyed by the live 2D models, and 2) this is a joseimuke, a game with a predominantly male cast aimed at a target audience of women. It makes sense that there wouldn’t be many live 2D assets for random female mobs.
There isn’t any lore in-game or in other official materials which would imply that women are discriminated against in education or in the workforce. However, Twisted Wonderland at large seems to still perpetuate gender expectations and gendered traits as we understand them irl. There are some instances when the idea of women having traditionally feminine interests are mentioned: (Suitor Suit) Ace complains that his ex only liked romance and animal movies, disliked thrill rides, and preferred cute things and taking Magicam pics; (Birthday Boy) Cater also mentions his mother and older sisters having interests in making sweets and cute things. Additionally, as Anon mentions, in Endless Halloween Night, Silver shares the story of Mulan, who pretended to be a man to save her father from enlisting in the army. He told this tale to Jamil (not Leona!), who reacts with surprise when he learns that this capable warrior is a woman. At the same time, there are “masculine” expectations vaguely alluded to: Deuce states he is the “man” of his household, Epel of course worries about his manliness and sees Savanaclaw, the athletic dorm, as “cool”, etc.
Of course, these gender norms are not pervasive nor are they the same everywhere in Twisted Wonderland. One extreme is demonstrated through Epel, who holds the most regressive beliefs prior to Vil’s influence. This leads me to believe that Harveston is one of these areas that perpetuates these beliefs—and when you think about its population, it makes sense. Epel tells us that his hometown is largely elderly people, who are more likely to hold conservative worldviews compared to young people. The community, being small and located pretty far from nearby urban centers, is also exposed to fewer ideas that differ from what they perceive as their “norm”. These factors will naturally shape its residents and inform how they interact with and perceive others.
I actually think that Briar Valley would also be one of those areas with regressive gender norms for similar in-universe reasons as Harveston. Briar Valley is described to us as a region mainly populated by long-lived fae… meaning they are pretty old and more likely to be conservative. Not only that, but the area is very isolated and fae in general prefer to keep to their own kind. Briar Valley is also said to be opposed to change and new ideas and technology being introduced to their land. All of these factors suggest they would have more old-fashioned ideas about gender, not progressive ones. Meleanor and Maleficia may be widely respected and viewed as capable women, but I do not think it is fair to extrapolate how magically gifted monarchs of the Draconia bloodline are viewed to the governed population. It is more likely that they are the exception, not the rule. This better explains why Sebek and Silver, who are technically subjects of Briar Valley, are surprised to learn of a powerful princess. Their shock, as well as how Lilia describes human princesses as being meek and needing protection, also implies the usual gender norms. Given that humans seem to be the majority race in Twisted Wonderland, it means those gender expectations were predominant at the time.
The Sunset Savanna is the only country we know of at the moment where women are noted to be viewed differently. According to Leona, he “respects women” since the women back in his home country are physically stronger and stronger-willed than men. (This may be a reference to how irl lionesses do most of the hunting.) It’s not uncommon to see women in high-ranking warrior or guard positions because of this. This implies that the gender roles are somewhat reversed here; women are the ones expected to be strong, not men.
Slight tangent here: I don’t particularly subscribe to the idea that “strong” women are somehow better or more deserving of praise than “weak” women. It’s a fallacy that I see perpetuated way too often in media. True feminism does not mean demonizing what is seen as traditionally “feminine”, nor does it mean women can only be independent or strong by acting in traditionally “masculine” ways. Feminism means not judging or holding back women from pursuing whatever it is they want to do, be it a career of their own, homemaking, or anything in between. Women can be strong and admirable no matter what they choose to do with their lives.
Okay, so Twisted Wonderland does operate on gender norms—but that does NOT inherently mean that Twisted Wonderland is a sexist hellscape. Gender discrimination is on a spectrum, and we’ve yet to see any blatantly regressive demands be taken as anything of real merit in TWST. If anything, they get clowned on and told off as much as Sebek is for his anti-human sentiments. And, as I’ve pointed out earlier, Twisted Wonderland on the whole appears to accept and normalizes things that may not be widely accepted irl— namely, men in makeup or in traditionally feminine fashion. There’s also many examples we can look to of regular women in power or jobs across the world of Twisted Wonderland.
We also need to remember that TWST was penned by people who also live in a society of gender norms, so it’s expected for their lived experiences to also bleed into the worlds they create. It doesn’t make them bad people, it just makes them human. They write what they know and also play around with the ideas of different societies—those that skew in both directions (as we see with Harveston vs Sunset Savanna).
#twisted wonderland#twst#twst analysis#twisted wonderland analysis#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#notes from the writing raven#question#twts theory#twst theories#twisted wonderland theory#twisted wonderland theories#Jack Howl#Leona Kingscholar#Epel Felmier#Azul Ashengrotto#Floyd Leech#Marja Felmier#Maleanor Draconia#Maleficia Draconia#Meleanor Draconia#Deuce Spade#Cater Diamond#Ace Trappola#Scarabia#Pomefiore#Lilia Vanrouge#Sebek Zigvolt#Silver#Vil Schoenheit
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piercing | suo hayato x gn!reader
✧ "Did it hurt when you pierced your ears?" "Want to find out?"
✧ content: esrablished relationship, fluff, biting (there's one bite.)
✧ a/n: another suo drabble cause I can't get him out of my mind please help me. the overall layout of the drabble might be a bit too much, can't really edit it right now as I'm on vacation, but if it's too blocky I'll fix it once I'm back (人*´∀｀)｡*ﾟ+
He mentioned that they were antiques...
You're stricken with the same trivia Nirei had provided you of Suo's earrings whenever your fingers twirl against the numerous golden tassels hanging off the red orb. Careful to not use too much force when you manage to wrap one tassel around your finger in case it were to harm Suo.
The aforementioned man, you notice - is a very pliant lover. Maybe you've picked up on his habit of people watching and observing, but the longer you've been together, the more you notice the small habits he does around you.
Becoming incredibly pliant to your every move and gesture involving him was the biggest habit he's donned. Bending down slightly when he sees your hand reach further up than normal towards him, immediately intertwining your hands when he feels the slightest brush and a recent one you noticed.
"Did it hurt when you pierced your ears, Hayato?" you questioned, your lover opening his visible eye to glance towards you, head still angled while you kept toying with his earring.
He always tilted his head slightly to the side to give you more room to play with his earring, sitting completely still to let you do such for as long as you please.
Suo only straightened his head back up when he felt your fingers leave his ears, instead turning his body slightly to come closer to you. Not that you weren't close from before already, having the habit of sitting directly next to him with a hand between his legs to get as comfortably close as possible.
"Hmm, I got them pierced when I was relatively young so I don't remember. Why, you plan on getting your own pierced?" he mutters, raising his own hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear to look at your un-pierced lobes.
"It would be a bit of shame though to pierce your ears..." he whispers briefly to himself, absentmindedly brushing his thumb against your lobe, pressing slightly at the unscarred skin.
"Mm..!?"
Suo's eyes widen slightly at the surprised noise you make, whilst you yourself hurriedly grab onto the same ear he had just pressed - instinctively pulling yourself a bit further away from your boyfriend. Your lover however is quick with his hands, already having a secure hand behind your back to prevent you from jumping away further.
You don't like how his slightly widened eyes were also mixed with a hint of mirth. "It just tickled a bit, that's all." you hurriedly say in defense, Suo only humming in response which makes your already reddened cheeks deepen further.
"I'm pretty sure though.." he starts, effortlessly lifting you up from the floor to make you straddle his lap, his hands resting on your lower back whilst your hands grab his shoulders to stabilize yourself, "That whether or not it hurts, depends entirely on the person." he finishes, looking slightly up at you with a mischevious smile now that you're more elevated than him.
"Want to find out?" he asks in a whisper, and before you can process what he truly asked, you feel the slight tickle of his hair strands brush against your cheek, immediately followed by a slight exhale against your ear. But before you can ask what he's planning-
Chomp
"Hmn?!" you let out another surprised sound, nails digging into his silk shirt in surprise as you jump up. But Suo keeps a firm grip on you, settling you down back on his lap as you feel the tip of his tongue prod against your lobe before he blows against the area he had just bit. "H-Hayato?" you exclaim in surprise, trying to push yourself away to make eye contact.
You feel his whole body shake in restrained laughter before he finally eases his hold on your waist, leaning back a bit to instead cradle your cheek and give your lips a brief kiss. Separating just far enough to talk, but still close enough for his lips to occasionally make contact with yours if he were to speak. "So? Did it hurt?"
#wind breaker#wind breaker x reader#wind breaker (satoru nii) x reader#suo hayato x reader#hayato suo x reader#not beta read we die like men fellas.
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i wish you were sober — trent a.
A/N: oh here we are 🫶🏻 tbh ive been super nervous about writing a long fic for trent for the first time so i’d really appreciate if you could tell me your thoughts about it mwah!!
word count: 21.9k (wow wow wow) | masterlist
content: childhood friends to lovers, angst, smut, drunk!trent and fluff
Every time your best friend Trent has too many shots, the pair of you share a kiss. And he never remembers it.
You’ve met Trent Alexander-Arnold when he was still only Trentie, your colleague in kindergarten. A sweet and endearing kid, who would play with you every afternoon before napping on the little child’s bed next to yours.
Growing with him was something special. He became funnier with time, but always affectionate towards you. He’d always invite you to his house, to play with water balloons or hide and seek with the kids in the street.
The teenager stage was the hardest for your friendship.
Following his career up close, you got to discover a new Trent when things became more serious, so focused and dedicated, but also without time for you. You weren’t selfish, and you knew that football was all or nothing for him, so you tried your best to support him no matter what.
When he was finally called up for the first team, everything changed for the better. He was still the busiest person you’ve ever met, always so dedicated and focused, but your efforts were recognised and from that moment on your friendship only became stronger.
Trent always did his best to see you between training sessions and matches, sometimes dragging you with him to photoshoots and ad recordings. His family sees you as one of their own, and yours looks at him the same way.
You couldn’t imagine your life without things like the monthly BBQ at the Alexander-Arnold’s yard anymore, and the family trip to Anfield so you could all support him. Both families get along so well, and you’re sure you won the lottery with this rare and special type of friendship.
But things started to change for you when the first kiss happened. A party full of famous people wasn’t what you were looking for that day, but Trent dragged you there anyway.
He asked you to drive so he could drink and of course you accepted. The same way he would do everything in his power to make you happier, you would always help him too, so you hadn’t had any drink that night and as the hours passed you started to want nothing more than your house.
It got incredibly worse when you spotted a heavily drunk Trent chatting with a girl after looking for him for about half an hour. It usually never bothered you to see someone hitting on him and vice versa, but this specifically time stung.
When he was too drunk, he’d always reach out for you and let you know, so you could keep an eye at him and make sure he’d have water and painkillers the next day, but this time he had leave you alone in a place you knew no one, just so he could get some.
You remember debating for a while if you should go there and end his party or let him mind his business and try to distract yourself until he was tired enough to ask you to leave, but you hadn’t had the chance to make a decision though, as a blonde and muscular man approached you.
You both were chatting and laughing together when Trent got closer, suddenly circling your waist whilst nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.
The blonde guy, Liam, looked at you with a funny face before asking if you needed help, but your best friend didn’t let you answer before mumbling that he wanted to leave.
A clingy Trent wasn’t unusual for you, always cuddling and snuggling together, but when he brushed a kiss against your neck the weird and new feeling in the pitch of your stomach made you shiver.
“Alright, I also think we should get going, Trentie” you tapped his arm on your belly, and Liam raised an eyebrow at you.
“Are you sure you don't want me to drop you home?” he smiled softly, but before you could answer Trent squeezed your arm.
“Can you grab my hoodie for me? I left it in the cupboard” he murmured. You nodded, telling Lim you’d be right back and quickly making your way to the door underneath the stairs.
When you came back with his fluffy hoodie in your hands, Liam was nodding his head to a serious Trent.
“Everything’s ok?” you frowned, since Trent didn’t look that sober a minute ago, but none of them answered.
“Wear it” your best friend motioned his head to the hoodie. “It’s cold outside”
You obeyed, pulling the hoodie over your head. Trent offered you his hand, and you grabbed it whilst turning to Liam in order to say goodbye.
“Will you take my number or what?” you playfully rolled your eyes.
His pale cheeks instantly turned red, and Liam shook his head.
“Sorry, Y/N. You’re really nice and beautiful and I’d love to know you better, but I think it’s better not” he scratched the back of his head, and the atmosphere instantly became awkward.
You shrugged, not actually knowing what to say. “Ok. C’mon, Trent”
When you made it to the car, you made sure Trent’s seat belt was correct before getting behind the wheel. Turning the engine, you sighed loudly.
“See? You don’t believe me when I tell you but they don’t like me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but something clearly is” you started to drive to his house.
In general, Trent doesn’t like to leave his house, and that’s why he only goes to parties thrown by close friends which usually happens to be next to him.
The drive was quick and silent, and once you parked in front of his house he turned to face you.
“Nothing’s wrong with you. You’re perfect, Y/N, and I like you”
You smiled appreciatively, turning the engine off since he decided to chat instead of saying bye and jumping out of the car, like his drunk ass usually does.
“You’re my best friend, Trent. What I’m trying to say is that no one likes me romantically” you gave him a small shrug.
Taking the seat belt off, he got up and rested his knee on his seat so he could lean closer to you.
Not fully understanding what was happening, your first reaction was to hold your breath and freeze in place when Trent got too close.
You aren’t dumb nor blind. Trent has always been pretty and hot, but more than that he is adorable. Gentle, curious, caring. And way out of your league.
In all these years of friendship he never looked at you like he wanted something else, so you always tried your best to keep sane.
They were friendly touches. They were friendly pet names. They were friendly cuddles, sleepovers and trips together.
You’ve been holding back your thoughts so you wouldn’t fall for someone you couldn’t have. You’ve been trying really hard, as you truly believe that a genuine friendship between a man and a woman can exist.
But when his lips brushed against yours and you closed your eyes, you couldn’t fight the thoughts anymore.
He was your best friend, but he was also the guy you wanted. With his silly jokes, strong arms holding you, a chill personality and pretty eyes looking back at you to check if you think he’s actually that funny.
Alexander-Arnold was definitely your type and you knew this all along; he just wasn’t available for you.
The kiss lasted a few minutes before Trent pulled away and looked at you with wide eyes. You didn’t know how to react or what to say, and the car stayed in silence for a while before he kissed your forehead.
“Thank you for taking care of me tonight. See ya”
You watched him jumping out of the car and quickly entering his house, the one he lives in with his parents and Marcel, and turning around to wave at you. Waving back, you headed home with both your mind and heart racing.
Discovering that he didn’t remember the kiss when he woke up the next morning hurt you a lot, but it also made you think if the universe wasn’t giving you both another chance to not screw up your friendship.
Then it happened again, and a second time left you even more confused. The way he kissed you tenderly, so different from what you expected a drunk kiss from Trent to be.
It happened a third time. And a fourth. In every party, he’d have a few shots and come to you, kissing you softly. You knew it wasn’t right, the fact that you’ve been carrying this alone whilst he couldn’t remember.
It felt like the destiny of your friendship with Trent was exclusively in your hands, and you hated it.
The pair of you spent a few months like this — even though it was wrong, you couldn’t force yourself to deny him or tell him you didn’t want that, because you did. Until the last time you agreed to go to a party with him.
You knew your kisses didn’t exactly meant anything, especially if Trent couldn’t remember them later, but it still hurt you when you left to grab water and came back to him flirting with a girl.
A girl that looked nothing like you, by the way.
Cleaning your throat, you got closer and tapped his shoulder, waiting for him to turn his head back and look at you. He gave you a disinterested look at first, and your stomach instantly churned.
“I’m not feeling good. I’m leaving now, are you staying?” you murmured.
Truth be told, you were secretly hoping he’d say yes. No matter how much it bothered you seeing him with other girls, it was the only way to convince yourself that he wasn’t yours. Not like that.
But the look in his eyes instantly became worried, and you had to bite your lips to stop you from smiling every time he showed concern for you.
“What’s wrong?” he turned completely to you, his back now facing the girl forgotten in the corner.
“I’ll be fine, just need to sleep” you shrugged.
Trent instantly grabbed his phone in his pocket and reached for your hand, guiding you outside without even saying goodbye to the other girl.
You couldn’t force yourself to feel sorry for her.
Without questioning you, he called an Uber to his house and hugged you for the quick drive, making you stay over.
Once in the safety of his room, Trent sat in the bed and reached his arms out to you.
“What are you feeling? Do you have any pain, nausea?” he asked gently, holding your waist when you got closer.
“I just need to sleep, Trent”
“C’mon, baby. What’s wrong? Is your sensitive tummy again? If you tell me I can grab the med for you” he caressed your stomach underneath the baby tee you chose to wear that night, thumbs stroking your skin softly.
You couldn’t hold the giggle, feeling giddy with his touch and the pet name slipping through his lips so easily.
“What’s so funny?” he smiled, looking at your face.
“How many shots did you have tonight?” you raised your eyebrows, your nails scratching the back of his head like you know he likes.
“A lot?” he told you shyly, making you laugh. “Why?”
“And who’s that girl you were talking to?”
“Oh, so that’s your nausea?” he grinned, tilting his head to the side. “You shouldn’t be worried, I told her I have a possessive and jealous best friend”
“Thanks” you tried to laugh, but the change in your expression was clear.
“No, what’s that face about? What did I said wrong?” Trent pouted, kissing your tummy over the fabric when you didn’t answer at first.
Knowing he had drinks enough, you sighed heavily. “Do you have any idea how it feels to see the guy you love flirting around with another girl?”
Trent’s eyes widened before he smirked, squeezing your waist.
“So you love me” he grinned, and you instantly started to walk backwards, cursing yourself.
“Of course, yeah” you coughed falsely. “You love me too, we’re best friends”
Trent got on his feet to follow you, and you cursed under your breath when your back hit the wall.
“No no, don’t run now” he cornered you, and you started to laugh even before he grabbed your waist.
The atmosphere was like the ones you were used to see in the movies. You yelped when he pulled you in his shoulder, his tipsy state making you both fall on the floor before he could make it to the bed.
You laughed so hard your belly started to hurt, and when he hugged you still laying on the floor you felt your body warming to his touch.
“I think I have an idea, actually. About how it feels” he murmured, your legs tangling together. “Not sure if you remember that pale and blonde man that looked like a ghost”
You laughed even harder at the mention of Liam, and Trent snorted before finally kissing you that night, a bit harsher and sloppier than how his kisses shared with you usually are.
Kissing him back, you giggled when he got on his feet and took you in his arms, tucking you in bed before getting back at kissing you.
You really thought things would change this time. That he was yours from now on.
Trying to fall asleep, the butterflies in your stomach made you company, and you couldn’t shut down properly due to the excitement, daydreaming about him.
It was only when the morning came and Trent asked you what had happened the last night, that you felt your heart sink, not even able to finish the breakfast you were sharing with him.
Since then, you started to decline every time he invited you to a party. Everything stayed normal when you met him during his matches or at his house, when you both decided to have dinner together or watch a movies.
In all those moments he was still only your best friend Trent, but you couldn’t face the other side anymore.
You couldn’t keep building hope and excitement only for his feelings to go away, like they were only part of the high of being drunk, so in order to protect your heart you’d only accept to see him in friendly circumstances.
It worked for a month and you were able to run from every party he mentioned, until you got the letter.
When you read it for the first time, it was hard to understand exactly what you were feeling.
You wanted this for years, and you worked hard to get it, but still… you used to think that the moment of reading your acceptance in the school you’ve always wanted only happened in movies.
Immediately telling your mother, the pair of you screamed excitedly, knowing for how long you worked for it.
After hugging her, you ran to your room and hit the button to call Trent, not pretty sure of what to say. He, more than anyone else, even your mum, knew how much you wanted this. He was there every step of the way, and you wanted to share the final one with him.
You soon found out you couldn’t tell him through the phone. When Trent asked you what was wrong, you only asked if he was free to have a coffee run with you.
Of course he agreed. Even if Trent was actually busy, as long as he wasn’t at training then he would drop everything to go and see you.
Your houses used to be in the same street, but as soon as he became a first team player he had to move, so you waited for him patiently at your front door.
“Good morning, sunshine” he smiled, waiting for you to get in. “What happened?”
“I’ll tell you when I have my coffee” you rolled your eyes, leaning over the console and pecking his cheek. “How’s auntie Di?”
He giggled, starting to drive to your favourite place. The fact that he never needs to ask where to take you always makes you giddy.
“She’s good, but she can’t stop talking about Marcel giving her a grandchild” Trent snorted, making you laugh, but you know damn well that he’s just as excited with having a niece. “How’s your mum?”
