Renée’s never liked you. She’s never said she disliked you, but she’s made it clear enough. So when the twinkling lights of Paris draw the truth out from the shadows and the lines start to blur, how can you be expected to keep your composure?
Disclaimer: this is a work of FICTION. Any resemblance to actual infrastructure, events or relationships is a complete FLUKE. I actually know nothing about the inner workings of Arsenal (and to be honest not much about the lives of the players besides the obvious). I have MADE UP games, timelines, and obviously relationships. No accuracy, just vibes. Enjoy.
The entirety of this work (in approx five parts) carries an 18+ MINORS DNI warning! You have been told!!
Warnings: domesticity/fluff, foul language, lying (does that require a warning?), my REALLY bad Dutch translations, alcohol consumption, fingering (both receiving at diff times), oral (as above), sloppy kissy missionary vibes, basically this is the only smutty chapter so enjoy :)))
Scott street- Phoebe Bridgers
Saw you in a dream- the Japanese House
winning first prize // no more room for lies
The week that followed the teams return from Paris, and your return to the senior squad, was something of a fever dream. The days passed much as they always had, assessments and paperwork and sessions out on the field with the team. You revolved in Renée's orbit, your energies swirling like oil atop water, touching but never merging together. Not during the day, not with the eyes of players and staff unknowingly cataloguing your every move.
But at the end of the day, as the stadium emptied out and the floodlights flickered on in the car park, Renée messaged like clockwork. She waited by the low wall outside the players entrance until you appeared, taking your hand as you walked to her car. After the first evening, she insisted on driving you home, and by the third she was pulling into your street without a map.
She kissed you before you climbed into the car, and then again when she put the handbrake on. She got out of the car each time, kissing you again up against the passenger door, and then again at the gate, and then again as you buzzed in the door. But she never crossed the threshold, never pushing you that far. Renée said goodbye sweetly, her hands gentle on your waist, and you stood in the doorway each night and watched her drive away.
Come Thursday, you were itching to fill the girls in on the events of the week. Renée kissed you goodbye in the car, and you opened Beth's front door to the smell of pasta cooking, and found the other three in the kitchen, sat around the island, a bottle of wine already open. You dropped your bag in the hallway and headed straight through, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand as you entered the room. The windows were steamed up, a pot boiling on the hob, and Viv was leaning against the counter.
"Well well well." She smirked as you came in, looking you up and down.
"Yeah, sorry. Got stuck at work. But I'm here now!"
"Stuck at work? What was keeping you?"
You ducked your head, unable to meet her eye, a smug smile spreading on your face. It was hard to contain the elation that bubbled inside you every time someone even slightly alluded to her.
"Ooh, she's definitely been seeing her mystery woman!" Steph teased, sticking out a leg to kick you in the shins.
"Look at her! That is the guilty face of someone who has just been kissed!" Beth laughed, digging her fingers into your ribs, making you squirm. You all fell about laughing, as Viv watched on, a suspicious smirk on her face.
"So how's it going? We were talking about it and Beth and I think we've figured out who it is."
Your heart dropped. You looked at Steph, at them both, their faces plastered with pride, but the expression on Viv's had shifted- they had no idea.
"So we've been snooping," Beth pulled out her phone, bringing something up.
"And we think it's... Tia. The girl from marketing, you know the one who runs the Instagram."
"Maybe." It was just a tease, but Steph threw up her hands in defeat.
"We worked so hard! And it's obviously not, or you would've cracked!"
"She is hot though," Beth remarked, turning her phone round to you. Her screen showed a holiday photo of a skinny, tan girl with a mass of curls, lounging by a pool in a tiny bikini. She was pretty, sure, but they couldn't have been further from the mark.
"Oi." Viv interrupted, coming up behind Beth and kissing her on the head.
"Stop looking at naked women that aren't me."
Beth laughed, locking her phone.
"Alright alright. Our idea's been ruined anyway."
There was a pause while Viv brought plates of steaming bolognese over to the counter. You settled onto a barstool, pouring a glass of wine and avoiding Steph's eye. She was itching to ask a question.
"I want to knowwww," she whinged, kicking you under the counter.
"At least tell us what's happened. And spare no detail."
You laughed into your glass, glancing up at Viv before you cleared your throat.
"It's... going well, actually. We had coffee the day after Paris, and then dinner on Friday. And on Tuesday she took me to this little Italian- it was so cute! And she's literally driven me home from work every day this week!"
"She must be obsessed," Beth remarked through a mouthful of spaghetti. "Three dates in a week is kind of a lot."
