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neymarsangel · 1 year

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Tissues - Neymar Jr x reader

Neymar Jr x female!reader

Requested? Yes/No: Heyyyy ❤️ can I request if u have time of course an imagine with neymar where the reader is sick and neymar wants to take care of her but she doesn't because she afraid she gonna get him sick . However neymar takes care of her but gets sick too so they're both sick sitting all day at home watching movies cuddling etc.💕💕

Warnings: Fluff, swearing

Word Count: 1.8K

—

Arguably one of the worst things anyone could wake up to was a sore throat and a pounding headache. You noticed everyone around you was slowly starting to fall ill, especially with the weather turning as cold as it was in Paris but you’d hoped you’d been lucky enough to avoid the sickness, clearly you were wrong. You woke up without Neymar by your side, he normally woke up earlier and had a quick session at the gym before you woke up, that way he got to spend more of the day with you rather than running off to work out when the pair of you were midway through something.

Groaning you reached over to pick up your glass of water which was currently sitting on your bedside table. A shiver shot down your spine as the liquid stabbed your throat. Setting it aside you threw yourself down onto the covers, your hands covering your face as the morning sun hurt your eyes. Everything was silent until the front door clicked open.

“y/n?” Neymar called your name. “Are you up yet?” He asked as he pushed the door to your shared bedroom open, his hopeful expression dying when he saw the look on your face. “What’s wrong?” He hurried over to you but you ushered him away.

“I’m ill so don’t get too close, otherwise you’ll end up with it and Kylian will kill me.”

“You think I care for what he has to say?” The Brazilian gave you a look as he moved to the window, opening it ever so slightly enough to give the room some airflow but not enough to make you worse than you already were. He placed his hand on your forehead, a sympathetic look on his face when he noticed how hot you were. “Oh, baby…” Pulling back he grabbed your glass before speaking. “I’ll be back, don’t move.”

“You think I can move?”

“Even when facing death you still have a way with words.” He mocked before heading to your kitchen. He grabbed some light snacks that he knew wouldn’t make you feel even worse than you did, a soothing tea, more water and plenty of medication.

Briskly, walking into the room with a light smile, placed everything down on the bedside table for you. “You need to sit up.” He leaned over and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you up gently so you could rest against the headboard.

“Ney please don’t -”

“Don’t what?” His brows furrowed. “Look after my girlfriend when she’s ill? You do the same for me when I’m ill or injured…”

“That’s differnt…”

“How is it?”

“I don’t have to play football weekly in front of millions.”

“Well if I get sick they can survive without me.” He grabbed the medication from the side before facing you again. “This will help with the headache and any pain.” He handed you the pill and water, watching as you tensed your body up at the shooting pain in your throat as you swallowed the liquid. “And this…” He handed you a spray bottle. “Will numb the throat pain, I can grab more things if you need them.”

“Thank you but I’ll live, it’s just a shitty cold.”

“They’re the worst though.” He gave you a light smile. “Make sure you keep drinking, I read that the more water you drink, the quicker the virus leaves your body.”

“I’ll try.” Giving him a faint smile you watched as he picked up the tv remote before handing it to you. He climbed onto the bed, laying on top of the duvet.

“What are you doing?”

“Watching TV with you?”

“But I’m ill.”

“I worked that one out a while ago.” He teased.

“Please Ney, you’ll get ill…”

“And? Won’t be that bad.”

You had no strength to argue with him, as much as you wanted to tell him that he needed to leave you to die alone in the bedroom you knew he’d never get up and just go so you accepted your fate and he accepted his.

The pair of you spent the day watching shitty movies and talking about the weirdest topics anyone could think of. It was the side you wished the world saw more of when it came to him. He was beyond kind and always looked out for others, even if it didn’t benefit him. Deep down he was one of the kindest people you’d ever met but it was a shame the world never saw him like that.

That night he came into your bedroom holding two bowls, both filled to the brim with soup. “I made it myself.” He smiled like a child on Christmas. “Not sure how good it’ll be but I did try.” You reached your hand out to cup his jaw, moving your thumb along his beard with a smile.

“Thank you.”

He leant over again, kissing your forehead lightly as he set the tray on the bed, making sure he didn’t spill anything. “Anything for you love.” He handed you a bowl but stopped you before you could even think to take a sip. “Take this, it’ll kick in when you sleep, hopefully then you’ll make it through the night without any disturbances. That’ll make you better faster.” He handed you the pill before tilting your chin up so you could swallow the rest with water. “Good girl.” He winked, earning himself an eye roll from you as he set the water aside. He grabbed his own bowl, this time crawling under the covers of your bed.

“Ney you’re going to get sick.”

“How many times have I told you that I don’t care?”

“Well, I do.”

“I know and for that I am thankful but when we sleep together and share a house together it is rather hard not to catch one another’s illnesses.”

“It can be avoided if you just left me in here…”

“And let your rotten corpse make the house smell? No thanks, I’d rather die with you.”

A small jolt of laughter fell from your lings, nearly taking your breath away with how sore you really were from the illness. “Thank you.” You looked up at him, inching closer to him.

“You never need to thank me.” The two of you spent the evening waffling about anything you could think to talk about, in parts you almost forgot you were ill and then the pain in your throat stabbed you slightly just as a reminder to yourself that you were in fact ill and no amount of laughter would change that.

“Ney?”

“Hmm?”

“What does the kitchen look like after you’ve been cooking in it?”

“Want me to be honest?” He asked as he started to eat.

“Obviously.”

“Looks like a bomb just went off.”

“Brilliant…”

—

“Okay so fuck, marry, kill but… it’s only the guys in the team.” You smiled up at him as you spoke, and the two of you decided to spark up a fuck, marry or kill debate whilst watching an episode of modern family. “Kyillan, Messi or Marqunihos…”

“Fuck… um…” He thought long and hard about his answer, anyone would think he was taking an exam to decide his future. “Okay… marry Messi… fuck Marqunihos… and kill Kyllian.”

“Killing off Kyllian with no mercy.” You laughed at the man who was now quickly rethinking his answers. “You know you can’t change your answer when you’ve said it.” You spoke, noticing the change in expression.

“I know, I know… just thinking about what Kyllian would say if he heard me say that.”

“If it makes you feel better there’s definitely been moments where he’s thought that about you before.”

He shook his head, a laugh falling from his lips. “You know what I think you might be right…. On more than one occasion I’m willing to bet.” As his laughter subsided, he turned his head away, coughing into his shoulder before facing you again.

“You okay?”

“Me? Yeah… I’m fine, just got something stuck in my throat.” He flashed you a smile, a sign he was definitely lying when it came to things like this.

“I think you’re lying…”

“Calling your boyfriend a liar huh?” He mocked before placing another kiss on your head. Neymar glanced at his phone, quickly noticing the time. “We better get some rest, you need the rest. With little rest you won’t recover fast.” His hand snaked under your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. He lowered himself down, kissing your lips lightly, almost scared that if he added force he’d hurt you. He wished he could have longed the kiss out, wanting nothing more than to have you all to himself for that night but he couldn’t and the truth was he could feel himself start to show symptoms of your illness.