“Asking about you as always” you giggled. “I told her the news and she said ‘wow! Trent already knows?’, can you believe it? No ‘congrats’ like normal parents do”
Trent laughed, soon parking next to the coffee shop and running to open the door for you, as always. Wrapping your arm around his, you both walked inside.
It was pretty common in your friendship to be touchy with each other, and Trent pulled you in front of him so he could hug you whilst ordering your coffees.
The cashier smiled softly and took your order before shyly asking for a picture, which he instantly agreed to. Even though his job is tiring and being stopped every time isn’t the nicest thing in the world, you never saw him being rude or awful to anyone.
Grabbing your order, he led you to your favourite booth seat since you like being able to sit next to each other. After a sip of your coffee, you rested your head on his shoulder.
“I was accepted” you told him, giggling. “In Italy’s university”
Trent couldn’t held his jump, your face slowly going in the seat’s direction whilst you giggled and tried to straighten your body again
“I told you, Y/N!” he screamed, coming back to hug you. “You’re the smartest girl in Liverpool, of course they would want you to study with them. I’m so happy for you”
“Thank you” you giggled, knowing he wouldn’t stop talking about it for a while.
“When are you leaving? We need a farewell party” he poked your waist, the happiest smile on his face.
Your expression must have changed a bit, because he frowned at you. “Oh, I don’t know, Trent…”
He crossed his arms, and you knew he wouldn’t give up.
“C’mon, you’re going to another country! We won’t be able to see you for months” he insisted, and you hadn’t had the strength to say no to him.
So three days later you were at his house on a weekday, because Trent couldn’t during the weekend.
He made sure to make a pretty nice farewell party. Doing his best to invite only the people important to you, as he knows you don’t like the crowded parties he throws sometimes, and making a cute and aesthetic decoration for you.
A few members of your family had passed by earlier, but as soon as midnight came it was only the young adults, drinking and dancing.
Trent convinced you to have a few shots, and you didn’t want to disappoint him on your last party together. Since you knew you were safe with him and that you could go to his bed and sleep any time you wanted, you drank shot after shot.
You get drunk very easily, and that’s why you never drink when following Trent to one of his parties, so it wasn’t a surprise when your head started to spin and everything was suddenly too funny.
Dancing and chatting, you never left his side. Usually you prefer to hear him than to speak, but you couldn’t keep quiet and he was having fun with it.
When one of the boys called him, you nodded and let him go to check what it was. You took the time alone to observe the room, filled with people you grew up with, having fun, and the thought that you were about to leave all of this behind crossed your mind.
Trying to breathe and suddenly seeking for some silence, you went to the kitchen, thanking the universe when you saw it was empty.
As soon as you sat on the balcony your best friend entered the room, and the way his eyes lifted up made your tummy flutter.
“I was looking for you” he smiled, walking towards the balcony.
“Look no further” you smiled, hand already going to his hair as soon as he got closer.
He closed his eyes at the feeling of your fingers scratching his scalp, sighing in content.
“I’ll miss you” Trent slurred, his hands instantly going to your waist. “You’ll miss me, right?”
“Of course I’ll miss you, Trentie” you smiled at him, already feeling your cheeks warming. “You’re my best friend”
“That’s all?” he asked, spreading your legs so he could fit between them. When you looked at him with a confused expression, his fingers squeezed your waist tighter. “That’s all I am?”
You felt all types of emotions running through your body, your mind instantly on alert. The subject caught you off guard since you didn’t see him drink all night, so you just frowned.
“I can’t answer you that” you murmured, your own dizzy mind not being that helpful.
Trent pouted, getting closer and licking his lips wet. You felt your stomach back flipping, a cold sensation washing over your body.
“But I want you to answer” he murmured, his face so close his lips were brushing yours.
Later you could choose to blame the alcohol, but it that moment you chose to lean forward and grab his neck, pulling him close enough to close your lips on his.
You needed a goodbye kiss like your lungs needed air.
Trent’s response wasn’t immediate and you started to think you got the message wrong. All those times he was the one to initiate the kiss, and that’s how you knew he was actually drunk.
You started to panic with the realisation that he might not be as drunk as you thought he was, but as soon as you motioned to pull away his hands quickly cupped your jaw and gently deepened the kiss, one of them slowly sliding to your neck.
Usually your kisses wouldn’t last that long, and you tried to resist when Trent slid his tongue over your lips — but you’re just a girl, after all.
Opening your mouth and letting your best friend take control, soon you had to hold on Trent’s shoulders so he wouldn’t lay you down on the counter.
It was the first time he kissed you with such energy, instead of the shy kisses you’d usually share, and you couldn’t stop yourself from whimpering against his mouth.
“I’m gonna miss this too” he whispered against your lips, his erratic breath giving you a smug pride sensation.
“You won’t even remember this tomorrow, Trent” you tried not to sound too hurt, but your drunk state wasn't helping. “And it’s just a year, I’ll be right back”
“I’d miss you even if it was just a fucking week” he kissed you again, groaning against your lips. “You know I’d never, but I wish I was selfish enough to ask you to stay. You know you’re my favourite person in the world, right?”
You giggled at his silliness, tilting your head to the side.
“Tyler won’t like to know that, last week you said it was Aura-”
Trent cut you with another kiss, the hand on your neck trying to pull you even closer.
“Can I take you to my room?” he murmured after pulling away, and you instantly panicked.
“Oh- I- hm, I don’t think-” your mind went blank and you stuttered, thinking of how could you remind him — and yourself — that you are each other’s best friend.
“So we can cuddle” he cut you with a giggle, and you never felt more embarrassed. “Come here, legs around my waist”
You obeyed, yelping when he grabbed your thighs and pulled you closer.
“Sooo scandalous” he teased, making your face feel even hotter. “I wonder if you’re like that in-”
“Shut up” you groaned, hiding your face in his neck and cursing yourself when Trent started to laugh.
Once in his room he offered you a t-shirt, and you thought that you’re probably the reason why he needs to buy new ones every month.
Tapping the bed so you would join him, Trent waited for you before covering you two.
“There’s something I need to tell you” he murmured, waiting for your eyes to meet his. “I know you’re leaving for a while, and this isn’t, in any way, an attempt to make you stay. I want you to go, because you want to go. I want you to be happy, to see the world, learn different languages and make new friends. I really do”
“But?” you encouraged him to keep going.
Trent isn’t the type of guy to speak about his feelings. You know he’s sensitive, emotional, caring and an empath, but he likes to keep all of this to himself.
Constantly hiding what he really feels behind jokes and silly comments, it’s hard to make him open up to you. He can talk for England when he’s comfortable, which means he’s always yapping around you, but rarely about deep and profound things.
You know that for him to speak about what he wanted and what he feels, his mind had probably reached an overwhelmed state.
He got closer to you, his legs intertwining with yours.
“I think I’m kinda afraid that you won’t need me once you see what the world has reserved for you” he admitted, playing with the hem of the shirt you were wearing.
“I’ll always need you” you caressed his cheek, your eyes begging to be closed. “You know that”
“I really like you, Y/N. In a different way. And I get if it’s not what you want but from the way you kiss me I think it is and telling you this isn’t the easiest thing I’ve done in my life but you’re worth the fear and the uncomfortable feeling of speaking too much” he blurted out, his eyes avoiding yours.
You pecked his lips slowly and gently, letting it linger.
“I really like you too” you kissed him again, giggling. “I like you so much”
Trent smiled against your lips, circling your waist and bringing you closer. You got into a comfortable position, with half your body on top of his, and let your body relax.
For the first time, you were the one waking up with a huge headache and black spots in your memory. Trent was hugging your waist and even though it wasn’t unusual for you to be like that, you felt your heart twisting in your chest.
You’d miss this moments with him. A lot.
“I shouldn’t have let you convince me to drink” you groaned, making Trent giggle.
“I liked your drunk version. It’s a proper yapper”
“Why? What did I say?” you looked into his sparkly eyes. “Actually, what have I done? I can’t remember anything past the third shot, my head is burning”
You thought you had imagined the flash of pain in Trent’s eyes, the quick frown and confusion stamping his face for half a second before he smiled at you again.
“Such a lightweight girlie” he teased you, poking your waist. “There’s medicine and water next to you. Please, just don’t throw up on me”
You hadn’t realised you wanted to until he mentioned it, quickly getting on your feet and running to his ensuite.
Trent immediately followed you, crouching beside you and taking your hair out of your face. With a hand holding the hair, the other rubbed circles on your back, trying to soothe you.
“I’m sorry, pooks. I’ll never convince you to drink again” he murmured, guilty spreading through his body — over your sick state and the fact that you couldn’t remember last night.
“I appreciate it” you groaned, trying to take a deep breath. When he helped you to get on your feet and clean your face, Trent kissed your forehead.
“C’mon, we can spend the day recovering from it in the living room. A cosy afternoon with movies and snacks, uh?”
“Yeah, you owe me a last comfort day after this” you whined, tying up your hair.
The mention of it being a last moment suddenly hit you, and you looked at him with teary eyes and a fat pout.
“Don’t cry, your headache will get worse” Trent hugged you. “Shhh, if it’s the last one then let’s make it also the best one. No crying until you get on the plane”
You nodded against his chest, immediately groaning for moving your head too fast.
“First, you’ll take a shower whilst I get things ready” he spoke softly, his hands still caressing your back. “I’ll leave a shirt and a new pair of boxers on the bed”
“Ok” you mumbled, smiling when he kissed your head one more time and left the bathroom. After your shower, you wore the clothes he had left for you and tried your best to detangle your wet hair without a brush.
You should be used to feeling like an ogre every time you stayed over at his without all your stuff.
The room felt cold, and you grabbed the hoodie on his coat rack before walking to the living room, where Trent was putting a few blankets on the sofa.
“Feeling better?” he gave you a smile, tapping the sofa and waiting for you to sit. You nodded, getting comfortable and grabbing the bottle of water he offered you.
“Thank you, Trentie” you murmured, giving him a lazy smile and snuggling with him whilst he covered the pair of you.
That night, you watched various movies and ate some snacks together, always joking at something or debating about scenes.
You tried your best not to cry as he asked you to, but sometimes, looking at him when he started to laugh or throwing popcorn so he could catch it in his mouth, your eyes would tear up, missing your boy in advance.
When the last movie ended you were resting your body on his, head on his shoulder whilst Trent’s arm was around yours. He mentioned to get up, but you grabbed his t-shirt to catch his attention, and he understood as soon as he saw your eyes.
“I can hold you through it if you promise me you won’t feel guilty or sad about your decision once you leave”
Not trusting your voice, you only nodded and let him put you on his lap, laying your head on his shoulder. Trent hugged you tightly whilst you cried, grabbing his shirt on your fists.
You heard when Dianne entered the house and your best friend shook his head, telling her he got it. Losing track of time, you’re not sure how long you stayed there, pulling him closer like he was about to disappear — like he was the one leaving.
“I’m sorry” you croaked, pulling away.
His soft and empathetic smile made you tear up more, the pain in your chest something you never felt.
“Don’t be. Gotta live your dreams like I’m leaving mine, yeah? I’m not going anywhere and you’ll find me here when you need me”
“But I need you all the time” you whined. “I can’t choose my movies alone and I can’t remember the last time I had to buy a t-shirt, you’re better than me in the kitchen and the engine never dies with you”
“Anyone ever told you how much of a cry baby you are?” he smiled, tucking your hair behind your ear. You could see water on his eyeline, but you knew better than to mention it.
“Yes, you” you rolled your eyes, making Trent laugh.
“Self pity time is over” he decreed, tapping your thigh. “I’ll drop you home and you’ll pack. I can’t make it to the airport though, I’ll travel to face Brighton”
You only nodded again, and Trent knows better than to force you to be like him, mascaring his pain with jokes. He kissed your head one more time and drove you home, letting you cry a bit more in the car.
Even though he was in another city when you went to the airport, he still made sure to say goodbye one more time, texting you sweet things.
After saying goodbye to your family and to Trent’s, hugging his mother and brothers before getting on your plane, you had to face what it was probably the scariest moment of your life.
Leaving everything you knew behind. The safety, the food you eat since a kid, the places you know how to get to, the country you know how to communicate in, how to walk around, what to do.
It was time to dive into the unknown, and even though you were afraid there was this voice in the back of your mind, making you go further — gotta love your dreams like I live mine.
So you placed your carry-on bag on the right compartment and took a deep breath, ready to live your dream.
—
You soon discovered that Italy was incredible, and Milan received you with open arms.
In only three months studying there, you met so many amazing people and places and day by day you felt a bit more at home.
Getting used to the streets, the food, the language, you felt the country slowly beginning to be a part of you.
On the other hand, you missed home. You couldn’t keep the promise he made you make, and some days all you could feel was guilt for choosing a life without him, your family and everything you love around.
Italy would be perfect — if they had a Trent. Which they don't.
They don’t have your best friend, who always shows up at your door on his day off to bring you coffee. The only person that would lay on your bed whilst you studied, take a nap even, only to spend some time with you.
When you think about it, Trent was the one who supported your decision most. Even more than your mother, being honest.
Of course she wanted you to be happy, but the fact that you would be happy 1285 km away from home worried her a lot, whilst Trent knew that you were about to find exactly what you’ve been wanting for years.
‘Italy is great, Y/N. You’ll love it’ he used to say, every single time you shared with him about giving up. ‘And they have the best gelato in the world’
Since you landed, you knew he was right. And that only made the decision of leaving him behind even harder.
You tried to facetime him every night to stay updated on his life and tell him about all the different things you were living, but as time passed your classes got more and more difficult, and you had to focus entirely.
This helped a bit with the sadness it filled your heart every time you thought about home, since you barely had time to miss anything or anyone, but soon Trent started to feel left aside.
You still watched his games every weekend, but every time he texted you about FaceTiming you had to decline, saying you were at the library or too busy with your notes.
Even though he understood that you were studying and that the life abroad must be really hard to cope with, he missed you and soon his grumpiness about the situation started to show up.
The last straw was when you couldn’t attend the only game you had promised you would. Everybody knew how important it would be for Trent to face United in the conditions they were in, and you really wanted to be there for him, but you needed to prioritise your exams week.
You explained to him that it would be really risky buying the tickets without knowing if you’d need to so a recuperative exam on Saturday, and Trent understood. He supported you through it, always asking how you were feeling and if the exams were really that hard, but you could feel the change in his humour.
By the end of the week, you had successfully finished the semester, and when your friends decided to go out Sunday afternoon you didn’t hesitated.
Theo, Paola and Veronica were also abroad students and you clicked with them immediately in the beginning of the course. They were your study group and the ones you’d get out with in a city you don’t have anyone else.
Having a brunch and a few drinks, it didn’t take long for you to return home, wanting to watch the game.
You took a shower and got into comfy clothes, selecting a few pictures of your afternoon and posting them on Instagram before getting in bed and turning the TV on.
Trent’s face on the line-up art was the last thing you saw before blacking out, a sleep deprived week taking its toll on you.
—
The first thing Trent did after changing and getting out of the stadium was trying to call you. When you didn’t answer, he sent you a text, and when this one was unanswered as well he gave up, snorting before checking his Instagram.
He wish he hadn’t, because the first post he saw made his tummy hurt, and soon he was grabbing a hoodie and leaving home, walking past a few houses before knocking at his friends’ door.
Saffie opened it for him, and he tried to smile.
“Curtis is back already?” was the first thing he asked, and she immediately knew something was bothering him.
“Yeah, he’s in the living room. Get in” she gave Trent space to enter and he waited for her to close the door, not wanting to be rude and run to Curtis.
“How are you doing, Saffie?” Trent asked, gesticulating to her belly.
He was, obviously, not the best with words and sentimental things.
“I’m good” Saffie smiled. “It’s still so early, but we’re excited. Curtis is really happy. I’m sorry by today’s results, by the way”
Trent smiled appreciatively and nodded, following her to the living room. When Curtis saw who it was at the door, he frowned.
“Wow! Who died?” he chuckled, getting on his feet and walking towards Trent.
“Curtis, don’t be rude” his girlfriend scoffed at him before leaving the pair of them so she could finish dinner.
“She was out today” Trent mumbled. “And she didn’t even answered my texts”
Jones instantly sighed, knowing damn well what Trent was talking about. Everybody in the club knew.
“Maybe she didn’t saw the result-”
“C’mon Curtis” Trent threw himself on the sofa. “It’s not about the result, she was supposed to be here and I was supposed to win this one for her. I thought she would at least watch the game. But instead we had an ugly draw and she is out with some ugly Italian”
Even though you posted the picture before the kickoff time, the only explanation for your lack of response was that you were still with the guy. An ugly one, according to Trent’s standards,
“Oh, I see” Curtis giggled. “You’re jealous”
“What? I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous? I’m the best friend. She calls me every night, her family loves me, she knows me more than anyone and she tells me everything whilst this guy doesn’t even know her favourite colour”
“Which is…” Curtis raised an eyebrow, but Trent only rolled his eyes before answering.
“Red, of course. And golden” he mumbled, fidgeting with his shirt.
Curtis sighed, walking towards Trent and tapping his head affectionately.
“And she told you about him?”
“She said she had made some friends, he might be one of them” Trent shrugged, taking his phone out of his pocket and searching for your post, showing it to Curtis.
“Doesn’t look like a friendly night out” Curtis teased him. Of course it did, with your two friends together, but he always liked to pour salt in Trent’s wounds. They grew up doing that to each other.
“It might be not totally friendly but it’s not a date either. If it was a date she’d be wearing a dress. She has a special dress for date nights”
“And you know that because…”
Trent smirked, feeling a bit more secure of himself.
“I helped her to choose it. Told you Curtis, there’s no reason to be jealous. The guy can try but he’s not me”
“Well, at least he has the courage to call her out” Curtis chuckled, running out of the living room before Trent could shoot him with his cold eyes. “Come have dinner with us, cry baby. Saffie made baked potatoes”
Trent lazily got up from the sofa, walking to the kitchen, and the place smelled really good.
“Aw, the baby wanted potatoes?” he teased.
Curtis laughed, but shook his head.
“Oh no, she doesn’t have cravings yet”
Trent passed through him, slapping the back of his head and entering the kitchen.
“I know, you are the baby in question” he giggled, smiling when Saffie burst into laughter.
—
When you woke up, the first thing you saw was the uncountable number of missed calls from Trent, guilty instantly spreading over your chest.
It was easy to unblock your phone and see the Liverpool widget telling you the last game’s result. 2-2, a draw that you were sure it felt like a loss for him.
Quickly clicking Trent’s contact to call him, you got up.
“Trentie?” you asked when a groan sounded on the other side, beating yourself when you remembered he was a year behind it was probably too early for him. “I’m so so so sorry. How are you feeling?”
“Mhm” he mumbled, making you sigh. “Sorry, I just feel awful, there’s not much to say”
“It wasn’t your fault. I know it was an important game but there’s still time, don’t be too hard on yourself. You can focus on helping the team in the next game, yeah?”
“I can’t” he snorted. “Hamstring again”
You felt your heart drop. It was his first injury since you left, and if you already used to feel helpless when next to him, the feeling only got worse being so far away.
“I’m so sorry, Trent. They told you how many weeks?”
The silence showed you that he was still trying to cope with it, and you felt even sadder.
“Not yet” he mumbled.
You thought about how to make him feel better, wanting nothing more than to comfort your best friend.
“You could… like” you stuttered, not knowing if it was the right time. “I’m not sure, I thought you could come here. For a few days, but now that I said it I’m thinking you probably need to take care of your injury and you can’t have mini vacations just because you’re hurt”
It took him a couple of minutes to answer, and you could even imagine his mind working whilst biting his lower lip.
“Liverpool plays against Atalanta this Thursday” Trent murmured. “Google says it’s forty minutes away from you. I think I could go with the team on Wednesday and stay until Friday morning. I’m already having physio sessions so I’d just be two days without it”
“Are you sure?” you bit your lower lip, the bubble of excitement growing in your stomach.
“I mean… I should rest, but I really need to see you” he murmured, and your heart ached. When in England, you were the one Trent always ran to when he got this type of news.
Finding comfort in your hugs, a cuddle session, some ice cream and scalp scratches. You know that the same way he’s yours, you’re his safe person.
“I’ll be waiting for you then. I can pick you up in Bergamo”
“Deal” he yawned, and the sound made you smile. “Now, if you let me…”
You laughed, nodding even though he couldn’t see
“Yeah, yeah. Sorry, go back to your sleep”
“I love you” he murmured after another yawn, warming your heart.
“I love you too. Sweet dreams, mwah” you sent him a kiss before turning the call off and get ready to start your day.
—
The start of the week quickly passed through you. The classes were fun and you had coffee dates for study with the girls, even though you couldn’t keep your eyes off of your phone, tacking every minute.
