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dreamauri · 5 months

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Whens the next part of My love all mine coming out?🤭

┇𝗠𝗬 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘 - part six ┇ ︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶ ┇arranged marriage does not always hold ┇the outcome you expect !! ┇︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦˚₊ ┇ . 🌿 :: pairing — ( max vertsappen x wife! reader ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠genre — ( angst / fluff ) ┇ . 🌿 :: ⁠song — ( link ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠word count — ( - ) ╰ 🌿 :: ⁠ content warning — ( X )

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“It’s so fluffy.” Max whispers, nuzzling his nose in your hair. You chuckle slightly, shuffling further back into his lap to get comfortable. The dutch, wrapped his arms around your waist to remove the space between your back in his chest. Max leaned his chin on your shoulder watching with you the tiktoks you scroll through.

You find yourself holding in a laugh when the video of drunk Max and Daniel on a plane. Max finds himself gasping, taking your phone and looking at it in disbelief. “How long–” “That's been there forever.” you tease taking your phone from him.

You press on the search bar, type drunk max verstappen to show him all the clips people have seen, including that one time he and Charles were calling each other from on a cruise ship.

“Ah, young love.” You tease him. Max gives you a deep frown and a confused face. “Me and Charles?” “There’s a whole hashtag dedicated to you guys.” You tease, scrolling through a bit more, you come across a video of you and max drunk sway dancing from the after parties from the monaco gp. You knew some girls were doing something. “I liked that dress.” Max nuzzles in your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to your neck.

“You got me that dress, remember?” “Yeah, that’s why I like it.” He smiled widely and you felt yourself laugh, melting in his hold. You liked loved moments like these. Just you and your husband, sitting on a balcony under the moonlight.

You wish everyday could be like this, peaceful and calm, just comfortable nights for you and your husband. But you always have to remember that Max Verstappen was a world renowned sportsman. He spends his weekends driving and weekdays training.

And even when nothing was going on, there were still people in the media who wanted to bite you. Looking through the comments was a mistake. You sighed reading how people said they could treat Max so much better or just picked on your mistakes.

“What’s this shit?” Max grumbles, scrolling through the comments. There was a pattern. People were nice to him, praising him, complimenting him. Telling him how he was such a good husband. On the other hand, others were commenting on how you weren't enough for him. How he could do and how much he deserves so much better.

“I don’t think these people understand I’ve been . . . what’s the world? Simping? Crushing on you since high school.” You held a giggle at the statement. He took your phone from you, starting to report every hateful comment. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his determination. “You don't have to do that.” “Shhh, wifey. It’s fun.” “Sorry, hubby.” You gave him a soft kiss before he was standing up.

You went to get a glass of the lemonade you and Max had made earlier when you heard your phone ring. “It’s your mom.” He shouted through the hotel room before answering. “Hallo, mum. Het Max.” [hi, mom. it’s max.] He greeted her over the phone. You couldn’t hear what your mom said in return but Max laid back in his arms with a big pout. “Het is voor jou, liefje.” [is your mom, love] Max held the phone out for you. You chuckled, taking a sip from the lemonade and going to sit back outside with him.

“Hi mum.” You greeted her by putting the call on speaker. “Y/N, ik wil dat je met mij mee luistert. Ik kan zo ver niet met je leven en ik ga het niet langer volhouden dan dit.” [Y/N, i want you hear with me. I can't live with you this far and I'm not going to last longer than this] You found yourself freezing in your place. Tilting your head confused. “vergeet de verstappen. scheid dat kind en kom naar huis. Ik wil niet dat k wil je niet zo ver weg.“ [forget the verstappens. divorce that kid and come home. i dont want you so far from me]

Max snapped his head up, and you choked on your drink. Divorce? Your mom’s tone was harsh and mad. “Eh? scheiding? Dat wil ik niet. Ik boek wel een vlucht erheen, maar alles komt goed. je overdrijft.” [Eh? Divorce? I don't want that. I'll book a flight there, but everything will be fine. you are exaggerating] You ended the call before she could protest.

A moment of silence evaded the space, a once warm space was now cold. You didn’t dare speak, you knew Max was looking at you to see what you’d do next. You shook your head, holding your legs and looking down at your phone. “I-i don't want to divorce.” You told him finally looking up to meet his eyes. Max relaxed at your reassurance, nodding quickly as he sat up properly facing. “I don't either.” He held your hand kissing your knuckles. “I’ll book you a flight right away.” He said standing up.

“Wait, Max.” You stood after him, stopping. “I don’t wanna go.” You found yourself admitting, a deep sigh leaving your throat. Max was the door of escape from your family. They’d always put pressure on you to be some perfect academic person. Graduating high school with honours and valedictory. You gave up on being normal when university came around.

It was only when you married Max were you able to pick up a paint brush again. When Jos had approached you and your family about his son wanting your hand in marriage you took it right away. An escape. You didn’t know him, so marrying him was a risk. But if you never took that risk, you would’ve never found yourself living your life like you are now.

“It’s your mom and family.” He told you, turning to you confused, looking down at his phone for flights. “You’re my family.” You replied without even thinking.

The blond snapped his head up, taken aback by your words. “I don’t want to go back there. I don’t want to leave you— Correction, I don't want to be without you.”

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"There you are." Your mother hummed happily once you pushed the door open. She opened her arms and you immediately went for her embrace, wrapping your arms around her back with your head on her chest. "Awh, look at you." The woman cooed, stroking your hair and kissing your head.

Max always had an odd feeling about the woman, From the moment she first saw him, till now she always give him this disgusted glare. "And I see you've brought your husband too." The words were bitter in her mouth. "I thought it was clear I wanted just you."

"Well," You looked back at the blond. "I don't know how to drive, and Me and Max we're together. So, yeah." There was a long pause, long eye contact between you and Max. "He doesn't love you." Your mother whispered in your ear, cupping her hand over her lips so max wouldn't hear or see.

"Don't be naïve, sunflower. He's after your looks." She stroked your hair. Max could see your eyebrows furrow weather in disbelief or in betrayal. "Your a trophy. If he really loved you, he'd come a whisk you off your feet. Make you fall in love with him and ask for your hand in marriage himself."

Your heart panged against your chest. She had a good point. If Max really loved you, why did he do the things the way he did. Why did you have to pick yourself up at the airport and let yourself into the apartment, and clean it up yourself? Why did you not have a choice to see if you loved him before marrying him? Why did he pluck you out of the life you already had?

"He's not good for you." Your mom whispered, her manipulative words getting through to you. "He's using you. He likes your body, your face, your image. Come to mummy, i wont hurt you, yeah? I'll keep you safe."

You jumped up on your feet clearing your throat. Max immediately noticed the shaky and hesitant body language you displayed. Fidgeting with your fingers and tapping the top of your toes on the floor.

"We should probably go, visiting hours are going to end soon." He stood up tall, gently wrapping his arm around your shoulder to comfort you. Max was surly surprised to see you flinch, and even more angry to see the deceiving gentle smile your mother gave hi. "Hours start at 12:30 tomorrow. Don't be late." She said.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Max found himself tracing the lines to the glass painting on your window. The hospital wasn't far from your mom's house which had your old tween room before your parents divorced. The faded purple walls with scenery painting on them with stickers and posters.

"They're pretty," He hummed. "We should try these out on our windows back home." He turned to you, pointing at the window. His body felt still once he caught your fear filled eyes. He gulped, moving over to you, sitting on his knees beside you.

"I don't know what your mother is telling you. But I love you. No matter what." Max held your hands in his, pressing a soft kiss to your fingers. "You are the single best thing that has ever happened to me and I'd never change anything about you or us."

You looked in his ocean eyes, too big for his head yet so beautiful for his own good. The second you looked away Max knew your mother was in favour at the moment. He knew that old narcissistic woman had won the moment you had slept with your back facing him. You never looked away from him.

And the sight or your sleeping figure facing away from him made him feel as if his heart was being ripped apart slowly and painfully. He was scared to even touch you. Max would never ever risk making you feel uncomfortable.

This would be your last night under the moon light together.

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winterrrnight · 10 months

Text

secret admirer (reader's pov)

PAIRING: high schooler!soft!rafe cameron x high schooler!fem!reader

SUMMARY: the reader has a secret admirer who drops letters, flowers and some other little souvenirs in their locker.

WARNINGS: a lot of cliches, falling down and getting wounded, and some fluffy fluff :) if I missed something let me know! Please ignore any grammatical/spelling errors

EDITH SPEAKS: buckle up bffs because this is long!! Please note the following before you read:

both reader and Rafe are well versed in French.

The French translations are given side by side in the oneshot.

I don't speak French so everything has been gathered from the internet. If there are any mistakes, please let me know.

I'm not American so I've had a very different high school experience: I never had detentions in our school. So everything has been written based upon what I've seen in American shows :)

And that's it! I hope you enjoy reading, please like and/or reblog to show your love <3 feedback is highly appreciated! 💐

UPDATE: I have made a whole secret admirer universe! The link of its masterlist is given below <3

navigation || join my taglist || requests || series masterlist

As the class comes to an end, you walk out and go to your locker. You dial in your locker combination, and just as you open it, an envelope falls out and drops in the ground.

Confused, you bend down and pick it up. The envelope is plain white, and its flap is glued at place. You pull open on the flap, and find a folded piece of letter inside.

"Oooooo what's that?" Your friend says, smiling. "Looks like a love letter."

You shake your head. "I doubt it's a love letter," you say as you unfold your paper. A single sentence in cursive writing is scrawled on the paper. It takes you a second to realise it's written in French.

Je rêve de toi.

It translates to "I dream of you".

Who can write this to you? Thoughts clink around your mind like ice in a glass of water. Suddenly, you feel something drop out of the envelope. You look down at the floor, curious.

It's a little daisy.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

Since then, a little gift always awaits for you in your locker every few days. Every time it's a letter with a simple sentence in French written on it in fountain pen. It's accompanied with a little flower, or a small piece of chocolate, and one time, it was a bracelet.

You've tried your best to figure out who's been sending you these. No one in class has flirted with you, so you don't even have any options to consider. The thought that someone secretly likes you does make your heart swoon, but at the same time it also concerns you. What if it's someone pulling jokes on you, just playing with your delicate heartstrings? You really hope it isn't the second one, because if it is, it will leave you heartbroken in a way you've never been heartbroken.

But you can't deny the smile the letters bring on your face. You collect the flowers and press them in between the pages of your journal. Every chocolate you've received so far is the kind you like, which makes you wonder how does this person know what kind of chocolates you are into. And the bracelet, well, it's tied securely around your wrist.

You reach school, and with hope in your heart filled to the brim, you open your locker. The smile on your face is as bright as the stars when you see an envelope.

Before you can open it, the ringing of the bell makes you look up. The first class has started and you're still in the hallway.

"Shit," you curse, as you hurriedly throw the envelope in your bag and rush to your English class. The scene in the class will not be pretty: your teacher isn't fond of late comers. Well, saying he isn't fond of them is an understatement. He hates their guts.

With your heart beating faster than the speed of light, you look through the small gap in the door of the class. Your teacher is extremely punctual, and as always, the class has started. He's walking around the class, handing your previous tests. You take in a deep breathe and open the door. The sound of the door opening makes everyone look up at you.

"Well, well, well, look who decided to show up," your teacher says, passive aggressiveness laced in his voice.

"I'm, I'm sorry, it won't happen again-"

"Oh looks like we have another late comer," your teacher says, cutting you off. Confused, you turn around to see Rafe Cameron standing behind you. His uniform shirt isn't buttoned properly; random buttons connected to the wrong holes, his belt is missing, and his hair is messed up. He looks like he just woke up.

You feel your cheeks heat up from the warmth of his body. He's standing right behind you, and if you walk a millimetre back, you would crash right into him.

"I'm so sorry, I swear I set an alarm but it didn't ring and-" Rafe starts to ramble.

"DETENTION! Both of you!" Your teacher yells. You flinch at his sudden loud voice. He signs two detention slips and hands those to the both of you. He dismisses you swiftly by closing the door on your faces.

You look down at the detention slip in your hand and sigh. You look up at Rafe to see he's looking at you. You break your small eye contact with him and look at your shoes.

"Shall we go?" He asks you. You nod at him, still not looking at him. In silence, you both walk to the detention room. It's just a classroom which isn't in use anymore. Your PE teacher is the one who will be supervising you. When you reach the classroom, you're surprised to see it's only you and Rafe in the detention. Usually it's around 5 - 10 students at this time in detention.

The teacher is inside, his nose buried in a magazine. He doesn't lift his head up when you and Rafe and walk in, and take adjacent seats. Only when you both sit down, the teacher lifts an eye to see you both.

"Just two of you?" He says, and you nod. "Well that's going to be a waste of my time." He closes his magazine, drops it on the table and stands up from his chair.

"I'll be here in an hour to let you both out. Don't do anything dumb, you're being watched." He says, leaving the classroom and closing the door behind him.

It gets extremely silent in the room, it's so silent that you can hear a pin drop. Your breathing is the only sound filled in the room, along with the constant ticking of the clock hanging on a wall.

You can't believe you're in a class room all alone with Rafe Cameron. It's pretty much given away that he's the most popular guy in your school, and not because he's the jock and only sleeps around with everyone, but because he's an actual sweetheart. He's nice to everyone, and has the most beautiful personality. One thing you know for sure is that if someone gets to date him, he will treat them like a royal.

You decide to finish up with some school work you're left with. As you open your bag, you notice the envelope you had completely forgotten about. Eagerly, you pull it out and open it. Today, there's no souvenir in it. Only a folded piece of paper.

You unfold it, and instead of the usual one line, there are multiple. You read them slowly, as you also translate them in your mind.

Votre âme est un paysage choisi

Que vont charmant masques et bergamasques

Jouant du luth et dansant et quasi

Tristes sous leurs déguisements fantasques

It takes you some fair amount of time to translate the verse. This is what you come up with:

Your soul is a moonlit landscape fair,

Peopled with maskers delicate and dim,

That play on lutes and dance and have an air

Of being sad in their fantastic trim

It suddenly clicks you: the verse if from Claire de Lune. You smile at the French written on the paper, and just read it over and over again in your head.

"What's that?" You suddenly remember that Rafe is right next to you.

"Nothing," you say, folding the paper and putting it back in it's envelope.

"Looks like a love letter, someone's been writing you love letters?" He asks, curiosity in his eyes. You take a few seconds to give him a reply.

"Maybe?"

"What do you mean, maybe?"

You sigh. "I've been receiving these letters which have poetry in French written in them. They usually come along with a little gift, like a small flower or some chocolate. But, there's no name on the paper whatsoever, so I have no way of knowing who is it, if it's legit or if someone is playing a prank on me."

"I don't think it's a prank, you know." You look up at him. He's gazing at you intently.

"You don't?"

He shakes his head. "Someone maybe likes you a lot, and is, i don't know, scared to admit it to you."

"But, why do you think it's not a prank? And how are you so sure it is an actual love letter?"

"Why is it so hard for you to believe that it can be an actual love letter? That someone actually likes you a lot? You're an amazing person, don't decline the thought of someone being your admirer so easily."

At these words leaving Rafe's mouth, you have a small hunch that maybe he's the one writing these letters.

Oh no, he can't be the one. You shake the thought out of your head. He's the most popular guy in the whole school, he can choose anyone, why in hell would he choose you? What does he see in you?

You've never been the one to be in the spotlight, you've always lurked in the shadows. So, when the letters started coming, you did want to believe that you have an admirer. That you are worth of being loved by someone deeply. But you find this thought too good to be true, so you instead believe it's just a prank.

You aren't sure how to respond to Rafe's words. All that slips your lips is a small thank you. You direct your focus back to your schoolwork on hand.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

It's been a week to the detention. Since then, instead of every other day, the letters have been appearing every single day. This morning, you had a bigger envelope than usual. The size of the letter inside is the same, but there are more gifts than usual. Instead of the usual single flower, you have a daisy chain. There are many chocolates instead of one, and there are two new bracelets.

At this point, you are starting to get a lot more concerned than before. Someone's out there spending money on getting you chocolates and bracelets, and you don't even know how to thank them for it; you can only do that if you know who the person sending you these gifts is.

You keep the little gifts in your locker and take the letter. As usual, there is one line scrawled on the centre of the page, the cursive handwriting perfect as it is each time.

Je vous souhaite d'être follement aimée.

"My wish is that you may be loved to the point of madness." You whisper. You softly trace the words on the paper with your fingertip.

"Who are you?"

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

The sky has suffused into hues of pinks and oranges, and you get on your bike. You're on your way to your favorite place: the strawberry field. You found that field when you were cycling around the area at the mere age of 6. Since then, you absolutely love going to that place at all times. The heavenly scent of strawberries will be settled all around the field, especially due to them being in season.