“I love you.”

“I love you too… thank you for all of this.”

“I don’t know why you thank me.” He pulled the duvet over the two of you, sinking into the pillows like they were clouds. “In sickness and in health remember?”

“We aren’t married.”

“Yet.” You didn’t need the light on to know he flashed you a grin.

His hands snaked around your waist, pulling you onto his chest. His hand traced your face and lightly made its way to your hair, knowing the feeling immediately relaxed you.

“Ney…”

“Don’t you dare say that I’m going to get ill because I don’t care.”

Giggling into his chest you nodded against his skin. “Fine… you win.”

“I always do love.” He planted one last kiss on your forehead as the two of you quickly drifted off to sleep, both relaxed in one another arms, now finally not caring if one was sick.

The next morning you awoke to the sounds of horrific coughing, it honestly sounded like your boyfriend had managed to choke himself in his sleep.

“Ney?”

“Hmm?” He called from the bathroom, suddenly emerging in the doorway his eyes were bloodshot and pools of sweat started to form on his forehead. “Oh, baby…” You gave him a sorry look as you took in his wrecked state.

“You know…” He plodded back to bed. “You may have had a point about not getting to close when you’re sick, I feel like shit.”

“I did tell you -”

“I know, I know!” He landed on the bed, rolling on his back so he could rest his head on your chest. “I say we just make the most of it and cuddle all day.” He looked up with hopeful eyes.

“Well, I can take care of you.”

“You gonna rival my soup?” A smirk played on his lips.

“Rival it? Your soup is going to taste like dishwater compared to mine.”

#neymar x reader #neymar fluff #neymar jr x reader #neymar smut #neymar fanfic #neymar jr imagine #neymar jr angst #football x reader #football imagine #neymar one shot #neymar imagines #football x y/n #football fanfic

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sgkophie · 2 years

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Man's World - Chapter 12 - Three's a Crown

A/N - OK FRIENDS! I've had LOADS of Carlos requests come through, so I am trying to add them into Man's World if they fit into the plot :-) These two fit in nicely, so I have included them into this chapter! Click the image to better read the requests.

Good lord... I can't believe this chapter is 8800 words and I apologize. I was going to split it out into 2 chapters... but it just sort of rolled all together! BUT it does mean your next chapter will be more like Friday morning... my fingers need a rest!

If you would like to submit a fun prank idea for the series, please do so HERE!

This chapter is a rocky one but I think you'll enjoy....!!!

Pairing: Female!Leclerc reader x Carlos Sainz Jr, Carlos Sainz x reader

Warnings: angst, language, fluff, smutt - the whole shebang!

Rating: Mature

Word Count: ~8800 words *I have put a marker in the middle of the chapter so if you want a break before coming back to finish the chapter, that marker signifies a good stopping point for a break if you so desire!

Short Synopsis: Enemies to lovers with Carlos. <3

AN: See above!

Check out the full intro synopsis + full story master list here!

********

Thursday – Georgia POV

Thursday morning I was woken up by Carlos Sainz standing over me, a cup of coffee in one hand, a paracetamol in the other – and a huge fucking grin on his face. I groaned, turning over in bed, putting the covers above my head. I don’t care if Carlos and I had agreed to be friends, I was not in the mood for his antics this morning.

“Good morning sunshine,” he whistled out, walking over to my curtains and opening them all the way, letting the blistering sunshine into my room.

“Fuck, Carlos, why are you in my room? Ever heard of knocking?” I yelled at him, taking one of my bed pillows and chucking it at him. He chuckled at that, pulling up his watch on his wrist, as if to show me the time. I squinted at him, trying to make a point that there was no way I could read that.

“I did, princesa, but judging by the look on your face, you were much to dead asleep to hear my knocking.”

“Well maybe you should have knocked harder,” I quipped back, attempting to grab the paracetamol from his hands.

He smirked at that, raising the two pills higher above my head. “This is only for hungover girlfriends.” I didn’t really appreciate his emphasis on girlfriends, or hungover, but I let it slide. My head was pounding, and he had lifesavings drugs as far as I was concerned.

“Who said I was hungover?” I muttered out grumpily. A headache, nausau, and undying thirst after a night of drinking didn’t necessarily mean I was hungover.

I mean I was. No doubt about that, but I wasn’t about to let Carlos know that.

He laughed at me and set the two pills down next to my bottle of water from last night. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure how I even got into bed last night. Had Carlos taken me to bed? Last I remembered was attempting to watch a movie. I swallowed down the pills and took the coffee from his hands, downing the mug in two sips.

“Well, good, if you aren’t hungover, then we can start our day today,” he trilled, pulling the blankets back entirely. I got up quickly for a moment, horrified that I had no pants on. I usually slept in an oversized shirt, no pants required. Although, to be fair, the results of what Carlos and I saw when he pulled back the covers were much worse – I was still in last nights clothes.

How drunk did I get?

It’s as if Carlos could read my mind, because he declared, “Much too drunk considering how little you drank.” The smug look on his face said everything I needed to know. I got up and pushed him aside, grabbing my towel from the bannister.

“Why don’t you do us both a favor and get lost, huh?” I barked at him, closing the bathroom door with a bang. I knew I was being a bitch. I mean, he’d brought me coffee – black with no cream and sugar, just how I liked it plus some paracetamol. Still, he’d done it with the intent to tease me, which I was not in the mood for. Today was Day 1 of the Monaco race. I had to survive what felt like 8 hours of journalists, press and fans before getting into a car tomorrow to drive a race that was probably the most important of my career to date.

And I had to do the first half of that while hungover. What an idiot I was.

As I finished in the shower, I grabbed my phone to check Instagram. Again, I’m never sure why I felt the need to check Instagram before a race. It never made me feel better, but I guess as a 25 year old woman, it was in my nature.

I scrolled through various posts and arrived at the one about the podcast. To my relief, the reviews of the podcast were pretty positive. There were calls that there wasn’t enough Charles content, but that was to be expected. Ferrari’s golden boy could have had his own podcast, and the women of the world would still be demanding more content of just Charles.

Still, the fans were loving the prankster side of me, which I found to be quite shocking. I had spent so much time hiding this part of me from the world – I didn’t expect for that to be the one thing the fans held onto. It was as if it was the one thing that they seemed to think made me human.

Maybe I should pull a prank on the journalists…. They might also see me as human.

As I sat there trying to weigh out how likely I was to lose my seat if I pranked the F1 media community, Carlos walked into the room with bacon and toast and a second cup of coffee. As he turned and saw me in just a towel, he stuttered for a moment, and then gave me a quick once over before backing away, but not before I could pick up my pillow from the bed and throw it at him.

Unfortunately for me, that made my entire towel drop to the gown, and I pulled my covers up to me, screaming at Carlos, “Come into my room ONE MORE TIME, Carlos, and I will personally make sure you can never have children with whatever pathetic woman decides to marry you! Understood?!” I could hear laughter from behind the door as Carlos closed it.