Every minute until you could see Trent after months apart.
During Monday and Tuesday, your mind often got lost in thoughts. You wondered if it would be weird at first, if you both had already forgotten how to be around each other.
The idea made you nervous. Like it was years apart from him, instead of only six months.
By Wednesday morning you had already convinced yourself that Trent would hate everything about Italy and this new version of you. That you’d both discover you don’t understand each other anymore and that the friendship of twenty years had come to and end because of your choice of moving away.
Trying to survive during the day was the hardest. You went to your class and tried to ease your feelings with your favourite coffee, but soon it was time to make the drive to Bergamo so you could be there once they landed.
The forty minutes in your car with your favourite playlist eased your feelings a bit, and soon you were in the airport’s parking lot.
Biting your lips furiously, you started to bounce your leg as the minutes seemed to stop passing. The turmoil in your head coming back even stronger and getting the best of you as fear won over excitement.
When a light knock on your window woke you up from your trance, you slightly jumped before meeting your favourite pair of eyes.
Trent tilted his head to the side and smiled at you, waiting for you to open the door. With your hands slightly shaking, you pushed it a bit and stood there, looking at him as if you were trying to confirm if he was real.
“Forgot how to hug me or something?” he raised his eyebrows, and you realised how you’ve missed even his annoying teasing tone.
“Maybe” you croaked, your eyes immediately filled with tears.
“Hey no, what’s wrong?” he left his bag on the floor, quickly leaning to hug you as best as he could with the space he was given.
You took a deep breath, inhaling Trent’s scent and finally giving your body permission to relax.
“I’ve just missed you” you murmured, your lips brushing against the crook of his neck. His arms around you dissolved the tension and the worries you’ve been feeling since leaving home, making you feel silly.
Trent and you could never not like each other anymore. You would always understand him, and he would always be there for you.
“Yeah, I know the feeling. But I’m here” he kissed the top of your head, arms tightening around your shoulders. “I’m here”
You took a deep breath, pulling away from his hug just in time to see the team waking to their van, smiling at them.
“Take care of my boy, Y/N” Virgil shouted, giggling and waving at you. Trent gave him his middle finger, hugging you again.
Laughing, you waved back to them before telling Trent to get in. When you finally got home, you helped him to take his bag inside, leaving it in the living room before throwing yourself on your sofa.
“Come here, I think we need a healing cuddle” you called him, lying down and opening your arms.
Trent giggled and walked towards you, carefully lying his body on top of yours.
“I missed this so much” Trent groaned, snuggling further into you. “Tyler wouldn’t let me cuddle with him after a bad game”
“That’s why I’m your best friend, not him” you giggled, brushing your fingers over his forehead. “How’s everything at the club?”
“I don’t know how to explain that it feels like we’re falling apart at the same time that we’re reinventing ourselves” he murmured, his pout making you smile.
“Changes are difficult. The transition, when you’re not sure about the future. When everything feels scary and uncertain. But once it happens, you’ll feel the hope of better days and the eager to live these days”
Trent hummed, nodding before staying silent again. After a few minutes, you checked only to see him peacefully sleeping with his mouth slightly open.
Letting him rest, you kept looking at his features. Tracing his lips and his nose, going to his eyebrows and brushing his cheeks.
“My skincare is giving results?” he spoke suddenly, scaring you and giggling at your heart beats getting higher. “Strong heart, you have”
“Which skincare you’ve been doing?” you raised an eyebrow at him.
“I call it ‘using all the products my best friend left behind’, and I think it’s working” he giggled, making you slap his head slightly. “I’ll buy you new ones, I swear”
“I hope so” you rolled your eyes playfully. “C’mon, let’s get into bed before we end up staying the whole night on the sofa”
“Wow Y/N, you say this to every man who comes here?” he teased you, but you only rolled your eyes again.
“No one comes here, Trent. That’s what you wanna know?” you poked his cheek.
“That’s exactly what I wanna know, thank you” he kissed your chin before getting on his feet and helping you.
You asked if he wanted to eat something before taking a nap, but Trent only said he’d rather have dinner later, which would be a good option if any of you had actually woken up for dinner.
—
“You’re sure you wanna lose class to watch the game?” he whined the next morning.
The pair of you ended up sleeping through the whole night, only waking up when your alarm went off.
You had given him breakfast and he took a shower before you told him you wanted to watch the game, having bought the tickets when he said he’d be going.
“Trent, I haven't seen my club for months now. Plus, with you I have special treatment” you smirked, laughing when he rolled his eyes. “We still can go out tonight, I’m sure there’s nice places around Bergamo”
“Fine, let’s go then” he groaned, wanting nothing more than to just cuddle with you all day instead of facing a game he wouldn’t be able to play in.
But Trent would accept anything that could make you happier, so he grabbed his coat and followed you outside. You decided to leave home early so you both wouldn’t need to rush, respecting his injury.
The drive was filled with Trent’s laugh at every embarrassed moment you told him about, letting him know that the first months trying to speak in Italian had made you dirty a lot.
When you finally parked at Atalanta’s stadium, he sighed and opened the door, but you grabbed his wrist before he could leave.
“You’re here as a fan. Let’s not stress” you smiled, but the small nod he gave you made you sigh. “Trent…”
“I’m good. Honestly, let’s not pay attention to me, we’re here so you can see your favourite boys” he opened the car’s door.
You sighed, looking at him. “You are my favourite boy”
“A broken one” he rolled his eyes, quickly getting out of the car and shutting the door. You didn’t move, knowing he’d want to open your door for you and not wanting him to force his leg trying to get there faster.
Once he opened it, you got on your feet and waited for him to close it before circling his torso and laying your head in his shoulder. It took a while for him to relax in your arms, resting his face on top of yours.
“I love you” you whispered, feeling guilty for dragging him with you. “You could’ve told me you really didn’t want to come”
“I will always do anything you ask me for” Trent shrugged, and you knew it was true.
“You don’t have to if this won’t make you happy as well” you pulled away, cupping his chin. “What doesn’t make you happy also doesn’t make me happy. Got it?”
“Yeah” he nodded, rolling his eyes playfully. “But we’re already here, so move your fat ass and get inside”
You chuckled, always amazed with how he’d always brush the hard times with a joke.
The game was a true nightmare, and you could see Trent squirming on the seat next to yours. He wanted to be there and make a difference, and the fact he couldn’t hurt him a lot.
“We don’t need to wait for the game to end” you squeezed his knee, feeling bad for putting him there when the relief flooded his expression.
Soon you were in the stadium’s parking lot. A few football fans tried to stop him for pictures and you could see it hurt him to say no, so you started to dismiss them for him.
Choosing to drive to a bar you liked when you visited Bergamo, you order for you and for Trent before sitting in a booth.
“Feeling better?” you smiled at him. Trent nodded, and you caressed his chin.
“I’m sorry for ruining the game” he sighed.
“Well, if someone ruined the game it was definitely not you” you joked. “Don’t feel sorry for being unhappy or uncomfortable with something, Trent. You don’t need to be funny all the time for me to like you, and you should know that by now”
“Y/N?” a male voice interrupted you. When you looked up, your colleague from university smiled at you.
“Theo! Hi, what are you doing here?” you greeted him excitedly. “This is Trent, he’s visiting from England. Trent, this is Theo. He’s my classmate”
You weren’t expecting to see any of your friends out since you and Trent were a bit far away, but it was nice to show a part of your new life to your best friend.
“Oh, aren’t you the-” Theo pointed at him, frowning.
“Yeah” Trent didn’t try to be gentle or decent, but you didn’t judge him since you knew his current situation.
“He doesn’t want to talk about it today, Theo” you explained.
“Of course” your colleague looked at Trent and then at the TV in one of the walls. “I’m in the way of something?”
“Yes-” Trent snorted, but you unintentionally cut him.
“You can sit with us if you want” you smiled. Theo chose to sit on your other side of the booth, and you stayed in the middle of the two man like a salami in a sandwich.
It was all over Trent’s face that he didn’t like having to share his best friend when he had so little time together with you, but you only squeezed his hand.
Holding your hand on his lap the entire time, Trent even tried to be socially decent sometimes, but you knew him good enough. Talking with strangers wasn’t his cup of tea, and he’d rather stay home and not talk with anyone at all. Anyone besides you.
As time passed by, it got really late. Since you and Trent had agreed that he’d stay in Bergamo he refused to let you go back home alone in the night.
After saying goodbye to Theo, the pair of you found a hotel to spend the night in so you could drive home safely in the morning.
You thought you could have a funny night together and ask something in the room service, but as soon as you got inside and took off your jacket and shoes Trent turned to face you.
“I didn’t like the way he’s with you” he rolled his eyes. “He looks clingy”
You frowned at him, throwing your bag in the corner. Trent can be a bit possessive over the people he cares about, so you weren’t actually surprised.
“You don’t even know him, Trent”
“Well, I don’t care. I don’t like him. The way he kept staring at me and trying to get closer to you like he thought it was some kind of competition or what? If you want the girl it sounds stupid trying to fight her best friend”
You turned to face him, surprised to find his eyebrows together and his lips in a firm line.
“He doesn’t know you’re my best friend” you shrugged.
“Oh, no?” Trent raised his eyebrows, and you could tell that the fact you weren’t making clear to someone that you had a best friend hurt him a bit. But more than that, he looked annoyed. “I wonder how you would’ve felt if it was the opposite”
You chuckled, not understanding his point. “What do you mean?”
“If a girl was hitting on me and I never told her about my best friend” he crossed his arms. “If I never made it clear I have a close and deep connection with another girl”
You rolled your eyes, still not understanding where he was trying to get, and your action made him huff.
“Plenty of girls hit on you all the time” you told him, unbothered.
“And I always make sure they know about you” he pointed out.
“So what?” you shrugged. “I didn’t tell him, I’m sorry”
“You didn’t tell him because you’re starting to forget about me” Trent finally snapped. “You think I didn’t notice how you barely have time to call me or to even text me about your day? You couldn’t make it to the game and I get it but I thought you would at least watch it instead of going out for some kisses”
He gave you a sharp look, and it bothered you. It bothered you that he thought you needed to tell a guy you had a intimate friendship with him only ecause he hoped this would keep them away, whilst you had to sit in Italy and read the multiple articles about his different ‘things’ during the last months.
“The world doesn’t revolve around you, Trent” you got in the defensive mode, even more annoyed that he thought you missed the game because you were with Theo when you were actually forced to rest by your own body.
“Never said it does. But I can’t be upset? I can’t be upset you didn’t even mention me to him?” he raised his hands in the air, starting to gesticulate. “I mention you to every girl I hang out with because I need them to like you, Y/N. If I’m dating someone, I need them to know you were there first. And if they have any problem with you, then I need to know from the beginning so I won’t find myself in love with someone that wants you out of my life. Not that the decision would be hard to take, but it would hurt a lot to break up with someone I’m already used to”
“Theo would never ask me to get away from my best friend” you defended your colleague only by the need to refute Trent. In reality, you don't know how he’d act.
And you don't want to know, because you never saw him as nothing more than a colleague. No one could make you choose between them or Trent.
“Of course he wouldn’t” Trent screamed, and you were taken aback. “He doesn’t even know you have one”
You never heard him screamc not with you, not with anyone around him. It didn’t scare you. Instead, the urgency to understand his feelings for once got the best of you.
“Why the hell are you so fucking angry?” you sighed, lowering your voice.
Trent didn’t look you in the eyes, turning his back to you when he spoke on one go without even pausing to breathe.
“That city doesn’t even feel like home when you’re not there and I’ve been waiting for you to come back so I can be whole again whilst you’re here kissing a fucking Italian that doesn’t even know I exist because you didn’t think I was important enough to be mentioned” he’s voice was low, and despite the meaning of what he was saying was important, you couldn’t stop yourself.
“He’s German, Trent”
Your best friend turned to face you, and you knew you hurt him by not acknowledging his confession. In the end, that’s why he always choose to keep his sentimental words to himself.
“I don’t fucking care, he can go to hell” he muttered under his breath. You knew that he was showing you a vulnerable side of him, and you could stop the fight whenever you wanted to.
Instead, you chose that moment to say what you’ve been carrying with you for a while.
“At least when he tries to hit on me he doesn’t forget about it the next morning” you murmured back. “And he definitely doesn't want me only when he’s drunk”
Trent was close enough to grab your wrist and pull you against him, making you gasp surprisedly.
“I want you all the time. I might have had a few drinks tonight, Y/N, and I might have made you believe I was heavily drunk every time I wanted to kiss you, but I still want you when I’m sober, and I’m sober enough to know what I’m talking about” he murmured. “I’m sorry, baby. I won’t forget about this one”
You didn’t see the kiss coming. Trent kissed you harshly, his hands cupping your face like he was afraid you would run away from him, his grip tight on your waist instead of cupping your face softly like he always did.
It all escalated too fast with the pair of you desperate and carried away by the intensity of your argument, and it didn’t take long for you to be laid in bed with him on top of you.
You took off his white t-shirt, throwing it across the room before getting back at kissing him.
“Are you sure?” he murmured, distributing kisses alongside your neck and you nodded.
Trent stopped his kisses to grab your chin between his fingers, forcing you to stare into his eyes. “Words”
“I think you should ask this for yourself, Trent” you smiled ironically, making him chuckle.
“Never thought you could be such a fucking brat. Just answer me” he tightened his grip.
You took a while to observe his eyes, his breath, the way his lips were curved on a teasing smile.
“I am pretty sure”
He was quickly to slide your panties down your legs after your verbal consent, getting comfortable between your legs.
Before you used to think that it would at least feel weird, doing this with him. But the truth is that you were so attracted to Trent that this thought didn’t even cross your mind at that moment.
Gently working you up, Trent teased you for a while before inserting his finger. Respecting your time and always asking if you were good, he inserted a second making you squirm.
“Relax f’me, princess” he murmured against your temple, and you shivered at the pet name. “So deliciously tight, uh?”
When his fingers didn’t feel like intruders anymore Trent scissored you, smiling to the contorted expression on your face. He kept the pace torturously slow, building your pleasure.
The first moan that slipped your mouth made Trent’s mind go blank. The way his dick pulsated inside his boxers, the goosebump travelling down his back, the way he felt his own moan almost falling from his lips.
A second later, he wanted to make you do it again.
“Does he make you feel like that?” Trent murmured against your ear, only making your situation worse whilst his fingers reached deep and his thumb caressed your clit. “Do any of them?”
“Trent-” you whined, feeling empty when he removed his fingers and adjusted himself, going down until his face was between your legs.
“So fucking wet. What do you need, baby? Tell me want do you want from me”
“Everything” you were able to whisper, closing your eyes when he kissed your clit, brushing his lips against you.
“You look good enough to eat” Trent brushed his nose between your folds, making you gasp. “And I’m so fucking starved”
When he closed his lips on your clit, you closed your eyes, throwing your head back and letting it fall down on the pillow.
Trent felt goosebumps when you whined for him and his tongue kept exploring you, savouring every part of the new found paradise, coming back to tease your clit and casually sliding deeper every time.
You cried out, your moans getting whinier by every second, and soon found out that your moans were now his favourite sound, trying harder every time to make you whine and beg louder than before.
Trent couldn’t hold his own hips at the sound of you so desperate underneath him, pressing them down so the friction against the bed would help him ease the pain.
He used his hand to pull his dick out of his boxers before inserting his fingers in you again, pumping them faster whilst his lips would suck your clit precisely and the pleasure was too good to be true.
You could feel your body hot everywhere, the pressure on your stomach and the warmth on your pussy driving you crazy.
“God, Trent” you whined, scratching the back of his neck, rolling your hips when you felt his smile against you.
He pulled his face away, his fingers never stopping whilst he grind his hips on the silky bed sheets, groaning at the sensation and looking at you with swollen lips and bright eyes,
“C’mon, be good and cum for me” he whispered, kissing your tummy before placing his mouth back at where you needed him. Gripping on his shoulder and sinking your nails in his skin, you let your high reach you.
When you tugged your fingers on his hair, pressing his face further whilst he guided you through your orgasm, he shamelessly came on his boxers, moaning loudly against you.
Recovering from his high, Trent laid beside you and brought you closer to lay your head on his chest, a hand around your shoulder whilst he took deep breaths.
The pair of you spent a few minutes like this, in silence. He looked at the ceiling, thinking of what had just happened meant for your friendship.
The fact that he would be going back to England by the morning and leaving you behind suddenly hit him, and he could swear he was about to have a panic attack.
“I can’t do this” Trent whispered, and your breath instantly hitched in your throat, your heart twisting in your chest.
Your cheeks were burning and you could feel the humiliation sinking in, and you wondered if you could get your clothes and lock yourself in the bathroom before collapsing.
“We shouldn’t have done this” he said again, and the pain you felt on your chest was becoming unbearable.
“I heard you the first time” you muttered, quickly getting on your feet and starting to look for your things.
“I’m coming back to England and you’re staying here…” he closed his eyes, cursing himself for letting you both get so carried away.
“I got it, Trent” you raised your voice a bit, and he finally looked at you. “We shouldn’t have done this. You wish we hadn’t”
“I didn’t say that” he immediately said, taken aback by the change in your tone.
You quickly wore your skirt, unsuccessfully trying to find the corset. Groaning, you took the shirt you had just taken off of him and wore it, looking for your purse whilst he sat on the bed, his hand supporting his weight.
“What are you doing?” Trent frowned, hopelessly watching you walking around the room.
“Going home. I have classes tomorrow morning” you mumbled, not trusting yourself to stay there any more. “I’ll return the shirt later”
He looked at you, the messy and loose hair. Trent wanted you to come back to bed and sleep, but your behaviour confused him.
“We’re in the middle of the night you can’t drive alone-”
“I can’t stay here, Trent” you cut him and stopped by the door, the urgency in your voice making him flinch.
“I’m sorry” he whispered, not even looking at you. His head was spinning and he couldn’t properly understand what was happening.
You looked at him one last time, his bare torso, the strong arms supporting his weight, the marked jaw.
“I’m sorry too. For believing when you said you wanted this and letting you go on” you muttered before leaving.
Trent’s mouth opened in surprise, his dizzy mind trying to fight the slowness he’d always get in after his orgasm, but you quickly left the room and he knew it was too late.
—
After reading Trent’s message before turning on the engine, you drove the forty minutes home trying your best not to cry, focused on the street.
The playlist making you company was constantly playing sad love songs, and you couldn’t stop repeating the whole night in your head.
As soon as you got home, you immediately headed to the bathroom, seeking some comfort and wanting to wash the evidence of what just happened.
Running a bath in the middle of the night was unusual for you, but you didn’t want a rushed shower. You needed to relax, so you waited for it to fill with hot water and took your clothes off, carefully entering the bath.
The water’s temperature embraced your body, and you sighed deeply.
You didn’t hear from him anymore that day and you were sure he was trying to respect your space, but for some reason that was not what you wanted.
What you really wanted was for him to call you. To try to fix this, somehow. To tell you that it was ok that you both got into this situation because that was all he ever wanted, just like you.
Now, you don’t even know if all those things he said before going to bed with you were real.
When the water got cold you decided that the best would be to get in bed, quickly drying yourself and looking for a pyjama. Not being able to find one in the middle of the night and too tired to keep searching, you reluctantly wore the hoodie Trent left at yours before you headed to the game, his smell immediately engulfing you.
Laying in bed and getting comfortable beneath the sheets, you allowed your body to feel what it needed to, and it wasn’t long until strong sobs were shaking your body.
You couldn’t lose Trent. But at the same time, you had no idea how you’d be capable of looking at him and chatting with him without letting your feelings get the best of you.
You knew it was unfair to ignore his messages without an explanation, so you quickly typed one, which Trent was quick to answer.
Sighing, you locked your phone and tried to sleep, the uncertainty about your friendship’s future consuming you through the night.
—
A month without Trent was the worst thing you had to go through in a while. Before everything, he is your best friend.
The guy who’ll hear anything you have to say, that’ll spend hours on the phone, that’ll bring you something cute because it reminded him of you.
The silly, caring and funny Trent. The other half of you.
You had already decided you wouldn’t go to England during your break, your feelings too messy to be deal with right now, when your mother told you that the whole family was invited for Klopp’s last game.
‘I respect your decision of not coming home during your weeks off, but he really needs you. I’m just checking if you’re totally sure about it’
You thought that the worst you’ve felt during your friendship with Trent was the last time you saw him, but hearing your mother telling you how he begged her to allow him to stay in your room for a while, where she heard him crying for hours, completely broke you.
So without even blinking you immediately bought the plane ticket after the call, and started to pack up your essentials. You knew that in the end two weeks could reveal to be too much, but you chose to risk it.
Whilst you picked up your favourite outfits, you analysed the situation. Of course a friendship so long like yours would face a harrowing moment at some point.