You hadn't really thought about that, but she was right.
"I guess. It doesn't feel like it though- not when we see each other every day anyway-"
"So it's someone you see every day! That narrows it down!!" Steph squealed, grabbing Beth's hands and squeezing them excitedly. Viv's eyes flared with a combination of panic and mischief, but nothing could threaten the glowy feeling in your chest when you talked about her.
"Guys I really do want to tell you. You know that. It's just... well it's more for her sake than mine. I don't want to jeopardise her in any way."
"So it's someone high up?" Beth scrunched her nose, thinking. "Like on the board?"
"God no, there's like two women and they're both over sixty Bethany."
"I don't know what you're into, not judging!"
"So a boss bitch who you see every day, and if your type is anything to go for she's going to be petite, dark hair, big brown eyes..." Steph listed off, counting on her fingers. Your eyes landed on Viv, whose eyes had shifted from mysteriously curious to slightly panicked.
"I'm going to stop you Steffy... you're dangerously close, and I don't want you implicated in this until I've talked to her about it."
"So soon?" Viv spoke up for the first time.
"Thought you were keeping things professional at work?" Her gaze softened, with something like genuine concern.
"But private and secret are not the same thing. If this is going well, I want to be able to use her name with my best friends and not worry about the repercussions, you know?"
Viv nodded, and the others looked between you, confused.
"Hang on." Beth leaned on the island, turning first to you and then Viv.
"Do you know something we don't? What's going on here?"
Viv pressed her lips together.
"It's a secret for a reason, baby. Even if I did know, it's not my place to share it."
"But you tell me everything!"
You put your hand on her arm, pulling her attention away from Viv.
"I asked her not to, Bethy. You'll understand why soon, I promise."
"Fine, whatever. I don't want to talk about it anymore. Let's put the telly on."
On Saturday morning, you were lying in bed as the wintery sun trickled in the curtains. It wasn't early, not really, but the luxury of lying still with nowhere to be was not lost on you- weekends more often than not consisted of international travel, events and emergency appointments, so a day with a clear schedule was really rather enticing.
That was, until someone knocked on the door. Was it the postie? Could be, it was Saturday, and you had ordered a phone charger a couple of days ago. You reluctantly swung your legs out of bed, grabbing a huge tshirt from the back of your office chair and tugging it down over your thighs as you padded to the door. It would only be open for a moment- no matter.
Without really thinking, you opened the front door and looked up to take your parcel. Instead of a gruff, beardy man in a red fleece, your eyes met those soft brown ones that had lured you in not so long ago. Renée was dressed, obviously, and you suddenly became aware of just how bare your legs were, how exposed your chest felt with no bra, no scrap of makeup on your face, not even a brush dragged through your hair. Still she grinned, thrusting a coffee cup into your hand.
"Good morning, I come bearing gifts. Flat white?"
As much as your chest felt like panicking, her smile and the way her eyes sparkled just melted you.
"Are you asking to come in?"
She must not have thought about it until that moment, but something flashed across her face when you said that.
"Umm... yes? I think? If that's alright?"
You looked down at yourself, then back at her. Her nose was red with cold, and she was jittering on the doorstep, even in her coat.
"Yes of course. Come on, get out the cold." You stepped aside to let her in, taking both coffee cups and leading her into the lounge.
"Shall I take your coat? You can take your boots off or leave them on, I don't really care."
The whole thing felt a little formal, stilted, as she shrugged off her coat and handed it to you. Underneath she had a soft, cable knit jumper, and you couldn't resist reaching out and putting an arm around her.
You kissed the top of her head.
"Thank you for the coffee. That was really sweet."
She let her arm come up around your waist, and without realising it her fingers brushed the bare skin just below your hip. She flinched at the contact, as if she'd been burned, and a frantic apology came tumbling out.
"I, oh my God, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, I mean I would never, unless you, ohhh I'm an idiot." She mumbled. It was adorable, really, the way the blasé confidence fell away as soon as you were behind closed doors.
"Renée." You took her hand in your own, squeezing it tight.
"Please stop apologising. I think we're past that. Quite frankly, you can put your hands where you like."
You wrapped your hand around her wrist, flattened her fingers against your palm, and then pressed her hand back on the outside of your leg. Still holding her wrist, you guided her fingers over your skin, across your quad, just barely brushing your inner thigh. In truth, it sent a hot spike of need to your core, but you stayed steady, looking her in the eye.
"Yes. See? It's okay babe."