Insufferable man.

I quickly got dressed and threw some make up on, putting my hair up in a braid. I scarfed down my toast and bacon as quickly as I could then headed out into the kitchen, where Charles and Carlos were both sitting, enjoying a cup of my coffee.

“Thanks for breakfast,” I mumbled to Carlos, not looking in his direction. Truthfully I was too embarrassed to look him in the face.

“Don’t worry, cariño, now we’ve both seen each other naked. You know, me just now and you in your dreams,” he said with a wink. I froze for a moment, and then turned to Charles, who had just spit out his coffee out onto my nice Persian rug. Charles turned to me and quirked an eyebrow up, although I could see his expression was asking me if this was actually true.

Before I could stop myself I blurted out, “Umm… you weren’t naked!” I said it with way too much sass for someone who had experienced a sex dream about their fake boyfriend.

Carlos just raised an eyebrow, his interest was piqued. Fuck, why had I just said that? I mean he knew, I knew, that he knew that I had – unfortunately – had a sex dream about him, but I had basically just confirmed it in my pit of anger. And now his interest was definitely turned all the way up. I turned my back and cringed, pretending to busy myself with the empty coffee maker.

“Better hope you haven’t seen my sister naked,” I heard Charles mutter to Carlos; he clearly wasn’t amused at the joke, although arguably for very different reasons. I knew my face had gone a new shade of red, so I sat at the chemex, my back to the two of them.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Carlos quipped back.

I truly could have died in that moment.

Fortunately, before the awkward silence could continue, Charles’ cell phone rang. It was Mattia and he was requesting him in the paddock a little early to do a couple extra social media stints for his home race. Charles came over and gave me a big hug, and waved at Carlos on his way out – albeit a little coldly.

Carlos and I finished our coffees in silence – a smug silence for him and a mortified silence for me, and then we headed towards my parking garage. As we arrived at my Volkswagen Beatle, Carlos turned to me, a little horrified.

“I’m sorry, what the fuck is this?” He asked, some amusement –but mostly horror – in his voice.

“This is a car,” I deadpanned back, getting into the drivers seat. Carlos just stood by the passenger door, a look of disbelief on his face. I think in that moment I can say I actually had stunned Carlos Sainz into silence, and I felt quite victorious.

Georgia 2: Carlos 0

As we arrived at the make shift Monaco paddock, the place was buzzing with people, more so than I expected for a Thursday. I parked the Bugatti in the assigned parking garage, and hand in hand with Carlos, walked through the VIP areas and into the main area with the garages. We took some selfies with fans and waved to the Netflix cameras like we were instructed. Netflix had apparently picked up on our relationship, and had decided they were to interview Carlos and I in the next couple of weeks.

Carlos walked me to the Bugatti garage and just as he was about to leave, Isabelle called us both over with just a wave of her hand. Carlos turned to look at me, just a little nervous. Isabelle had quite the reputation in the paddock, and even though she was Mattia’s wife, I always felt like Carlos was still very terrified of her. Mattia was a piece of cake compared to dealing with Isabelle. I took a small amount of pleasure in seeing him squirm as we walked towards her office.

Before we walked in, I took a big breath and put on my biggest I’m not hungover, don’t be silly Isabelle face I could muster.

Isabelle looked up at us as we walked in and scrunched her nose, clearly assessing the two of us. “Had to much to drink last night, Georgie?” she asked – a clear tone of disapproval in her voice. I could hear Carlos let out a small giggle before Isabelle turned to him and chastised, “Don’t look so smug Carlos. Takes one to know one.” And with that, we both sat down quietly.

Isabelle 1: Carlos 1

Not too soon after both Lizzie, Lorenzo and Lily filtered into the office followed by Mattia and Coco. What was this, a party at the Bugatti paddock? Guess someone forgot my invite.

“So, I have called you all here because Netflix have asked to do a segment on Carlos and Georgia. Apparently F1’s newest dating couple will be good ratings,” Isabelle announced. “As much as I would like to push back on this, I think it would be a bad look for the team. Netflix are very good at intruding, and if we don’t agree, then we won’t be able to control the narrative. They’re going to add this into the next season regardless, might as well be a part of that.”

I cringed a bit. I had never dreamed of being on TV, hell I think the idea of being on the next season just as a driver was infuriating, never mind as someone’s girlfriend. While I hated media events, Netflix was worse – because I knew this would be readily available to millions of people across the globe.

I felt Carlos shift a bit in his seat next to me; I had expected him to be pleased about this, but his face was a different story, which intrigued me. Was it because he knew we were going to break up at the end of the season and he didn’t want the embarrassment?

Probably.

There was a silence in the air, as if no one knew what to say. Putting a fake relationship on in the paddock was one thing, presenting it to the world in a huge national tv show was another. After a few more minutes Isabelle dismissed both Carlos and I, neither of us truly knowing what to say.

Will deal with that after Monaco, I thought to myself.

Saturday Qualifying - Georgia POV

When I woke up Saturday morning, I heard the pitter patter of rain on my window.

Well… shit.

Not exactly what I had wanted the weather to be. Rain days were good for the teams that were in slower cars, but I planned to be in Pole position after today, and the Bugatti car wasn’t the best in the rain. Or, to be more precise, I wasn’t the best in the rain.

Still, I’d never backed down from a challenge before.

Carlos and I got ready quickly on Saturday and headed to the track in his Ferrari. The rain continued to pour down, and as we got to the paddock, Mel, my race engineer, informed me that FP3 had been delayed by 30 minutes, in the hopes that rain would cease. I was unhopeful that the rain was going to calm down anytime soon, but knew the FIA were willing to send us out in pretty terrible, blistering conditions.

Sure enough, as 30 minutes passed, I was loaded into my car and sent off on my way for FP3, to only be recalled back into the pits 20 minutes later after poor Checo had crashed into the wall, parts of his car flying everywhere. He was fortunately fine, but the FIA decided that FP3 was too dangerous to continue, so everyone else was called back in to see if the rain would calm down.

As I hopped out of the car, Lizzie motioned for me to come over. “This might be a while, why don’t you go pop round the Ferrari garage, hmm?” I rolled my eyes and gave her a pleading look, it was cold and wet and I did not feel like dealing with either Carlos or my brother, but I saw Isabelle behind her give me a nod, and that was that.

I grabbed Lily and we padded on over to the Ferrari garage, where we saw Carlos and Charles sitting in the garage area, playing chess. We walked into the garage, waving at Mattia on the way in, as we made our way over to the boys, who looked up as we approached.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Princesa,” Carlos said with a slight shiver to his voice. I looked down and he was wearing his Ferrari jacket, but still he looked quite cold.

“Figured you boys would need some company,” I said sweetly, sitting next to Carlos on the bench. As soon as I sat down, Carlos scooted a little closer to me, linking his arm in mine and putting his head on my shoulder. I looked at Charles and Lily, a little look of shock on my face, which I quickly changed to a look of love. People were always watching us in the garages.