After that night, you were sure your feelings were real, but you couldn’t blame Trent for trying to understand — and in the end, feeling different than you.
You know you want him close. You need your best friend around, and you need things to be ok between you two.
Even if for that to happen you must bury your romantic feelings for him, pretending like you never felt them.
Landing in Liverpool the day of the game, you were happy to see your father in the airport, giving him a tight hug.
He drove you directly to Anfield, and you were able to enter the family box during the warm up. Not wanting your best friend to spot you with his family and get distracted, you stayed in the box d most of the time.
Even when you went to the stands, you made sure to stay away from everyone he knew and would look for. During Klopp’s farewell, you allowed yourself to get closer to his brothers, knowing that he would be too focused on the boss.
The goodbye was painful to you. Being a Liverpool fan your whole life, you and Trent spent all these years with Jürgen, and whilst the tears felt down your cheeks without any sign of stopping soon your only thought was how hurt your boy was feeling on the pitch.
Your question was answered when a footage of Trent with teary eyes showed up on the stadium screens, making you choke on your own saliva.
Not having the strength to be a part of the lap of honour, you waited with your mum and dad whilst Trent’s family went to the pitch to celebrate the end of the season, and watching him playing with Aura and feeling so happy with his loved ones around him settled your heart.
You smiled down at your phone, sitting on the box sofa and chatting with your father. When Tyler came running and hugged you, you started to laugh, knowing he was trying to piss Trent off.
When your best friend showed up at the door, you smiled softly at him.
“Y/N?” Trent gasped, not expecting to see you there. His wet and puffy eyes made your heart twist, and without thinking of anything else you opened your arms to him.
He threw himself at you, pushing Tyler away, and his strong arms hugged your torso tightly. Holding his shoulders just as tight, you sighed in his embrace.
You watched both of your families leave the room, more to give Trent privacy after what he just had gone through, and you hugged him even tighter.
“Oh, pookie. I’m so sorry you’re going through this” you scratched his scalp, and Trent relaxed against your body.
When he didn’t answer you thought he simply didn’t know what to say, but after a few seconds you realised Trent was slightly shaking, and soon you could hear the strong sobs washing over him.
You let him cry, a hand rubbing circles on his lower back whilst the other kept scratching his scalp until he was able to calm down, fifteen minutes later.
“Baby, hey” you tried to pull away so you could look at him, but he only clung to you tighter, decided not to let you see his face. “Look at me, Alexander”
“So you can see how weak I am?” his croaked voice cut you deeply.
“Trent. Look at me” you firmly asked, finally being able to cup his face in your hands when he pulled his head out of your neck. “Being emotional and sensitive about something isn’t being weak”
His teary eyes looked back at yours, the sight of the trail of tears making your heart drop.
“I had lots of weeks to prepare for this” his hoarse voice made you pout, stroking his chin.
“Doesn’t matter” you brushed his tears out of his face. “You’re allowed to cry when you lose something important. We all know you’re tough and strong, and crying sometimes won’t change that”
“Thank you” he sniffed, still holding you close to him. “I don’t deserve you”
“Don’t be silly. Took you twenty years to realise that?”
You tried to make him giggle, but Trent only shook his head.
“No. I’ve always known” he looked you in the eyes, so intense that you felt like he was seeing you naked again.
When Dianne opened the door to check on you, you cleared your throat.
“I’ll go home, spend some time with mom. But I see you later, yeah?” you smiled, and Trent only nodded, reluctantly letting go of you.
“I was just thinking-” he stuttered, and you stroked his chin.
“It’s okay, Trentie. Don’t worry” you reassured him. Your best friend looked at you with a lost expression and you tiptoed to kiss his cheek. “I won’t lose you because we made a mistake, it’ll be like nothing ever happened. Just me and you again”
Even though you didn’t want it to be like it never happened, you knew it was necessary for your friendship to survive. Not acknowledging that you had sex with your childhood best friend would make him stay as your childhood best friend.
“How many days are you staying?”
“Two weeks. I won’t run from you, Trent” you giggled, but the insecurity in his eyes made you stop. He could be feeling it in a different way, but it was clear that what happened affected him too. “I’ll stop by your house Wednesday, alright?”
When Dianne asked him if he was leaving with them, he quickly nodded and kissed your forehead.
“See ya then” he murmured, leaving you alone with your thoughts and that weird feeling in your stomach.
—
The few days with your family were much needed. You were excited to tell them about the things you hadn’t had the time to say on the phone yet, and your mother wanted to know everything.
If you were seeing someone, how’s the college, your favourite italian meals. Everything. Your mother wanted to know all the details, while dad was focused on hugging you like you could disappear.
In three nights straight, you all had dinner together before grabbing sweet treats for a sleepover in the living room, watching movies together and sleeping with your parents like you were eight years old. It was the best three nights you had for a while.
On Wednesday morning you woke up lazily, trying to kill time so it would take you longer to see Trent.
When your mother knocked on the door to call you for breakfast, you groaned for her to enter the room.
“I want to talk about something…” you murmured as soon as it was just you and her, and she smiled whilst sitting on the bed.
“Of course, my sweet girl. We can talk about anything”
You took a deep breath and changed to a sitting position, avoiding her eyes to muster up the courage and only looking at her when you felt ready to talk.
“Do you remember when Trent visited me last month?”
Your eyes full of tears explained everything she needed to know.
“Oh, Y/N…” she quickly embraced you in her arms. “Have you guys kissed?”
“I wish” you let your tears fall, not having the strength to hold it and wanting your mother to comfort you. “It was so much worse”
So you told her everything. From the silly and drunk kisses you both would share every party to him saying you shouldn’t have gone too far. The month without talking to them and having to pretend nothing happened for the sake of your friendship.
When she was about to answer you, someone knocked on the bedroom’s door.
“Uhm” your father cleared his throat whilst already entering the room, scaring you and your mother. “Excuse me”
“Were you hearing behind the door?” you looked at him with a shocked expression, immediately feeling shy.
“I’m sorry” he gave you an apologetic smile. “But if you allow me to stick my nose on your business for a bit, I have some opinions about that”
“Dad…” you felt ashamed. The last thing you wanted was your father talking about your sex life, even though he had always been chill about the subject.
“Y/N, I know you’re not my little girl anymore. That’s ok, we did our best to raise you for these moments, to the world. But I can’t hear all that you said and stay quiet. All I have to say is, don’t be unfair to Trent”
“What do you mean?” you frowned, wiping the tears from your face.
“That as much as you’re afraid of losing your best friend, he might be too. That what you thought was rejection could be simply fear” your father sat on the bed beside you, hugging you closer.
“Why would you think that when he clearly said he couldn’t do this?” you rested your head on his shoulder.
“It was how we started” your mother shyly answered. “We were best friends and one night, there was this party… we had too many drinks and it happened”
You never knew that. Actually, the only thing your parents told you about how they met was that your mother has been hard to conquer, and you also never asked about it. You always thought that they’d tell you in their own time.
“The next morning your mother woke up terrified and told me we shouldn’t have done that. I remember that she was picking up her clothes from the floor and saying that we crossed a line that shouldn’t be crossed” he chuckled. “We were scared, you know? I was scared that she didn’t like me that way and that’s why she ran, when actually she ran because she thought I slept with her just because I got carried away”
“But-” you tried to argue, but your father cut you.
“If we haven’t talked later and opened up, besides not being a couple today I’m pretty sure the friendship wouldn’t have survived. Look how funny, we were running away from our feelings so we wouldn’t ruin what we had, but running can be exactly the reason for you both to fall apart”
“I don’t know” you sighed, and your mother’s hand immediately started to rub your back.
“You don’t need to talk about that right now, Y/N” she comforted you. “Do it in your own time, but if we can give you any advice, it is for you to do it before going back to Italy. Distance is cruel, and paired with miscommunication can cause irreparable damage”
You stayed in silence for a few minutes, letting the new informations sink in.
“I’ll think… I’ll think about it” you nodded, cleaning your face again. “Gotta face him now tho, so if you excuse me”
Your parents giggled, and gave them a hug before getting in the shower to quickly get ready, suddenly wanting to be there soon.
Wearing a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt, you tied your hair in a ponytail before applying sunscreen, and borrowed your father’s car.
After the quick ride, you nervously rang Trent’s doorbell, and Marcel excitedly opened it to you.
“Y/N!” he screamed, and with all the fear and nerves directed to Trent you ended up forgetting that his family also hadn’t seen you for six months, and you couldn’t talk much during the match. “You’re taller?”
“Oh, shut up Marcel. You don’t need to remind me that you’re like the Eiffel tower” you giggled, hugging him tight.
“Why did you scream Y/N’s name?” Trent showed up at the door, wearing only his sleep shorts. Nothing you hadn’t seen before, but you still felt your cheeks getting hot at the sight of him.
He stopped in his tracks, looking at you like you were a ghost.
“Hi?” you giggled, finding it amusing how he blinked his eyes slowly.
“Oh” his smile grew wilder, and he soon was pushing Marcel to the side so he could give you a hug.
“That’s not fair, you’re not the only one that missed her” Marcel complained, but Trent was pretty good at ignoring the youngest.
“Let him be, Marcel. You know he’s a bit possessive” you could hear Dianne’s voice.
“The thing is that he’s not, mum. That’s the Y/N effect” Marcel complained, following his mother to the kitchen.
Trent engulfed you in his arms, and it was like the world didn’t exist anymore. You couldn’t hear his family nor the cars on the street. The only thing your ears could focus on was his steady heartbeat.
“As much as I love your hugs, I’m freezing” you giggled, but Trent only inverted your bodies so now you were inside the house. “And I don’t want you naked on the street, you’ll get sick”
“I’ll get sick or you’re being jealous?” he giggled, closing the door without breaking the hug. “I missed you”
“I missed you too” you ignored the first part, laughing when he started to walk while still hugging you.
“She won’t disappear if you let her go” Michael teased him from up the stairs.
“Hi uncle Mike” you yelped when Trent took you off the ground and walked into the living room.
“Hi Y/N, don’t let the boys bother you too much” he smiled whilst crossing the room and blowing you a kiss. “Stay for dinner so we can talk, I’ll be right back”
You nodded awkwardly since Trent was on top of you, your body pressed against the sofa whilst he snuggled you.
“I missed you” he murmured, and you felt warm inside. No matter what you say to yourself, having Trent’s attention would always make you giddy and soft. “I missed you so much”
“Missed you too buddy, but you’ll crush my bones” you giggled when he finally pulled away so you could breathe.
“You know what, you should come with me to Monaco” he smiled, proud of his idea. “So we can spend some time together”
You sat on the sofa, carefully thinking about what he said.
“Oh, I don’t know. Don’t wanna ruin your boys trip” you told him honestly. “It’s your time off after a long season”
Trent sat next to you, and you rested your face on his shoulder.
“Cmon, you only have two weeks off and I don’t want to spend one of them far away from you. It’ll be fun, Tyler and Marcel will love having you around for a few days”
Suddenly coming from the kitchen, Marcel threw himself besides Trent.
“Yeah Y/N, come with us. It’s a brother's trip, and you’re like a sister. At least to some of us” he chuckled, and you straightened your body to frown at him.
“Shut up” Trent scolded his brother, and soon they were pushing each other and playfully fighting.
Dianne came out of the kitchen, giving them a flat look.
“Boys, Y/N didn’t come here to see this” she sighed. “They look like five years old, don’t they? Come here darling, help me out with the cupcakes”
You happily followed her into the kitchen. Her energy has always embraced yours, and after your mum, Dianne is the oldest woman you like to talk to the most.
“Oh, Y/N! We missed you so much, darling” she smiled softly, taking the cupcakes out of the oven. “How’s Italy? Everything you ever dreamed about?”
“Italy is good, Di” you smiled back, smelling the cakes. “They just don’t have…”
“Trent” she put them in front of you, giggling.
Sometimes, his mother knows you too well for your liking.
“Yeah” you admitted shyly.
Taking the coloured buttercream frosting she gave you, you started to decorate the cupcakes.
“Is everything alright between you two?” she asked tenderly. “He’s been really upset about himself lately and the only thing he’d say to me is that he had upset you”
“Yeah, we had a bit of a bickering moment” you shrugged. “Friendships are like that, but I’m sure we’ll talk about it once we’re ready. We always do”
Dianne nodded, and you knew she didn’t want to stick her nose in your friendship. She just cares too much.
“You know he loves you” she brought you some sprinkles.
“I love him too” you smiled. “Trent is my favourite person, you know. He just can be hard sometimes. To read, to understand”
She sat next to you and grabbed a cupcake to decorate it herself.
“To love?” she teased. You shook your head, biting your lips so the few tears wouldn’t spill.
“Trent was never hard to love. I think it’s quite the opposite, actually. He must have a hard time loving me” you murmured, but Dianne stayed quiet.
“You were never hard to love either” his voice made you jump, immediately shy of being caught. “What do we have for dinner tonight, mum?”
His arms circled your waist, and Trent hugged you tight against his chest. The heat on your face wasn’t unusual at this point, and he seemed to be the king in making your cheeks burn.
“Homemade pizza. I would’ve changed it if you had warned me Y/N was coming, poor girl probably eats pizza every day for the last six months” she gave you an apologetic look but you only laughed.
“It’s ok, Di. I love your pizza” you smiled. When you were younger, both of your families would reunite once a week to eat her pizza, and in the end it always looked like a party, full of people, laughters and happiness.
“And we also have my cupcakes for the dessert” Trent said excitedly, the pure joy in his voice making you smile. You leaned back so your head would rest on his shoulder, and he gave your forehead a quick peck.
“You baked them?” your shocked tone made Dianne laugh, and Trent looked at you with a false offended expression.
“Surprised?” he murmured in your ear, and you tried not to choke in your own spit.
“Di, are you sure I have to stay for dinner?” you joked, laughing when Trent’s fingers started to squeeze your waist.
Soon Michael was home, and after chatting with him about your classes and teachers, you shared a pizza with the Alexander-Arnold family.
Dianne also told you how Aura has changed their life’s, and the spark on Trent’s eyes was impossible not to see.
After tasting his cupcakes and having to admit they were pretty good, you had to say goodbye to your second family, promising to try and visit as soon as possible.
Later that night in your old room, you wore one of your favourite hoodies of Trent that you shamelessly brought from his house, pretending you were too cold to come back home without one, and his smell instantly engulfed you.
You came to Liverpool focused on forgetting your feelings and determined to get back at what you and Trent were before all of this, but watching his smile, his body lazily thrown on the sofa and how his soft eyes would look at you ruined you all over again.
On the other hand, he seemed like he couldn’t stay away from you either, his arms always hugging you, his pinky touching yours over the dinner table. His longing and lingering stares.
You groaned, grabbing your pillow and burying your face in it before screaming frustratedly. Now more than ever, it was clear for you that you weren't able to be only his friend. That you would always want more.
But you had promised him this, that things would be like nothing ever happened, and your friendship deserved a try.
Your father’s words hammered in your head, and if you were being honest with yourself you knew the pair of you needed to have an honest conversation, but the fear wouldn’t let you ask him for it.
If you make the decision alone, you know what it implies — you’ll have to suppress your feelings for him, forever. But as soon as Trent enters this conversation, he can choose to cut all the ties.
You know Trent too well, and this means knowing that by not feeling the same as you he wouldn’t want to be friends whilst you were in love. This would mean hurt you a lot, and he could never.
Squirming in bed, you tried your best to fall asleep and have a break from your thoughts, but his face refused to leave your mind. Giving up, you texted him exactly what he wanted to read.
—
You were sure you looked like a child.
Everything was so glamorous and fancy, and you were truly excited to be experiencing the most classic Formula One Grand Prix.
The cars were huge, the atmosphere unbelievable. You felt like you were at Disneyland, but made for adults with an unhealthy love for cars.
You felt at home, the engine sounds reaching deep in your heart and you knew you couldn’t be happier.
Tyler and Marcel decided to take a few pictures whilst you and Trent went to the Alpine box so he could see the team before the first session.
You gladly noted that things weren’t awkward between you both, and you soon started to talk about the old times when the pair of you would watch races together.
Suddenly you heard someone shout for Trent followed with a whistle, and immediately prayed that it wasn’t a fan.
You love them, you really do, but since you started to show up more at the games and with his family they were usually rude to you, and you were having a really perfect weekend.
Gladly for you, the pair of you turned around to face Ben and Mason, and Trent happily greeted them with a hug.
“No red bull garage this year?” Mason teased, talking about when they met in the same garage.
“Oh you know, I’m here for business” Trent chuckled, showing them the Alpine paddock pass and the boys playfully whistled. “This is Y/N, my best friend”
“So this is the Y/N” Mason’s eyes twinkled and he shook your hand. “Nice to meet you”
“Trent talks a lot about you” Ben also shook your hand, smiling politely.
You smiled at then, feeling your face heating up at the mention of Trent talking about you.
“But he never told us you’re this pretty” Mason playfully smirked, making you giggle.
“Can I have a word with you, Mason?” Trent motioned his head, making Ben laugh.
“I’ll take Mr. Flirty Mount out of here before the news needs to report the England boys were fighting in Monaco. See you, guys” he chuckled, dragging Mason away whilst he’d blow kisses to you.
You laughed, shaking your head and facing Trent.
“Remember when you told me guys don’t like you romantically?” he snorted. “And now I have to kick them away from you”
“Mason wasn’t flirting” you told him. “He was trying to play with you and get under your skin, hitting on your best friend”
“Y/N, if I wasn’t here to say he’s not allowed to get closer to you in a romantic or sexual way Mason would’ve asked for your number and obviously tried to take you out and God knows what more. Now that he’s close enough I can’t take the risk, that man should’ve stayed in London”
You stared at him with a serious look in your eyes.
“I’d never get involved with someone from your workspace. You know I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but even if you didn’t kicked him away Mason would just do like all the others and disappear after a while”
“The others… you say like, the ones I also had to kick?” Trent chuckled before your confused expression made him gulp. “Looook, a car! Wow, plenty of cars. So many cars”
“You’ve been scaring my potential boyfriends away?” you crossed your arms, and Trent started to walk to Alpine’s box.
“Guilty! I didn’t want you to date any of them. I’m sorry, but they weren’t good enough for you, Y/N” he shrugged, turning around to check if you were following him.
“Since when is up to you to decide?” you raised an eyebrow, but your light tone showed Trent you weren't about to kill him.
He gave you your favourite smile, when he bites his lower lip in tries to stop smiling, but then his smile slowly shows up. It’s pretty and sensual and makes you want to lean forward and kiss him.
“See, I’m your best friend. I know what’s good for you, and they weren’t. That’s all! I’m a guy and I know other guys, I was just protecting my incredible friend” he blinked, reaching out his hand for you to take.
“Well, thank you then. But I’d appreciate it if instead of kicking the ones that aren’t good enough, you could find me someone good enough” you hugged his arm, resting your face on his bicep.
“The only one good enough for you is me” Trent poked your nose before waving to what you presumed was one of the racing drivers. “Esteban, hi!”
—
After the events of the day, you decided to walk back to the hotel room you would stay in, whilst Trent and his brothers stayed to talk a bit.
Sharing the room was an obvious decision. You and Trent always shared a bed on every trip or when staying over someone’s house during teenagers parties.
You instantly got in the shower, and the hot water helped you to relax your tense muscles from walking around the paddock the whole day, but also from being next to Trent for so long.
You didn’t have where to run, and the lingering small touches were driving you crazy. You promised him that it’d be like nothing happened, but you weren’t so sure you’d be able to do that.
‘Look how funny, we were running away from our feelings so we wouldn’t ruin what we had, but running can be exactly the reason for you both to fall apart’, you remembered your dad’s words.
Sighing deeply, you finished your shower and dried your body, wearing Trent’s t-shirt you stole before entering the bathroom.
You couldn’t sleep without your skin care night routine, so you took your time to wash and moisturise your face, applying the simple version of your routine since you wouldn’t travel with all of your products.
After finishing it and brushing your hair, you left the bathroom. You were expecting Trent to stay out longer with his brothers, but as soon as you got out he was entering the room, and you froze in place.
“Thank you for staying with me” he smiled, closing the door behind him.
“Well, your brothers would find it weird if we didn’t share the room for the first time in fifteen years” you joked, but Trent frowned.
“That’s why you accepted? You wouldn’t share the room with me if Marcel and Tyler weren’t here?”
You sighed, not wanting to argue with him.
“You’re overthinking, Trent. I wouldn’t have accepted to come to Monaco with you if we weren’t on good terms”
“I had to beg you to come, Y/N. What’s wrong?” he asked you, exasperated. “Am I a bad fucker or what? Is this about Theo? Are you with him now?”