You reach the field in a few minutes. You take your bike to the small trail in the field, which is accompanied by perfectly manicured bushes of strawberries around it. Following the trail leads to a massive opening right in the middle of the field, which has a big tree planted in it. You love to pluck the strawberries and then sit under the shade of the tree as you eat them and watch the sunset.

Just as you reach the tree, you notice something unusual. There is a notepad, along with a bottle of ink and a fountain pen. You look around to see if you can spot the owner of the stuff. A sudden rustle in the bushes a little farther on your right increases the rate of your heartbeat. The sound of the rustling increases with each passing second, and suddenly, a head pops out.

Your eyes widen at the sight. "Rafe?" You ask, completely dumbfounded. Rafe is holding a basket full of the ripe strawberries. He's wearing a button up paired with a simple pair of trousers. The sleeves of the button up are rolled up to his elbows and you notice sweat shining on his forehead and his neck.

"Oh, hey," he says, completely frozen in the spot. None of you are able to comprehend the current situation at hand.

"I didn't expect to see you here, what are you doing here?" You question.

"Nothing, just... just getting some of these strawberries. I've heard they're really good," he says, coming out of the bushes. He walks up to you, and stands right in front of you, not leaving much distance between you two.

"How did you... how did you find out about this place? I come here almost every single day and I never see you here. Why suddenly today?"

You need to know why he's here. You need to know why does he have that notepad and a fountain pen. The hunch you had the other day, the one which you dug deep in your heart because you just believed it isn't true, is starting to come back up.

Rafe is just standing there, looking at you. He doesn't have anything to say. While you're waiting impatiently for him to tell you everything. You don't want to believe your gut feeling unless you have a concrete proof of it.

"Why do you have that notepad with you, with that fountain pen?" You swallow the lump in your throat.

"For you. It's all for you. It's all always been for you." He whispers. You feel like you're frozen right at your position. "These," he says, pointing to the strawberry basket, "these are for you too."

"But... why me?" You mumble. Your mind doesn't want to believe this. No, this can't be true. The person who everyone will fall on their knees for can choose anyone, but instead he chose you.

"Because," he walks closer to you, places a finger under your chin and gently pushes it up so you can look him right in his eyes, "I want you to know how special you are. You deserve nothing but love, and this is just me showing you that." His hand is now on your cheek, and you find yourself feeling comfortable in the warmth of his hand.

"But-"

"No buts. I told you this before too, why are you not willing to believe that you are so worthy of being loved and appreciated? That there is someone who's ready to do this all for you. I could've just come up to you and confessed how I have fallen for you, but that wouldn't be special now, would it? That's what everyone does. And then my purpose of showing you that I'm not like everyone else and how I will shower you with love every single second of my life is defeated. I will bring you the moon, all you have to do is just ask." Rafe says, his voice nothing but a whisper.

But this isn't enough for you. You need to know what he sees in you. You need explanations on why he's doing so much just to see you happy.

"Why me?" It slips out of your mouth, because your mind won't relax unless you hear it all from Rafe's mouth.

"Do you remember kindergarten?"

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

Rafe runs to the swings, a big smile on his face as he finally gets to use it. The swings are never empty, but now he has the chance of getting to take a ride on them.

But, just as he sits down on the swing, a group of boys approaches him. They are all a year older than him, and they love to pretend they own the place.

"Hey! Give us the swing!" The head of the group, Greg demands. Rafe starts to feel scared, but he doesn't show it on his face.

"No!" He says firmly, his grip tightening on the swing. With just a small nudge of his head, Greg motions the boys of the group towards Rafe. They grab onto his shoulders and forcefully throw him off the swing. Rafe screams and feels tears stream down his eyes in pain. But, no teacher is around to help him. Greg laughs in his face and goes to his new found victory: the swing.

You see it all unfold from the side. You are sitting in the grass all alone. That's where you are every single day, because you don't mix in well with the other kids. When you see Rafe hurt, you rush up to him.

He's still crying when you reach to him. You do nothing, all you do is offer him your hand. Rafe suddenly stops crying and grabs ahold of your hand and with all the strength in your little body, you pull him up. You take him to the teacher.

The teacher gasps at Rafe's condition: teary eyes with dust all over his face and clothes, and two wounds each on his knees. You stand on the side as the teacher gets the first aid kit and starts to treat his wounds. You can't look when Rafe whines at the burning feeling of the antiseptic liquid against his knees. At that moment, all you wanted was to swap places with him so he doesn't have to go through this all.

Once his wounds were all covered in bandaids, you take him to your table in the classroom. From your bag, you pull out your favorite lolipop and hand it to him. Rafe looks at you and the lolipop with wide eyes.

"You are so brave," you say, as you nudge the candy closer to him.

"Thank you," Rafe says, accepting the lolipop from you.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

"From that day, I've never stopped looking at you. As we grew older, I knew you were the one I wanted to be with, and I wanted to reciprocate all that you've done for me. It's not just the lolipop, throughout all the years you've been there for me when no one else was, I just don't want you to think that your efforts go unappreciated." Rafe finishes.

You remember it all really well. All the times in kindergarten when you gave him your food because he dropped his on the ground, when you cut his craft paper for him because he just wasn't able to cut in a straight line the way you can, or when you gave him a pencil each time he forgot one at home.

"Rafe..." You say, starting to feel little tears blur your vision. Before you can hide them from him, Rafe is quick to reach his hands out to your cheeks and to wipe them off.

"This is nothing compared to what you've done for me, those chocolates, little verses of poetry, bracelets," his eyes goes to the bracelet you're wearing, "they don't amount to the things you've done for me in any way. But I just want to show you how amazing you are, and how you deserve the nicest things in the world."

You don't want to hear anything else. You press your lips against his. It takes a second for Rafe to process what's happening. Your arms are quick to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you as your lips move against his.

You pull back softly and lean your forehead against his.

"Je t'aime. Aujourd'hui. Ce soir. Demain. Pour toujours. Su je vivais mille ans, he t'appartiendrais pour tous. Si je vivais mille vies, je te ferais mienne dans chaacune d'elles." He whispers, his eyes closed.

"I love you. Today. Tonight. Tomorrow. Forever. If I were to live a thousand years, I would belong to you for all of them. If I were to live a thousand lives, I would want to make you mine in each one."

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @ragingsammie @maybankslover

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virescent-v · 5 months

Text

French Kiss

A/N: This is a combination of two requests I got: a fluffy fic of Emily telling you she has a crush on you and asking you out and a fluffy fic of Emily teaching you another language. Combining them seemed perfect!

Summary: Emily teaches you a little French ;P (Translations for the French is at the bottom!) Word count: 950 Warnings: nada, this is tooth-rotting fluff. :) Well, the only warning might be that I got the translations from Google, so if they're wrong don't yell at me lol Ps: If you haven't seen the tiktok of Paget speaking French....go do that first. 🫠😩🥵😵‍💫

You hated the fact that you never took a foreign language in middle or high school, when it was easier to learn. Now, it felt like grasping the semantics of another language was nearly impossible.

You let out an exasperated whine, rubbing your temples. “Why does French have to have so many rules?”

Emily chuckled, rolling her eyes at your antics. “It’s not that bad once you get the hang of them,” she said, rubbing your shoulders. “Quoi qu'il en soit, c'est une belle langue.”

You squinted your eyes, glaring at her. While teaching you, Emily would consistently throw out random French sentences, hoping the constant exposure would help you. It only further irritated you. “Says the one who’s been fluent in French for most of her life, and who has lived in Paris.” Another eye roll.

Emily’s smile grew. “J'aime parler une langue que vous ne pouvez pas. Tu es très mignon quand tu es irrité.”

Another second of glaring might make your face permanently stick like that, so you decided to ignore her. “Moving on,” you said, looking intensely at the notes before you. “Possessive adjectives. Mon, ma, mes for the masculine, feminine, and plural my.” Your face scrunched up, your eyebrows furrowed a little. “Easy. M’s for the my’s.” You felt your tongue peek out in concentration. “Ton, ta, and tes for you.”

You tapped your finger along the paper, the rhythmic cadence a tactic you hoped would help you remember everything. A loud sigh. “Why do these languages have to have gendered descriptors for everything?”

Another giggle came from beside you. “Parce que, oie idiote, ce sont les langues romanes!” Emily exclaimed, forcing a more dramatic French accent.

A loud pause. “Did you just call me an idiot?”

You’ve never heard Emily laugh so candidly, loud and carefree. It made butterflies erupt in your belly, a deep blush heating up your face – not out of embarrassment, but because you made her laugh, made her nose crinkle and her eyes shine. It was one of your favorite sounds.

You’ve had a crush on Emily for months, ever since you started working closely to her at Quantico. A shared case between your two units brought you together and you quickly became friends, bonding over similar interests and upbringings.

You thought of the idea of having her teach you one of the many languages she knows as a way to spend more time together. It was an added bonus that you got to hear her speak another language; something about the way French rolled off her tongue was hypnotizing and…incredibly hot. She had jumped at the idea and you became hopeful that she might have shared feelings for you. But after weeks of constant texting and a few study sessions, she’s never hinted at feeling anything other than friendship.

“Absolument pas! Cependant, je pense que vous êtes incroyable. J'adorerais t'emmener dehors un jour.” Emily paused, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. Hey eyes traveled across your face, taking in everything, like she was trying to profile you. “Comme rendez-vous?”

You felt the air shift even though you couldn’t understand what she was saying to you. It was in the way that she looked at you, how her dark eyes had grown fond, intimate almost, as if she was trying to stare into your soul. You had an inkling of what she had said, rendezvous being an easy translated word.

“Ask me in English,” you whispered.

Emily turned more to you, grasped your hands in hers and looked you in the eye. “Would you like to go out with me? As a date?”

Your smile was timid, growing as you watched her start to fiddle with your fingers in nerves. “Oui, Emily.” One of your hands came up and brushed hair behind her ear, watching her grin spread. “But I have a question for you first.”

Emily’s smile turned a little more serious, a hint of nerves creeping back into her expression. You watched as she took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever you might ask of her. “Ask away.”

You paused, schooling your features into something you hoped was more serious, letting her sit in her nerves for a second just to mess with her. “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?”

You watched as Emily’s brain stuttered, her mouth opening for a second before she burst into another fit of laughter, her hand coming up to cover her eyes for a second out of shocked awe. “I’m glad Lady Marmalade taught you something in French, my god.”

You two laughed together, the tension of finally admitting your shared feelings broken. As you calmed down, Emily gazed at you, all of her feelings for you finally shining through. You felt your entire being warm to the look she was giving you, finally overjoyed in being able to relish in the attention you craved from her.

As your gazes locked and held, you decided to break out the one other sentence you had been practicing in French. The one sentence you were wishing you would get to use on her. Your hand cupped her jaw, another timid smile gracing your lips. “Puis-je t'embrasser?”

Emily smirked, inching her face towards you, pulling you closer by your hips, before whispering, “Oui, s'il vous plait.”

Your lips met in a soft, tender embrace, tongues lightly gliding over one another. It was the first kiss of what you both hoped was many.

As you broke apart, a quiet giggle traveled up your throat, making you softly shake your head in exhilarated bliss. “I love French lessons.”

Emily waggled her eyebrows, a mischievous smirk growing. “I can’t wait to teach you more French things.”

___________________

Translations:

- “Quoi qu'il en soit, c'est une belle langue.” - Regardless, it’s a beautiful language. - “J'aime parler une langue que vous ne pouvez pas. Tu es très mignon quand tu es irrité.” - I like speaking a language you can’t. You’re very cute when you’re irritated. - “Parce que, oie idiote, ce sont les langues romanes!” - Because, silly goose, it’s the romance languages! -”Absolument pas! Cependant, je pense que vous êtes incroyable. J'adorerais t'emmener dehors un jour.” - Absolutely not! However, I do think you’re amazing. I’d love to take you out sometime. -“Comme rendez-vous?” - As a date? -Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?” - Do you want to sleep with me tonight? -”Puis-je t'embrasser?” - Can I kiss you? -”Oui, s'il vous plait.” - Yes, please.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss fanfic #virescent v fanfic #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily speaking languages does something to me #paget speaking languages does something to me #WOMEN speaking languages i do not know does many somethings to me #also the french and a specific part of this was for a certain someone hehehehe #writing fluff? who am i???#this is also like the fifth fic in like a couple of days go me!

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hitlikehammers · 3 months

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whole wide world

rating: t ♥️ cw: criminal-levels of softness, rockstar!Eddie, teacher! Steve, gooey-clingy-heart-eyes Eddie needs his Stevie ♥️ tags: established relationship, rockstar!eddie, teacher!steve, rockstar husbands, amateur musicals, steve needs to stop using a ladder unsupervised because nothing bad happened this time but eddie is concerned that is the love of his life, soul-deep love, slice of life, softness

for @steddielovemonth day thirteen: Love is showing up when someone doesn’t ask ❤️ (@steddieas-shegoes)

look who's back, just like every other day, it's the rockstar husbands from je ne regrette rien being their codependent, desperately-in-love selves again! ♥️

“Goddamnit,” Steve curses the staple gun, the dry-rotted wood he’s trying to use it on, the acrylic-covered tarp masquerading as a backdrop leaving little crackle-dust everywhere every single time it fucking falls because the wood’s shit, the staples are shit, his co-advisor’s kid’s sick with the flu, the kids are in the band room rehearsing the opening number and Steve really cannot fucking believe he got roped into this to begin with, actually, like, how the fuck did the middle school guidance-counselor-slash-study-hall-monitor get conned into helping with the high school drama club, just because one of his JV soccer players landed the lead and bemoaned loudly enough during laps how they didn’t know if they’d be able to make the performance even work, because the choir teacher’s on maternity leave and the band director’s kind of a dick, and the needed more help—

Steve only is even in the high school for the goddamn athletics office. For, y’know, the equipments for the athletes.

Yet: here he is. Standing on a rusty fucking ladder that probably needs a spotter, to be honest, and if Steve’s admitting that then yeah, it definitely needs someone holding the goddamn thing, but here he is, already two hours after the final bell, trying to stick a painting of mattressesin a stack that only vaguely looks like mattresses so thank god that’s in the show title—

The ladder wobbles a little when he tries to catch the tarp-thing again but he can’t reach far enough without risking a long way down to a very hard stage floor, so the backdrop’s sacrificed back to the ground—a-fucking-gain—as he shifts his weight to steady the steps and it’s a close thing, he’s about ninety-seven percent sure he’s aimed the teetering feet of it back to solid ground okay but he glances around quick just in case, tries to figure if there’s anything he can grab for and let the ladder go on its own if need-be, and—

“That’s fucking dangerous, big boy,” a deep, and deeply unexpected, voice trails up from the floor, clipped with stress, with fear because Steve fucking knows that voice, and the ladder’s suddenly fully steady so he can turn and look and—

“Gonna give me a goddamn stroke or something, finding you up on one of these all by your lonesome,” Eddie’s staring up at him, and the words could be teasing, and Steve thinks maybe they intend to be, but: those eyes are too big. There’s a pulse Steve can count in that throat, even from seven-feet-up.

So he does what any man in love with his husband would do in the face of said-husband in fear, and for him: Steve climbs down careful, but quick, with Eddie’s hands scrambling to make sure of the ‘careful’ part as soon as he can reach, and then he turns, and then he lands on solid ground again to pull Eddie in and thank every colleague of his he’d been cursing in his mind for leaving him alone to do all this shit, because alone is the reason he gets to kiss his lover hard, and full; wrap around him and let him squeeze Steve to the point where it aches, where it creaks in his bones, like proof.

Lets Eddie attach his lips to suck a bruise, possessive and needy and protective all at once along his throat, and yeah:

Exactly like proof.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asks when they pull apart just the slightest bit, because he wasn’t expecting Eddie to be home until probably close-on to midnight, let alone at the school well before five.

“Thought you could maybe use an extra set of hands,” Eddie shrugs like it’s a casual thing, showing up just to help out when he’s on a press cycle, and it’s evident even in his attire that that’s the case, if you know what to look for: more chains from his jeans, thicker soles on his boots just flirting with being platforms, at least two rings on every finger—save just one.

One has a ring, and a carefully-preserved and repeatedly-reinforced bread-bag tie: both serving the same purpose in very different points in their lives.

Point being: Eddie was wading through photoshoots and magazine spreads and radio spots and every fucking thing, and no matter how high he’s raising his eyebrow in a clear calling out of how he found Steve atop a shaky ladder as being obvious evidence of having use of an extra set of hands, the fact remains:

“But you’ve got the interview—“ the big ass interview with that shock-jock guy Steve kinda hates, but that’s a big fucking deal, and was the precise reason Steve wasn’t lamenting giving up his afternoon and evening to the at-least-halfway-to-lost-cause of the not-even-an-actual-full-fledged-theatre department: he wasn’t going to have Eddie home before bed anyway.

And yet: here stands the man.