Regardless of the fact that Carlos and I weren’t actually dating, it had become clear to me that his love language was definitely touch. Carlos was the most touchy-feely person I had ever met.

Charles and Lily just smiled at me, clearly noticing my discomfort. “Awww,” Lily said, “aren’t these two just the CUTEST.” Charles nodded, his eyes turning to meet mine. Behind his eyes, I could see his mind turning – it was as if he had a second thought behind the joyful face he was giving me. Like he was evaluating the two of us, trying to piece together what he was actually witnessing in front of him.

I did my best to ignore Charles as I looked down at Carlos and I’s hands, which were now intertwined together. Carlos was still staring at the chess board, clearly oblivious to the three of us around him. I looked around to see if a Ferrari social coordinator was watching, but no one was there. For a moment those pesky butterflies returned in my stomach as I tried to wrap my head around the fact that Carlos was holding my hand and snuggling with me, without any prompt from Coco and without any media around us.

It’s as if he was enjoying my company? I tried to shake that thought from my head. Now was not the time to be getting sentimental with anyone, especially not he enemy.

As the rain began to clear up, I heard Lizzie call for Lily and I to return back to the Bugatti garage. Qualifying would need to begin soon, and FP3 had been cancelled. We quickly said our goodbyes and I gave one last hug to my brother, wishing him luck – well, good luck on getting P2 of course.

Carlos POV – Qualifying

The rain had briefly slowed down to just a drizzle and I had been asked to hop into the car since Q1 was beginning in about 5 minutes. As I slowly went out on track for my out lap, I could feel how slippery the roads were – even with my wet tires. The Monaco streets were old, and they didn’t drain well.

I didn’t do as well as I had hoped in Q1, only coming in P5. Charles came P1 and Georgia came P2, only a hundredth of a second between them. As Q2 began, the rain had picked up a bit – but we were still instructed to continue, the FIA insisting that the track was dry enough. Within 1 minute of starting Valtteri Bottas had spun out his car and crashed, causing a yellow flag to appear. The small wreck was quickly cleared, but this meant the teams had less time to get their flying laps in – and on a track like Monaco, that was a major problem.

Still, I was able to squeeze out a P4 which would send me into Q3 of qualifying – where the actual pressure was on. Monaco surprisingly had a low pole to win ratio, and yet, every driver that took pole was the expected winner of the race. The track was nearly impossible to pass, and with the right defense, you could hold on even if you went way under your top speed.

As we put in our flying laps, I could feel the rain start to get harder – the track was definitely getting more dangerous.

“We continuing?” I asked my race engineer, who responded in the affirmative.

I asked about the lap times and he informed me that Charles was still P1, with Georgia a very close P2 behind him. Still, she had time for another flying lap – and then one after that. As I expected, after the next round of flying laps, Georgia was P1 and now Charles was P3, since Max Verstappen had put in a solid lap, although after that lap his front wing took minor damage and he was asked to come into the pits.

We were all instructed to do one last flying lap, and I was the 3rd car to cross over the racing line before time ran out. It was Georgia, then Charles, then me over the line – with George Russell and Lando right behind me, also on flying laps.

Last lap, Carlos, let’s make it count, I encouraged myself. I could see Charles in front of me; his precision and movements looked incredible, and I started to believe that he just had to take pole after this, it seemed like the lap of his life. I felt a little pang in my heart for Georgia. She was the current presumed pole sitter, and while I obviously wanted to take pole, a small part of me desperately wanted to see her up there.

But then as I turned the corner, I saw a nightmare unfold in front of me. In Charles’s aggression to get P1, he had hit Georgia’s car, and it was tumbling into the corner before the Monaco tunnel. Her car did two turns, before fortunately landing back on its wheels, hitting the barrier. Charles’s car stopped right before it could go into Georgia’s car, leaving the two of them sitting ducks. As I watched the wreck in front of me, I felt a huge pang of fear in the pit of my stomach; even if the safety on Formula 1 cars was the best it had ever been, there was always a risk when we raced.

I immediately slammed on the breaks, got out of the car and ran towards Georgia’s car, ignoring Charles as he was already climbing out of his car. She wasn’t getting out of the car, and that had me worried; she had hit the barrier extremely hard.

I approached the cockpit of the car, Georgia still was not making a move to get out of the car. I started to pull her out of it, and she began to move a bit more. I wasn’t sure if she was actually injured, or just in shock, but I wanted to get her out of this car before any potential engine fire could happen.

I could feel Charles come up behind me, attempting to push me out of the way so he could get to his sister. I stood my ground, turning my back to him so I could get a better grip on Georgia’s shoulders as I pulled her free from the racing seat.

She held onto me, still not saying a word, as I felt her wobble a bit, using my body for balance. I put my arms around her and pulled her into me. In that moment, it felt like time had stopped – for just that moment, I felt like Georgia and I were the only people in Monaco.

She then looked up at me and I could see her eyes through her racing helmer look deeply into mine. A tear slid down her eye – I couldn’t see her whole face, but I knew that was a look of utter despair. My heart felt like it was breaking into a million pieces as I looked around and saw debris of her Bugatti all around her.

Still, I took a deep breath, because while her car was damaged, she was alright.

I stumbled back a bit as I felt Charles grab his sister, turning her to him. He had taken off his helmet and he was pulling hers off, demanding to know if she was alright – although the look on his face was one of anger. Georgia took a step back and took her helmet off, taking a deep breath, before picking up her pointer finger and poking Charles into the chest. In that moment, I wasn’t sure which Leclerc twin had the scarier look on their face. They looked as though they were about to enter into a boxing ring.

“You fucking idiot!” Georgia spat out at Charles – there was nothing but rage in her eyes, just rage and fury. Lando stepped forward, putting his hand on Georgia’s chest, as if to signal she should take a moment to breath.

“Me? Why were you driving like an absolute Moron, blocking my flying lap?” He demanded, squaring up to his sister just a little bit more. “Scared I was going to beat you?” he added, his voice laced with venom.

“Whoa, mate, let’s calm down a bit, ehh,” I heard George say to Charles. “Your sisters just had quite an accident, let’s get her to the medical tent.” George went to put his hand out to Georgia, but she just ignored him, still staring at her brother. We must have looked like quite a site to the fans, the 5 of us drivers now all standing in the middle of the wreckage, our helmets off, arguing away.

I heard the ambulance sirens behind us, and as the safety car arrived with the ambulance, we were instructed to hop into the SUV. Both Georgia and Charles were to head straight to the medical tent. As we sat in the safety car, no one said a word as we approached the make shift paddock. Georgia stormed out of the safety car and into the medical tent situated within the paddock. After a few minutes, I entered the tent. I saw both Isabelle and Susie hovering over Georgia who was getting tests done.

“Do you think the car can be fixed?” Georgia asked in such a small voice I had barely heard het. There was sadness in her voice, and if I looked closely enough, I could see a tear form in her eyes.

“We’re assessing the damage now. We’ll stay all night if we have to,” I heard Susie confirm. Georgia just nodded to her, her eyes catching mine. I approached the medical bed and smiled at her.