“This is not about how you- do it, Trent. And I already told you he’s just a friend, we’re not together”
He gave you an annoyed look, and you were about to say you could just share the room with Marcel instead when he opened his mouth.
“I’m just your friend as well and this doesn’t stop us from kissing each other once a month” he mumbled, his words making your body stiffen.
“So you remember?” you gasped, not believing the words he had just said.
“How the fuck could I forget” Trent’s voice was low, and is was obvious that confessioning it was taking everything in him. “Every time you kiss me is like the world makes sense. You make me feel alive and I hate that someone else can be feeling the same whilst I’m so fucking away”
Your mind started to spin, and you tried your best to keep breathing.
“You- what? Why you never told me?” you looked at him, your vision slightly blurred with tears. Trent stayed silent, and even though you know he’s not good with his words you expected him at least to try and defend himself. “Fuck you. How could you let me believe you didn’t know for all these months?”
“Listen-” he sighed, but you only shook your head.
“No, you listen. I’m tired” you wiped the tears from your face. “You can’t pretend you doesn’t know that we kissed multiple times and then act like you’re in love with me”
“But I am!” he ran his hand through his hair, but despite the hurt look in his eyes you weren’t willing to believe him.
“The only thing you are right now, Trent, is drunk. Just like every other time you thought you wanted something to do with me” your hurt voice tone made Trent’s heart drop, but at the same time he just wanted you to believe his words. “Just like how when you thought you wanted to fuck me”
He knew it was wrong to keep something like that from you, to pretend he didn’t know about your feelings for months, but he couldn’t change the past. The only thing he could try to do was explain himself but he had no idea where to start, and the fact he felt lost started to annoy him.
“Good. We can always blame Trent’s lil shot of vodka and his silly glass of beer” he raised his voice, exasperated. He knew it wasn’t your fault, but he was trying to open up for the first time since your first kiss and things weren’t going on as he planned. “We should just go to bed so you can forget we talked about this”
“You’re the one who likes to forget when something happens between us” you screamed back at him. “I used to wish you were fucking sober so you would remember you want me when you were not. You knew that? I used to pray for you to wake up once and still feels like kissing me”
His heart twisted in his chest at the sight of your tears.
“Why did you pretend you didn’t remember? You want me when you have more drinks than you should and when you wake up you realise you don’t?” your shaky voice hurt him. “Acting like it never happened has been killing me for months, just in order to not ruin things with you when in reality you knew all this time”
“So why did you say it back then?” his hands were on his neck, in an exasperated movement. “I never told you I remembered because I was afraid you didn’t want me to remember, Y/N. And then, the only time you were sure I did, you ghosted me only to come back saying exactly what I feared to hear. Why?”
“I don’t want the fact that I fucking want you to ruin our friendship, Arnold” you blurted out, instantly panic washing over you when Trent’s eyes widened. “Forget it. Forget, I’ll go to sleep. I don’t wanna talk about that”
“But I do. I need to talk about that” he held you by your wrist, not letting you get to the bed. “Please?”
“Do you need to talk about what, exactly? Why the fuck are you the one acting like I rejected you” you snapped, watching Trent frown at you.
You knew you needed to talk to him, and that you were doing exactly what your parents asked you not to, but the fact that he’d been lying to you changed everything.
“Because you did! You didn’t even let me explain what I was thinking that night. You didn’t let me talk before assuming that I didn’t want you”
You felt your face heating up, thinking that you had actually ran away from him.
“You told me we shouldn’t have done it” you murmured, playing with your fingers.
“Yeah, I did. But not in the way you understood” he snorted. “I was dizzy and lazy from my orgasm, and you didn’t give me any time to explain myself. I just- I don’t know why I said it, I should’ve kept shut. But the fact that I’d be going home hours after having you and we would spend God knows how much time apart from each other made me sick. Just slipped out of my mouth and you got it wrong”
“Oh” you bite the inside of your cheek, avoiding his eyes and suddenly too shy to argue.
“Yeah, oh. Then you ignored me for a whole fucking month. Not funny, Y/N”
“I’m sorry, but things weren’t clear, Trent. Can you try to see this from my perspective? You fucked your best friend from ages, but I slept with the only guy I’ve wanted since high school. When you said you couldn’t do that I felt so embarrassed. Naked in a hotel’s bed whilst the man that I love was saying he didn’t want that” you kept looking to the floor, feeling your heart twisting in your chest. “I told you pretty personal things once, Trent. I was honest and I was scared, and when you told me back I thought that that was when things were supposed to change”
“What are you talking about?” Trent walked towards you, his body gently pressing yours against the wall. He held your chin, tilting your head up to face his.
“That night at the England party before the camp, when you flirted with that girl. I told you things” you murmured, not wanting to repeat that you told him you loved him in a different way. “And when you said it back I thought that we-”
“Fuck, the National Team party? You chose the only day I was actually drunk to tell me things?” his forehead dropped to yours, his hand stroking your chin. You closed your moist eyes and Trent observed your face. “We’ll, I’ve told you things too. At your farewell party” he giggled. “I told you pretty personal things, and when you said it back…”
You were back at avoiding his gaze, but his gentle grip on your chin forced you to face his shining and soft eyes again.
After a minute of looking at each other, Trent picked you up and quickly walked the pair of you to the bed, laying you there before getting comfortable on top of you and between your legs.
“You know I’m not good with words, but since you told me you love me I think I should say how I feel about you” he brushed his nose against your neck, the suddenly comfortable atmosphere making you smile. “You seem to have no idea of that, but being around you is the best thing to ever happen to me. You’re like breathing pure air after inhaling smoke, Y/N. When I see you I know I can finally relax. No worries. I don’t need to pay attention to what I’m saying, I don’t need to worry if you’ll understand me. I can be myself. You’ve seen my flaws and my qualities, and you haven’t run away not for once. My mind is at peace when I look at you, but then my heart is pretty different. So disturbed. You settle me but then you’re not mine, and one day you’ll be settling someone else. It terrifies me to the point I can’t breathe sometimes”
Trent said it all in a low and controlled tone, like he was forcing the words to come out. Without breaking eye contact, you cupped his face and stroked his cheeks and let him continue.
“I- in Italy, I was so angry and I’m sorry. I've been hoping that what happened wouldn’t change what we are because the mere idea of losing you makes me sick” he sighed, making you smile softly. “But at the same time I need it to change. I just can’t be your best friend anymore. I want to touch you like that. And kiss you, and hold you”
You felt your cheeks getting warm and that weird feeling on the pit of your stomach. The uncertainty about the future, the fear. But also the hope of having the only boys you always wanted.
“We’re kinda friends with benefits at this point” you joked, but Trent huffed.
“I’m not here for friends with benefits, Y/N. It never works. I want all or nothing” his lips brushed against yours. “Be my girlfriend”
Your eyes widened at his words, but Trent only leaned against your palm, his softly gaze analysing your expression whilst patiently waiting for an answer.
You didn’t need to think much about it, but you appreciated that he let you take your time to picture what that would mean for the pair of you.
“Like- like a girlfriend? You girlfriend?”
“Unless you’re already dating someone else” he teased you. “But I’m way better than him, so if you are then you should break up with your boyfriend”
“I couldn’t date anyone else that’s not you, I’m afraid” you shyly admitted, making Trent giggle.
“I wonder how would you explain a possessive and jealous guy that does everything with you and cuddle and snuggle and wear you on his clothes, cook for you, drive for you, pick your movies and likes to kiss you” he kissed your chin, and only then you understood what he meant back at your fight about Theo.
Trent didn’t want Theo to know he had no chance. He wanted Theo to know that, if he wanted to date you, he’d have to accept your best friend that looks like your boyfriend. Just like how he does with the girls he chats.
Maybe, just maybe, that’s why none of you ever had a long and lasting relationship with anyone else.
“You eased things for me a lot” you smiled. “Now I just need to say that the jealous guy is my boyfriend”
Trent tilted his head. “It sounds good, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah” you murmured, trying to bite back a smile. “It sounds really good”
Different from the kiss that night in Italy, Trent gently pecked your lips and waited for you to make the first move. Rolling your eyes playfully, you pulled him closer by his neck before kissing him.
His lips touched yours gently, caring and lovingly. Slowly opening them, Trent let his tongue slide inside of your mouth, fighting with yours for dominance.
The hand on your waist kept rubbing circles and caressing your skin underneath your hoodie, his fingers constantly bumping into your panties’ strap.
You couldn’t have enough of him, and when you tried to get him even closer, scratching the back of his neck, Trent groaned into your mouth and pressed his hips forward.
The feeling of his semi hard crotch pressed against your core made your mind go blank. You opened your mouth to moan and he took the opportunity to turn your kiss into a sloppy one, biting and licking your lips.
“Let me take care of you. Real care of you this time” he murmured against your jaw, pressing even further against you. “Please”
“We can’t right now” you told him, but his only response was to suck your neck in a way that got you squirming beneath him. “Trent-”
“I’m dying to feel you, baby. I’ve been dreaming about you, every night. I wake up sweating and hard as fuck and all I wanna do is to beg you to take care of me” he whispered. “I swear I’ll be a good boy, please?”
You gulped, incapable of denying that his words got you close to the edge.
“But your brothers-”
“Just be quiet f’me” he whispered, kisses trailing down your neck. When his hand found your bare chest, you knew it was over for you.
“I can’t be quiet with you” you whispered in a desperate tone that immediately got Trent chuckling, his thumb slowly stroking your nipple.
“Guess you’ll need to try” he pulled away to look at you and smirk.
You cupped his face, stroking his chin and staring into his eyes.
“This is different, right? Than the last time”
Trent stopped his teasing and leaned down to give you the softest kiss you ever had, his lips touching yours like he was afraid he could hurt you.
“I’m truly sorry for what happened, and I’m truly sorry for panicking when I should’ve seen you were just as scared as me” he murmured, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “But I didn’t lie, Y/N. I want you, and I think we can make it work. You know me like nobody else, and I like to think I know you too”
“You do” you quickly nodded, your heart warm with love.
Trent’s gaze made you feel like he could see your naked soul, his dark and big eyes showing you they were ready to be honest with you.
“You’re everything I need. You make my tummy flutter and my dick hard and every time I get home I wish I could hug you through the night” he told you sincerely, making you laugh. “Don’t laugh at me, baby”
“I’m not. Sorry, it was just cute”
You bit your lips, still trying to hold your giggles.
“Oh, you think it’s cute when I say you make me hard? I’m starting to think you’re a bit naughty, Y/N” he poked your waist, and you laughed harder. “I mean it when I say I want you to be my girlfriend, and I need you to know I’m being serious. I know we’re both tired though, so we can talk better when you’re ready, yeah?”
Hw kissed your forehead and motioned to get off of you, but you didn’t want that.
“No” you protested, hugging his shoulders to make him stay.
“You wanna sleep like this?” his soft voice made your tummy flutter, and you almost felt bad for all the filthy thoughts running through your mind when he was talking so sweetly. Almost.
“I’m wet and bothered because of you, Alexander” you whispered, tugging your fingers in his hair. “You’re fucking me tonight”
Trent raised his eyebrows at you, surprised by your attitude, and licked his lips.
“Am I?” he murmured, his eyes falling to your lips. You scratched the back of his head, pulling him closer so you could gently bite his lower lip. “I’m def fucking you tonight”
You giggled, circling his waist with your legs, and he groaned, hand slipping underneath your t-shirt again.
It wasn’t long until his face was between your legs. Trent kissed your inner thigh, holding eye contact. Lazily brushing his nose against your skin, giving it little bites before kissing your core over your panties’ fabric.
When you raised your hips for him to take it off, Trent cursed under his breath.
“I’m wet enough, babe” you whispered, the pet name falling from your lips like it’s something constant.
Trent raised his head to look at you, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open.
“Said it again” he asked, his body on top of yours again.
You smiled, biting your lip. “I’m wet enough?”
“No, the other thing” his lips brushed against yours, his low voice making you shiver whilst your entire body screamed for him.
“Babe?” you repeated innocently, smiling when he rested hus forehead on your shoulder.
“God” he tucked his head in your neck, kissing your skin. “Gonna moan like that for me?”
“If you make me” you murmured, pride washing over you when he tightened his grip on your waist. “Are you good?”
“I said it once, but I never thought you could be such a brat” he mumbled, taking a deep breath. “I’m having trouble to control my own body”
“Aw” you lovingly mocked him. “Then don’t”
Trent chuckled, pulling away so he could take your panties off, and the way he looked at you made you feel a bit shy under his gaze even though he had already seen you naked.
He wanted you, and you could see how much just by the way his dark eyes travelled your body, his tongue poking out to lick his lips at the sight of you uncovered.
“So fucking pretty. And you know that” he caressed your waist, eyes meeting yours.
Even though you never saw yourself as an ugly girl and that a few guys often had told you how gorgeous they thought you were, it was the first time you actually believed that another person could see you as profoundly as you see yourself.
You could feel in his voice tone how Trent actually thought you were this beautiful, how much he liked to look at you. And how he meant it.
“Someone might have told me that once” you shrugged, smiling when he rolled his eyes.
“I did” he pecked your lips before slightly biting your chin. “And you were moaning my name a few seconds later”
You giggled, kissing himin sequence. It was still weird for you how his lips fit into yours so well, how they were able to make you weak.
When he pulled away with an erratic breath, you smirked and laid down again.
“You’re wearing too much clothes” you teased, and Trent raised his eyebrows before getting off of you and starting to strip.
He took the white t-shirt off, letting you admire his arms and chest before unbuttoning his pants, taking it off along with his boxers.
You cursed loudly, catching Trent’s attention.
“I don’t think you’ll fit, Alexander” you chuckled, but knowing you damn well he could say you were scared straight away.
“I know it looks like it but I’m not that big”
It was a lie. You licked your lips whilst watching him touching himself a few times before wearing the condom, getting ready for you.
“You’re huge, babe” you whispered. “Insanely big”
You could see him getting flustered, his shy eyes meeting yours whilst he walked towards you again.
“Stop” he groaned, and the sight of his large hands teasing his angry tip made you feel warm. Everywhere.
“You’re not only big, Trentie. You’re thick” you raised your eyebrows, biting back a moan. “Fuck, you’re so hot”
Trent bit his lips shyly, and you were amazed with your capacity of making him shy. Tapping the bed, you waited for him to crawl in your direction, settling between your legs.
“Which position do you want?” you smirked when he was on top of you again. You could feel him against your thigh, the desperation growing wilder.
“I feel like I should be the one asking this” he chuckled. “But I’d like our first time to be missionary, if you allow me”
You’d allow him anything at this point, you wanted to say.
“Any special reason?” you stroked his cheek, quickly pecking his lips.
Trent brushed a strand of hair out of your face, looking at you like you were holding the moon.
“I liked the look in your eyes when you were almost there that night. I want to see how you’ll look at me whilst I’m hitting you good” he kissed your chin, the feeling of him pressed against you making you let out a small cry.
Trent didn’t lost time in guiding himself to tease you, sliding his tip through your folds and tapping it against your clit.
He wasn’t the type to praise a lot, and instead of words he used his actions very well, every touch of him working you up even more.
When you sighed, he slowly slid it to your core and slightly thrusted forward, a small moaning falling from his lips.
“Trentie-” you whined, making him kiss you to silence you.
“I haven’t even started yet and you’re already falling apart?” Trent teased you, his forehead against yours whilst he pushed himself further.
It took you a while to adjust to him. Not that you were a saint, but you didn’t hook up with half Italy either, and as much as it was good to feel him it was also uncomfortable.
“Why are you tense baby?” he kissed your hairline, trying his best to stay still.
You sighed, debating on telling him or not.
“It’s been a while- I’m not as experienced as you”
Truth be told, you were terrified you wouldn’t be to him as good as he was to you.
“Y/N, c’mon” he trailed kisses down your face. “It’s just me, baby. Your Trentie”
“I know, but this is such a new thing to us” you pouted, making him smile.
“Love how you’re able to go from a brat to a baby. The duality of a woman” he brushed his nose against your cheek, and you giggled.
“Sorry, I’m ruining it. You’ll be soft again in a second” you joked, but Trent only pressed his hip further.
“Are you listening to yourself right now? Your personality is exactly what turned me on to this point” he adjusted himself slightly, and you couldn’t help but moan.
“Move” you asked him quietly, murmuring. “Please, Trent”
The sensation was overwhelming. Not only the pleasure of having sex, but the euphoria of having sex with him.
With your boy, who knows you so well, who waits patiently for you to adjust around him, who makes you moan with just a touch of his strong but ever so gentle hands.
Trent kept his slow pace, enjoying how he could feel every inch of you whilst groaning and moaning in your ear.
“God, you feel so good” he murmured, leaning to kiss your jaw. “So fucking tight around me, just how I imagined you’d be”
His words made your head spin, the goosebumps down your spine making you moan.
“You really thought about this before?” you whispered, digging your nails into his shoulder.
Trent giggled, biting your shoulder lovingly. “A lot”
You closed your eyes, and knowing that he was enjoying let you totally relax your body. Feeling the difference, he increased the pace and changed the angle.
It didn’t take long for you to feel that weird and hazy sensation in the pitch of your stomach, your toes curling whilst you dropped your head on the pillow.
“Trent, babe” you murmured, trying to be quiet. “I’m-”
He looked at your fucked up expression, your swollen lips and the messy hair around your face, feeling proud of the state he got you in.
“Does that feel good?” his lips brushed against yours whilst he pounded into you. “I know it does by the way you’re clenching around me, but I’d like to hear you say”
“It feels so good” you whined, sobbing when he pressed his palm against your lower stomach. “It feels so fucking good, it makes me wanna scream”
Arching your back so you could feel him closer, you repeatedly whispered his name, like a song Trent would never get tired of hearing.
“I can’t hold it anymore, Trentie” you cried out, scratching his neck and biting his shoulder in tries to keep quiet.
“Uhm, my pretty girl” he kissed you softly, his tongue invading your mouth, so lazily and caring. “Let go f’me, princess”
Your high hit you with an unknown intensity,
“You squeezed the life out of me” he kissed your temple, getting on his feet to discard the condom.
Coming back from the bathroom, he laid on top of you, sighing when your fingers started to scratch his scalp.
“Gonna sound cliche” he groaned, kissing your shoulder. “But you have no idea how many times I’ve dreamed of this”
“In any of your dreams, it happened in Monaco?” you chuckled, yawning in sequence. “And if yes, we made it to the race? I feel like sleeping the whole day”
“We should take a shower and get some sleep” Trent murmured, and even though you agreed with him, none of you moved a finger.
“This is real, right?” you whispered, the answer already sparkling in his eyes when he looked at you. “I’m scared” you admitted, your heart beating wildly in your chest and the knot on your throat immediately showing up. “What if we can’t make it? What if we fight really bad one day and you’ll be sure there’s no way out of it? What if we broke up and things won’t ever be the same and it’ll ruin our family’s friendship. And I’ll probably have to see you walking around with an ugly model as your new bag”
“Shhh, I wouldn’t let that happen” he changed to a sit position, bringing you closer and holding you tight.
He ran his hand on your back, and you took deep breaths before replying.
“You can’t promise me that” you murmured against his shoulder.
Trent took a few seconds to speak, tilting your head up so you would see his eyes.
“I promise you, Y/N, I would never, ever, walk around with an ugly model” he chuckled, stopping when you hit his arm. “We’ll, I’m promising you that right now, baby” he murmured. “I’m forever yours, and nothing will be able to ruin this. I’ll never let anything get in between us”
—
After a quick shower and some sleep, you almost couldn’t wake up in the morning. Trent used the bathroom first before gently calling you so you could get ready for the day, and after half an hour you were able to win the battle.
When you left the bathroom, you watched Trent looking at himself in the mirror, adjusting his beige overall.
“Are you wearing this?” you frowned, feeling like one of those toxic boyfriends.
“What, you don’t like it?” he turned around to face you, and you instantly cursed yourself from opening your mouth when you were met with uncertainty in his eyes.
You shook your head, quickly walking towards him.
“No, is not that. You look really good” you hugged his neck. “You just look too good for my concern”
His shoulders relaxed and he let out the cutest giggle in the world, holding your waist.
“That shouldn’t be a good thing?”
“We’re in Monaco, Trent. And you’re a footballer. I can only imagine the amount of girls that’ll throw themselves at you” you frowned, but he only shrugged.
“Unfortunately for them, I only care about one girl”
You rolled your eyes playfully, leaning to kiss him when a loud knock on the door made you pull away. Trent groaned before gently pulling you close by your neck until your lips were brushing against his.
“Priorities, princess. They can wait” he pecked your lips, trailing kisses down your jaw and your neck. It wasn’t long until you felt your knees getting weak.
Gently sucking and biting the spot underneath your ear, Trent groaned when a small moan slipped through your lips.