It was the first time you'd called her anything like that. But she was in your home, while you stood there half naked, so maybe it was a morning for firsts.
The look on her face was unchanged as she withdrew her touch, clearing her throat awkwardly.
"Come here." You pulled her close, an arm around her back, and kissed her roughly on the mouth. You let go as quickly as you'd started, brushing a strand of hair back from her face.
"I've got no clothes on, and morning breath. Give me five minutes to get sorted, then I'll make breakfast?"
"You do have morning breath. But I don't mind."
Taking that as an answer, you left her to settle on the couch. Upstairs you brushed your teeth hurriedly, grabbing a pair of jeans and a white tshirt. Not planning to leave the house that day, you forewent a bra, earrings, and socks, jogging back downstairs in your bare feet to find Renée stood in the corner by the bookcase, examining the spines.
"You have... interesting taste." She said, turning, and then her eyebrows shot up and she bit her lip.
"What?" You crossed the room to her.
She cleared her throat, shifting on the spot.
Renée coughed, half a splutter and half a chuckle, and then she said
"I can really, really see your boobs."
Her cheeks flushed immediately, as if she'd said something out of turn.
You laughed, half at the look on her face, half at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. The fucking Arsenal manager was in your living room, and she was looking at your tits.
"Lucky you," you smirked, coming closer to her and wrapping your arms around her from behind, not unaware of the way your chest pressed into her as you kissed the back of her neck.
The way the morning progressed was strange- strange because it was easy, domestic, a far cry from the team meetings, insurance sign offs and travel preparations of the week. Renée perched herself on the worktop, plucking grapes from the fruit bowl and popping them into her mouth as you made pancakes. You ate in contented quiet, exchanging a few words on the film she'd watched last night, how your dad was, when her sister was coming to visit. But it felt simple- like the most important thing was one another's company. You washed the plates, and without asking she came up beside you and dried them.
"If you're busy I can go now," she hesitated in the hallway as you made your way back to the couch.
"I don't want to be in your way."
You rolled your eyes, scooping her up and kissing her softly.
"I have no plans." You said softly. You'd never get tired of this, of how easily you could lift her, hold her.
She took you by surprise though, when she wove her fingers in the back of your hair, kissing you again and wrapping her legs around your waist. Without hesitation you backed her into the wall of the hall, her body pressed into your hips, mouths never parting for more than a millisecond. She groaned and squeezed her legs tighter around you as you leaned against her, breathing shifting into something needy, desperate.
"No plans huh?" She breathed, tilting her head back as your lips found her jaw.
"I think I just made some." You whispered into her neck, anchoring her hips against you with firm hands, and carrying her to the sofa.
You almost gasped out loud at the look on her face when you dropped her onto her back against the cushions. It was like she had melted, the last shreds of careful pretence crumbling away into a raw, undiluted hunger. Her eyes were wild, dark, and her hips wriggled from the moment your body parted from her until you let your weight fall on top.
You planted your elbows either side of her head, hands in her hair, revelling in the way her eyes flickered closed and her chin tilted up under your fingers. She shifted against you as your knee dug down into the couch cushion, pressing your thigh against her core, the whisper of a moan stirring in her chest at the contact. You smiled, just an inch from her lips, absorbing her gasps in a kiss. She submitted almost entirely, pliant and soft as your tongue brushed into her mouth, both of her hands on the back of your neck like you might escape if she let go.
"Babyyy," she whined, and you almost made a sound, truly incredulous at how good it sounded in her mouth.
"You can." You cut her off, looking down at her as she bit her lip.
"You absolutely can. But first, let me touch you? Let me taste you? Please?" You punctuated the sentence with kisses, behind her ear, at her throat, on her collarbone. She just whimpered as you shifted onto one elbow, other hand straying to the hem of her sweater. You paused.
"My God, yes." She sat up under you, half pushing you back as she helped pull it off. You were surprised to find lingerie underneath- simple, black and trimmed with lace. Seemingly effortless, but apparently intentional.
"Hmm." You hummed, laying her back down as your mouth travelled over the newly exposed swathe of her chest.
"Someone was ready for this, huh?"
You glanced up at her, and she flushed.
"I didn't want to assume. I just want to look good for you." Her breath caught as your mouth found her nipple through the fabric.
"You always look good for me baby," you breathed, teeth snagging over it through her bra.