“The boys have got it,” Eddie shrugs, like he actually doesn’t give a shit, and that’s…he does give a shit, he had sounded excited about it last night when they’d talked about their plans for the week over dinner, when Steve had bemoaned the travesty of this fucking production of Once Upon A Boxspring or whatever, and Eddie’d told him he was pretty sure he was going to be able to say fuck on the show even if they’d edit it, like he wouldn’t get in trouble, and he’d looked like a kid in a goddamn candy shop about it so yeah: Steve thinks he kinda did give a shit.

But he’s…not there.

“Gareth’s been itching to take the reins after he won out the final track list,” Eddie offers as explanation; “cocky bastard.”

And they collaborate on all the writing, music and lyrics, they’re not even the slightest bit competitive about it which would be hard to believe if all you saw of the members of Corroded Coffin were their goddamn shenanigans during a campaign; but the one think in their music that they docompete over?

Whose title-idea gets the opener on a given album. And Gareth did end up scooping them all when the execs came back with a shuffle. Steve had watched it unfold in real time; he doesn’t think he’s ever heard a grown man crow like Gareth had, and he is married to Edward fucking Munson.

So that’s saying something.

“Eds,” Steve tries to prod a little at the point of it all though, because Eddie’s got press, and this is a high school, and probably Eddie could get to the studio in time to catch the end of whatever, it’s prerecorded, he knows that much, they could squeeze a live interview in so they could probably do Eddie at the end and just shuffle it around, right, it’s easy, and that’s so much more important than this because this:

“Eds, it’s just a—“

“It’s the spring musical, baby,” Eddie says like he’s announcing the arrival of the president, of the Queen of England, then his eyes soften a little as he flicks at one of the real mattresses that will, presumably, be props for the actors if the show’s title isn’t a fucking lie: “you know that’s where my DM throne had its humble origins, before I elevated it to greatness?”

Steve did know that, not least because they’d smuggled Eddie in to DM a few special sessions before the gremlins graduated, and he’d taken his seat with regal aplomb every time, and Steve had learned that yeah, they used the random storage room that was mostly drama shit for Hellfire.

And the way he’d learned that was by sucking Eddie off hidden by some very ratty but very conveniently poofy ballgowns from a production of Cinderella.

“I missed you.”

Steve turns to him and blinks; Eddie’s eyes are on the mattress, his stance almost a little shy.

“You saw me this morning,” Steve doesn’t ask, exactly, but he…he’s not sure he’s following, is the thing.

“I was,” Eddie sighs, and flops to sit down on the mattress which, thankfully, is a mattress and gives a little, bounces under him.

“I was just feeling, I dunno,” he gives a shrug that fades into something like a shiver, and then Eddie’s arms come around too hug around his middle as he ducks his chin and, oh no.

None of that.

“I thought about you being, you know, you,” and Eddie gets to gesture at the mess of the stage only halfway before Steve’s catching his hand, lacing their fingers and pulling Eddie back up to standing, then back into Steve’s arms here he leans heavy, sighs deeper this time; relief instead of something shallow.

“Just you doing all this when you don’t even have a horse in the race, y’know?” Eddie muffles into the side of Steve’s neck, burrowed in tight. “And I was supposed to be in the zone about press and shit, and it just,” he shakes his head, which is more like the brush of his lips back and forth against Steve’s skin; “it wasn’t clicking at all, like I posed and did the looks and whatever,” and oh, Steve knows the looks, Steve has about half those looks printed out and framed in various parts of their home or tucked safe inside his wallet, whereas the other half he takes great joy in recreating at random to the chagrin of his darling husband, love of his whole goddamn life.

“Then Jeff asked if I wanted to duck out,” and Eddie smiles up at him, a little sheepish; they both know the boys can see right through Eddie feeling needy, or lovelorn; Steve’s grateful as shit for Eddie’s bandmates, their friends, for knowing when Eddie just needs Steve.

“I didn’t even think twice, just,” Eddie swallows hard, a little, peeking up through lashes and bangs as he exhales:

“Just wanted to see you before the middle of the fucking night.”

And what can Steve do in the face of that, really? He can’t argue it. Wouldn’t ever fucking want to.

“I love you,” he frames Eddie’s face and kiss the bridge of his nose, then soft between his brows as he breathes out with his whole heart: “so goddamn much.”

“Can you promise me you won’t do the,” Eddie tips his head behind them; “the ladder thing, at least not by yourself?” And Eddie’s eyes are so, so big again. “Like, pretty please, don’t do that again?”

“I won’t,” Steve swears it, and kisses him firm to seal the promise: “thanks for coming to the rescue.” Because there was a three percent chance Steve was going to wipe the fuck out from very very high, and he’s have survived it, but he’s not twenty anymore, and it would have fucking sucked, probably for a while.

“Always, baby,” Eddie murmurs, still tight against Steve lips before he straightens a little, and this time he’s framing Steve’s face, but more holding him still in place, emphatic:

“Actually, amendment,” he says seriously, eyes darting between Steve’s a tiny-touch frantic: “next time you need to be on a ladder, you call me first,” he damn-well declares it, rather than asks; “so I can hold it steady.”

“My hero,” Steve breathes against him with a smile, and there’s not even a hint of teasing in it.

“I don’t trust any other hands to catch you, baby,” Eddie tells him, a little too raw; full sincerity bleeding from him all the sudden as he caresses down the cheeks he’s still cupping: “no one else in the whole wide world appreciates what you’re worth.”

“And what’s that, exactly,” Steve scoffs a little, playful where he’s held in Eddie’s arms but Eddie: Eddie’s holding him tight, now, and his heartbeat’s heavy where he’s moving to crush Steve to his chest, and there’s a little wavering pitch of something in his voice when he whispers:

“The whole wide world,” and oh.

That’s the answer.

It’s Steve’s answer, too, to the same exact question, but hearing it said so plain never stops feeling like the ending and remaking of the whole wide world, every time.

So yeah, Steve has to take a minute to swallow through the tightness in his throat, and maybe he does that with his forehead bowed against his husbands so they breathe each other in as a rule just in the course of living in the moment, together—and when the straighten up Steve steals a kiss first, quick but hard, with feeling, before he cracks his neck and sighs, taking in the scene that’s settled around them.

“Help me try and figure this out to hang?” Steve kicks at the tarp-tapestry, and Eddie walks its perimeter critically before frowning up at Steve.

“Think it needs some touch ups,” he pronounces solemnly, and fuck, yeah, all the color-dust from the useless staple-holes and the falling. But his husband’s actually really good with details, and matching colors, and using a brush, and fantasy settings—

“Paint’s in the back,” he says with a lilt of suggestion and Eddie lights up and grabs Steve’s hand to drag him toward the promise of painting, like maybe all he needed really was just…this.

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

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onlyonetifosi · 9 months

Text

Behind the camera: chapter 1

<- previous series masterlist my main masterlist next ->

It was a warm summer afternoon in the small town of Monte Carlo, Monaco, where the Leclerc family resided. Yn and Charles, just three years old, were playing in their backyard, their laughter echoing through the air. Despite being twins, Yn and Charles had their distinct personalities and looks, yet they shared an unbreakable bond

"Charles, catch me if you can!" Yn giggled, running around the garden, her little feet barely keeping up with her enthusiasm

"Attends, Yn! I'm coming!" Charles called back, his eyes shining with excitement as he chased after his sister

Their playtime was always filled with joy and mischief, and today was no exception. Their older brother, Lorenzo, joined in the fun

"Lorenzo, regarde! Look at me!" Yn shouted as she tried to perform a somersault. "Je peux le faire! I can do it!"

Lorenzo clapped his hands, "Wow, Yn! That was great!"

Charles, feeling a little competitive, decided to show off too. "Watch this! Je vais faire un saut en hauteur! I'm going to do a high jump!"

Yn and Lorenzo watched in awe as Charles jumped, trying to touch the lowest branch of a nearby tree. He didn't quite reach it, but his attempt was still impressive.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the following weeks, Yn attended her ballet classes with enthusiasm, and her love for dancing only grew. Charles, on the other hand, developed an interest in racing from a young age. Hervé, a racing enthusiast himself, couldn't be happier to see his son's passion for speed and cars. He gifted Charles a small toy race car, which quickly became his most treasured possession

"Maman, look what I can do!" Yn twirled around clumsily, trying her best to imitate the graceful movements she had seen on TV. Her parents smiled lovingly, encouraging her tiny attempt at ballet

"Très bien, ma chérie! You're doing great," her mother praised, clapping her hands. "You'll be a wonderful little ballerina!"

"Charles, you should try too!" Yn beamed, hoping her brother would join in her enthusiasm for ballet.

Charles laughed and shook his head. "No, no, Yn. I want to be a race car driver like Papa! Vroom vroom!" He pretended to steer an imaginary car, and Lorenzo enthusiastically joined in the play

Pascale and Hervé watched their daughter with pride, celebrating every little step she took in her ballet journey. However, Yn's clumsiness soon caught the attention of the other girls in her ballet class, who began to tease and make fun of her

"Regardez-la, elle danse comme un éléphant maladroit! (Look at her, she dances like a clumsy elephant!)" one of the girls mocked, causing the others to giggle.

Yn felt her enthusiasm waning, her heart heavy with sadness. She couldn't understand why the other girls were mean to her, but she was determined not to let their words discourage her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the twins grew older, they started kindergarten, and Yn was excited to embark on this new adventure with her brother. However, things didn't go as smoothly as she had hoped. Charles, being the more outgoing and confident of the two, quickly made friends with the other children, while Yn struggled to connect with her peers

One day, after a particularly challenging day at school, Yn came home feeling downcast. She sat at the kitchen table with her parents, sharing her feelings

"Maman, Papa, pourquoi est-ce que Charles a toujours des amis, et moi, je n'en ai pas?" (Mom, Dad, why does Charles always have friends, and I don't?) Yn asked tearfully

Her parents exchanged understanding glances, and her father pulled her into a comforting hug. "Ne t'inquiète pas, ma chérie. Les amis viendront avec le temps. Tu es spéciale, tout comme ton frère." (Don't worry, my dear. Friends will come with time. You're special, just like your brother)

Yn nodded, trying to hold back her tears. She wished she could be as confident and popular as Charles, but it seemed like an impossible task

Months passed, and Yn tried her best to keep her feelings buried, not wanting to upset her brother or their parents. But one day, the weight of it all became too much to bear. Unable to hold back any longer, Yn confronted Charles during their walk home from school

"Charles, tu ne comprends pas. C'est difficile pour moi. Les autres se moquent de moi et je n'ai pas d'amis" she finally confessed, her voice quivering with emotion. (Charles, you don't understand. It's hard for me. The others make fun of me, and I have no friends)

Charles stopped in his tracks, finally seeing the pain in his sister's eyes that he had been blind to for so long "Je suis désolé, Yn. Je ne savais pas) he said, feeling regretful (I'm sorry, Yn. I didn't know)

They sat down on a nearby bench, and Yn poured her heart out to Charles about the loneliness she had been enduring. Charles listened attentively, his heart aching for his sister. He realized how selfish he had been, caught up in his own excitement without noticing the pain she was going through.

"Je suis vraiment désolé, Yn. Je ne voulais pas te faire du mal. Je serai là pour toi, quoi qu'il arrive" Charles said, his eyes filled with sincerity. (I'm truly sorry, Yn. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'll be there for you, no matter what happens)

Tears welled up in Yn's eyes as she hugged her brother tightly “Merci, Charles. Je t'aime” she whispered, feeling a rush of relief (Thank you, Charles. I love you)

From that day on, Charles made a conscious effort to include Yn in his circle of friends, and the two became inseparable. Yn also found solace in pursuing other hobbies and interests, such as drawing and storytelling, where her creativity and uniqueness were celebrated.

Their relationship grew stronger as they navigated through childhood together. Their parents often marveled at how inseparable they were, and even though they had their fair share of fights, their bond only deepened with time.

#behind the camera fic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x sister!reader #arthur leclerc imagine #arthur leclerc x sister!reader #f1 drivers x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f2 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfiction #arthur leclerc

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synodic-lupine · 9 months

Text

Nine and Ten's arcs go hand in hand as a collectively great PTSD narrative imo. I think Ten's wishy-washiness about relationships and inability to fully open up to Rose is often characterized as plain old fear of commitment yet I see that as a progression to another presentation of PTSD. When we first meet Nine, he seems like he's halfway to planning on how to get himself killed. He meets Rose, he heals, he changes, he grows. Then he regenerates into someone with a desire to live and the seeming capacity to just be happy. At the same time, he regenerated for and because of Rose. Recovery that hinges on one person is a tricky thing. When you're with that person it can feel like there's no more work to be done, like you're totally 'fixed'. Every moment with that person feels like the best thing in the world... which makes it significantly harder to open up about anything trauma related. When you're feeling high on a person's presence why would you ever want to think about the bad things? THEN because he finally properly wants to live, The Doctor gets hit with the realization that living a full life means losing Rose in the end and it's downright intolerable to him. It makes him push and pull and act like a bastard sometimes. We get glimpses of who he is without her in the moments when she's threatened. He loses his damn mind any time she's threatened- he gets that crazed look akin to Nine in Dalek more than anything. This is also in contrast to how Nine used to react to Rose being threatened, where he used to still be able to keep it reined in. THEN... he loses her for real and he backslides majorly. We see the effects in Turn Left, that if Donna hadn't been there he would have died right after saying goodbye to Rose. He's more or less back where he started as Nine in the beginning of series one, looking for a way to die. He lives though, and has to accept that no, he's not perfectly recovered and keep on working on it. He opens up about things in ways we saw him struggle to in series 2. Though he's more callous in series 3 and 4, he seems to struggle more with relating to humans, his bastardous tendencies pop up more. He's also a freaking disaster man in series 4 with the number of times he offers or tries to give up his life for others. He DOES make recovery progress through series 3 and 4, just is slow like in real life. All of that makes JE make sense to me in that this is a man who is experiencing turbo PTSD triggering. He pushes everyone away all at once, because maybe being alone will hurt less than losing people after all. Even after all that in the end when he is dying he says he doesn't want to go. He was born into wanting to live and be happy so of course he doesn't want to go.

#doctor who #ninth doctor #tenth doctor #rose tyler #9th doctor #10th doctor #timepetals #there's a lot more nuance to this than I had energy to write about rn #but regeneration as ptsd recovery story is so interesting to me in general #bc it literally does/can feel like you have to become a whole new person #and it's so so easy to hinge it all on one person or thing that makes life worth living #ten is a somewhat toxic mess #and i love him for it #he's a bastard who is also trying his damn best

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peaky-shelby · 1 year

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NEW ROMANTICS | MBAPPÉ [6]

» summary: in which an arrogant and talented football player (the best of his time as some say) and a focused and harsh critic of a journalist are gonna have to find a way to co-exist.

« previous chapter

» chapter 6: Poker

» writer's note: well talk about a stressful update. BUT HEY I DID IT. not gonna say a lot up here. See you on the other side. OH if you see Green link, click on them 🥲 my apologies for what you are about to go through.

» Taglist: @moonchildohh @formulahoe @princetongirlll818 @mavieesttriste16 @kiwisa @godessstela @hummusxx @kodzuvk @pink-manz @corbyns-smile @ippid @jayruiewo265738 @blueanfield @mrs-bellingham @sorceresski @sooblovebot @okayymochi @army7g @j-rbps @heli991113 @markhyucksmells @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @i0veless @photmath @http-isabela @rainytelevisionfilmwagon @formula101x @neymarloverxxx @cepolar @freespirit-51 @marialikescherries

PLAY MUSIC

Taylor slipped away from him as soon as Marquinhos called his name. She took away with her the electricity, leaving him with just an unusual sense of emptiness. Marquinhos drew closer.

“What is the matter with you?” He yelled. Kylian was pacing back and forth on the hall, trying to control his emotions while his heart raced in the same rhythm as the havoc of his mind. Marquinhos had to slap his shoulder in order to get him focused because he looked like he had just downloaded 10 cups of caffeine all at ones “Kylian!”

“Je ne sais pas!” he snapped, smacking Marcos’ hands away from him in annoyance “Je ne sais pas! Mais cette femme me rend fou ! Elle ne fait que mentir, elle ment toujours, Marcos !”

“Tranquilles Kylian!” he ordered “I don’t know what your deal is with her but you have to get your shit together quick-“

“Why?” he shouted. “Who is she?” Marcos never answered him so Kylian made a step forward. “Did you know she played professionally? is that why she has you and Galtier wrapped around her finger-“

“Whatever is going on with you, you need to fix it before it’s too late! You hear me?”

“I wanna know the truth!”