“I think the race isn’t that important” he mumbled, kissing you gently and slowly, the urge of pulling you even closer making his grip tighter on your waist.
When one of his brothers knocked on the door again, Trent pulled away and huffed.
“The sooner we leave the sooner we get back” he whispered, grabbing your hand and walking to the door, only stopping so you could pick up your bag on the bed.
When he opened the door, Tyler and Marcel were looking back at you.
“Wow, Y/N. You look like you don’t sleep for days” Marcel teased your appearance as soon as you left the room.
“Me and Trent kept gossiping until morning” you yawned, grabbing the coffee Tyler handed to you. “I’m starting to regret it”
When Marcel and Trent started to walk a few steps in front of you two, the eldest brother passed his arm over your shoulder.
“You know I’m old enough to recognise a man who had sex when I see one” he giggled, and your heart instantly dropped.
“Tyler-” you gasped, but he shook his head and squeezed your body against his.
“No, no. I’m glad it happened. You make him happy like nothing else does, Y/N. I won’t tell anyone until you two are ready, but I wanted to tell you myself how happy I am to have you around and looking out for my little brother. Trent had some bad and tough moments, especially when it comes to love, but I trust you. And I trust him to take care of such a special girl like you”
You smiled shyly, his words making you feel safe and loved.
“Thank you” you smiled, hugging his waist. “You know I’m also happy to be around your family”
“Oh, just wait until you’re officially part of it then” he chuckled, the sound getting Trent’s attention.
Your boy turned around, frowning at the sight of you two laughing.
“Hey, can you get away from my girl please” Trent shouted, walking back to you and grabbing your hand.
“You’re so dramatic” Tyler rolled his eyes before looking at you again. “Good luck with this one, you gonna need it”
Trent snorted, putting you beside him. His hand slipped into your jean’s pocket, and you tried to bite a smile.
“Your girl?” you teased. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”
“Of course I wanna do this. There's a better place to have paparazzi couple pictures than the Monaco GP?” he kissed your cheek. “Yeah, I’m totally sure. Want them to know you’re mine. The only one I want when I’m happy and when I’m sad, when I’m sleepy or when I’m awake. The one I want when I’m drunk and when I’m sober”
“And the one that makes you talk like you’re twelve years old” Marcel rolled his eyes, slapping Trent’s head and making you laugh. “Never saw you talking like that”
“Man is in love, Marcel. Let him” Tyler came to the rescue, but soon he was teasing along. “Wait for him to have his own kid and you’ll see him reach his peak of foolishness”
“God, Tyler. I got the girl yesterday and you’re trying to scare her already” he looked really annoyed, and you tried to hold your giggles so you wouldn’t ruin his mood. “C’mon baby, let’s get out of here”
“C’mon baby” Marcel mimicked him, extending his hand to grab Tyler’s.
“Let’s get out of here” the eldest joined him, both erupting in giggles whilst Trent guided you to Alpine’s box, soon finding a corner where he could kiss you as if the pair of you didn’t have a race to watch.
For the rest of the day you walked around the paddock with Trent. Fingers intertwined, kisses exchanged and vows of love quietly spoken against each other’s mouth.
#✧･ﾟ: *✧ tsimvkas — works#trent alexander arnold x reader#trent alexander x you#trent alexander x reader#trent alexander fanfic#trent alexander imagines#trent alexander arnold#trent alexander arnold x you#trent alexander arnold fanfic#trent alexander arnold imagines#trent alexander arnold smut#trent alexander arnold fluff
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how much of Stormpaw’s demon are Maple’s curse vs just things that happen (cause in canon it’s really vague about whether Maple causes all those tragedies or has the ability to see his future for some reason)
EVERYTHING that happens in Stormpaw's Demon involves her. It's not being so dramatically renamed for nothing, she's a major driver and cause of the plot! Crookedstar's young name is in the title; but really, his demon is driving the misfortune.
That said... It's been a while and I'm heavily considering retooling the narrative.
Since I last REALLY worked on it, BB has changed in the sense that I'm a lot more willing to alter canon than I used to be. While my driving mindset used to be "telling a better version of the original story," and that IS a value I still hold... I've lost patience with the misogyny within the original work.
I've spoken at length about the way Crookedstar's Promise grinds my gears (PLEASE follow this link for a full breakdown of why), but in summary; it desperately tries to keep every male character likeable when they shouldn't be, saying nothing about the fact they are complicit in or even enabling abuse, while giving Crookedstar TWO flatly evil maternal figures. Even Brambleberry, who's heavily praised for being "like a mom instead," has a weird moment where she starts giving Crookedjaw the cold shoulder because she finds out he's chatting with a demon.
So like... I'm not sure if I want to make the "better version" of that story. That was the one that I already had, which had Mapleshade be acting entirely out of just the malice of wanting to hurt a child, while Hailstar and Shellheart are the excellent people canon wanted to see them as.
(not that it's even a BAD super edition, it's actually a really good one, but if it's my kitchen that's not what we cook here. Man I really do always massively overhaul my favorite SEs LMAO)
I think, specifically, I want to make Mapleshade slightly more morally gray and Hailstar more of an enabler. Shellheart is getting significantly retooled to make him more of the heartwarming parental figure I think he should be; someone loving to help balance out a very heavy rework.
And of course Brambleberry, I'm going to tweak her some. Try to make her flaws more consistent, get rid of that odd cold shoulder moment.
Old regulars will remember an old AU which is also still a massive favorite of mine; it was called Better Call Mapleshade, and it was kind of a commentary on how an environment can shape a person. Mapleshade, as a demon in heaven, was essentially their best prosecutor and defense attorney.
You can actually see how a lot of ideas from that AU ended up in Better Bones with the expanded trial system! I'm thinking of taking another page out of it, by making Mapleshade more aware of "the game" of Clan culture's structural unfairness, while also using it like a weapon against people she wants to hurt. A powerful demon of revenge.
Under the cut, what won't be changing, the way it was, and Draft 2 of Stormpaw's Demon.
(MASSIVE CONTENT WARNING FOR MENTAL AND PHYSICAL CHILD ABUSE including ableism. BB!Rainflower is WORSE than canon.)
WHAT WON'T BE CHANGING;
These are major details of Stormpaw's Demon that are different from canon. I'm working with these as givens and won't be changing between drafts.
Mapleshade does have a bone to pick with Appledusk's lineage specifically.
One option might make her more discerning when it comes to her targets, but no matter what, she is going to have her eyes on this bloodline. She Haunts Applekin.
Rainflower is Hailstar's deputy.
And I will make her downfall spectacular. If you were worried I was going to make her more sympathetic then you have no idea who I am LMAO
Shellheart is not Crookedstar's biofather
While I want Hailstar to maybe be worse; I do want to fix Shellheart by making him a good parent. I've decided a good way to do this is to make it that Shellheart adopts Storm AFTER he's been abused by Rainflower. He didn't have authority over him before then. In general, I do want him to have a bigger positive role in this narrative.
DEPENDING ON WHICH VERSION: Oakheart might also not be his bio-brother.
Crookedjaw is not a cruel name; it's an Honor Title.
I've ALWAYS been frustrated by how canon treats scars and injuries as bad things. It's a BATTLE culture. Surviving brushes with death is their WHOLE THING. There is no "crookedkit" or "crookedpaw," he was Stormpaw until he earned his warrior name, with "Crookedjaw" commending the massive lengths he's gone to in order to survive, adapt, and honor StarClan.
Mentor change: Goodbye Cedarpelt, hello Magpiesky!
I decided to repurpose one of the Barn Cats! Magpie from the books is a daughter of Perchshine-- the cat who killed Mapleshade. She joined RiverClan long ago. She's actually the one who points him in the way of the barn, and has to train him "as a punishment for teaching him disobedience" when he comes back. I actually have a couple of minor reasons for making this change but I'll spare them for now.
He might start with Cedarpelt, but then run to the barn when Cedarpelt is basically refusing to train him properly.
Some family tree shuffles
I need to update this tree to show Crookedstar's new situation with Shellheart (and also reflect some other changes I made like confirming Hallowflight fully being Lizardtail's honor title and Robinpaw being the apprentice who gets eaten by Ripwater), BUT, overall this tree is solid.
The ableism Storm faces is going to have a different flavor
I have built BB in a way where him surviving his injury would be very respected, but he'd get badly coddled and pushed into early retirement. Him running to the barn is because he suspects he wouldn't have gotten training otherwise.
He kills a fox there
because it's Cool. I might give him the tail to wear as a trophy of the kill because that's also Cool. The fox was very old and feeble at that point, which was why it was attacking chickens, but shhh
The Way It Was (Very Evil Mapleshade)
Darkstar's Commandment creating the Queen's Rights, that no queen would ever have to reveal the other parent of their kittens, wasn't enough to appease Mapleshade.
Nor was the damning of everyone that Mapleshade killed. In a fit of irrational fury at all the death, StarClan sent all her victims into the Dark Forest.
But she can't chase them. In the Dark Forest, you don't see someone unless you WANT to see them, not unless you're hanging out in a "land mar" (a sort of personal hell that all demons get).
on the off-chance she does see them, Frecklewish usually rips her to shreds...
Which is the next problem.
You can't DIE in the Dark Forest if you're a demon. You poof back into existence the next day, no injuries, no scars, nothing.
she's bored.
And vengeful. In spite of the wrong being righted, she still thinks she deserves MORE revenge, because what she wanted was really Appledusk.
She finds it unfair that HER legacy is snuffed out, that it's Darkstar's Commandment and not hers, that her babies were destined for greatness and by extension SHE should have been great.
So she takes up a hobby in tormenting Appledusk's descendants. She wants to eradicate them completely, but is spiteful enough that she'll just settle with hurting them.
The first one she managed to kill was Applefrost, Reedshine's son. Just by accident. She didn't know she had such power over the mortal plane.
After that, she managed to drown Duskwater. The daughter.
But she couldn't wipe out HER daughter in that storm... and she brought two more Applekin children into the world.
Stormkit and Oakkit.
So, naturally, Mapleshade turned her sight on the little fuzzball.
He would be an easy kill, in theory. She smashed Stormkit's jaw on the rock, but Oakkit pulled him out.
From there, it's similar to canon for a bit. His recovery is long and painful.
Rainflower is disgusted, and wants absolutely no part of helping him through this process.
That wasn't an injury gained in battle-- it's because he's careless and didn't listen to her. He's going through all this suffering, and for what?
To never become a warrior?
She's cruel to him, begins to neglect and distance herself from him. Discourages him from suckling.
Mapleshade LOVES this. It's worse than she could have imagined. Rainflower is horrible.
Gleefully, she realizes that Stormkit dying now is what Rainflower wants.
So, she kills two other kits in the nursery.
Fallowtail's only survivor is Willowkit, so she has plenty of milk. She starts suckling Stormkit.
(Graypool is now an older sibling! She's actually an apprentice at this time! Later, she encourages Willowkit to visit their father, who decides to just kidnap them completely)
Eventually, being the deputy, Rainflower had some kind of conversation with Hailstar.
During that conversation, she asked him to do something very cruel to Crookedkit.
And Hailstar LOST IT
He's the successor of Volestar, who was appointed by Darkstar herself to uphold the Queen's Rights and protect children.
How DARE you try to turn RiverClan into a place of disrespect?? To use my power this way?!
So, her power was stripped, and Oakkit and Stormkit were taken from her.
From there, Storm eventually goes to the barn as discussed, and Mapleshade continues to do things to hurt him.
This was my first draft, and now having thought about it a lot, I feel like it's not super cohesive. A demonic Mapleshade who's entirely malicious is neat, but I feel like this makes her flat. Shellheart's not tied in super well either, and Hailstar's stand feels kind of hollow because Rainflower hasn't actually used or leveraged the new authority I've given her.
But most egregiously? Rainflower's abuse being so close to canon tastes kind of bland. I feel like I can make it sooo much more intense, complicated, and painful.
Draft 2 of Stormpaw's Demon (Demon of Revenge Update)
Essentially an outline for the first few chapters establishing Mapleshade by dealing with Rainflower and then fragments for the rest.
Mapleshade's still malicious, but this time, there's more to it.
Darkstar's Commandment, and the damning of her victims, DID appease this Mapleshade.
But is she satisfied? No.
She doesn't feel like she was wrong at all, actually. Without her killing those three in revenge for her kittens, StarClan's anger probably would have subsided.
She can't hunt her victims down again though, because, they don't want to see her. She fights Frecklewish every now and then but what's the point?
She WON already. She already GOT the euphoria of dragging them all down with her.
Punishing everyone who had ever wronged her was the highlight of her existence... but now it's done.
She's in Hell and she's bored. Her punishment is never seeing her kits again, but more importantly, her punishment is eternal shuffling through the leaf litter when she's SO GOOD at getting revenge.
Problem with revenge is, when you get it, it's gone.
She probably messed with Duskwater and Applefrost a bit, but if she killed one of them, it was accidental. It made her realize that revenge without a motive is just boring.
The prologue would probably open up with establishing her as a character. Who she is, what she wants.
Because the first chapter would dive RIGHT IN to Stormkit. The only child of Rainflower, the deputy.
Right along with Stormkit, you only learn in hindsight that he was born in a storm that killed his grandmother. It's clear that Rainflower reminds him of this often.
And that she's nasty to him. Giving him unclear instruction and finding things to critique, telling him to jump and then barking at him that he didn't ask how high.
She has great expectations for him, and reminds him of their family lineage often. Of who killed his great-grandfather, of what a fantastic pair of warriors Applefrost and Duskwater were
"I lost everything the night you were born. You'd better be able to make up for it."
Unfortunately, Stormkit is not the sort of child who's good at listening to those sorts of orders. He's stubborn and defiant; angry and oppositional.
When he doesn't understand why you do something, he doesn't want to do it
He "embarrasses" her a lot, and gets hurt for it.
In public, these are swats and whacks. The things you're "allowed" to do to discipline your child. In private these are a lot more severe.
So when Stormkit is given an order or a command, he obeys completely out of fear rather than respect. And sometimes he forgets his fear.
The other cats in RiverClan? Well... Stormkit is a problem child, and Rainflower is a fantastic, organized, respected deputy.
Hailstar especially, unfortunately. He feels bad... for Rainflower.
"It must be so hard for her to have such a little brat as a son. He never seems to learn his lesson. When will he stop wandering off? What's wrong with him? He certainly didn't get that from her."
His best friend, Oakkit, gets in the SAME trouble he does.
He's mischievous, fearless, and outgoing, and... never gets punished for it.
There's times where Oakkit does something and Stormkit physically recoils, just imagining what Rainflower would do if HE did something like that. Especially in how Oakkit talks to his dad, Shellheart.
For example, Shellheart will come to get his son for suckling time and Oakkit will tell him to his face things like, "I don't want to! I'm HAVING FUN!"
and shellheart doesn't flip out. He just. explains why it's important to eat on time.
"I know. But Fallowtail wants to go have fun too! She's waiting for you to come and suckle so she can go play."
"Well why can't she just play now and I suckle later?"
"When a suckler is full of milk, it makes their belly very itchy. She's uncomfortable when you don't come and eat on time."
"nnnh"
"Tough sell? How about I sweeten the pile with a badger ride back?"
"Hm. You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Dad."
Stormkit doesn't know why he hates it. He's all angry inside when he sees them acting friendly. He's polite because Oakkit's his best friend and Mr. Shellheart is really nice, but he just...
He's too young at the time to know he's envious. He wants what Oakkit has so badly it hurts.
Sometime after an exchange like that, Stormkit is visited by Mapleshade for the first time.
And they talk about Stormkit's anger and resentment. Stormkit lets it slip that he HATES his Mi.
Waits for Mapleshade to stop him and tell him, like everyone else does, that "she's still your mother."
...but she doesn't.
Besides Oakkit and Shellheart, she's the first person who doesn't tell him that.
She just lets him talk. Lets him go on. Starts making nasty jabs, which make him laugh.
"She says she lost everything the day I was born!!"
"What?! That's crazy! She got you that day!"
"Right?! It's like she's saying I'm nothing! Maybe she SHOULD lose everything, then she'd know what she's got!"
And then she asks, "Do you want her to die?"
Suddenly, there's a chill in the air. He's really shocked by the suggestion of that. He didn't... he didn't mean it to go THAT far. That's not what he meant... is it?
But she's fading back into the shadows, just her eyes visible in the dark. Tells him that she can see he's unsure. That's ok.
Holds up a budding sprig of sycamore, the maple she's named for. Its buds grow in a "deer hoof," with one large bud in the middle and two "toes" sprouting on its sides.
Teaches him that if he needs someone in his corner, all he has to do is call.
(to summon her, a bud is plucked off the sprig and thrown in the river.)
He wakes up with the sprig in his paw, panics, and shoves it under the nest he shares with his mother.
The experience shakes him. He probably ran to Brambleberry for the first time, who explains very seriously that he was contacted by a demon.
From the description... Mapleshade. The cat who killed his great-grandfather.
He BEGS her not to tell Rainflower. PLEADS with her. He can barely hear her already saying yes under the throbbing sound of his heart in his ears.
When he calms down, he hears her saying yes. On the condition she will need to smoke the nursery with sage and cedar, and that he will be needing a bath as well.
When he's still concerned that Rainflower will question him, she makes a plan to distract her for a day, long enough for him to do his cleanse and the smell to fade.
And, of course, that he will not follow any instructions that Mapleshade left him. He agrees. But does not tell Brambleberry about the sprig.
For a while he's very "well behaved." But it's not about him, never has been.
It really doesn't take long at all for Rainflower to get worse. Kids who are defiant like that are usually exercising a defense mechanism-- if they're not aggressive about their boundaries, their limits are pushed to a breaking point.
And after a big blowout like this, which was probably a public spectacle, Stormkit runs back to his nest and digs out the sprig, runs to the river, and throws a bud in the river.
Having calmed down from his shuddering fury, the dread begins to set in as a dead-smelling wind ruffles his fur. He can't help but feel like he just did something very stupid out of anger.
Looking at his reflection, he sees no cuts or swelling. The blows weren't "bad enough." He doesn't have the kind of injuries that anyone would do anything about. Equal parts guilt and frustration swell in him like a tide at full moon. How could he be sitting here wishing she hurt him worse?
So he tries to soften it, "I don't want her to die, I just, I... I just want her to lose everything like she says. Please..."
The wind whispers in his ear, "it will get worse before it gets better."
"I can handle that," he sobs, "I can do anything. Please. Make it stop."
After that, Oakkit probably runs to come find him. Stormkit doesn't want to be found. He makes up a childish plan, on the spot, to run away and join ThunderClan.
Oak says that's mousebrained, but Storm has DEVOTED himself to this plan he made just now.
And is crossing the stones.
Oak sighs, but if Storm's going to ThunderClan, he should really go with him because then they could totally fight off a small fox (Childish hubris)
Unfortunately, Rainflower found them. asks Exactly What He's Doing.
The kids freeze. Stormkit in particular has that horrible, twisting anxiety that you get when you hear The Tone that means you're in for an absolute wallop when you get home.
He's about to start running, but then the voice tickles his ear-fur again. Mapleshade tells him to go back. It'll be ok. She's on his side. She'll make her pay.
Oakkit is still frozen in place when, as if possessed, Storm's body stiffly returns to his mother.
There's a silence. The river trickling through the stepping stones. Storm looking with fear and anger up at her.
She's waiting for an apology, groveling. He doesn't give her one.
So she raises her paw and gives him an awful, hard blow.
His little body twists, flung off balance, trying to correct himself, and he can swear he felt paws pushing him a second time, whipping him downwards.
The feeling of falling fills his stomach, the water sloshes into his ears before there's a ring of a sound like CLUNK-CRUNCH, and then the river floods his nose and mouth.
It all goes dark.
When he wakes up, it's with a throbbing pain in the side of his jaw so intense that he can feel it all the way down in the tip of his tail. He learns from Brambleberry that Oakkit rescued him-- jumped right into the water to pull him out. And then Rainflower pulled him out. That was when Shellheart came and found them.
There's a LOT of arguing outside, but Storm can't ask what it is because it hurts to move his mouth at all. Brambleberry hushes and soothes him, telling him it's nothing he needs to know about.
(MEDICAL INFODUMPING: i do actually have a medical reason I want his injury to come from someone hitting him which causes him to fall. The injury he'd get in canon would actually be a really simple and common split in the front of the mandible, which wouldn't cause his mouth to have a dramatic twist and would heal very easily. He needs to come down on the rock at an angle to shatter the joint like that.)
From here, the tune about Stormkit starts to change.
Oakkit was distraught when they got back, telling everyone that Rainflower smashed him against a rock.
Rainflower's story is that he was running, and she chased after him. EVERYONE knows that he has a habit of doing this.