“You ok?” I asked, nodding to the bruise on her arm.

“I’ll live,” she replied simply. She turned to Isabelle and opened her mouth, but it’s as if Isabelle knew exactly what she was going to ask.

“Yes, you are going to do press. You are on pole and you are racing tomorrow as far as Bugatti is concerned. Now, let’s get you out of this racing suit and into your jeans and a Bugatti polo. You’re expected at the conference in 15. Once that conference is done, I want Carlos to take you home and you are to go straight to sleep. I need you at your very best tomorrow.”

Georgia nodded and stood up from the bed, stumbling a bit before caching herself. I grabbed her helmet for her and she gave me a small smile. I motioned for her to go before me, and as we began to leave the tent, Susie approached us.

“Georgie, I know you are upset with your brother,” Susie said, taking a moment to pause before she continued with her thought, “and you have every right to be. I saw the recording, Charles was driving too aggressively and you never left the racing line. His race engineer did not give him enough space to complete the lap at the pace he needed to get pole, and that is on Ferrari.

However – the press are going to desperately want to see you both fighting. They’re going to want to turn you guys against each other, because that will sell their papers. Don’t give into that. As mad as you are, don’t give the media what they want. When you win tomorrow, you’ll get the justice you deserve. I promise.”

Georgia stilled for a moment, and I heard her release a huge sigh next to me. I’m not sure what compelled me to do this, maybe it was the look of devastation on her face, but I reached my hand down to hers and laced our fingers together, giving her hand a tight squeeze. Surprisingly she squeezed back.

I leaned down and whispered, “She’s right, you know. Don’t feed the bears – they’ll only come begging for more.”

Georgia POV – Qualifying Press Conference

As Carlos took my hand and squeezed it, I looked at him. For the first time, I could see that his face was laced with concern. Was he concerned I was going to beat up my brother?

Maybe.

I hated to admit it to myself, but Carlos staying with me and holding my hand made me feel immensely better. As I looked up into his beautiful brown eyes, my anger started to dissipate.

Charles was having a tough season with Ferrari and I have no doubt that they had screwed up his qualifying strategy. Still, it was no reason to ruin my race. Charles was known for his competitiveness and impulsive behaviors, and now I was on the receiving end of those.

Still, I decided to listen to Susie and kept my tongue to myself. No matter how much the journalist community tried to poke and prod at my anger towards Charles, I sat there and smiled – a nice, big Cheshire cat smile.

Wonder who I learned that from?

END OF PART 1 - GOOD STOPPING PLACE IF YOU NEED IT!

PART 2 BEGINS HERE

Sunday Race - Georgia POV

That morning I woke up at 6am to a text from Isabelle and Susie saying that the car had been repaired. The team had spent the entire night rebuilding the car and scrounging parts, and they had been successful. I had asked – no, begged – to be allowed to stay up with the team and help, but no one would hear of it. Apparently, I needed all the sleep I could get after that impact. To be fair, they weren’t wrong – I had gotten 12 hours of sleep, and I felt almost 100%.

I had asked Carlos if he would be okay getting to the paddock early. My race nerves were on edge, and I felt like I just needed to be there with my team. I had training with Chris in the morning. My reactions needed to be perfect in Monaco. Mistakes were easy – and common.

Unlike most mornings, Carlos was quiet this morning. I suspected he knew that I was not in the mood for chit chat, and while he usually ignored my pleading requests, this time he understood. As a race champion of his home race – he understood what I was going through. For the first time in a long time, Carlos and I truly had something in common, and it made our silence refreshing and almost comforting.

My arrival at the paddock was truly madness. I thought it would be empty at 8am, but boy, oh boy, was I wrong. There were fans everywhere – waving the Monaco flag, and the Bugatti and Ferrari flags. I was shocked at the number of Bugatti flag there were. No words could describe how I felt about the turn out from my country.

The next several hours were probably the slowest of my life. The rain had been off and on all morning, but it looked like we were going to have eventual ‘cloudy’ sunshine for the actual race. I still hadn’t spoken to Charles, and while I was still so mad at him, something in my heart told me I needed to wish my brother luck. We’d never gone into a race angry with one another. It was a rule we had. Formula 1 was so dangerous – too dangerous to go into a race angry at someone you loved so dearly. Charles truly was my other half, my twin. I pulled out my phone and sent him a text.

I smiled at his response. I meant what I said – if Charles came out on top, I would be happy for him. The only thing more important than winning the WDC was my family. That wouldn’t change today.

As 2:50pm rolled around, the racers were shuffled into our cars. The rain had cleared and it looked like we would race with cloudy, but rain free, skies. As the formulation lap finished, I hear Mel come on the radio.

“Good luck GG – let’s bring the bitch home.” I smirked at that one – the F1 commentators already groaned when we cursed in the radio. Sometimes I did it just to piss them off, much to Isabelle’s annoyance.

As soon as the five lights went out, I launched into the start of the race. Being Pole in Monaco meant one thing – the race was yours to fuck up. It was somehow easy to do; Ferrari had managed to screw it up several times for my brother. But this year I had something Charles didn’t have – an all female team with the undying desire to take home the race trophy all of the constructors wanted the most. This race wasn’t just about me showing off how good I could drive. Truthfully, Monaco was a boring track compared to many others. I didn’t need to be the best driver on the grid with the best car to win – many drivers had won with luck alone.

This race was about showing how an all female strategy and pitstop team could also win the race. The race was won not just by the driver, but by the pit stop strategy and timing.

Something which became very evident by lap 45. More than halfway through the race and I was still leading after a pitstop. My tires were feeling good, although I could feel they were wearing. As I came into the pits for a second set of tires, the front wing became stuck, causing an extra two seconds to be added to my pit stop time.

“FUCK – what happened?!” I demanded into the mic.

“Wing failure – just keep driving. We’ll make it up,” Mel responded.

“We’ll need a fucking miracle,” I deadpanned back. Mel proceeded to respond to me, but I ignored her. I could see Charles in front, and at this point, I knew it was Ferrari’s race to lose.

Still, I pressed on. Every lap of this race meant Ferrari had an opportunity to screw up, and I was on fresher tires, gaining speed on the back of Charles. Fortunately Max in P3 was too far behind for me to defend, so I was able to nurse my tires. Another 20 laps went by and it was now lap 65, just 13 laps to go.

And then luck struck. Well, luck for me.

As Charles went into the pits to get his softs, his left tire had a malfunction, causing him to come out behind me in P2 once all the other pit stops had been completed from other drivers. I was in front again with now 8 laps to go.

“GG…. Defend like the lioness I know you to be,” was all Mel said in my radio.

And defend I did. I went through the next 8 laps with more precision than I have ever had in my life. I drove within millimeters of the barriers and set my eyes in front of me, not even worrying about Charles behind me. This was my race to lose – and no man was going to stop me.

As I started the last lap, I began to hear a little whistle in my car. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I thought to myself. This can’t happen now. I will push this car to the finish line before I DNF out of this race.