“The truth is that she is a smart as hell woman that is trying to help all of us and I’m surprised she’s still here after all the shit you’ve put her through!” he poked him on the shoulder, pointing at him “Look at yourself!” he said the last sentence like he was disgusted “what happened to you? You came back from Qatar a different man- since when do you treat woman like that? Do you even recognize yourself in the mirror anymore because I don’t? What is it? Greed? Insecurities? Jealousy?” Kylian couldn’t look at him in the eye, his gaze kept moving around the room finally settling on a window where he could slightly see his own reflection on. “You’re turning into a madman!” He didn’t like what he saw in the mirror, he didn’t like this version of him at all. He was drunk on anger and desperation, he was high on self insecurity and he could see it in his eyes. “Swear to god, this is your last warning!” he said and left.

Kylian moved back a little, his hand was itching, his fist begging to come in contact with anything and it did. He punched the wall, drawing back quickly in pain. A few moments later Hakimi was by his side, holding him by the arm. He didn’t even know if he had been there the entire time but now he was pushing him back and dragging him from the nearest exit. He practically pushed him out in the balcony and Kylian felt the chilling cold on his skin, violently reminding him who and where he was. He gripped on the railing. And for a while neither of them said anything.

“I’m scared for you Ky!” said Hakimi. “I don’t understand what’s gotten into you. I’m trying but I can’t- it can’t be just her. What is it?”

“Can’t you see it?” he asked, yelling. He looked at his friend “I don’t know how she does it but she always does. It’s her eyes- she looks at you and you feel like the smallest person in the world. I look at her and all I see are my mistakes.” He pointed at his fingers while he spoke “The shot I didn’t take. The pass I didn’t give. The chance I didn’t see. Always down to the detail with her, isn’t it?” Hakimi’s eyes expressed a sort of pitifulness they give you when they know you are being unreasonable. He wanted to help his friend but even he was afraid to draw closer. Watching your friend falling apart right in front of you eyes, it was never easy. “And it’s driving me insane! The way she can play with my mind like that. The way she sees right through it and the closer I let her see, the more she is…” he tried to find the right word “poising me. Turning me into this-“ he stopped “That’s what’s worse! Cause Marcos is right! I don’t even recognize myself anymore!”

This was a cry for help. It’s amazing how much a person can get in your head when you let them. Hakimi went closer, placing his hand on his friend’s shoulder while Kylian looked at the street. He knew that’s all his friend needed for now; silence.

“And then…” his voice trailed off

“Then what?”

Kylian closed his eyes. He imagined her against the wall, her figure in contrast to his. Her skin in contact to his, he made a fist with his hand trying to replicate what it felt like holding her but all he held was emptiness and cold air. Was it poison or just the stinking feeling of alcohol cleaning his wounds? He couldn’t understand.

He turned around to go back to the ‘party’. He wanted to erase every thought, feeling, doubt of the last 20 minutes. Hakimi stepped in front of him to stop him.

“Where are you going?”

“I just need a drink.” He said and moved around him.

PLAY MUSIC ♪

Colorful but dark lights filled the room, smell of smoke and alcohol. Kylian made his way to the bar, passing in between the dancing figures. The room was much more crowded now, everyone was either tipsy or already wasted. Footballers, models, journalists. A dangerous mix. All of them dancing together like they were choreographed.

And she was in the distance, next to her loyal friend Trish and Sergio Ramos. She saw him too their eyes meeting for a split second before she got closer to his teammate, on her tiptoes. He saw her whispering something in his ear, Ramos hand slipping on her lower back, bringing her closer to him just so he’d listen better. He wanted to interrupt, he wanted to get in between them. His eyes glaring at them while every fiber of his being called him to ran to them like she was the ball and she was about to be stolen. The music was like a void in his mind, the room felt like it was getting smaller, trapping him in his thoughts. He made a step forward, he was stopped just as quick. A hand reaching for his. He looked to his side. Hakimi.

“Don’t!” he warned.

A moment later she was exiting the venue with Ramos by her side, whispering something in her ear and Trish on Ramos’s other side. They were leaving together. Why did he care?

He went to the bar, asked for a shot of vodka before asking for the second, the third, before the room started spinning, before Verratti came up to him saying something about taylor and a journalist. He couldn’t follow. Before he danced on the dance floor with a woman he never met in his life. A woman he didn’t have to impress, a woman that was already in awe of him, a woman that reflected his greatness in her eyes and held him like he was gold. Touched him like he was priceless at the back of his car. Kissed him like he was a toy that she’d leave like he was just another number when she was done.

But he wasn’t satisfied by it, he thought he would be but he wasn’t. He was as lonely and as angry with himself as he was before, as he had been for almost a month. And as he laid on the backseats with the random woman on his side, Taylor’s lips still ghosted over his. The picture of seeing her and Ramos together still flickered in his mind. All the things he said to her, echoed in his head and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to throw up by the words he said to her or the alcohol. He thought of all that while He looked at himself on the review mirror, his eyes were so dark, so blank. So unfamiliar to him. What was he turning into?

TAYLOR’S APARTMENT – NIGHT

PLAY MUSIC

Taylor had been silent for the whole ride, while Trish and Sergio flirted like high school kids at the front. She’d always find herself stroking the places that he touched with his skin or his breath. Her wrist, the skin under her eyes. The back of her thumb passed over her lips, the lips that he never kissed but he still somehow managed to make wonder what he’d taste like. She didn’t recognize this feeling, she didn’t like it, it was dangerous.

Trish entered first and went straight to the toilet because as she said she was gonna pee her pants if she didn’t go in.

When she got in the house she sat on her bed and then quickly fell backwards on the sheets, closing her eyes. Then opening them again because every time she closed them all she could see were his black heavy eyes. Trish came out mumbling about something that Taylor couldn’t pay attention in. A few seconds later Trish was sitting on the edge of the bed, slapping her thigh to get her back on earth. Taylor sat up, looking at her friend for some compassion.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?”

She was trying to form sentence but no one coherent thought would come out of her lips. Where would she even start? “I need a drink.”

“We were just at a party!” Trish reminded her, narrowing her eyes “with free drinks.”

“I need like 10 shots of tequila in a bottle of wine this big” she showed it with her hands and got up. Searching in the cupboards for some alcohol. Trish watched confused, wondering why they even left the party if she was just gonna get wasted here.

“Is this allowed in your condition?”

Taylor laughed, then gasped ones she found the bottle she was looking for. She didn’t have glasses so she used the coffee cups on the counter.

“My condition?” she repeated, still laughing. “You know what’s not allowed in my condition? Kylian, he is the absolute worst for my condition.” She opened the wine aggressively. Poured the wine on the cups and drank hers before she even got the other one to Trish. “How-“ she swallowed “how can he be such fucking asshole? And then just-“ she stopped herself, refilling her cup.

Trish raised her eyebrow, almost smiling at her friend “and then what?” she asked. Trish took pride in her talent of picking on energies and tensions. She knew the moment she laid her eyes on them. Taylor drank the second cup in one breath. Trish had to get up and take the bottle from her, then she helped her find her was back on the bed, making her sit on the edge. Taylor looked blankly at her desk.

“then his eyes.” She finally said, dropping her entire body back on the sheets again. “they’re so dark all the time.”

Trish laid next to her, balancing her elbow on the mattress and her head on her hand. “sexy isn’t, it?”

“Shut up.” She said quickly making her laugh. Trish dropped on her back as well, both of them staring at the ceiling.

“I saw the way he looked at you. Just before you threw yourself at Serg.”

Taylor peaked at her, opening her one eye and raising her eyebrow “Serg?”

“Shush! Not the point. Tell me what happened between you two.”

Taylor shook her head slightly, closed her eyes “I’m not sure.” She bit on her lips, the same haunted memory returning in her head. Was he going to kiss her if Marcos didn’t show up? Did she want him to? “But I have a feeling… it’s gonna get worse before it gets better.”

TAYLOR’S APARTMENT – DAY

Taylor woke up by the morning light. Not the alarm. Which was the first thing that made her feel like something was wrong. She lifted her head from the covers, looking around to realize where she was and what day, month, year it was. She reached for her phone.

“FUCK!” She dropped it as soon as she saw the time. Jumped of the bed and looked around the messy room for her clothes, anything that she could wear. She didn’t even check herself in the mirror. She just let her hair down, hoping it wasn’t that bad and put on her sneakers. Trish woke up by the banging and running around, murmuring.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m late.”

“You’re always late its fine.”

“he’s gonna kill me.”

She grabbed her keys and she left.

TRAINING CAMPUS – DAY

“nice of you to show up Seven!” said Marquinhos.

Kylian’s walk was slow, everything in his body hurt. His eyes, his legs, his stomach. Training was the last thing he needed. He ignored Marco’s comment and took of his jacket leaving it on the benches and walked over to the field. He had changed on the car after leaving the girl he spent the night with at her house. He thank god he had a left over uniform there. He started doing his stretching, raising his leg up to his stomach. Verratti walked up to him, doing his stretches next to him.

“You’re not the only one late.”

“What?” Kylian’s mind was too much of a mess to follow or listen.

“Wilock hasn’t showed up yet.”

Kylian’s eyes lifted in worry. His first instinct was look around for Ramos. He caught him on the other side of the field laughing about something with Messi. Wasn’t he the one that drove her home last night? He started running to him, making it look like he was just jogging for training. He stood in between Messi and him, listening to the conversation while he stretched his arms.

Sergio nodded as acknowledgment “you look like shit.” He laughed. Always a bully.

“had a rough night, Amigo?” Leo joked.

Since when were they Amigos? He was tired of pretending everything was fine after the world cup. Sometimes he straight up just wanted to his him in the face- wait, why was he admitting that. He looked up at Sergio, ignoring Messi completely.

“What about you, did you have fun last night?”

Ramos narrowed his eyes. He was confused. He let out a short laugh, shrugging his shoulders “Had some fun, yes.”

Kylian nodded. Suddenly he had no idea what to ask or perhaps how to ask it. Then the whistle was heard in the distance. Marquinhos gathered the entire team in the middle of the field for the beginning of the simulation. This time, team captains were Marquinhos and Leo. Thank God Kylian was on Marcos’s team with Hakimi and Sergio was with Leo. He took a deep breath and put every single one of his thoughts on pause. Although as fate would have it he fought a lot with Sergio to get the ball from him. He’d always end up somehow next to him, drippling and fouling him even.

“Chill down Man!” said Sergio while he got up after what would be the second time that Kylian knocked him down. Kylian mumbled a short apology while he distanced himself from him and continued to play. Taylor still hadn’t showed up.

GALTIER’S OFFICE – DAY

Galtier was reading her notes. He had his glasses on, silence filling the room while he read. She sat across from him. She kept glancing at him, expecting a reaction, anything that would give away if he agreed with her or not. She already felt bad about being late, she didn’t want to get another strike on the same day. Eventually he took of his glances, leaving them on the desk as well as her documents. Taylor gave him a smile when he looked up at her.

“Group therapy? Is this some sort of prank.”

She didn’t answer.

“You want me to put 20 adults in a room for group therapy?”

“Not all of them. Just 3 for starters.”

“Which would be?”

She hesitated “Number 10, 7 and 30.”

Galtier laughed “you want Lionel Messi and Kylian Mbappe to have a couples therapy?” She didn’t answer. Smiling weakly, so she wouldn’t offend him. Was it really funny when your entire team was falling apart because of lack of chemistry? “good god you’re serious.”

“Yes, I’m afraid I am”

“Number 7 and 10 are getting better along.”

“Do they? I mean it doesn’t seem like I wanna kill Kylian every second of everyday but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to-“ she murmured under her breath. Galtier only caught half of what she said. Narrowing his eyes. “Point is!” she said raising her voice “their chemistry on the field it’s still messy and when the big 3 can’t get along your team is bound to fall apart. It’s like you have cliques in your team. Hakimi, Verratti and Mbappé. Messi and Neymar. They need to break out of their comfort zone.”

“And that’s all in your reports as well?”

“Yes sir. You’ll have them tomorrow.”

“Finally.” He mumbled “ok fine, bring me the individual reports and we’ll discuss it again tomorrow. Meanwhile you need to give Julie your personal information for the trip in Doha and Riyadh and be here early tomorrow so we can announce your role to the boys.”

“Hm?” she raised her eyes. She had forgotten about that last part.

“You can start coaching them accordingly.” He explained.

“right. Yes. Of course.”

“Listen to me closely Ms. Wilock. The match against Al Nssr is especially important. You understand why.”

“You have three of the best players in the world and you are scared Ronaldo will kick your ass anyway.” She said before she hadn’t even thought that it might have been inappropriate. She still had her habit of saying exactly what was on her mind with no regret.

“That’s not exactly how I would have worded it Ms. Wilock.” He paused, eyeing her closely “but as long as you get the point.”

She smiled “I do sir.”

OUTSIDE TRAINING AREA / TRAINING CAMPUS – DAY

Taylor watched them playing, trying to avoid Kylian on purpose. She’d look at Sergio or Leo, anything to keep her attention away from the guy that had haunted her last night. She smiled as Marquinhos ran to her when he saw her, holding a football on his one hand.

“You wanna join for the second half?” he asked. She didn’t expect that question, she frowned. “We are almost done. I mean you don’t have to pressure yourself but-“ he took a quick look at the boys and then back at her “my team is losing.”

She laughed, letting down all her bags. “Are you that desperate?”

“Come on” he laughed along with her, smiling. “Fabian just walked out. I’m missing a player.”

“Why do I feel like you have something else planned?”

He shrugged “It’s just 20 minutes. What could happen in 20 minutes?”

She thought about it, crossing her arms. Maybe a quick game was all she needed. “Just because you are my favorite one.”

She took of her jacket, dropping it on a set of chairs and lifted her sweatpants up to her knee. She pulled her hair in quick bun while she walked with him back on the field. She took a quick glance at Kylian, catching the tension in his eyes expecting him to say something but he didn’t. He backed away and stood behind Hakimi instead.

“Hey that’s not fair!” Neymar stepped forward “what’s this?”

“It’s a substitution. Fabian is out, she’s taking his place-“

“Hold on you didn’t say we could have her!” said Ramos, stepping forward as well with a smile on his face “I’d have taken her on our team.”

“Wanna fight for me Ramos?” she asked, smirking.

“Damn right I do!” he answered quickly.

“Merde” Kylian murmured behind his teeth, rolling his eyes. Hakimi saw that and pushed him slightly to move away from the crowd. Taylor took a quick look to see which players were wearing the blue flannels that gave away they were on Marcos’ team. She noticed Kylian was wearing one too. Her eyes stayed on him for a while as he and Hakimi were discussing something. He saw her, nodding to her direction and that gave her somewhat of a relief because it wasn’t a rude nod. It was like he was telling her ‘Let’s just focus on the game’ and she liked that. She wanted that too. So, the game started.

She was there mostly as a midfielder, running and stealing the ball from whoever she could. That earned her a few strikes from the opposite team when she would try to tackle them. But the vibe was different from the first time she played with them. Like she was actually part of the team. Marcos’ team was losing 1-2. And her presence didn’t make a lot of difference at first. She and Kylian would look at each other from time to time but there was zero communication between them.

During the last 5 minutes the ball landed on Kylian’s feet and he ran with it from their end of the field to the others. He was swiftly tackled by Ektike in the middle of the field, who stretched his leg out and kicked the ball away from him. The ball was supposed to go to Messi but Taylor jumped in between stealing the pass for herself. Ramos, as a defender ran towards her but she kicked the ball to the left side of the field to escape all the defenders until she realized how close to the net she was.

She calculated the angle, her mind spinning in insane speed, while she counted the possibilities this could down. She counted the defenders in front of her. There was one possibility that she could take the shot and it would land on the net but it was a risk. She looked up, Kylian was on the middle. She kicked the ball up at Kylian and he dropped on the ground, sliding and kicking it for it to go the net just in between the goalkeeper’s legs. He got up instantly, screaming in happiness for his accomplishment while the rest of his teammates ran to him.

Taylor stood watching them while they all got on top of each other. Laughing and messing around with Kylian. She smiled. She didn’t feel alone, if anything she felt proud while she watched them, these were gonna be her boys no matter what and she came in the sudden realization that it wasn’t a matter of if she’d let go of her blog. There was no chance in the world she could do both things, there was no way she could stand hurting any of them again. She felt a sudden warmth under her eye. It was a tear, rolling down her cheek like a confession. She wiped it away quickly, only then realizing Kylian was coming forward. With an enigmatic expression on his face, she wasn’t sure what she wanted but the closer he’d get the more the memories started coming back. The more she wanted to step away, expecting a wall to be behind her and him trapping her again. Instead he lifted his hand, waited for her to shake it. She hesitated, glancing between his hand and his eyes before finally holding it. The skin to skin contact, lingering a little longer. Suddenly she was back at the roof holding his hand, or in the bathrooms the first day when he grabbed her arm, or last night when he held her wrist. But all these memories and all the bitterness seemed to be replaced by the sweetness and honesty of this moment. Looking in each other’s eye, shaking each other’s hands. Perhaps for a little too long while she tried to decipher the look in his eyes until Verratti came and called him to get back on the game.