Then HE slipped and fell and hit his face on the rocks. His fault.
Oakkit was running away with him, he's lying.
Shellheart is FEROCIOUSLY taking the side of his son, furious that she would imply he raised a liar.
Hailstar is taking the side of Rainflower. It's two troublemaking kits against his deputy.
Yes, Rainflower's disciplined him before, but that's no indication she'd do something like this on purpose.
Brambleberry weighs in that the injury that Stormkit has isn't the sort of injury a kitten gets from hitting his jaw. The bone is shattered.
probably does some kind of visual to go along with it, using a stick and a stone
"The bones of a kitten are like the young shoots of a tree. When they fracture," she takes a young twig and snaps it in her paws. The fibers in the center are bent but unbroken, with the bark splintered around them, "they flay but don't snap."
She places the stick on the ground, "So for the injury that Stormkit has," and violently smashes the rock down onto it. It's shattered and pulped, the fibers flattened, "there would need to be a great force."
Shellheart hisses, saying that THIS is the evidence. Oakkit's story is consistent but Rainflower HAS to have lied.
Several cats are now on his side.
...But more are on Rainflower's.
"She's his mother. She loves him. Oakkit has to be mistaken."
"Why would she chase down her own son just to smash his face on a stone?"
"She wouldn't pull them out of the river if she really wanted to hurt him!"
Hailstar prompts if there's ANYTHING else that could explain this?
It comes up that Brambleberry cleansed the dens the other day.
She says that it's possible there is a demon's influence at work. She can't know for sure which one it is-- but it may have a grudge against Rainflower.
She allows them to reach the conclusion that it's probably Mapleshade on their own. She will be talking to Crookedkit when he's able, but she's not about to tell anyone about his dream yet.
She doesn't want him to have the extra scrutiny when he needs to rest and heal, but if she'd shared that an unnamed cat had a demonic dream, it would set off panic as cats accused each other of dark magic.
Rainflower manages to escape consequences by pointing out that it was likely Mapleshade that injured her son.
Oakkit is still trying to tell everyone SHE did it, he SAW it, Stormkit walked back and she hit him and smashed his jaw on the rock
But he's hushed. It's decided there's not enough evidence. And not enough reason to doubt the noble deputy.
She's never done something like this before, after all. It's more likely it was an accident.
There is a group of cats that are dissatisfied about this, though, and it only grows when Brambleberry explains that Stormkit's prognosis is not good.
There is a very high chance he will die. Even adult warriors can wither slowly from this sort of injury.
Recovery will be slow and it will be painful.
...but after that incident? Rainflower gets bolder. She got away with it in public. She got a taste of the leverage she has, how much they trust her.
Stormkit spends a lot of time floating in between his dreams and his living-world pain. There's at least one interaction where he speaks to Mapleshade, screaming at her that he TRUSTED her, he KNOWS she's the one who hurt him! How could she?!
She can't say much, kept at bay by a hazy smokescreen of sage. "You must live! You must survive!"
Her old words echo in his head; It Will Get Worse Before It Gets Better.
Throughout the recovery, Rainflower grows more cruel and more distant.
In public she likes to talk about how difficult this is for her, but he's strong, he will survive.
In private, she'll do things that hurt him, like repositioning his head in a way that "his jaw will heal better in." When he cries, she's unsympathetic.
"You brought this on yourself. This is for your own good."
Her definition of "private" is also changing. She's getting more comfortable with snapping at him in front of limited groups of people.
Since she's deputy, the other two parents in the nursery, Shellheart and Fallowtail, do their best to care for Stormkit while she's away. He's pulled away from them when she gets back, any ideas or suggestions they have vetoed.
When they try to go to Brambleberry about this, she shakes her head with frustration and tries to make them understand she knows... and she's just as unhappy with it as they are.
She tells them she keeps going to Hailstar, but he's still hesitant. Even though she's trying to tell him that Stormkit's recovery is being undermined.
"Rainflower's son has always needed tough love. She's his Mi and knows him best... she's still taking care of him. Give her a warning before suggesting anything drastic."
In the other draft, I had Mapleshade kill two of Fallowtail's kits to free up milk for Stormkit. I'm not sure I need that anymore honestly, plus, this rework's heavy enough! She can just have Willowkit without any deaths, while Graypaw remains an older sibling.
When Brambleberry informs Rainflower and Stormkit that the jaw isn't healing straight and it will probably be at an angle forever, Rainflower reacts with disdain.
"His first scar and it's nothing he earned?!"
She's reminded he might not even survive. He's lost weight. He's eating less. Stormkit curls up quietly. He hates how they talk about him like he can't hear them.
"Surviving is the bare minimum," she scoffs reflexively. There's a silence so thick you can cut it with a claw. After an uncomfortable heartbeat, she continues, "What kind of a life will he live if he-"
"a life," Brambleberry cuts in, "he'd live a life. And it can be a good one"
Rainflower growls, spitting that the twisted jaw is a disfigurement. He'll never be able to open his mouth all the way. He can't chew and he can't suckle forever. Stormkit will never become a warrior if he can't even dispatch a fish with a killing bite.
"Scars are the sign that StarClan has mended our bodies after fighting a good fight, making any Clanborn cat worthy of being an elder" Brambleberry preaches, "Names are what mark us, calling upon our ancestors to look down at us and witness our actions, Rainflower. Don't say anything you wouldn't want them to see."
Rainflower flicks her ear, seething, a rumble in her throat, "was that some kind of threat? As if I've said something wrong?"
"If you feel threatened, look within."
Stormkit resents all of this talk. He can feel his mother tensing up next to him, hears the low rumble progressing into a growl. When adults play stupid games with his mom, he's always the one who ends up dealing it. Why don't they get that?
It's only Shellheart who seems to have it click, "Hey, this is the nursery. Can you take it outside, please?"
As Brambleberry and Rainflower leave, Stormkit lays curled up in his nest, cold and alone. Oakkit leaves Shellheart's paws to curl up around his best friend.
Shellheart stares at them, shifting, but ultimately stays where he is.
There's a lot of words I could write there, between Storm and Oak. Ones where Storm speaks about how he just wants the pain to be done with. Others where Oak comforts him, tells him how much he means to him. More where they end up running into the wall that they're just two little kids and they've both learned the truth that they have no control over what happens when Rainflower comes back into that den.
But I think it would be good to end there, at the lowest point. Because it gets better.
Pissed off by being gently confronted, after her warning from Brambleberry, this is the moment where Rainflower goes too far.
Hailstar is gradually losing his patience. Every time this issue comes up, he's making some kind of new excuse for her.
She's still a competent deputy who holds the Clan together, but this has taken a toll on her reputation.
Her biggest mistake was becoming more open with her abuse after being emboldened. And I think Hailstar is beginning to feel like he's got "egg on his face."
After standing up for Rainflower several times, getting heat from Brambleberry, and now the Clan also starting to murmur...
It's getting very difficult to justify why he's sticking his neck out.
and maybe, part of him is starting to feel a little self-conscious about the way that his deputy is acting about her injured child.
When she comes storming up on this fateful day, interrupting whatever he was doing to make a proposition, it's the breaking point.
Her suggestion: "I've realized that there's only one way to ensure my son survives his injury. He's being haunted by our demon, which only started threatening him when he disobeyed me for the last time. WE need to teach him a lesson, and make sure StarClan gazes down upon him to acknowledge his mistakes."
"...how do you intend to do that?"
"Stormkit must be given a Dishonor Title."
A Dishonor Title, one of the greatest shames that a leader can put onto one of their warriors. A punishment that ranks just below exile in terms of severity.
"you want to put a dishonor title... on your child? one with a life-threatening injury?"
"One that acknowledges his carelessness. To protect him from the demon."
Protect him from the demon. "I see now what must be done."
Previously, I'd thought of Hailstar as someone who would be loud and merciless when he does this. Now I'm thinking it was something he put a lot of thought into. He stands up, brushes past her, and goes to talk to some of his most trusted cats. Brambleberry, his mate Echomist, an experienced warrior such as Piketooth or Ottersplash, and lastly, Shellheart.
So it's not a surprise to anyone but Rainflower herself. He doesn't want this to be dramatic. He doesn't want it to be another big scene. Stormkit has gone through enough.
When he eventually has this Clan meeting, he calls it quietly. In his address to the gathered cats, a crowd that Shellheart and his family are missing from at his request, he says that his greatest regret is that he didn't do this sooner. He even doubts that Mapleshade is haunting her at all-- now having seen her behavior, he says it's more likely that Rainflower bashed her own child against a rock and simply lied.
First, he announces that Stormkit will be removed from her care. He will no longer be of the Applekin bloodline.
She is banned from the nursery at the request of Fallowtail, and will only see Stormkit when supervised by his new Mi, Shellheart.
Brambleberry has already agreed to this necessity, and is performing a ritual so that StarClan may approve of this choice.
He also strips her of her deputyship, and appoints Ottersplash instead. (I might change this to a different deputy eventually)
Not everyone agrees with Hailstar. There's an uproar from Rainflower's supporters.
She was a VERY popular deputy.
More that are just uneasy, feeling that this was a BRUTAL punishment that she didn't deserve.
Lots are happy and optimistic, though. But the mixed reception is exactly why Hailstar asked Shellheart not to be here.
This isn't something Stormkit has to deal with right now.
When Darkstar herself, who created the Queen's Rights, was on her last life, she appointed Volestar to uphold the law as her legacy knowing that Oakstar might try to break it again.
Volestar appointed Hailstar, in the hopes that he would uphold her legacy in turn, to protect kittens and those who can't protect themselves.
He was late, and can only hope he was not too late. He hopes that Volestar can forgive him for that.
Meanwhile in the nursery, Shellheart, Oakkit, and Stormkit are alone, far in the back, where the padded moss keeps out arguing voices.
Oakkit, bless his little heart, is babbling with excitement because his best friend is his BROTHER now. And it's gonna be THE BEST.
He's talking about how it's fine he can't chew because now they can have soup, and they're going to make the nest bigger, and they can stay up later because they can whisper quieter if they're this close together
But Storm doesn't really hear him. His head's swimming, thinking about the dull ache in his jaw, how MAD his mom's going to be because he can't imagine her not finding a way to hurt him, how this is all his fault because he called Mapleshade.
He can't stop it anymore and starts sniffling, which turns into weeping. Still, he's TRYING not to bawl, knowing, knowing he looks stupid when he does that
Shellheart just pulls him in close, so he can bury his face in his fluffy chest. Tells him it's going to be ok. He's safe now. No one can hurt him there.
Not on his watch.
Unfortunately, it's not the last he sees of Mapleshade. After this...
Mapleshade shows him everything she did for him. Yes, she did smash his jaw-- but it was to get him away from his mother.
And she planted an idea here and there, just little whispers into Rainflower's ear. Nothing she wouldn't do all on her own.
And now... Mapleshade believes she's earned some respect.
Stormkit can't disagree... she did exactly what she told him she'd do.
And now that he's not Applekin anymore, they can be Real Friends. They could even strike up a partnership, of sorts. After all, what did StarClan do to help him?
It wasn't StarClan that answered his prayers.
I'm still figuring out what, exactly, she's going to want from him. I have a scintilla that she wants to give him a life, maybe as some kind of bridge to StarClan to see her kits?
Some strange "attempt" at redemption, perhaps? Which she ultimately doesn't get.
Not that she didn't enjoy doing all that for love of the game, mind you. She's very good at getting revenge and it's fun and exciting to pull it off.
But hey, if you're good at something, never do it for free.
What causes Mapleshade to ultimately turn, and begin haunting the bloodline again + Oakheart, is Crookedstar rejecting her in some way.
She comes to collect on her end of the bargain and he refuses, breaking their partnership. He chooses StarClan.
And then from there, it's ON again. Now she has another EXCUSE to do what she wanted to do, and take out her boredom and malice on his family.
This time, it includes Oakheart as well-- because he was Crookedstar's brother.
It was also her curse that harmed Willowbreeze and eventually Silverstream. She's on the warpath.
Maybe she actually helped make him leader on purpose. Like he explicitly asked so she helped him by making the squirrel omen, instead of just doing it for him unprompted. Still figuring it out.
Shortly after the scene where Stormkit cries, he needs to have a confrontation with Brambleberry about Mapleshade I think. She needs to explain why Dark Forest demons are seen as bad.
She's biased, of course, but it's not like she's TOTALLY wrong either. Cats like Mapleshade ARE vengeful, in ways many other spirits are not.
If you're curious, Crookedstar's dishonor title from Rainflower would have been something comparing him to a parasite and referencing his ""accident"" like Fleaskip or Midgefall.
The point she's trying to make with the Dishonor Title is that her son is an annoying bug who didn't listen, as well as subtly erase she fact she knocked him off that rock.
She wanted his name to say "everything that happened was my fault and my mom did nothing wrong"
Not that Hailstar got as far as even asking lmao
#better bones au#Stormpaw's Demon#BB!Crookedstar#BB!Shellheart#BB!Oakheart#BB!Mapleshade#BB!Rainflower#Cw child abuse#tw child abuse#cw physical abuse#tw physical abuse#cw emotional abuse#tw emotional abuse#Stormpaw's Demon Draft 2
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Every Second Counts - Part 1
Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader
Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the first one you trust to help you find him.
AN: Finally, here we are at Part 1! Remember that A Line and a Half functions as our prologue here.
Word Count: 5.7K
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for some mature thoughts. Fluff, angst and hurt/comfort, drug use, mentions of drug addiction and alcoholism, skeevy men, and a tinge of spice.~
💜 Series Masterlist
Part 1: "Permission Granted"
“Are you absolutely sure?” you asked, with your hands on your hips.
You wanted no miscommunication here, no read-between-the-lines mishaps, no subtext or nuance to bite you in the ass later. So here you stood in the middle of your best friend’s office, still at the Wyoming University campus after your last class.
Dory had to laugh at you. She pushed away from her desk and threw her hands up.
“Yes, for the love of God, you can grab a drink with my brother,” she said.
After brushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, she went to you and set her hands on your shoulders.
“You have my blessing,” she said. “All I ask is that you don’t scar me with any gushy details afterward.”
Your face began to heat up in a blush. You crossed your arms.
“All right, no one said there was going to be any of that,” you replied. “It’s just a date. Barely a date, mind you.”
“A-huh,” Dory said with a sneaking smile. “Out of curiosity, what was it about him that hooked you? You’ve been dodging Chris’s valiant attempts for like a month now.”
Chris was a French and Spanish professor. His office was on the same floor as yours, so you two occasionally crossed paths whenever you ventured into the teacher’s lounge.
He usually caught you in the morning while you were grabbing your free coffee fix at the Keurig. He’d chat you up about his classes and his dog and his new boat, and all the while you’d struggle to get a word in edgewise. Despite that, he was good-looking and pleasant, for the most part. It was just…
“I don’t know. He’s not my type, I guess,” you shrugged. You kind of liked conversations where both people got to speak.
“And Russell is?” Dory said, in a teasing tone. You chewed the inside of your lip, fighting a smile.
“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Kind of want to find out though.”
“Okay, well, let me know what you find,” Dory said, more wryly. You caught a bit of melancholy when her gaze drifted off. Your brows furrowed in concern as you drew closer, setting a hand on her arm.
“What do you mean?” you asked.
She was hesitant, but she eventually answered you with a confession.
“You know, it’s been about twenty years since I’ve seen him,” she said. “We’ve had entire lives already. I see him now, and there’s some of the Russell I knew when we were kids, but…there’s just a lot I don’t know about him, who he’s become.”
You could understand that. You squeezed her arm in sympathy.
“Well, he really seems to want to know you now,” you said. You remembered all the questions he asked you when he helped you carry your files back to your office after lunch today—most of them about Dory, about her career, your friendship, and ultimately, if she was happy.
“What happened to you guys?” you asked. “Why are you all so distant? Colter included.”
Dory’s face tightened. “It’s a long story. I’ve told you some of it. But basically, after our dad died, nothing was ever the same again.”
You dimmed at that. You knew their mother still lived in the cabin they grew up in, but Dory had never quite been able to tell you what happened to their dad. You’d never pushed the subject. You knew better than anyone what kind of pain that was.
“I just wish we’d been able to stay with each other. Me and my brothers, at least,” Dory said. But she adopted a smile for you, before she returned to her desk.
“Okay. Go on your non-date at your favorite bar with Russell. I’ll be here, grading papers until Judgment Day,” she said, with a small laugh that felt like a coverup for thoughts she no longer wanted to think about.
You let her do it. You grabbed your purse and work bag off the spare chair in front of her desk.
“So you’re sure,” you wanted to confirm. “One last chance for me to tell him I came down with food poisoning.”
Dory collected her stack of midterm papers and gave you a cheeky look that said, class dismissed. Then she clicked her red pen and pointedly looked down at the first batch of papers to read through.
You smiled. Okay, you thought, giving her a little wave goodbye when you turned to leave. You had just a couple of hours to drive home and get ready to meet Russell.
“Goodnight,” you called.
“Goodniiight,” Dory replied.
You heard the smirk in her voice without even having to look back.
After fighting through rush hour traffic, you were exhausted when you got home from work. Your tentative excitement and nerves about tonight gave you some new energy though, even if you thought those nerves were silly to have.
Barely a date, you reminded yourself, as you unlocked the door to your house. Barely a date, barely a date.
The Ring Camera beside the door chimed when you entered the house, signaling your arrival. You had to wrinkle your nose at the dank-ass smell that greeted you.
Frowning in annoyance, you dropped your stuff on the kitchen table for now and shucked off your heels. You made a beeline down the hall, to the bedroom that lied across from yours. You pushed it open without knocking. There you caught your older brother, Charlie, snoozing in his bed with the covers half pooling on the floor.
His room was a mess, as usual. Your gaze locked on the evidence of half a blunt on his nightstand and two smoked roaches beside it. You were glad it wasn’t remnants of white lines of powder, like times before, but there was also a large bottle of whiskey. It was almost empty, and hanging loosely from his hand.
He managed to raise his head a bit when you came in.
“Hey,” he said, blinking bleary eyes. He cleared his throat and tried to sit up.
You shook your head and picked around piles of dirty clothes and a couple of used paper plates on the floor. You swiftly grabbed the bottle from his hand and slammed it on the nightstand.
“You promised me, Charlie,” you snapped. “You promised me for the hundredth time that you’d quit all this shit. Where even were you last night? You weren’t home when I left for work this morning.”
He sighed, frowning at how loud you were, and sat up in bed. He swung his legs over the side and held his swimming head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He ran a hand through his hair. It was nearly black, like Dad’s had been, but he’d inherited Mom’s lighter eyes.
“I got invited to a party,” he said. “I’m sorry, I know. This is the last time.”
You expelled a frustrated breath and shook your head.
“You’re a grown fucking man, Charlie! Do you really need me to give you the just say no speech?” you said.
“Look, I’m sorry. I don’t know how many times I can say it,” he said. He shut his eyes tight, probably trying to fend off a headache.
Good, you thought. Let that be a reminder of how bad he’d screwed up again.
“And while we’re at it, what about your half of the bills? You’re a week late,” you said, testily crossing your arms.
“Yeah, I’m a little behind,” he said. Once again, he cleared his throat past a wad of phlegm. He was still a bit crossfaded too, you could tell. “You know they cut my hours to part-time at the museum. I’ve, uh, I’ve been looking into getting another job—”
“I already paid the phone bill. And the internet, the water bill, the electricity,” you said. “The house may be paid off, but the least you can do is pay your half of living here.”
The longer you stared at him, seeing the guilt hidden behind drunken eyes, you realized he wasn’t just late on his half of the bills.
“How much?” you asked.
He frowned up at you. “What?”
“How much do you owe?” you said. Your voice was as cutting as your gaze. Charlie lowered his.
“It’s okay, don’t worry—”
“How much,” you pressed.
He looked up at you again, this time with pursed lips. After a beat, he sighed and gave in.
“About two grand,” he admitted.
You raised your eyes heavenward, muttering a curse. Your hands went to your temples as you had to pace the room. You were angry and exasperated in equal measure.
“Who the fuck do you owe two grand?!” you asked.
Charlie shook his head. “It’s better that I don’t tell you that.”
You paused. As you looked down at him, your anger dissolved into sadness, like it always did.
“If Mom and Dad could see you now, they wouldn’t recognize you,” you said.
Charlie fought not to react to that, his brows furrowing. Instead, he just looked down, unable to answer you.
“Charlie, you need help. I can’t keep doing this with you,” you said. Your shaky breath gave way to the burn of tears.
His red-rimmed eyes became glassy as well.
“I’m sorry,” was all he said.
He was always sorry. And you always had to be the one to nurse him back to health, pick up the pieces, pay the bills. You were exhausted. The bone-deep kind of tired that felt like gravity wasn't so much keeping you down, but pushing you.