“Mel –noise – why?” I panicked, barely able to get out the words, and definitely not able to get out a full sentence.

“Debris stuck in floor.”

“Fuck – what do I do?”

“Remember when we went to that stupid fair in Paris?”

“How is this fucking relevant?” I bit back.

“We went on that silly go kart track and you were so mad you qualified behind me, so you just blocked the way for everyone like an absolute menace.”

“Yes…”

“Now’s your time GG. Be that menace.”

And what a menace did I become. I could feel the debris getting more stuck, so I slowed the car down, and then did the unthinkable – I started to drive in the middle of the road, not caring about the racing line. I didn’t need to be faster than Charles this lap – I just needed to keep him behind me. I could see his car swerving, trying to get an opportunity to pass.

But this was Monaco. I grew up on these streets. The only person who knew these narrow streets as well as I did was behind me. As soon as the checkered flag came into view, I launched my car with all the might and power I knew the Bugatti had. I saw Charles right behind me, making one last attempt to get past me.

But it was too late – I had crossed the line first.

I had won the Monaco Grand Prix, which Charles 100th of a second behind me.

I can’t even explain the emotions I had at that moment. It was like every emotion I had felt in the last year, since taking this seat at Bugatti, had come up and hit me all at once. Tears started to spill from my eyes as I made my way into the pits – the floor was absolutely damaged, and that was going to cost the team financially, but in that moment I didn’t care. This race win was going to bring us the Sponsorship we needed – the sponsorship the team deserved.

I heard the radio turn on, “Georgie – this is Isabelle. No, this is the entire Bugatti team speaking… well done, love, well done. Also that’s P3 for Lily. Double podium today.”

“WAHOOOOOO!” I screamed back into the radio. “This one’s for you guys. For every single one of you that stayed up all night on this car. This trophy belongs to you. You believed in me when no one else did.”

As soon as I parked in the P1 spot, I jumped out of my car, hands in the air, classic window washing dance as I stood up in my cock pit. Soon after I had stepped out, Charles parked in the P2 spot and Lily parked in the P3 spot – her first ever podium. Apparently Red Bull had made an error on the tires, and Lily was able to sneak past him with a better change to the softs.

I ran towards the Bugatti paddock and jumped into the arms of Mel, my race engineer – tears in both of our faces. Susie Wolff ran over, grabbing my shoulders and pulling me into a deaf-defying hug. As I walked back towards the cars and presenter, Lorenzo and Arthur grabbed me and gave me a huge hug – followed by Charles. My twin brother came up to me, grabbed my helmet, and pulled me in for what can only be described as an absolute chokehold of a hug.

“I’m so proud, Peaches,” I heard him say over the commotion. “So proud.”

I took off my helmet and fireproof cap and ran over to Lily, who was also celebrating with the Bugatti mechanics. Surprisingly she jumped up into my arms, wrapped her legs around my waist, and gave me a huge hug and kiss on my forehead. I chuckled and spun her around. At that moment I wasn’t sure what I was happier about – me winning, or Lily finally getting that podium she deserved, and in Monaco no less.

A double podium for Bugatti, there was absolutely nothing that could spoil today.

As other racers started to come up to me, I looked for Carlos in the crowd. Finally, I saw him coming up the paddock walkway, a huge grin on his face. As he reached me, he pulled me into a huge hug. All of a sudden I felt myself being leaned backwards. I looked up at Carlos’ face and he had the world’s biggest, most smug grin on his face – like he had this a plan in motion that he couldn’t to see hatch.

Before I knew it, Carlos lips were on mine, and I was leaning back, being kissed as if I was Cinderella, and Carlos was my prince charming. After a few seconds, he slowly lifted me back up and pulled my face to his, whispering, “Go and celebrate, Princesa, I’ll give you your real prize later,” he said in a voice much too sultry for my liking – well… maybe to my liking.

He picked up his helmet and began walking back towards the Ferrari garage, a huge grin on his face. Before I could process what had just happened, I was being pulled towards the presenter and then the cooldown room.

After the trophy ceremony was complete, I made my way back to the Bugatti garage to get ready for the press reviews. For the first time in the history of my Formula 1 career, I wasn’t the least bit nervous for the press debrief. Hell, they could tell me my car had caught on fire and I wouldn’t be able to do the next 5 races – I didn’t care; nothing was going to ruin this for me.

As I was changing my clothes, Isabelle knocked on the door.

“Come in,” I called back to the knock. I was surprised to see Isabelle at my door. Typically, she was pulled into a constructors meeting after the race.

“I have something for you,” she said in her thick Italian accent. She handed me a small bag with Bugatti blue tissue paper. I opened up the bag and pulled out a team polo. I gave Isabelle a confused look and she just chuckled at me – actually chuckled.

“Turn it over.”

As I turned the polo over, there it was. The words I had wanted to say since the beginning of my F1 career. Isabelle had taken my team polo and had the words “Triple Crown of Motorsport: 2022” stitched onto it. The words were sewn in beautiful lettering, clearly handstitched by someone with incredible detail and care.

I looked up at her, my mouth wide open, unsure of what to say. This was possibly the nicest gift anyone had given me.

“Tha-thank you,” I stuttered out.

Isabelle smiled, a lovely, pearly white smile. I had never really seen her smile before. She had a beautiful smile, with just one dimple on her left cheek.

“Wear it to the press conference,” she said simply.

With that she got up and headed towards the exit, but not before adding, “Wear it… and remind the vultures that a lioness has arrived at the paddock, and she has a bone to pick with them.”

Sunday Evening

The press conference had been an interesting one, one of the few press conferences that I think I would remember in my career. It was as if the press had no idea what to say to me, and that was fine. They asked the usual boring questions – about the strategy, tires, etc… but, for the first time in my career, not a single person uttered even a slightly personal or offensive question to me.

Good, I thought to myself. Let them stew on that for a while.

The celebrations that evening had been some of my best. Unlike Wednesday, I had elected to drink less. I wanted to remember this day. I wanted to remember everything about it.

Carlos had also decided to drink less, for some inexplicable reason. He had been a bit odd when we got back to my apartment after the race. He was kind, courteous, and most of all – he was quiet. Even at the bar, he was attentive when I asked him questions, but kept himself back a bit – as if he was trying to give me some room.

Truth be told, I was kind of annoyed. I had won Monaco, and for some reason, he decided this was the time he was going to give me space. I had spent the last several races demanding it, and now, for some blasted reason, I was jealous. Jealous that he spent a good portion of the evening celebrating with Lily. Jealous that he, Charlotte, and Charles did shots together. Jealous that he seemed to talk to every single damn person in this club except his girlfriend.

Well, fake… girlfriend, I corrected myself.

His words rung in my ear, ‘Go and celebrate, Princesa, I’ll give you your real prize later.’

At around midnight I said goodbye to my friends and grabbed Carlos’ hand. “We’re leaving,” I demanded, albeit a bit too harshly at him. He quirked up an eyebrow, but let me drag him into the cab I hailed outside of the club. The ride to my apartment was silent. Truthfully, I didn’t know what to say. Was I acting weird?