Their hands slipping away from each other.

She was swept off her feet by behind by someone. She twisted her head to see who it was, her expression softening when she saw Neymar. He let her down and she turned around, hugging him from his neck. “I’m sorry for that.” She mumbled in his chest.

“Hate it when you play for the other team.” He said, pulling back a little and she looked in his eyes. That’s not what she was apologizing for.

“never again.” She smiled and they both ran back on the field for the last few minutes of the match.

LOCKER ROOMS HALLWAY – LATER

Taylor was so sweaty, all she wanted to do was go back home and have the warmest most chilling shower she could. And she was so tired, her headache getting worse by the minute.

She made a turn to the room with the spare clothes. Puffing and blowing out air from her chest, while she rubbed her temple, feeling the sweat coming from her hair on her hand. When she entered the room she stopped on her tracks. Kylian. Naked from the waist up.

“Sorry-“ she said quickly, closing her eyes and turning on her heel to leave.

“No, no. I’m done.” He said, putting on his shirt and walking to the exit. Taylor turned around again, not knowing that he’d be behind her now and knocking on him with a jolt. She stepped back quickly, her hands barely brushing on his chest. She moved away just as fast, looking at the closets for a spare shirt. He observed her while she tried to choose a shirt that probably fit her. He knew she wasn’t going to talk to him, so he contemplated leaving. He even turned around, ready to leave her alone but it was eating him alive. So, he maneuvered back to her.

“Thanks for earlier. That was a good pass.”

“hm” she said coldly. Picking out a shirt. He hated this coldness from her, he liked it more when she talked back at him or yelled. This was unfamiliar.

“I really didn’t think you’d do it.”

She looked at him when she headed for the exit. He stood on entrance so she was basically forced to acknowledge him. “That’s the difference between you and me, Kylian. You wouldn’t take the shot. I don’t let my personal issues get in the way of my game. Ever.”

He nodded, twisting his mouth and pursing his lips together. He looked at the floor. “Still part of you must have hit it because you hoped it would get on my face.” He tried to lighten the mood but all he got was a sigh and a roll of her eyes. She went around him to leave, he lifted his hand to hold her arm but he stopped midway, pulling his hand back before he touched her. “I’m sorry for last night.” That seemed to stop her. She stood in the empty hallways, examining him. There she was again, making him feel like the smallest person in the world. He couldn’t stand it and the urge to fight her again was coming back but he tried to ignore it by looking away- he failed. “Why you gotta keep doing that?” he snapped, finally asking her straightforward. But she wasn’t sure what she was doing. So, she knitted her eyebrows. And he motioned at her with his hand “Your eyes. You have this look like you are judging everything all the time. It’s frustrating.” She snorted, shaking her head. “Even now im trying to apologize and you’re always just-“

“Just what Kylian?” she asked, topping his voice and walking back to him “what do you expect? An apology is enough after all the shit you’ve put me through ever since I got here?” She stood under him. Her eyes bored into him. Reminding him his flaws, his shortcomings.

“Don’t do that…” he warned in a whisper, looking down at her. How was she the smaller of the two but he always felt falling short around her. He diverted his gaze at the walls, shielding his lips, biting them even. The familiar anger, only she could bring out, was rising. Burning his insides, he was trying so hard not to snap at her again, not to touch her. He had to lay against the doorframe, hold his hands in fists and keep them against the wall just to make sure he wouldn’t grab her again.

“Is that why you were so angry last night?” she asked, searching for his eyes “you couldn’t pretend anymore that I’m just a silly journalist.” She laughed bitterly “it dawned on you that maybe everything I’ve said to you until now, is true. You hate it, don’t you?” she asked the last question in a whisper, bitter voice “You could hide from it while you thought I was a high school player.” His eyes found hers and he saw that they were more brutal than ever. Like she actually hated him. Almost like she was trying to provoke him, see how far she could get him before he returned to his old ways. Like she wanted him to beg for mercy. She stepped closer, tilting her head upward “Can’t hide anymore”

“Defiantly not a high school player.” He agreed but even that came out in a disrespectful way “because you know exactly what you are doing in the field and out of it.” He leaned down, she stepped back and he stepped forward “you know exactly what you are doing to me.” She snorted again, awkwardly, twisting her head away from him. Making another step backwards, only so he’d make another forward “who’s hiding now?”

“Still as delusional as last night.”

“tell that to yourself a couple of times you might believe it” She reached the other side of the door. Her back bumping on it while Kylian kept his eyes as piercing as always. Suddenly he felt himself getting taller. She licked her back teeth her tongue, clenching her jaw. He raised his hands to remind her that he wasn’t touching her, that she could leave if she wanted to. “But I think I have some power over you as well after all.”

“Wouldn’t that make you feel better about yourself?”

“Nothing about you makes me feel better about myself” he spat, drawing closer “that’s the problem.” He confessed “if anything all I see when I look at you is everything I hate about myself—” he leaned down, his face hovering over hers “and I can’t understand if you’re doing it on purpose but it’s eating me alive.” his hands remained in distance but he still managed to shield her by holding on the walls “my failures, the pressure, the anticipation—” he lowered his head even more and for a moment he allows himself to believe that he can have her, he looked at her lips “I always seem to do the wrong thing, say the unforgivable because you push me to my limit without even trying.” Their thighs were touching now, he liked the contact “and I’m always torn between hating you for it and…” his voice trailed off. His last confession falling short. “Parfois, tout ce que je veux, c’est te serrer dans mes bras et te montrer à quel point je peux être bon. Parce qu’aucune femme, dans ma vie, ne m’a jamais fait ressentir ça.”

She had her eyes on him the entire time. The language barrier wasn’t as tall anymore. She had no idea what his words were but somehow, she understood exactly what she wanted to say and her mouth getting drier, the closer that he’d get to her. Realizing that he had shield her again, noticing the darkness in his eyes again. She shook her head, slowly, keeping her face down, to make sure he had no access to her lips. His breathing would fall on her ear now, warming it, because he was that close. “It’s not happening Kylian.”

“Why not?” he said in her ear.

Oh how weak his voice on her ear made her. How many shivers it sent on her entire body. Oh, how she hated it and loved it all the same. She tightened her entire expression, keep her head high but turned at the right side. That way he couldn’t really see her eyes. Not that he cared because all he was looking at was her neck.

And she wanted to tell him: cause I’m your coach, cause I’m JW and I really am the worst liar in the world. Because I would be risking everything just by looking at you the way that you are looking at me. But she didn’t and he leaned even closer, so much so that she could sense his lips moving against her ear. So much so that she had to remind herself repeatedly why this tension should remain unresolved. But a twisted part of her still wanted to touch him, kiss him.

“I couldn’t stand seeing you with Ramos last night” he admitted. “Same way I can’t stand when you analyze my playing, reminding me every time that I’m not good enough.” His lips brushed on her ear; her hair stuck on his lips. She straightened her head, their eyes meeting. Kylian leaned closer, waiting for permission. Their lips so close he could taste it.

“No because…” she whispered. He looked in her eyes. This was it. She’d either say it now or he’d find out with everyone else in the morning. She could be honest, first time that would happen between them, but she could do it. Kylian frowned waiting for her to continue.

Voices laughing coming from a distance in combination with fast steps let them know that the whole team was coming downstairs. They pulled away from each other automatically.

Taylor left before they could see her, sneaking into one of the bathroom stalls and locking the door. She lowered her entire body, holding on her face. “Fuck” she whispered. This was only the beginning of the day and she was scared to face the rest. She wasn’t one to let in her impulsive thinking, she always planned everything ahead. She learned the hard way that things don’t work out the way you want to and you must always have a back up plan but she was out of back up plans.

INSIDE GYM / TRAINING CAMPUS – AFTERNOON

Kylian hid on the gym. He wanted to distract himself, he wanted to stop thinking about her despite the spell that she had casted on him. Verratti came in, calling for him.

“Just hanged up with Ann. She says she’s looking into it.”

Kylian looked at Verratti while running on the treadmill, giving him the same confusing look, he gave him in the morning.

“Who’s Ann?”

“Man were you even listening to me last night?”

“I wasn’t listening to anything last night.”

“she’s a journalist. Says she can find dirt on Wilock.”

“Wait- what?” Kylian pressed the button to stop the thread mill getting down so he wouldn’t fall “you got a journalist into this?”

“Yeah man. She already got some nice information. You told me to go ahead with it, did you forget?”

Kylian closed his eyes trying to remember, he rubbed his forehead. He was surprised by his own Insolence. “She keeps saying she has a theory but she isn’t sure yet--”

“Let it go man!” he said calmly

“What?”

“Just let it go.” He repeated and reached down for his water bottle. “she’ll be gone in a week.”

“I mean it’s a already done now!”

Kylian eyed him. Shaking his head “why would you bring someone else into this? you might get us in trouble.” He asked.

“she’s a friend-”

“She’s a journalist. She’ll sacrifice your friendship for a headline in seconds.”

“She won’t do anything. She says she can dig shit up about JW as well. Kylian, you agreed to do this! What has gotten into you now?”

“I didn’t know what I was agreeing to last night, alright?” he huffed, breathing out curse words in anger “just don’t get me mixed up in this shit-” he grabbed his gym bag and his water bottle. Leaving.

The two kept looking at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking. Taylor was stealing glances at him while also trying to write her speech for the next day. Drawing over all the sentences she’d start because nothing was good enough. She didn’t even know where to start. The truth about JW or being their coach. Everything seemed wrong like she had betrayed them in the worst way and yet she didn’t want to apologize. Why would she apologize for doing her job as a journalist? She closed her eyes. Ones again lining over what she had written.

Kylian was taking a look whenever he could. The things Verratti had told him in combination of their little moment in the halls were brewing in his mind. He wanted to warn her for some reason, maybe because he knew that if anything bad happened, she was gonna blame it on him. Or maybe because he cared. He could feel her staring sometimes, her eyes practically scanning him but whenever he’d look at her, she’d look away in an instant. He’d notice her expression of lust for a couple short seconds.

Before she left, she came to speak to Marquinhos. At the point he and a few other members of the team were sitting in a circle on the field taking a break. Kimpembe, who was on her team during the game, started clapping.

“Wanna go another round?” he asked, laughing.

She dropped her head, shaking it “wouldn’t last playing another game with you.”

“Ky should be grateful; you saved that one.” Ektike said, being the one that almost ruined Kylian’s shot in the first place. Kylian was sitting with knees close to his chest and his arms laid on his knee bones, playing with a piece of grass in between his fingers. He tried to pretend like he focused with that, not answering to his comment. Taylor looked at him from the corner of her eye, smiling weekly at Ektike’s comment.

“He thanked me enough, don’t worry” she noted “in his way.” Kylian lifted his head to see her. He bit his lips so he wouldn’t smile. He didn’t expect it but she had a teasing grin on her face. “Marcos, can I speak with you for a second?”

“Sure!”

Marcos got up, dusting off the grass from his uniform as he stood. They walked away together, whispering in the distance about something. She looked worried and he looked like he was motivating her, rubbing her shoulder. Kylian stood up, copying Marcos’ movements and dusting away the grass. He started walking over to them, deciding that he wanted to tell Taylor the truth but they were done with their conversation before he could get to them. Taylor went towards the exit while Marquinhos was walking to Kylian’s direction.

“Where’d you think you’re going?”

“I need to speak to her.”

“No, you don’t. You need to finish your training; you have an hour left.”

“It will only take 5 seconds.”

“It never takes only 5 seconds with you. Back on the field now!”

Kylian couldn’t argue. He had already one strike too many with Marquinhos. He backed away, the frustration returning in his mind.

He was doing the exercise of Tiki-Taka with Hakimi, Ramos, Messi, Kimpembe and Neymar. Kylian was in the middle trying to get control of the ball while the others passed it around each other. He was getting tired and not enjoying it while the others seemed to take pleasure in his struggle. Especially Ramos, he was having a great laugh watching him suffer. He had been trying to for a while, his mind unable to focus when he almost had it but then he was pushed on the ground. Falling on his side. It was Ramos that pushed him. It was a gesture that otherwise he would have laughed away in good spirit. They always teased each other. But not today. He got up, getting in Ramos’ face-

“je vais te frapper au visage!” he said in a gruff voice. Ramos was still laughing, giving him a light push like he thought Kylian was messing around. The moment he touched his shoulder, Kylian slapped his hand off. That seemed to alarm Ramos, whose expression darkened and made a step closer to Kylian.

“What’s your deal man?”

“J'ai un problème avec ton visage!”

Ramos lowered his eyebrows “calm down kid—”

Hakimi launched himself forward and in between them to separate them. He pushed Kylian back while he pointed at Ramos like he was warning him “Call me kid one more time!” he yelled. Hakimi shushed him, pushing him on the other end of the field and holding both of his shoulders to keep him still. Marquinhos had seen what happened and was already at Ramos’ side, listening to their side of the story. Kylian knew he was done for, so he moved away and left practice.

When he went on the locker rooms, he found Verratti texting in his phone. Verratti’s eyes landed on him, a smirk on his lips.

“Did you know she played in Chelsea?”

Kylian didn’t sit around to hear more. He left, grabbing his bag and going to find her.

TAYLOR’S APARTMENT / BATHROOM – NIGHT

“Dad says she’s getting bigger.” Taylor yelled from inside the shower. The blue thin curtain separated her from Trish, who was doing her make up on the mirror above the sink.

“What did you expect? She’d stay 4, forever?”

“It’s still weird.” She mumbled “makes me feel older every year on her birthday.”

“That’s because you are actually getting older.” Said Trish while pouting her lips to put her lipstick on. Taylor pushed the curtain, opening it slightly for a second to throw water at her. Trish screamed and jumped, backing away “Goddamn you woman!” she yelled. “if you ruin my dress, I’m stealing yours.” She said and left the bathroom.

Trish started picking her last stuff to put on her bag. Taylor opened the curtain and covered herself with on of her white towels. And picked her hair up with another pink towel. She came out of the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe. She watched her friend getting ready, smiling.

“This reminds me of high school.”

Trish snorted, sitting on the bed and putting her shoes on. “some thing’s never change. No matter how hard I try to. You’re still letting me go to parties alone.”

“Ramos will be there. You’ll be fine.” She sang “You know I’d come if it wasn’t for work. Just be careful.”

“I will.” She sat up, making a spin around herself to show her friend her outfit. “How do I look?”

“Beautiful.”

Trish clapped and walked over to Taylor, placing her hand on her cheek. “You sure you’re gonna be, ok?”

“Gotta starts getting used to these lonely nights, no matter how much I miss you. Dad. Lily.” She smiled “I’ll be fine. But try not to have too much without me.”

“Can’t make any promises” Trish kissed her cheek and grabbed her jacket from the hanger behind the door. “don’t wait up for me. Love you.”

“Love you too” said taylor but she was already out of the door. A silent meow was heard coming from the floor. Taylor looked down only to find Luna pouring in front of her feet, head bumping her while pleading for food. “Gimmie a minute to change angel.” She said and walked back to the bathroom. She released her hair from the towel, her we strand falling on her shoulders, freezing her skin. She patted them with the towel, trying to dry them as much as she could before she used the drier.

Until there was a knock on the door.

She looked at the direction of the bedroom/living room.

She went to open the door. Her hand holding on the doorknob.

She turned it.

Opened it.

“Kylian?”

She didn’t have time to ask what he was doing here because he barged in. Talking about something she couldn’t understand. Like he was trying to warn her. She was trying to catch up with what he was saying but the shock of seeing him there in the first place in combination with the fact that she was naked under the towel made her freeze.

“…I just want you to know that if shit happens, I had nothing to do with it—”

“Kylian!” she tried but he kept going, mumbling something about Verratti and a journalist.

“He told half the team about it—” She looked around for her robe but she found it at her bed. And Kylian was standing in front of it, so that was not an option. He hadn’t even looked at her since he barged in. “She’s brutal taylor—”

“KYLLIAN!” She yelled, holding on the towel over her chest “What on earth are you talking about?” she questioned raising her voice. He finally turned his eyes on her, finally taking in her figure, finally realizing. His mouth fell shut, his mind going blank, he forgot why he was there in the first place. His eyes settled on her bare shoulders. They were slightly covered by her long hair. Not enough to keep him from wanting to touch them. She held on tighter on the towel, feeling his gaze deepening.

They locked eyes with each other, neither of them saying a thing.

PLAY MUSIC

He should have left, just as quick as he came in. he didn’t.

She should have told him to leave. Yelled at him even. She didn’t.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked.

That reminded him. He was here to tell her about Verratti. But that could wait until the morning.

There was a sort of silence that was loud enough for both, like it was saying everything for them while they looked at each other. Speechless. That was a first.