“I’m going to ask for two things: do what you need to do to get paid, and clean up your shit. If you can’t accomplish that, then I’m taking you to rehab,” you said.
“You know I’ve tried that,” Charlie said, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Didn’t really work for me.”
“You left the program after two weeks!” you retorted.
“I did it on my own! I’ve been clean for months,” he argued.
“And what happened? You go to one party and all your good sense, all your training, mentally and physically—that all goes out the window?” you said. You had half a mind not to believe him.
“Yeah well, maybe just for one night, I wanted to relax without you harping on my back,” he said, glaring up at you. “Is that too much to fucking ask? For you to give me some goddamn slack?”
Your mouth fell open incredulously.
“I’m on your back?” you said. “Okay. I’ll get off. Do whatever the hell you want, Charlie. I’m done.”
You left his room in an angry huff. You headed over to your room so you could take a shower and start getting ready to meet Russell at Howley’s.
By the time you got to your bedroom, you heard the front door slam closed.
The truth was, you were no longer in a mood to have fun when you pulled up to Howley’s, but you needed to escape your house. Also, you weren’t someone who canceled on people last-minute, especially not on Dory’s own brother.
You found Russell waiting for you at the bar. He waved to you with a fifth of whiskey in hand and an easy grin. He’d saved you a seat beside him.
You found yourself smiling. Your mood began to lighten as you went over to him. He looked more or less the same, but this time the jacket and jeans combo was navy blue and dark wash, respectively. His hair was swept back, lightly gelled. You smelled the familiar, rich woodiness of his cologne when you drew near, along with a hint of spicy soap.
“Hey, there.” He greeted you with a warm hand on your back. He helped you into your seat.
“Hey, yourself,” you replied, and thanked him for the assist onto the tall stool. You’d opted for jeans and a blouse, paired with your favorite leather boots. It was less dressy than he’d seen you before, but that was “work mode.” This was a more casual affair, even if you’d spent at least twenty extra minutes on your makeup.
You were glad he picked a spot at the end of the bar though. It put some distance from the group of guys getting rowdy as they cheered at the football game playing on the TV.
“How was the rest of your day, Professor?” he asked. “And what’re you wanting to drink?”
You let out a long sigh and turned toward him, resting your elbow on the counter.
“Awesome. I’m going to need two shots of tequila and an order of something fried, and preferably covered with cheese, please,” you replied.
Russell’s grin deepened. “Okay, I’m thinking ‘awesome’ is code for something. But we can get started on that order of Forget Today’s Unfortunate Events.”
He flagged down the bartender with a raise of his hand, but he shot you a glance.
“Though I’m hoping it’s not all of today that you wanna forget,” he said.
Your lips threatened another smile, as the memory of your hand being swept up into his, and soft lips meeting the back of your hand filtered through your mind.
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s possible,” you said.
After about ten minutes of playfully debating the appetizer menu (you swore by the pretzel and beer cheese, but Russell had his eye on those spicy wings), he finally settled on ordering both.
“When in doubt, don’t go without,” he’d remarked.
You swept a pretty coil of hair over your shoulder and downed your tequila shots with a lime wedge. Meanwhile, Russell tried not to linger his eyes on the way your tongue swept over your finger to catch a drop of lime juice. Your nails were manicured, and the shade of the polish matched your lipstick.
Russell didn’t pretend to know the art and science of a woman’s wardrobe, but everything about you was thought out, it seemed, falling in line with what he’d expect from a (sexy as all hell) college professor. You’d also told him at lunch today that as of last year, you now had two doctorates: History and Ancient Studies.
Even with all that under your belt, you also seemed refreshingly down-to-earth, a lot like Dory in that sense. He could see why you two were friends.
“So, are you from here, or are you a transplant, like my sister?” he asked.
Dory hadn’t come to live in Wyoming until their aunt and uncle took her in, when she was about eight years old. Before last month, Russell hadn’t seen her since. It hurt his heart to think about, but he tried to focus on you.
You now seemed to be staring a bit listlessly at the glass of whiskey in his hands. He laid a hand on your arm and called your name.
“Hmm?” Your brows rose as you blinked to attention. “Oh! I’m sorry. Yes, I’ve lived here pretty much forever.”
“You okay?” Russell asked. “Tequila hit ya a little hard?”
You shook your head. “No, I’m sorry…”
You raised your hands up to your temples. You debated whether you wanted to open up about this, but…considering who Russell was, you thought he might just understand.
“Dory told me you’ve been trying to reconnect with your brother, right? Colter?” you said.
Russell nodded. He wasn’t sure how much Dory told you about their family business, but it dimmed his mood.
“Well, you could say I’ve got a brother issue of my own,” you said, laughing humorlessly. “You don’t have to talk about yours, but maybe you’ll understand… My brother is a veteran too. He was a Captain, air force pilot. He fought in Afghanistan, mainly.”
Russell processed that with a nod. “Yeah, I was there too. Special Ops.”
“Wow, okay. Then you know what it was like for him, coming back home,” you said. Your gaze fell to your empty shot glasses. “It was hard, after…”
“After?” he prompted.
You sighed. “Near the end, he lost half his unit in a raid, off of some flawed intel.”
Russell’s brows knitted together. Hmm. Grief, survivor’s guilt, feeling like you don’t belong.
He was starting to get a clearer picture of who your brother was. It struck at familiar chords inside himself that he wasn’t so comfortable with. He shifted in his seat, fingers flexing over his glass on the counter.
You didn’t notice, but you did push the shot glasses away from you.
“I helped him the best I could,” you said. “I got him a job at the museum I interned at when I was in undergrad. He’s there as a security guard, but it’s not really enough, you know? It’s like, nothing satisfies him. I just…I don’t think I know how to help him anymore.”
You couldn’t help it. Emotion bubbled in your throat, making it close up on you as tears stung in your eyes. Your lower lip wobbled, and you tried to turn your face away. Embarrassment coiled up in your chest and made your face hot.
You felt a hand cover yours on your thigh, squeezing warmly. You looked up and met Russell’s gaze, both sympathetic and understanding.
“I’m so sorry,” you said, trying to calm your shuddering breath. “This isn’t exactly first date material. I can’t believe I unloaded on you like that.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “Believe me, I get what your brother’s going through.”
He pushed the plate with the last piece of soft-baked pretzel over to you.
“You finish that if you want, then you go ahead and pick something else off the menu. I won’t even argue with you this time,” he promised with a grin.
It got you to laugh, at least, and he gave you a napkin for your tears.
God, get it together, you told yourself. You’re a damn mess.
“Thanks,” you said. You managed to smile as you blotted at one corner of your eye. You hoped you hadn’t just irreversibly smudged your mascara.
Russell surprised you by brushing his thumb against your other cheek, wiping a stray tear away. Your face began to warm with a blush.
“Again, I’m sorry for dumping on you. We had a fight right when I got home,” you admitted.
“What’s his name?” Russell asked.
“Charlie.”
“Older or younger than you?”
“Four years older,” you replied. “He enlisted a few years after he graduated high school.”
Russell flickered at a smile. Enlisted, huh?
Yet another thing he and Charlie had in common, except Russell hadn’t made it through high school in the classic sense.
“What do you think?” you asked.
“I think your brother sounds lost right now. I’ve known a lotta guys like him, unfortunately,” Russell admitted. “Walking back into civilian life, it ain’t easy. That I know my damn self. Just like I know a thing or two about being an older brother. He’s probably doing his best to keep it off your shoulders.”
You shook your head at that. Trying, maybe.
You weren’t even sure of that anymore. Still, it made you all the more curious about Russell and his family.
“I know I said I wouldn’t ask this, and you don’t have to answer. But did you and Colter have a falling out or something?” you asked.
Russell expelled a deep breath and took a sip from his glass. How was he supposed to navigate this minefield with you?
“You gotta understand that me, my brother, my sister, we didn’t grow up like a normal family,” he said.
“Yeah, I know,” you nodded. “Dory’s told me some of it. It sounded…rustic.”
He snorted. “Putting it mildly.”
He shook his head and drained the rest of his glass.
“Well, my brother’s got an idea about me that isn’t true,” he said.
Your head tilted in curiosity. “Which is?”
His lips briefly raised in a wan smile.
“We don’t gotta get into that one tonight. But uh, the truth is, I’ve tried reaching out to him several times now. He just doesn’t wanna hear from me,” said Russell.
You considered him for a moment. You laid a hand on his arm, covered by his jacket.
“Don’t give up,” you said, with a sigh of your own. “Despite some things I said to him today, I know I can’t. My brother’s the only real family I have.”
Russell grew curious then. “What about your parents?”
You gave a weak smile.
“They passed away when we were young, but…we don’t have to get into that one tonight,” you said, borrowing his words.
His expression fell. “Jesus. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you,” you accepted, twisting the napkin around your fingers.
An awkward lull of silence fell between you, until Russell nodded and blew out a breath.
“Well. Heavy, huh?”
You chuckled and rested your head against your hand.
“I know. Again, my fault,” you replied.
“It’s okay, swee—. Mmm,” he cut himself off, shooting you a knowing glance.
“Were you about to sweetheart me?” you asked playfully, nudging his hand. “You know how I feel about that.”
“No, ma’am. Not at all,” Russell shook his head. His smile gave him away though. You laughed and grabbed his arm.
“Come on,” you said.
He allowed you to lead him out of his seat. He already had a tab open, so he’d settle up with the bar later. “Where we going?”
“You’re gonna lose to me at pool,” you said with a smirk.
Russell laughed and wrapped his arm around your waist instead.
“Oh, okay. I’m gonna give you a run for your money, though,” he promised.
And he was true to his word.
Russell Shaw turned out to be a more than worthy opponent. You studied the board as you changed the angle on your cue stick no less than five times.
“You gonna make a move, or we going to be here all night?” he said.
He was smiling as he leaned against his own cue on the other side of the board. His clever moves had left you in a difficult position to get your three remaining solid-colored balls into the pocket.
“You hush. I’m thinking,” you said, fighting your own smile.
“Careful, you’ve got steam coming out of your ears,” he teased.
You shot him a narrowed look for that. But then you smiled, as the answer came to you. You walked around to his side of the board and nudged him with your hip.
“Excuse me, sir,” you said to him over your shoulder.
Russell made way for you, but his eyes followed the way you bent over to line up your shot. Namely the curve of your ass in those tight jeans. He could see you knew exactly what you were doing, in more ways than one.
You shot your shot. The solid green ball leapt over his white-striped blue one and managed to sink into the pocket. You straightened up and gave him a triumphant little smirk.
He tried to temper his smile (and ignore the way his cock twitched).
“All right, go on, do your little victory lap," he said. "But remember, I let you go first.”
“Like that matters,” you quipped back.
You went back to the other side of the board to line up your next shot. Russell noticed a pair of drunk men ambling your way from the bar, but before he could make a subtle move to put himself in between, one of the men’s gazes slid down your form and gave into the base urge to let out a low whistle.
And he slapped you right on the ass.
You gasped, grabbing hold of the pool table. Then your shock melted into ire.
Russell was already heading toward you with an angry frown of his own, but even he had to stop short, when he watched you throw a punch that cracked the drunken man across the bridge of his nose.
Good form, Russell thought, when the guy reared back with a howl. His nose dripped blood when his hands came away from his face.
His buddy started to raise his hackles, but that was when Russell stepped to your side. He angled himself toward you and loosely gripped his pool cue by his hip, like it was an extension of his arm. He was fully prepared to use it like one.
“Fucking bitch!” said the one who was still dabbing his nose in vain. He glared at you, his eyes watering involuntarily, while his friend tried to keep him upright. You rolled your eyes.
"You're the one who's crying, bitch," you returned. Russell held in a snort. He cleared his throat and looked on at the pair of idiots.
“I’d have a little sit down if I were you,” Russell told them, with a smirk. “Let that be a lesson to ya. And if it don’t stick? Well. Whatever you start, I can damn well finish.”
His steely gaze reinforced the promise of his words. The other men were still angry, but even drunks had some sense of self-preservation. They ambled toward the back of the bar to find another pool table.
Russell focused his attention back on you, finding you looking down at your hand, rotating your wrist and flexing your fingers.
“Well, look at you, slugger,” he said. You met his smile with one of amusement.
“That’s just what I needed tonight. A broken hand,” you quipped.
“Aw, it doesn’t look as bad as all that. But can I see?” he asked. You allowed him to take your smaller hand in his. Your knuckles were red and tender to the touch when he gently pressed. You hissed in pain.
Damn, she really gave it to him, Russell thought.
“Sorry,” he said, but your hand felt fine, at least. More than fine. His gaze flicked up to yours as his amused grin deepened. “Good hit though.”
If he liked you before, he might’ve fallen half in love with you right there.
You laughed through the pain. “Yeah, my brother did teach me something. Shit.”
Russell led you back to the bar after you grabbed your purse. There he called to the bartender for some ice. The guy nodded; he’d seen the entire exchange and was sympathetic.
You knew this sort of thing was just par for the course at this kind of bar, but they had the best drinks. Charlie had to carry you out of here on your twenty-first birthday, drunk off your ass. Not to mention, he’d punched out two handsy dicks that night.
You recounted the story to Russell over a couple more drinks. Your conversation was lighter then, filled with laughter and a warm, companiable feeling. He was still rather evasive about his job, but you supposed he had to be, since it was government contract work.
Private security, mainly. Or so he'd said. This man made you infinitely curious, and a bit apprehensive, if you were honest.
And yet, at some point while you two shared and laughed and split a hot sandwich with another round of beers, you realized it.
I like this, you thought. And I like him.
However, the night had to come to an end sometime. Your third involuntary yawn told Russell it was time to call it.
"I'm okay," you tried.
"Nah, you've gotta work tomorrow," he said. He signaled to the bartender. "Let me go ahead and close out my tab."
“Oh, I can pay for half,” you said, reaching for your purse now hanging from your hip.
“You kidding me? Put that away,” he said, guiding your hand with your wallet aside.
Smiling, you accepted his generosity with a small thank you. Then, you let him take up your sore hand again, just to carefully press the half-melted bag of ice over it.
“Feelin’ better?” he asked.
Your smile became softer. “Yeah.”
You had no doubt that this man, tall as he was, with his broad shoulders and the controlled way he carried himself, could’ve laid both of those drunken assholes onto their asses. His intimidating gaze had promised as much.
But his hands were gentle for you.
“I was about to win that game, no contest!” you said, laughing as you and Russell headed out of the bar and into the parking lot.
“Hey, hey, I still had time to win it back,” he argued. “I only had three more balls to go. I could’ve sunk that with my eyes closed.”
“Three balls, huh?” you said slyly, and maybe, a little tipsy. “Might wanna get that looked at.”
Russell snorted. “You think you’re funny, huh?”
“Hey, you laughed!” you said, pointing at him.
He shook his head, despite his amusement. He slowed to a stop in front of his car.
“Where’d you park, huh?” he asked.
“Over there,” you said, pointing several parking spaces down. Your eyes were drawn to his car, however. “Wow. This is your car?”
Russell grinned and patted the top of his black Chevy.
“Aw, yeah. That’s my baby,” he said. “She’s a Chevelle, 1967.”
You didn’t know much about cars, but you could see this was a classic beauty. You passed a hand over its sleek paint job without touching, so you didn't get any fingerprints on it. Though you quirked a smile over your shoulder at him.
“She?” you intoned.
“That’s right. She,” he confirmed.
You smirked and crossed your arms. You paused in front of the passenger door, and when Russell drew in closer, you had to crane your neck up to meet his warm gaze.
“Now, if I go in for a kiss goodnight, are you gonna deck me?” he asked, with a teasing glint in his eyes.
You tilted your head, your own eyes dancing.
“I’m sure you’re brave enough to find out,” you said.
Russell decided he’d take that bet.
He leaned in slowly. He made a show of hesitating, raising a brow, as if waiting for a blow. You were tempted to laugh.
But then he let loose a true smile, and he bowed his head to press his lips against yours. Your eyes fell shut, and your hands moved to flatten against his chest. A firm fucking wall. Jesus.
He circled his arms around your waist, bringing you in closer. Your fingers wound up in his hair, while he tilted his head to kiss you again. You met him with the same fervor with each new kiss, and the feel of your body, soft and pliant under his hands, each little sweet sound that you made, it all drove him to delve in deeper.
You moaned into his mouth at the first warm swipe of his tongue against yours. He tasted like the burn of good whiskey.
You pressed yourself flush against him on instinct. He found no other recourse but to back you up against the side of his car. His hand tangled into your hair, gripping, then easing through the soft strands.
Russell veered away from your soft mouth after a while, just to burn a line of warm, wet kisses along your jaw, and down your neck with the added rasp of his beard.
His lips found the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder. He kissed and sucked at your skin, even grazing with his teeth. You gasped softly in his ear, shuddering against him. You ran your hands over his shoulders and down his strong back out of a need to feel him.
His hands were heavy along the curve of your waist then, squeezing your hips. It all felt incredibly right. And by right, you meant body tingling, warmth churning in your lower belly, and wetness growing between your legs, for sure dampening your panties.
You tugged him back by his hair, so you could reach him for another steamy kiss.
“I’m staying at a motel, if you wanna…” he said, between kisses.
You paused against his lips, parting from him softly.
“Or not," he added. "Just thought I’d mention.”
You giggled, catching your breath, and then smoothing your hands down his chest. The faint throb of your core was telling you one thing, but the warning signals of your more cautious mind were telling you another. You thought for a moment…but then you sighed.
“How long are you really in town?” you asked.
His wet lips tugged to one corner, ruefully. “A few more days, probably.”
“Right,” you said with a frown. “Russell, I like you. I actually, I really do. If you were sticking around for a while, it’d be one thing. But you’re my best friend’s brother, and I—”
“No, I get it. I can’t predict when I’m gonna be able to swing back into town, and you’ve gotta live your life,” he said, but not without care. He curled an errant strand of hair behind your ear.
Your heart tugged, almost painfully.
“You’re a good guy, Russell Shaw,” you breathed. “Why can’t you be a good guy who’s staying?”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said. Then he cringed, knowing how you felt about sweethearting men. “Ah, sorry—”
You smiled and covered his mouth with your fingers.
“It’s okay. You have permission to sweetheart me.”
After blinking his surprise away, his face eased into a grin.
“Then I’ll wear that badge with honor,” he said.
Your shoulders shook with laughter when you let your forehead fall against his chest.
Russell remained what he had been throughout the entire night: a gentleman, who accompanied you over to your car.
After another stolen kiss or two in front of your sedan, you parted ways from him with a bit of a heavy heart. You wondered if you made the right decision, or if you should’ve just gone for it for once, instead of second-guessing yourself like usual.
You did know this. The rumble of his Chevelle driving down the opposite road would be imprinted on your memory.
When you returned home, you realized that the house was empty, and in complete darkness.
Charlie still wasn’t home.
Worried, you flicked on the lights and began to text his cell, only to find a note for you on the kitchen counter.
And it worried you even more.
I’m sorry. I’m going to make it right.
— C.
AN: 😬 Well then! lol We're diving straight into the drama and feels on this one. What did you think of her "barely a date" with Russell? 😂
And where do you think we're going next with Charlie?
Next Time:
Dory was sat next to you on the couch, rubbing your back with sympathy and concern in her own eyes.
“You should call the police,” she advised.
You’d thought of that, but if Charlie was doing something he wasn’t supposed to, then depending on what it was, you didn’t necessarily want him locked up in a cell. He wasn’t a bad person, he was just…lost. You wanted him to get help.
You set down the butterknife beside the jar and turned to her, after drying your eyes the best you could.
“Do you think your brother would be willing to come back to Wyoming?” you said. After a beat of hesitation, you specified:
“Colter, the tracker.”
Series Masterlist
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Russell Shaw Masterlist
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Russell S. Tag List:
@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007
@wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373
@brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum
@waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady
@leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy
@kmc1989 @jackles010378 @emily-winchester @waynes-multiverse @jessjad
@my-stories-vault @deans-spinster-witch @syrma-sensei @stellasfictionalworld @ultimatecin73
@jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @pieandmonsters @lhymer1995 @taehyungxjungkookistaekook @lovelystoriesaj
@nicksalchemy1 @spnwoman @onlyangel-444 @sexyvixen7 @illicithallways
@wolkenprinzessin007 @alwaystiredandconfused @carpenterswife @cheynovak @grilledcheeseandtomato
#Permission Granted#Every Second Counts#Part 1#russell shaw#tracker#russell shaw x reader#russell shaw x female reader#russell shaw x you#russell shaw fanfiction#russell shaw fanfic#dory shaw#colter shaw#jensen ackles#jensen ackles characters#tracker fanfiction#tracker cbs#russell shaw series#tracker series#zepskies writes
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