No. He was acting weird, I decided. But, why?

The car arrived at my apartment, and we quickly shuffled into my living room. I was starting to feel more and more annoyed with Carlos. He padded on over to my fridge, grabbed a bottle of water and turned back to me, smiling slightly, “Well, what a good day – night Georgie.”

And with that, he waltzed into his room.

I. Was. Fuming.

Why was I fuming? Not for any decent reason I cared to admit.

Before I could stop myself, I marched on over to his room and flung open the door. Inside the room I saw a shocked Carlos, who had now taken off his shirt, just staring back at me. His eyes looked shocked, but the ever so slight turn up of his lip told me otherwise.

I decided to ignore that – for now.

“What was that all about?” I demanded.

“Hmm?” he asked casually, setting his water down at his bedside table.

“You!” I yelled back, starting to raise my voice. “You spent the whole night ignoring me… by like, not ignoring me.” I knew I sounded like an idiot. I knew I should probably stop myself before I continued on, but I couldn’t.

“I thought you’d want your space,” he responded easily – too easily in my opinion.

“Why would you think I’d want space from my boyfriend,” I gritted back.

“Fake boyfriend,” he added quickly. I could tell he noticed that my cheeks had gone a bit red. I had let that slip, and I was definitely a little embarrassed.

I stuttered a bit, not quite sure how to respond to that. I had been caught. Caught doing what? Not completely sure.

“What is it you wanted me to do, Georgie?” he asked. Carlos stood up from the bed he was sitting on and started to slowly move towards me. As he got closer, I could see the corner of his mouth start to go up into a bigger grin.

“Hmmm?” he asked again, as if he expected a response.

I took a little step back, still a bit unsure of what to say. What had I wanted Carlos to do?

Carlos kept moving closer. Soon, my back was against the wall, and his face was mere inches from my face. I could feel his breath close to my lips, his left hand came up and cradled my face ever so gently, with just his finger tips. I saw his eyes flicker down to my lips, and then back up to my eyes, his brown orbs staring intently into mine.

I bit my bottom lip as I watched him, letting it slowly leave my mouth. God, in this moment, Carlos looked so hot – so kissable. His lips were mere inches from mine and without a shirt on? He truly was the most handsome man on the grid. His shoulders were on full display and he was leaning over me. I tried to keep my eyes focused on his eyes, but it was next to impossible, not as he snaked his right hand around my waist and pulled my core into him.

I wanted to say something sassy back. Hell, I wanted to say something back. But I was frozen. What did I want from Carlos? Truth was, I hadn’t had sex in a very long time and with Carlos being my fake boyfriend, there wasn’t exactly an opportunity to have sex with other men. Why shouldn’t I try it with Carlos?

I mean he had been good in my dream… I knew he had to be even better in real life.

Carlos just chuckled as I stared at him, his smirk growing larger on his face. He leaned in to my ear and whispered, “Oh, cariño, I’ll let you get away with not answering me this time, as a reward for winning today, but next time I ask you a question, I will expect an answer. Only good girls get rewards.” As soon as his breath hit my neck, I felt goosebumps go up my body. His words should not have turned me on as much as they did. All of a sudden I had images flash in my mind of Carlos issuing me a punishment for not answering him – and all of the options seemed better than the next.

As if Carlos was reading my mind, he turned his head back to my face, and pressed his lips against mine. I took my hand and placed it on his back, pulling him back into me, not that there was any need. Carlos had my body pushed up against the wall, our lips still connecting in a feat of passion. He put his hands around my thighs and tapped them, asking me silent to jump, which I obliged.

Carlos caught me in his strong arms and turned around, opening the door, heading straight to my bedroom. Soon I felt my back hit my fluffy king size bed. Carlos climbed on top of me, his arms on both sides, caging me in as he kissed me deeply again. Already I was a panting mess.

Carlos took advantage of this and pulled off my top, before going back down to my skirt waistband and looking up at me, asking silent permission to pull off my skirt, which I of course obliged – against my better judgement. I silently pushed that annoying part of myself back down.

This was my race win, and I was going to enjoy my spoils.

Carlos smirked and hooked his fingers around my skirt band, pulling it down rapidly. Before I could protest the sudden movement, he started to kiss his way up my leg slowly, paying attention to every mole, scar and scratch I had on my leg – kissing each one individually.

Soon I felt his mouth get to my thong, and he pulled it aside, placing gentle kitten licks around my core – placing them everywhere except where I desperately needed him most. Carlos slipped a finger inside my thong and tugged it down, pulling it off me and then flinging it across the room like a sling slot.

I rolled my eyes at him in annoyance, which was quickly replaced with pleasure as he went back down on me, pulling my legs over his shoulders as he worked his way back up to my core, his lips once again kissing slowly up my leg. I whimpered a bit as he got closer.

“Carlos… stop teasing,” I demanded. All I heard was a chuckle from the Spaniard, but to my surprise, he gave in. His tongue slid up my entrance to my clit, and I sucked in a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I squirmed a bit, and I felt Carlos’ hand press down on my hips, keeping them in place and stopping my movements. Unconsciously I had begun to move myself on his tongue, hoping to get some additional friction, but to no avail. Carlos had me locked down – and damn, it was making me even more turned on.

Carlos began to pick up the pace, working me like he was a starved man who had just been presented a feast. His tongue was fast and furious, and then light and soft. He would do this up and down, driving me absolutely mad with pleasure. His rhythm was incredible and when he stuck a finger inside of me, I was gone for. I was a moaning and panting mess above Carlos, and I knew the bastard was enjoying this, but in that moment, I couldn’t find it within myself to care.

His mouth kept working me until my toes began to curl, and I could feel that usual electrifying feeling all the way down my body. I let out the most animalistic sound I think I have ever made as Carlos sunk a second and third finger into me, sliding them in and out of me, hitting that sweet spot inside of me, all while sucking and licking on my clit. Within a few more thrusts I was cumming hard and fast, shockwaves of pleasure were coursing through my body. Carlos helped me ride out my waves of pleasure as he licked up everything I had to offer.

As soon as I came down from my high, I started to catch my breath and come to. I opened my eyes, and I saw Carlos right above me, a huge fucking grin on his face. He pecked my lips and then stood up, backing away from the bed slowly.

I could see the huge bulge in his pants, and just as I was about to propose that I could help him with that, he uttered, “Now we’re even, Princesa,” with so much cockiness in his voice, he might as well have been the one who won the race tonight.

And now, for the second time in our fake relationship, I was once again left speechless. Carlos put on that classic Cheshire cat grin, turned around, and left my bedroom.

Had the bastard planned this revenge from the beginning? Of course he fucking had. I wasn’t sure if I was impressed that he had known his ignoring me would get under my skin enough for me to cave… or annoyed that I fallen for it like a complete buffoon.

Both – it wasn’t definitely both.