“Oh Kylian” she sighed, but it was more of a beg. She wasn’t sure what she was begging for but she was begging for something. She closed her eyes, leaning her back against the wall, like she was giving in to something. She couldn’t see him but she could feel him getting closer. His shadow covering her whole. She refused to look at him because she knew she’d be met with those dark eyes. His dark haunting beautiful lies that could see right through her. Just like earlier in the morning, every memory she had with him flashed before her eyes, including their moment in the hallways. They had left something unfinished. Twice now they had done that.

‘Dangerous territory’ is what Hakimi had called it. That was an understatement, thought Kylian.

She bit on her tongue, leaning her head on the wall, looking down her eyes still closed. Why was he coming closer? More importantly Why wasn’t she stopping him?

He lifted his hand, his fingers grazing over her bare skin, begging to touch her. But he was holding himself back, as much as he was struggling. He made a fist with his hand trying to keep his fingers away from her skin. He looked away, moving his fist slightly against the air.

“Verratti knows about Chelsea. He knows about the incident and you condition. Maybe more…” He whispered. It was all he could explain for now, in the few words that he was left with. Because his mind was a tangled mess. She opened her eyes, realizing how close he was now. She looked up at him.

“That’s why you’re here?” she asked.

“Yeah.” he spoke, twisting his tongue “that’s why I came.”

But the reason he wanted to stay was different. She nodded. He was supposed to leave now. Open the door and go back down to his car. Yet he couldn’t move, it was like she had him tied there and he couldn’t do anything without her permission. He stared in her eyes, tightening his jaw.

“tell me to leave.”

Now that was a beg if there ever was one. She saw it in his posture, in his eyes. Heard it in his tone, his breath, his heartbeat.

“Please god tell me to leave.”

She thought her mouth and throat had gone completely dry; her lips were stuck together. She couldn’t speak.

He stepped forward. Realizing his fingers again towards her shoulders. She watched them, it was easier than looking in his eyes. She didn’t stop him when they got closer, she didn’t stop him when they bruised her skin while pushing her hair away. She took a deep breath in, giving in the tension. Dangerous indeed.

She never said it, so he never left.

He leaned in, lower and lower until their lips were so close to each other there was only one way to go and that was closer. They don’t know who initiated it. They both like to believe it was the other person because that was, they could blame them for the chaos that it would create.

Did it really matter who started it when she was the one pulling him closer by holding his shirt on her fists. Or he was the one gripping her lower back like that. Pleading for access in her mouth. Did the day after matter when she tasted him whole or her hands reached under his shirt, lifting it off him and throwing it on the other end of the room? Did it matter when his hands pulled her up on his arms and allowed her to wrap her legs around his waist, only so he’d drop her on the bed and hover over her a minute later? Did it matter when they looked in each other’s eyes like they knew they were about to taste the drug that would destroy them?

No, it didn’t.

Or if it did. It didn’t.

Cause when he kissed her neck, she gave in. and when he uncovered her body by untangling her towel, he went weak. Was it hate? Is that why hit bit on her skin, just to hear her whimpers? Was it something else? That made her rushing hands reach for his zipper and open it while he left kisses in between her breasts.

She cupped his face, forcing him to look in her eyes again before she became his for the night. In any way a person can be given to another.

GALTIER’S OFFICE – NEXT DAY

When she woke up, he wasn’t there. He was kind enough to leave a note, saying he’ll see her on training. She didn’t think much about it, maybe it was better this way. She got ready, same way she did every day. Mostly pretending like nothing had happened at all.

She packed the reports she had on her bag and she headed for the campus. First stop it was Galtier’s office. She didn’t let herself freak out, she waited to see him first.

She gave Galtier the folder with all the reports. He looked at all of them quickly at first, one by one. Marquinhos stood by her while she watched Galtier, her mind constantly running back to the night before.

“that’s all very nice” said Galtier, Taylor smiled. It was all she could do for now. Everything seemed to be going fine for the time being.

“But there is one missing.”

Her eyes widened; she went pale. She hoped to God she wouldn’t hear his name or his number.

“What about number seven?"

READ CHAPTER 6.1 HERE

did it i leave out details from their night on purpose because we will see more on the next chapter? Yes i did. Did i also cut the scene so you won't know what happened to that goddamn report? Of course i did. Am i proud of myself for creating chaos. Yes i am 🤭 is Taylor about to create chaos in the next chapter too? ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY. Y'all wanted to see her take the lead, step on her villain era and istg that woman is about to burn the entire campus down, and I'll write it while sipping tea ✨ now i want a favor, if you are gonna send as many messages as you did for me to post this chapter, please be decent enough to comment on it, lmk if you still like it because my self-consciousness is driving me INSANE. I love y'all to the moon and back! Dedicating this chapter to my war friend .

#mbappe imagines #kylian mbappe #mbappé #mbappe #mbappe x reader #football imagine #football writing #football requests #neymar one shot #neymar imagines #neymar x reader #sergio ramos #ramos x reader

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jessysapphireblue · 8 months

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He is your WHAT?! Luffy x Oc

Nicknames include Lu and Je but nothing else. A female magician you can use with your name, since nothing else is mentioned. ALSO! A dragon comes in as her familiar with the name Soma. Also post wano

The Land of Wano was now two days behind you and everyone was quite happy with some calm and relaxing days. You kept your boyfriend busy with large bubbles, similar to the ones at Sabaody, Usopp and Chopper joining in.

You left them to rest next to Zoro, who was napping against the railing. You head slightly bend behindto stretch yourself as you felt a presence under water, which quickly came near. "Zoro, you feel that?", you asked the swordsman who stood up. "Yes. And it's something big", he added as a big shake came over the sunny. "What was that?!", shouted Franky as Jinbe steadied the sunny.

Water rose directly by Zoro and you, making Chopper and Usopp scream, hugging each other. Sanji also came out to look what the commotion is about, as the ship went deadly silent.

"DRAGON!!!!", everybody screamed as a big dragon stood there, shining in prismatic colors as the sun Hit it, and in its mouth was a dead sea King. "SANJI! FOOD!!! DRAGON MEAT!", Luffy shouted exited and Zoro smirked evily. "Never had the chance for it", said Sanji as you stood in front of the dragon. "If anyone of you Hit Soma, I will never speak to you again", you said quite serious.

"...Soma?", all asked. "Why, yes. This is Soma. He's my...pet" "PET?!!! THIS THING?!", Usopp shouted. "He's bigger than Kaido", admitted Zoro. Soma dropped the Sea King into the water and lowered his snout to you, as you pet him.

"Yes, hello my Baby. All ok?", you smiled softly at him. "Baby?! This Monster is nowhere near a Baby!!!", screeched Nami. "He's only two, Nami...and he got us the Sea King as a gift" "SEA KIND MEAT!!!! SANJI!!!" "Yeah yeah..." "He looks so cute. And he's bigger than the ones at Punk Hazard", admitted Robin, who now, joined your side. "Oh, you can Touch him if you want. He's...dolcile", you chuckled and Robin indeed touched him. "YOHOHOHOHO!!! I never thought a dragon could be this tame" "SUPER DRAGON!!!", Franky posed as Chopper came forth. "...why is he calling you Mama?", the cute reindeer looked at you. "Ahahaha...ehm. I met Soma when he was just a couple of months old and we directly clicked"

"Has anyone seen Luffy?", asked Jinbe as "FLY! FLY SOMA FLY!!! INTO THE SKY!!!", Luffy was already on his back, laughing. "Je, join!!!", he beamed before stretching his arms all around you, Pulling you into the dragon. "Soma, a quick round", you said and he sproud his wings. The sunny looks so small compared to them and with one heavy flap, he zoomed high up, past the clouds, your boyfriend cheering. "And?!", you shouted. "Je, this is amazing! You also, Soma!!" A loud growl came from Soma, making your evey widen. "Lu, hold on tight!", you said and in the next second, your dragon dived down at full speed.

The only Sound you heard was your exiting boyfriend before Soma stopped directly over the water, showing the reflextion, his claws gliding over the water, as he came to an halt by the sunny. "Wohooo!!! Amazing!" "Lu, your hair!", you began to laugh loudly at his wild wind-blown hair.

Back on the Sunny, you moved your Finger as Soma shrinked, perfect to the size to lay comfy around your neck. "You can shrink him?", asked Jinbe. "Because he's my familiar", you hummed, scratching his shimmering scales. "Fa-wha?", Lu poked his snout. "Familiar. We made a...soul bond. When I die, so does he, when I'm hurt he also gets hurt, and so on. I can also understand him", you admitted. "So, what kind of dragon is he?", asked Sanji and came closer to inspect him. "A spectal dragon. When light shines on him, he's like a prism. When he gets older, his flame will get the same color, and if what I read is correct...let me say it like this! Onigashima be melting down", you laughed.

"Where were you?! You could've helped us so much!"whined Usopp. "I'd only call him if the Situation would be live-threaten, Usopp...beides...He would swoop in just like that" "And what does he eat?" Asked franky. "Meat, fish, berries...everything raw. But mostly big animals...like the sea Kings and Dinosaurs" "Oh god" "Ah, no worry Sanji! Soma gets his food alone" "Je, you are incredible!" Lu hugged you close, kissing you. "Soma, you too! We're gonna have so much fun together!!!"

"Oh, no doubt about that", you laughed and saw how Soma sat himself on your boyfriends' straw hat before they talked, walking away

A picture compared to the sunny and soma 😁

#luffy #luffy x oc #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #monkey d. luffy #one piece #straw hat luffy #straw hat pirates #anime and manga #dragon #pet dragon #strawhats #straw hat crew

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 1 month

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Hey, Michelle! I'm a night owl, which is why I'm still up at 1 a.m. 🦉

I have a question for you, and it may be a tough one considering how many awesome stories you've written, but...

Which story are you most proud of? If it's easier, one series, one one-shot. 😆💕

I'm a night owl too! Which is why it's so unfortunate I have to start my workday at 7am 😂

Stories I'm most proud of, hm? Well that is definitely not the easiest question, especially considering the volume of them! So I'm going to cheat juuuuust a little bit and keep the list to under 10 (you may want coffee, wine and/or snacks cause this turned into a novel):

The Daughter!Reader Fic With More Timestamps Than Parts (😂)

Probably the one series I'm most proud of because of the impact it's had on my readers is A Place to Call Home (or APTCH as it's been affectionately dubbed around here). And it's a funny little story to me to have that special designation because it really shouldn't be so popular. It's a Jensen x foster daughter!reader story which is so niche in the first place. I don't really read daughter!reader stories myself so I really have no idea why I wanted to write this one. I held onto it for almost a year after it was written because I thought I'd get such a negative reaction to it for being weird, disrespectful, you name it. Yet, it's turned into this never-ending saga that I get told over and over is one thing: comforting. It's such a simple story, a girl who needs a family but has been so hurt she's given up on the idea of one and a man who will do whatever it takes to show her she's worthy of love. And it's that story over time from a scared 17 year old high school kid to a young woman falling in love, figuring out her own career, navigating her own family, her own adulthood and how overtime that relationship with Jensen grows and changes as it does for all of us with parents as we grow up. Having people who were actually in foster care/were adopted/are foster/adoptive parents themselves reach out and say it captures a lot of those real life feelings and desires is still probably the best compliment I've ever gotten. For every situation there is, good or bad, I've been told it's a pick me up by so many and for that I will always be proud of this one.

The Canon-esque, "Hey this is like a post-show movie"

Staying in canon is fun. Staying in canon at a point beyond the show? That's even more fun for me. Beautiful Loser was really my first crack at, "hey what could a post series finale pickup look like?" Bring in some kids, bring in good ole fashioned hunter paranoia, bring in a creepy little kid...this one felt like writing an episode of SPN and I'm SOOO happy with how it turned out! The lore, the ups and downs, damn it still gets me.

The Arranged Marriage Political Thriller

I mean, Unconventional originally was supposed to be a fun little ABO quirky arranged marriage story and then...then it became "this idea of being lesser is the shit women have to deal with even in the real world". I didn't intend to write that story but it ended up going there and I'm incredibly proud of the message it puts out there that change is hard, change requires sacrifice sometimes, but not everyone is bad and if you fight for it, sometimes you can make a real difference.

The Fast Paced Detective Story

39 Hours was the first story I ever wrote based on the aesthetic and one of the first cop!Dean stories I did. I wrote it like a good thriller mystery. The clock is ticking down faster and faster. The protector is a grump with maybe a soft side? The victim isn't weak and some threat is looming in the air. This was such a departure for me to write a long condensed story like this too but it broke open that avenue for me and I still consider this one of my favorite stories I've done.

The Body Issues One

It's such a trope of women having body issues but what about if the guy had them too? Because we know they do they do, they just talk about it so much. And we all always call Jensen that male model SOB so a model Dean was faaar too tempting. Now give the reader some physical scars from an accident Dean's own dad caused, a father who's disowned Dean for his career choice...we've got two people who very much seem themselves as broken yet can't see it in one another. This was a heavy topic on a lot of fronts to work in Broken Like Me but I'm really happy with the messaging that comes through.

The Jensen Shower Pics Inspired One

Thank god for Jensen Ackles cause this one wouldn't have existed without those shirtless late night pics. ABO has always been an interesting world I like to push the boundaries of but this was my first real attempt at going big, adding my own rules and boundaries. Coming up with the new science, adding the mystery elements, adding that growing sexual tension...yeah Feral is my favorite ABO story I've ever done hands down.

The Best RPF I'll Ever Write

RPF isn't for everyone but if you only ever read one by me, it's got to be If I Fell For You by a landslide. A Jensen x nanny!reader fic can be, let's just say, really easy to screw up. They can go down routes I don't like to go. But this story deals with so many themes that are worthwhile. Grief. Loss. Learning to love again. Parental love and when it's lacking. Forgiveness and pain. It hurts so good is the best way to put this one. And the safety net analogy I came up with in Part 4 is something I'm particularly proud of.

Making You Forgive The Asshole

I know you in particular will understand this Zep but writing a redemption story for Soldier Boy is fucking hard. It's really easy to watch the show and go he's awful but he's so cute, he can do whatever he wants. Throw in an actual reader and suddenly him being walking sin ain't gonna cut it. Writing character growth realistically can be hard. It can be ever harder when we got like a grand total of 15 mins of screen time with that character. I was nervous as hell to write Thunder In Our Hearts quite honestly. So when I got the reaction that I didn't screw it up felt so, so good. Now I can't wait to do it again with The Villain's Protector! 😉

I'm quite proud of myself for narrowing this down to 8 fics lol. There are many more I could list but these are the big hitters! And thank you for the trip down memory lane! 🥰

#fic rec #spn #supernatural #the boys

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deathsbestgirl · 2 months

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like i just love skeptic mulder & believer scully. they are SO important to me.

mulder wants to believe, scully is afraid to believe but she does. mulder is so skeptical and fights everyday to believe. i think about quagmire and how he wanted something tangible. i think about endgame and how he was struggling to hold onto his quest, and running off without telling scully & endangering himself...he at least found his faith to keep looking. he has always wanted proof, but he wanted to believe so badly he took every single person at their word and believed the things he saw and scully reminded him about the kind of proof they need. and its like in the pilot — scully believed because of dirt. she still wanted more proof, but it was enough for her believe that something crazy was going on — and mulder is the one to bring her back down to earth.

scully took her skeptic role very seriously after that. deep throat solidified it because he would even believe high teenagers. and she learned how much he needed back up because he will go to extreme lengths to find proof. so she makes it her job to prove anything she can — and it excites scully so much. in squeeze, not only does she solidly place herself on the victims' side, on mulder's side...they found a liver eating human mutant!!

i also find it extremely interesting that in miracle man (the first religious episode?) that scully is not taken in by samuel, but mulder is. this is months after conduit where he cries in a church of a god he doesn't believe in, but i think he wants to believe in god too. but believing in an all powerful god who lets these horrible things happen (but doesn't that ignore free will?) is too much for him. i think the one thing mulder truly believes in is the good of humanity. he tries to understand the worst people and when all he finds is evil, he writes them off completely (boggs, roche). (and someone like gerry schnauz, a schizophrenic man, he believes gerry thinks he's helping the women he lobotomizes & kills.) and he didn't believe samuel because of god or religion, but mulder believed him to be psychic. scully spent this entire episode concerned about mulder, which she often is. not because he's believing, but because she ~knows what drives him and she knows how he can get lost in cases that remind him of samantha.

scully's number one job is mulder's protector. she tries to make it safe for him to believe and seek the truth. she does that with science & facts, finding the proof...and following him any & everywhere.

anyway. they can both be hypocrites but it's often out of fear and the discomfort of stepping outside of their roles. they are roles they play and strengthen their relationship. but it also makes it difficult until they figure out how to be flexible. to allow space for their ranges in belief & skepticism. allowing the other to change them and understanding it won't ruin their partnership, or their work.

like kae said, scully learns from mulder. she's always learning. but so is mulder. it's also what makes season six so great. they're constantly confronting it and by the time all things comes around, mulder can believe scully talks to god even if he doesn't believe in god and even if that isn't how scully understood it. wherever that vision came from, she let it help her save daniel and validate her choices, understanding what she wanted and how all of her choices lead her there. finally knowing it's exactly what she wants, she's not the girl she used to be and she can find relief & happiness in that. like she tells him in je souhaite.

it's just really beautiful to me. sometimes scully's still afraid to believe but she does it. because mulder gives her courage. and sometimes mulder still struggles to believe, but scully always gives him the space & safety to find his way back to it.

#this is very possibly nonsense #and i may have said this before but #I JUST LOVE THEM #like. they were just so made for each other #their entire lives got them ready for the other #and then they made sure they got there #even when they didn't know it yet #mine

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9800sblog · 7 months

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Hi Jes! Have u done something like "what ateez like better, someone cute or someone on the sexier side?" reading?

if u haven't yet, i hope u could do one : ))

thanks in advance ❤️

-🍭

ateez tarot reading

sexy or cute partner

answers are based on tarot and energy interpretation, it's a bit confusing to interpret because they don't talk about these things openly, so don't take it too seriously and don't yell at me if you don't believe in it!

these are vibes for the 27 of september of 2023, opinions may and probably will change in the future but I looked into their birth charts as well to confirm and guide my interpretations with more precision.

most of the cards fell reversed + they're on a break after a heavy schedule, most of them spending time with family and friends, they're mostly in a cuter, more innocent vibe these days, wanting someone to bring home and that will take care of them when they're tired. I can see them wishing someone sexier when their schedules are hectic because they have less free time, sex can be quick but relaxing enough for limited alone time, you don't have to think too much (not that any of them seem interested in casual sex, I often ask when questions are related to relationships and what they prefer in a partner and they always say they don't even wanna try that).

seonghwa

temperance reversed, 7 of wands reversed, 5 of cups reversed

definitely cuter in public, with just a hint of sexy. he thinks it's pretty and interesting, but he's the jealous type so don't be provocative but don't be too conservative.

hongjoong

king of cups reversed, high priestess reversed, 7 of cups, the moon reversed

doesn't feel confident to respond, he may not have enough experience with the question and/or thinks it doesn't matter when you're really in love. but he leans towards someone who is open about their obscurities, naturally more provocative.

yunho

5 of wands reversed, page of pentacles reversed, knight of cups reversed, the sun reversed

he definitely prefers a sexier type, but he is a very jealous man, he needs someone who is considerate and has self control. someone who is considered a sex icon by many would not work with him (basically any celebrity)

yeosang

knight of wands, 9 of wands, death reversed, 4 of pentacles

he wants someone super naturally sexy, drop dead gorgeous, but he's also a super possessive man. his answer is conflicting, but I'd lean towards a sexier partner as long as the entire world knows they're his.

san

6 of wands, the chariot reversed, 3 of pentacles, page of wands reversed

definitely a cuter type but he might like someone that follows his lead, who's able to adapt and do the same things but with a totally different vibe depending on how he feels.

mingi

5 of cups, temperance, 7 of wands, 5 of pentacles reversed, 7 of swords reversed

someone with equal amounts of both. but he is (another) very jealous man, so he'd prefer someone with lots of self control, who's more cute and innocent in public in a very deceiving way, like most people couldn't imagine the things they do and think.

wooyoung

3 of pentacles reversed, 6 of wands, king of cups, the chariot

sexier, powerful, influential, someone who is not on the same level as others, that he can show off, subjected to envious eyes, maybe someone like him who works with their image, a sex icon. but also adaptable, wooyoung is a family man afted all and he needs someone that knows when it's appropriate or not (a+ for the confidence! least jealous man in ateez)

jongho

10 of cups reversed, 9 of cups reversed, wheel of fortune, the chariot

super sexier, like inappropriately sexy, NOT a family friendly person. he does want intimacy, and someone he can show off to his friends and family, so someone who knows how to adapt depending on the crowd, but yes, very very sexy

#ateez tarot #ateez #kpop tarot #celebrity tarot reading

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pollenallergie · 1 year

Text

The Dunes | e.m.

A/N: Reposting this because I tweaked the ending a lil bit... hehe. Also, “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” didn’t come out until 1979, so (realistically), you and Eddie would’ve been almost in high school by the time it came out and, therefore, would not have spent your whole childhood singing along to it. However, it’s my (midwestern) family’s road-trip anthem so I had to include it. Thank you @chainsawmunson for beta-reading this!!! Ily <3

Word Count: 6.0k

CW: Adult themes (cursing, smoking weed, etc.; however, nothing smutty happens nor is anything smutty discussed beyond a brief, undetailed mention! I tried to make this as ace friendly as possible, but please let me know if there's something I can do better next time, in that regard!!).

18+ only!!

mdni

“It’s this exit, right, bunny?” Eddie asks.

“Um,” you pause to look down at the map and then up at the road signs ahead. “Yeah, this one,” you confirm.

Eddie merges into the correct lane as he resumes his solo performance of Creeping Death, strumming his calloused thumbs along the worn leather of the steering wheel like it’s the strings of his beloved guitar.

“How close are we now, bug?” Eddie asks.

You check the map before replying, “54-ish miles.”

Eddie huffs out a brief chuckle, “Ish?”

��Yeah, it could be 53 or 54, but it’s definitely not more than 55,” you explain while grinning cheekily.

“Dude, you’re a horrible navigator,” Eddie teases.

“Hey, I told you we should’ve brought the guys with us,” you say defensively, though there’s no real bite behind your words.

“This is probably gonna be our last vacation together, bug, so excuse me for wanting to spend some one-on-one time with my favorite person in all of Indiana,” Eddie remarks dryly.

“Oh, I didn’t realize Roxanne had finally moved to Chicago,” you tease, referencing the bartender from the Hideout that you suspect he’s had the hots for since Corroded Coffin first started playing there last fall. Not that you’d blame him for being attracted to her; she’s everyone’s type. Roxy may very well be ten years your senior, but she looks like she hopped straight out of the pages of one of Eddie’s Heavy Metal magazines; as a bottle blonde with tan skin, long, slender legs, heaving breasts, and an affinity for red leather, she’s the very definition of the beauty standard.

Eddie rolls his eyes and reaches across the console to gently shove your shoulder as he grumbles, “Shut up.”

You giggle at his response, but the joyous sound dies in your throat when you remember something Eddie had said previously.

“Grub, why would this be our last vacation together?” You ask curiously.

“Because, Jitterbug,” he sighs before continuing, “in a couple of weeks, you’ll be off in Michigan, meeting all sorts of cool people who are into all the same stuff as you, and you’ll forget all about little ole me,” Eddie explains, feigning lightheartedness as he does so.

“Eddie-” You begin to refute his assumptions, but he soon interrupts.

“Bunny, it’s fine, really. I mean, we always knew this was gonna happen; you’d go off to some amazing university after high school, and, for one reason or another, I’d have to stay behind in Hawkins. I just wanna soak up the last little bit of time we have together, okay?”

“Eddie,” you sigh, moving your hand to rest on Eddie’s thigh, only to immediately remove it when you feel his muscles tense underneath your palm. “Eddie,” you start again, this time without the physical contact, “you’re an idiot if you think that moving a couple hundred miles away is really gonna be enough to make me forget about you. Seriously, I can’t even go a week without talking to you. What do you think I’ve been saving up all that change in my piggy bank for? It’s so I have enough quarters to call your dumbass while I’m away at school,” you reassure him while also teasing him a bit to lighten the mood.

“And here I thought you were saving up to win me that stuffed elephant from the claw machine at Benny’s,” Eddie jests, and you snort at the thought.

“That thing’s been in there since we were ten, otter. I don’t think winning it is even possible,” You reply. Eddie’s heart flutters fondly at your childhood petname for him, one that even predates Grub, inspired by the time you’d watched a seven-year-old Eddie consume a dozen Otterpops one hot July afternoon.

Eddie grins, “Maybe not for you; you suck at claw machines.”

You scoff, “Dick.”

“I know you are, but what am I?” Eddie responds immaturely while the both of you fight off matching amused smirks.

Eddie covertly glances at you out of the corner of his eyes, a bittersweet feeling stirring in his chest. He misses you already, and you haven’t even left yet. Pathetic, he thinks.

Soon enough, the next track on Eddie’s road trip mixtape begins to play, and a grin lights up your features as the sound of Charlie Daniels’s voice fills the entire van.

Eddie begins to sing along to The Devil Went Down to Georgia, the song the two of you had spent the better half of your childhoods singing along to, thanks to Wayne. And just like that, any and all thoughts of your impending departure are gone.

Just a little under an hour later, the two of you arrive at Dunewood. After an essential stop at the campground’s convenience store for some ice cream sandwiches, you’re ready to set up camp. You and Eddie have come here every summer since you were small, but it’s different this time. This time, it’s just you and Eddie, as Wayne couldn’t come along due to a busy schedule at work. Getting up here was quite a feat given that Beverly Shores is quite a ways away from Hawkins and that, between the two of you, you guys have absolutely zero sense of direction once you get out of Hawkins. However, unpacking your equipment and setting up camp should be a breeze, as you both have prior experience with setting all of this crap up, thanks to the fact that Wayne always made the two of you help him set up camp.

Although, what should be the case and what actually is the case, apparently, aren’t always aligned.

“Dude, are you helping me or what?” You huff out frustratedly as you attempt to haul the packed-away tent out of the back of Eddie’s van on your own. Meanwhile, your less-than-helpful best friend is reclining in the front seat, still munching away on his melting ice cream sandwich. The sticky sweet ice cream is dripping down onto his beloved Black Sabbath band tee, making a mess in a way that might be goofily adorable if he were a toddler, but, alas, he’s a man, a messy man, but a man nonetheless.

“Mhm, yeah, I’ll be there in a second,” he replies nonchalantly before turning up the radio’s volume as if attempting to drown out the sounds of your complaining with Rob Halford’s eerie growls. He begins to headbang to the rowdy music, further solidifying that he will not get out of the van to help you anytime soon.

You groan exasperatedly as you lug the heavy tent closer to the stone fire pit while managing to keep it a reasonable distance from where a hearty fire will rage on later in the night. As you squat down to unzip the bag the tent is kept in for storage, you unknowingly bless your dear best friend with a marvelous view of your denim-clad ass, the fat there causing the fabric to strain to the point where it looks as if your favorite pair of jean shorts may rip right along the tight seam.

As he finishes off the last of his ice cream sandwich, Eddie resists the urge to continue ogling you, instead averting his gaze and opting to focus all of his attention on staring aimlessly out the windshield of his van while thinking about truly horrid shit in an attempt to prevent a tent of his own from forming in his jeans. Fortunately, that tried and true strategy never fails him. Unfortunately, it does require him to think about the time he had to dissect a fetal pig in junior-year biology; if Eddie thinks about it for too long, he swears he can still smell the formaldehyde along with the scent of his lab partner’s raging B.O.

Once Eddie’s reigned his inner horndog back in, he turns the key in the van’s ignition, fully turning off the vehicle, before climbing out of the driver’s seat to finally offer you some help with setting up camp.

“Alright, alright,” Eddie huffs humorously, “Give that to me before you break it,” he teases, referring to the poles of the tent that you’re trying to snap together. You briefly pause your attempts to glare at him.

“I’m not gonna break it, asshole,” you reply bitterly before finally managing to snap the pieces together. Once you do so, you look up at Eddie and fix him with a victorious grin.

“Why don’t you start the fire so we can eat dinner when we finish setting up all this stuff?” You suggest before fixing your friend with a mischievous smile and continuing, “Leave the hard stuff to the men, sugar.”

Eddie scoffs at your teasing but heeds your request nonetheless, going to fetch the firewood your dad had reluctantly given him, some logs cut from the unfortunate trees that weren’t good enough to sell at the farm this past Christmas season.

“Leave the hard stuff to the men, sugar,” he mumbles in a silly tone, clearly mocking you as he grabs a couple of logs from the van, causing you to cackle. Eddie scowls and blushes, mildly embarrassed as he wasn’t aware that you could hear his mockery from your spot across the campsite. The expression on his face only makes you laugh harder, and you don’t stop until Eddie gets petulant and throws one of the towels he’d brought for the beach at you.

After that playful spat, you both fall into a comfortable silence, too concentrated on your respective tasks to hold a conversation with each other. It isn’t until Eddie has successfully set up the fire and starts getting the food you’d both prepared ahead of time out that either one of you speaks again.

“Hey, Grub?” You call out to him from your spot near the still partially unassembled tent. Eddie responds with a soft hum as he continues to rifle through the cooler he’d filled with food and drinks.

“Don’t put the food on yet. The tent’s still not ready yet,” you inform him.

Eddie then shuts the cooler with an annoyed huff, leaving the food inside the chilled box as he comes over to join you.

“It would be if you would’ve just let me take care of it,” he nags as he squats down to help you finish setting up the tent.

You scoff, “Yeah, right, it would’ve taken you twice the amount of time just to figure out how to put this shit together simply because you refuse to read instruction manuals.”

“Incorrect,” Eddie defends himself, “it would’ve taken me half the time to put this shit together because I wouldn’t have wasted so much time reading the pointless instructions.”

“Says the man who just put our rainfly on before the tent body,” you tease as you stand up and strip the bright blue fabric off the tent.

“Does it really matter what order we put this shit on? I mean, so long as it’s on there, we’re good, right?” Eddie asks, standing up with his hands on his hips as he assesses the situation, discerning what’s left to do. The shit-eating grin on his face tells you he’s not being serious and is just trying to rile you up by being intentionally obtuse. So, rather than dignify his question with an answer, you simply fix him with an annoyed glare and then attempt to put the tent body on by yourself. Eddie chuckles at your terse expression as he begins to help you.

Finally, a few moments later, the two of you have set up your tent, leaving you to put your sleeping bags and pillows inside and set up the chairs near the fire as Eddie gets to work on cooking up a couple of foil burgers over the fire; a Munson family recipe and camping essential that’s really nothing more than a beef patty resting on top of a bed of potatoes and a few veggies inside a tinfoil cocoon.

You still remember the first time you’d had such a delicacy during your first camping trip with the Munsons. You were absolutely ravenous, having just got back to camp with Wayne and Eddie after spending all day at the beach, your hair still wet from swimming around in the chilly waters of Lake Michigan and the baby tooth you’d lost while wrestling around in the sand with Eddie nestled in the patch pocket of Wayne’s flannel. As a result of your profound hunger, the easy dinner Wayne had prepared for the three of you tasted like the single greatest thing you’d ever eaten in all your eight years of life. Although, even now, when you finally bite into your burger after Eddie gets done making them, hungry but not at all starving thanks to the sweet treat you’d wolfed down earlier, that simple dish still tastes like one of the most delicious things you’ve ever eaten, the gooey cheese coating your tongue as you munch away happily.

As for Eddie, he seems to agree about the delectableness of the foil burgers if the moan he emits as he bites into his burger is any indication. You giggle at the sound, feeling your cheeks heat up all the while. Always so dramatic, you think fondly.

“We’ve really outdone ourselves this time, bug,” Eddie declares. You hum your agreement as you bite into a crispy chunk of potato.

“The dried rosemary was a good touch. Where’d you get that anyways?” You ask him once you’ve swallowed your bite of starchy goodness.

He grins around his mouthful of food, “Stole a jar of it from the pantry at Gareth’s place after I got done fixin’ the kitchen sink for his mom yesterday.”

“Eddie!” You scold him.

“What? I’ll bring it back Saturday when we have band practice. Lorraine’ll never even know it was missing,” he reasons.

You simply shake your head at him disapprovingly while trying to fight off an amused smile, “You’ve gotta get those sticky fingers in check, Grub.”

Later in the night, as you both lounge in your tent, sharing a joint to help you relax before you go to sleep, your mind races with fretful thoughts about going to college in a few weeks.

“Eds,” you softly call out from just beside him, your head resting on his shoulder and his on yours as you lay with your bodies extended in opposite directions.

“Yeah, bug?”

“No one’s ever- I haven’t had my first kiss yet,” you confess, your inhibitions lowered as the high sets in.

Eddie snorts a laugh, amused by your randomness rather than your inexperience, “Yeah, I know, Jitterbug.”

“What if I meet someone at school, and they kiss me?” You worry aloud. Eddie’s chest tightens at the thought, but he does his best to ignore it.

“Then you’ll have your first kiss, duh,” he remarks simply as if the mere thought of you kissing someone - anyone - but him doesn’t make him want to cry and hurl simultaneously.