Georgia: 2 Carlos: 1

*******

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bluejaysandblackbats · 1 month

Text

Titans Academy

Fandom: DC Comics, Titans, Arrowfam

Summary: Grant struggles to accept his new reality when Roy takes him in and enrolls him in Titans Academy. He must adjust to life at a boarding school and life with his new foster family (Roy and Lian). Can he learn to trust the people who claim to care about him? Or will he shut himself off from love altogether?

Chapters: 6/?

Characters: Grant Emerson, Roy Harper, Bart Allen, Toni Monetti, Cody Driscoll, Lian Harper, Jade Nguyen, Audrey Spears, Tommy Blake Jr.

Additional Tags: Father-Son Relationship, Boarding School AU, No Powers AU, Found Family, Second Chances, Roy Harper is a Legal Guardian, Roy Harper is a Father, POV First Person, Grant Emerson POV, Autistic Bart Allen

Chapter Six: Greenthread Tea

I had nightmares that night. Some of them were so bad I thought I'd be sick, so I went to the bathroom and splashed my face. Roy sat in the living room with Tommy, giving him his bottle. "You okay, Grant?" Roy questioned without turning around. It made my blood run cold.

"Uh-huh... Actually, do you have something for my stomach?" I asked. I leaned against the wall, and Roy turned to me.

"Do you feel sick?" Roy asked.

"Uhh... A little, yeah," I answered. Roy gestured with his head for me to come closer, and I approached the couch. He reached up and felt my forehead with the back of his hand.

"Yeah... Can you sit until I'm done with Tommy, and I'll get you something for your stomach?" Roy asked. I nodded and sat in the patchwork armchair. I slumped in the chair and stared at Roy as he fed Tommy.

Once Roy finished feeding and burping Tommy, he put the baby down in the playpen. He went to his room and grabbed a bottle of antacid pills. He dropped one in a glass of water and gave it to me. I tried to hold it down, but my stomach seemed to reject it immediately. To be honest, I puked. It was gross and embarrassing, and even worse, Roy was nice about it.

"I'll go get the baking soda. Sit still," Roy whispered. He quickly handed me paper towels to blot my sweatshirt dry and neatly drizzled baking soda on the stain to dry it up. "Still queasy?"

"Nuh-uh... Roy, I'm sorry. That was—."

"I've done way worse, and at least you didn't spit up on the chair... Sorry, is that—? You're a little old for that phrase, huh?" Roy asked. He asked me to take off my sweatshirt and left me alone for a second while he grabbed a trash bag. I carefully removed my sweatshirt and held it in a ball on my lap. Roy took my shirt and tossed it. "Want the couch, or do you wanna go back to bed?"

"Can I sleep on the couch?" I asked. The throbbing in my head finally subsided, and Roy nodded.

"Go shower, and I'll set up the couch for you," Roy whispered. I nodded and went to my room to get my pajamas. The hot water felt good in my hair and on my scalp. Finally, after a few minutes, I returned to the living room and climbed underneath the heavy blankets on the couch. Roy took Tommy and put him to bed in one of the other rooms, and I was all by myself. I was surprised when I started feeling lonesome. It might've been my fever talking, but I got up and asked if Roy would sit with me for a while.

"You okay?" Roy asked.

I nodded. "I had a nightmare before I woke up... I don't wanna be alone, I guess. It's the first time I've ever been sick without my m—. Without them," I explained. Roy nodded.

Roy lay on the other couch. "Okay... Are you sure you're okay?" Roy asked.

I pretended like I couldn't hear him. I didn't know why, but I felt homesick. I wished my mom was there. Eventually, I fell asleep. I woke up shivering and drenched in sweat, and Roy was still there. His presence was different than most adults. I couldn't put my finger on it, but he wasn't like any adult I'd ever met. He took a cool towel and patted the sweat from my face and neck. "I'm still here," Roy reassured. I made a soft noise and closed my eyes. I don't think he left my side the whole night. Every time I woke up, he was sitting right there.

After a while, I sat up, watching the sun come up from the window as he slept. I got a blanket from the hall closet and draped it over him. He stirred. "Thanks," Roy mumbled, "How're you feeling?"

"A little better... Um... Did I say anything last night?" I asked.

"Not really... After two o'clock, it all sounded like background noise to me," Roy replied.

I laid back on the couch, and Roy groaned as he sat up. "You don't have to get up," I whispered.

"Oh, trust me," Roy chuckled, "I do."

Lian came down the hall, and she climbed into Roy's lap. "Were you sleeping, Daddy?" Lian asked. Roy nodded and kissed her forehead. She turned to me and waved. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Lian... Don't get too close. I'm sick," I warned her. Lian nodded and frowned.

"Hope you feel better," Lian whispered. Roy got up, still holding Lian on his hip.

"We'll be right back. I've gotta do daddy duty," Roy replied, "Do you think you can eat anything?" He asked gently, and I started feeling painfully uncomfortable. "Grant?"

"I'm alright... I think I'll go back to bed," I replied. Roy nodded.

"If you need anything, don't be afraid to call," Roy stated.

I got up and went to my room. I couldn't sleep anymore, but my head ached, and my stomach kept turning. I wished I could sleep, but I figured he'd come in and check on me. I was surprised when he knocked and brought me a cup of tea and a bowl of soup. He had Lian with him, and I smiled and waved at her. "Hope I didn't wake you up... Lian insisted on telling you a story," Roy replied, "She thinks it'll make you feel better. Is that alright with you?"

I nodded and smiled, sitting up as she sat cross-legged on the opposite side of the room. Lian started the story, and Roy filled in the parts she couldn't remember. They distracted me from how sick I was, and eventually, I finished my tea and lay down. I still couldn't eat, but the tea was soothing enough to make me sleepy again. I felt like a real kid, waiting patiently for the ending. I tried to stay awake for the end, but I couldn't keep my eyes open. Their words followed me into my dreams until they faded too. They cared about me. They really cared.

I woke up a few hours later to a fresh cup of tea and the soft sound of Tommy crying. My door was cracked, and Roy walked past, peeking through the crack. "I'll be back in two seconds. Lunch rush," Roy joked.

I took another few sips of tea and turned toward the door to see Lian standing outside. "Lian," I whispered, "Thanks, Kid. Your story helped me sleep better."

Lian stood on her tiptoes and smiled. "I'll tell you another story later," Lian replied.

"I'm looking forward to it," I replied. Lian waved goodbye, and I waved back. I hated how lonesome I felt afterward, but Roy came to check on me a few minutes later.

He opened the door and waved at me. "Thanks for humoring us," Roy whispered.

"Huh?" I asked.

"I could tell you were listening to every word she said earlier," Roy explained.

"It was interesting. Can you tell Lian how much I liked the story?" I whispered. Roy grinned and nodded.

Roy sat with me and kept me company until I could eat. I only had a few bites of dinner, but Roy's cooking was borderline gourmet. Even when sick, I could still taste his food. I think he took pride in it. Roy liked being needed. No... He enjoyed helping people. I think if more adults were like Roy, maybe the world would be a better place.

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