“Yeah, I know, but what if it’s bad because… because I don’t know what I’m doing?” You ask, after rolling over to look into his doe eyes, your face hovering above his as your arms hold you up above him. Your breath smells like Kraft singles and Skunk #1, but Eddie can’t find it in himself to care; he’s just happy to have you so close to him.

“First kisses are usually bad, silly billy,” Eddie giggles, the powers of the Dutch strain making him giddy even though his heart is aching just from hearing you talk about this shit.

“But I don’t want mine to be bad,” you reply, your tone bordering on petulant as your brows furrow and your lips pout just slightly, “what if the guy I’m with gets weirded out by how bad I am at it and like never speaks to me ever again?”

“Then that’s his loss, Jitterbug,” Eddie says without missing a beat.

You sigh and sit up, shoulders hunching in slightly as you pout.

“God, what if he does the opposite and tries to, you know, touch me?” You ponder, unintentionally breaking your best friend’s heart. Eddie’s sure that the knowledge of anyone but him touching you like that would devastate him.

“If- if that’s not something you’d be comfortable with, then just tell him,” he reasons.

“But what if he doesn’t listen to me? My sister says that sometimes guys don’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” you reply, and Eddie’s jaw clenches at the thought.

“Then I’ll kill him,” Eddie replies genuinely, causing you to burst into a fit of giggles.

“Grub, you can’t even kill the spider that’s been camped out in your room for the past two weeks,” you tease, and Eddie frowns in response.

“That’s different. Guillermo and I have come to a mutual understanding, he kills the flies, and I don’t kill him,” Eddie replies defensively, and your giggles increase tenfold upon finding out that he’s named the damn thing.

“You’re adorable, Eddie Bear,” You remark once your giggles have ceased. As you wipe the tears of amusement out of your eyes, you miss the blush that rises to Eddie’s cheeks.

“Shut up,” he grumbles as he hands you the joint. You accept it gracefully as you take a hit, exhale, and then take another. Meanwhile, Eddie’s mesmerized by the sight of your lips wrapping around the joint, as if it’s a sight he hasn’t seen hundreds of times already. He’s immediately snapped out of his trance when you hand the joint back to him, your fingers brushing against his as you hand it over, still holding in the last puff you’ve taken.

As you finally exhale your last hit, a brilliant idea comes to mind, or at least one that seems clever in your current state.

“You should be my first kiss,” you suggest, making Eddie choke on the puff of smoke he’s just inhaled.

“What? Me?” Eddie asks incredulously in between bouts of coughing.

“Yeah, if you’re cool with it,” you respond nonchalantly as you grab the joint from him.

“No, no, no, I think you’ve had enough for tonight, space cadet,” Eddie remarks as he plucks the joint from between your fingertips.

“How do you feel, bug?” Eddie had asked you the first time you got high.

“‘M so high, I think I could touch the stars up here,” you’d groaned, making Eddie chuckle.

“Don’t worry, space cadet, I’ll be your ground control,” he’d reassured you.

You whine, “Eddie, I’m not even that high.”

“Of course, you’re not,” Eddie replies sarcastically as he stubs out the joint, opting to save the rest for tomorrow morning.

“Eddie, it’s okay if you don’t want to,” you say as you timidly pick at the loose threads of your sleeping bag, “kiss me, I mean. It’s okay if you don’t wanna kiss me,” you clarify.

Eddie sighs, knowing you’re not gonna let this go very easily. His mind races with thoughts of you kissing him, and his heart lurches at the idea that you’d even want to kiss him, but he also knows it’s too good to be true. You don’t actually want this, at least not with him; you’re just high and lonely. You’re too amazing and angelic; you could never want a freak like him, not in the same way he wants you.

“How about you ask me again in the morning, okay?” Eddie offers placatingly as he climbs into his sleeping bag, saying anything he can to get you to drop this, to stop torturing him.

Eddie’s not leaving any room for argument as he rolls over to face the opposite direction before shutting off the lantern. You sigh before climbing into your own sleeping bag and getting comfy.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” you whisper tentatively, worrying that you’ve upset him.

“Goodnight, bunny.”

The following day is awkward, to say the least. The fresh air the wooded campground provides is nice, or it would be if it wasn’t filled with unbearable tension thanks to last night’s events.

Eddie won’t even look at you, hasn’t spared you so much as a single glance since the two of you first woke up at around 9 a.m., nearly two hours ago. Granted, he’s not being outwardly hostile or anything like that. Instead, Eddie just won’t look at you, won’t speak to you in more than short sentences and noncommittal hums, and hasn’t touched you at all since last night when his fingers brushed yours as you exchanged the shared joint repeatedly. Usually, he would’ve talked your ear off about some new music by now, most likely the new Metallica album, or even about the latest drama plaguing the Hellfire club; surprisingly, a lot of juicy gossip comes out of that group. If the present circumstances were normal, Eddie also would’ve definitely exploited the many unintentional openings you’d given him this morning by tackling you to the ground or putting you in a half-nelson by now. However, he hasn’t done either of those things and, if his tense body language is anything to go off of, you figure he probably won’t be doing any of those things any time soon. How strange is it that you’ve begun to miss how Eddie playfully wrestles with and pesters you? How pathetic is it that you’ve started to yearn for how he carelessly flings you around like a ragdoll in an ornery display of his shocking strength?

“What time are we heading to the beach?” You ask meekly as you continue to pick at the Zingers Eddie had gotten you from the campground’s convenience store earlier this morning. At least he’d still gone out of his way to get your favorite breakfast-adjacent junk food. That had to be a good sign, right?

“Dunno,” he replies gruffly and then shrugs his shoulders as he takes another puff of his cigarette, his gaze still fixed on the sparse grass beneath his Reeboks.

“Maybe we could head out there in like an hour?” You suggest, your tone still timid and unsure, “That way, we could grab lunch on the way there. I just- I don’t think three Zingers will hold me over for the rest of the day. Not that I don’t appreciate that you got them for me, because I do! It’s just-”

Eddie cuts you off with another short, gruff response, “Yeah, that’s fine.”

You frown at his dismissive tone. Had you really pushed things too far last night? Was the idea of kissing you so bad that even the mere suggestion of it had gotten Eddie this upset?

When you first woke up this morning, you were mortified by the memory of what you’d said to your friend last night. Now, his sudden indifference toward you only amplifies that feeling of humiliation.

This is only day two of what’s supposed to be a week-long trip, and you’re not sure if you can survive several more days of this trip, not if things will continue being this tense between you and Eddie. So, you decide to repress your shame in favor of making peace. After all, only a couple weeks after you get home from this trip, your dad will drive you up to Ann Arbor to move into your new dorm room for your first semester at college. You’re unsure if your friendship with Eddie could survive the distance, not with this lingering hostility creating such a harsh divide between you two.

“Look, Eds,” you sigh, swallowing down what’s left of your pride as you prepare to grovel, to plead for your friendship to remain unchanged after last night’s blunder, “I’m sorry about last night, about asking you to… to kiss me. I mean- fuck- Grub, I’m really sorry for bringing it up and making shit weird between us. I promise I’m not, like, harboring some freakish little crush on you or anything like that. I just- I wanted you to be my first kiss because,” you pause with a quivering sigh, thinking better of your impending confession, “You know what? That doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that I’m sorry, really fucking sorry, and I just wanna go back to the way things were before I said any of that stupid crap, okay? I just wanna enjoy our trip. I wanna have fun doing moronic bullshit in the woods with my best friend, the same way we always do every summer. Do you think we can do that? That we can just go back to the way things were? Please?”

Eddie sighs, dragging the palm of his hand harshly down his face until it reaches his jaw, where it then remains, kneading the muscles there as if to relieve the tension. His soulful brown eyes flicker up to meet yours just briefly before his gaze falls back to the ground. He finally breaks the silence, quietly asking, “Why me? Why d’ya wanna kiss me?”

The question catches you off guard, so much so that you almost think you’d misheard him when he asked it. You can only think to reply with a surprised, breathy, “What?”

“Why did you want to kiss me, bug?” Eddie reiterates.

Your brows furrow, your nose scrunching up as you ponder and carefully plan your reply, not wanting to give too much away, wanting to keep your cards clutched close to your chest. You finally come up with an honest response and, most importantly, one that omits some of the more embarrassing details. You tug on the inside of your lower lip with your teeth, wriggling the flesh between your incisors, working up the courage to answer his question before sighing and eventually replying, “Because I trust you, Eddie. Because I know you won’t take things too far or do anything to make me uncomfortable.”

Eddie’s leg bounces as he considers your answer. “That’s all?” He asks suddenly, once again catching you off guard.

“Wha- What d’you mean?” You curiously inquire, wearing your confusion plainly on your features.

“That’s it? That’s the only reason why?” Eddie questions, his gaze intense, alight with an emotion you can’t place.

“I mean,” you trail off, your leg bouncing in tandem with Eddie’s, though not intentionally. “Yeah, kind of,” you lie.

Unfortunately, Eddie still doesn’t look entirely convinced, and that makes you nervous. You huff out frustratedly, wringing your hands together and carefully thinking over your words before speaking.

“Grub, I’m 18 years old, and I’ve never once in my whole life kissed someone, so, yeah, at this point, I’m pretty fucking desperate. Hell, I think I’d kiss just about anyone,” you ramble, slightly exasperated.

I think I’d kiss just about anyone.

You don’t mean it as an insult, you don’t mean to hurt Eddie’s feelings, he knows you don’t, but it still stings something fierce.

“Look, Eds, I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, so if you’re not-”

Eddie interrupts you, not that he’s truly listening to how you’re trying, in vain, to walk back your previous statements anyways. No, Eddie’s too busy thinking about if he is actually going to go through with this. He bluntly asks, “Just one kiss?”

Those three words halt you in your tracks, making your breath hitch. You miraculously manage to collect yourself and come up with a coherent response.

“Yeah,” you reply in a tone that’s gentle and airy, soft and breathy like a sigh, “just one.”

“I’ll do it,” Eddie swiftly asserts, taking you both by surprise. “I mean, um, I’ll- I’ll help you, but you gotta promise me something first, ’kay?”

“Yeah, yeah, anything, Grub, of course,” you agree far too eagerly, making a swirling mass of embarrassment sink down heavily into the pit of your stomach. All the while, your voice is still soft and quiet, nothing more than a susurration.

“You gotta promise me you won’t let this change things between us, bug. Okay? I can’t lose-” Eddie cuts himself off with a shaky, anxious exhale, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes as he attempts to reign in his emotions. He wants to tell you that if he ever lost you again, like he did in the summer of 1980, he wouldn’t be able to survive it; Eddie’s not really sure how he survived it last time. However, Eddie’s too afraid to tell you that, too scared of what that implies, and infinitely more scared of how you’d react to that implication. So, he drops his hands from his face, opting to pick at his nail beds to keep his fidgety fingers busy, as he continues, “I’m just helping you out, alright? So, just- You gotta promise that you won’t start acting all weird around me or, um, start avoiding me again, or whatever.”

You frown at the sentiment, briefly looking back on those two years you’d spent without Eddie in high school. You were an idiot back then, avoiding the one person, the only one of your peers, who’d ever shown you genuine kindness, just because he’d gotten a little mean and said some things that had hurt your feelings during a heated exchange, what’s worse is they were things you’d desperately needed to hear. You gently shake your head as if to rid yourself of any and all memories of that lonely time in your life before looking into Eddie’s eyes and earnestly swearing, “I won’t, Grub. Nothing will change between us, I promise.”

Things truly won’t change between the two of you; you’ll make sure of that. Eddie will never find out about the love you pathetically harbor for him, and, most importantly, you’ll never shut him out again. Even when he settles down one day with someone who isn’t you, maybe marries them and has a couple kids with them, you’ll still be his best friend, no matter how much it hurts, and you’ll make damn sure that Eddie never finds out how much it hurts you.

Eddie can hear the unwavering sincerity in your voice, can see it in your gaze, and it makes him smile softly, a warm expression you cannot help but reciprocate.

“Okay,” he breathes, his tone wavering as he rubs his sweaty palms on the rough denim of his jeans. “Just, um, c’mere… If you want to, I mean,” he stammers awkwardly. You’d probably chuckle at his apparent nervousness if you weren’t feeling the same way right now. Instead, you simply get up out of your lawn chair, rise to your feet, and trek across the short distance between the two of you. You then lower yourself to sit down in the grass in front of Eddie, who promptly lowers his legs, his knees no longer tucked up against his chest as he now sits tailorwise, or criss-cross-applesauce, as you both call it. You sit in the same position, your knees pressed against his own as you mirror him.

Eddie tentatively leans forward, bridging the gap between you two, as one of his large, warm hands rises to hover over one of your shoulders for a brief moment before he finally gets the courage to lower it so that it rests there. With his other hand, he takes a much bolder step, lifting his arm and hesitantly reaching up to brush his calloused fingertips against the soft, smooth skin of your cheek before finally cupping it in his palm.

“Is this okay?” He asks you quietly, like he’s afraid that speaking more loudly than a mere whisper will frighten you and scare you off. You nod your affirmative as your hands slowly move forward to rest on his denim-clad thighs, just above his knees. That contact makes Eddie’s breath hitch, but you both elect to ignore it for reasons unbeknownst to each other.

Eddie then leans in further, his bulbous nose gently brushing against yours with purpose, effectively warning you and giving you a chance to stop him. However, you do the opposite. “Eds, please, kiss me,” you whisper.

It’s all the encouragement Eddie needs. He closes the gap between the two of you, his lips finally meeting yours. You try to reciprocate as best as you can, but you’re, admittedly, a little lost. You’re overthinking things, Eddie can tell. He pulls away far sooner than he would’ve liked to and then presses a comforting kiss to the corner of your mouth, by one of your smile lines that he loves so much.

“I wasn’t good, was I?” You grimace, your forehead still resting against his. “Please, you can tell me. I just wanna know what to do, Ott.”

Eddie licks his lips before hesitantly replying, “When you, um,” he clears his throat, “the next time that you kiss someone, try not to purse your lips so much,” he winces, both at the thought of you kissing someone else and out of fear that he’s been too harsh.

“I thought that’s what you’re supposed to do when you kiss someone?” Eddie thinks your puzzled expression is far too adorable to be legal.

“You are! You are, a little bit, I mean. Just not quite so much; you gotta relax your um- your mouth a little bit,” Eddie blushes, thoroughly flustered. As usual, you’re oblivious to his plight, too caught up in your own mind.

Your brows furrow as you stare at his chin absentmindedly, mind racing a million miles an hour all the while, “S-so how much should I purse them then?”

Eddie thinks it over. “It’s hard to explain,” he sighs.

“Could you, you know, show me?” You ask. “I mean, if you’re comfortable kissing me again.”

Little do you know, Eddie would gladly give up both of his kidneys if it meant he got to kiss you again. Needless to say, he’s pretty stoked that he gets to do it without having to endure a double nephrectomy.

He nods, answering wordlessly, before leaning in again, connecting your lips once more. You make sure to pay attention to what he’s doing, to how it feels, so you can mirror it. You relax your mouth a bit, your lips not quite as pursed as before, and Eddie sighs his approval. That sound sets your whole body alight with tingly, little fireworks.

You both get caught up in the moment, in the feeling of finally acting on the desires you’ve both spent years repressing. Consequently, when Eddie nips at your bottom lip, and you respond with a gasp that he can only describe as sinful, he doesn’t even try to resist the urge to take advantage of the momentary part in your lips. You pull back abruptly, primarily out of shock, when you feel his tongue slip through the gap. Eddie winces at the loss.

“Shit, sorry,” he apologies gruffly, comfortingly rubbing your upper arms on instinct, soothing you.

You let out an easy, breathy giggle as you ease back into his space, resting your forehead gently against his own. “It’s okay. You surprised me, that’s all. Just, um, warn me next time, okay?”

Warmth blossoms in both of your chests at the thought of getting to kiss each other again. Eddie lets out a gentle chuckle of his own as he moves his other hand up to cup your other cheek, feeling the warmth alight beneath the soft skin there too.

“Next time?” Eddie questions with a nervous grin, mentally berating himself for daring to question you because, in his eyes, you’re practically offering your lips up to him on a silver platter, and he’s about to make you second guess that monumental decision.

“Yeah,” you let out the prettiest little sigh, “I feel like I have a lot left to learn, and, well, you seem like a pretty good teacher. I mean, if you don’t mind kissing me again, that is,” you look into his eyes hopefully. Eddie feels his smile grow wider at the sight of your sanguine expression.

Eddie offers his whispered reassurance while gently nudging the tip of your nose with his own, “I don’t mind.”

Needless to say, you two won’t make it to the beach today.

Side Note: Please don't feel like you're weird if you're older than 18 and still haven't had your first kiss yet!! I literally haven’t had my first kiss yet and I’m 21 years old. We all do things at our own pace and in our own time, so, trust me, you're not weird at all if you're an adult (of any age) who hasn't been kissed yet!!

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