She whimpered, her chest arching up under your kiss, her hands clutching aimlessly at your hair, shoulders, trailing over your upper back. You reached for her, lacing your fingers through hers and steadying her movements as you pressed firm, wet kisses down her stomach. You were thorough, lavishing attention over every inch of skin as you progressed, taking the time to drink her in through all of your senses. The soft sound of her gasping breath, the scent of bergamot on her skin, the intoxicating glisten of a trail of saliva down her stomach. As you neared her navel, she moved her hand, urging your fingers towards the button of her jeans.
"Someone's eager." You teased, sitting up a little to unfasten them. She lifted her hips quickly, allowing you to pull them away to reveal matching underwear. Because of course it fucking matched.
You sat up for a moment, just looking at her, taking it in. The desperate, blown open look on her face, cheeks red and lips parted and kiss bitten. The heave of her chest, the subtle begging twist of her hips. The bare expanse of her thighs, strong like she'd played a game herself just last week.
"God you're fucking sexy." The comment was more for yourself than her, but she covered her face with her arm, smiling.
"Stop it. I'm not what I used to be."
You rolled your eyes, leaning down to kiss her again.
"You're perfect." You whispered against her lips, barely giving her a second to collect herself before your fingertips met her core through her underwear. She hissed, eyes locked on to yours as she inhaled slowly. You trailed your hand gently, quietly revelling in the fact that she was wet enough to feel it on the outside.
"Gonna make you feel so good." You muttered, allowing your fingers to wander around the edges of the barrier, nails catching at the lace. She shuddered, and then her eyes darkened.
"Please, y/n. I've waited so long."
She wasn't lying. You wondered if she'd thought about this as many times as you had, or maybe more. You wondered how long she'd wanted it.
It was hardly begging, but it was enough. You hooked both hands in the elastic, almost ripping them down her legs, and dragged your fingers up her centre before she could speak again. She exhaled shakily, watching as your face lit up at the wetness on your hand. You laughed, mouth half open, a grin slipping uncontrollably over your face.
"Jesus Renée. Fucking look at you." She let out a choked moan at your fingertips catching her clit, just for a moment, before you dipped back down and teased one at her entrance. She hummed, lifting her hips, practically pushing it in herself. You followed her lead, allowing her body to swallow it up to the knuckle, watching the combination of pleasure and relief on her face as you curled it against her walls.
"Fucking hell..." she groaned, sinking down on to you as far as she could.
"Yesss baby." She spurred you on, and you felt her squeeze.
Settling into a slow, steady rhythm, you waited until she was gasping and breathing at regular intervals before you let your lips brush over her cunt. For a moment you thought she was going to hit the ceiling, the way her hips jerked up. You chuckled, adjusting so as to hold her still with the other hand while you kissed her slow. The sound she made when you licked from your own hand, still inside her, up to her clit, was borderline pornographic- a filthy, broken cry, somewhere between the sound of agonising pain and total ecstasy. You had to do it again, just to hear that sound. You would've kept going, dragging lazy stripes up her slit with your tongue if she hadn't wound your hair into a ponytail around her hand and fastened your head in place, right over her clit.
"Please," her breath was ragged, hips still keening up against your chin. There was no need really for her to ask- you fastened your lips to her, sucking the bundle of nerves into your mouth, swirling your tongue over it as it hardened and throbbed. Her gasps and whines rose to sit somewhere between a moan and a scream, and with each brush of your tongue she clenched around your finger.
"I'm, I.,. Fuck I..." she couldn't form a sentence, but she didn't need to. A second finger joined the first easily, stretching her just barely, the pressure of her muscles wrapping around them as she trembled simply delicious. You fucked her properly, then, never letting up with your mouth, working your fingers inside her and smiling against her as she spasmed. You were lost in it, the taste, the smell, the feel of her, but she snapped you out of it when her thighs tightened around your head and she began to shake. You risked a glance up at her face, and sort of wished you hadn't, the sight was so distracting. She was red, sweaty, strands of hair sticking to her forehead. Her head was thrown back, spine arched like a piece of art as her chest heaved with each gasping moan.
"That's it baby." You breathed over her, flicking her clit gently with the tip of your tongue, watching her face carefully as she tipped toward the edge.
You latched onto her clit with renewed vigour, and within seconds she was writhing. Her eyes rolled back, mouth hanging open. She went almost completely quiet as the climax wracked through her, her legs rigid around your face. You released your mouth, running one hand down her tensed thigh as she trembled through the shocks around your other.
Eventually she relaxed, allowing one knee to drop away from your ear, the other resting against the back of the sofa. You realised then, that you were mostly on the floor. You laughed, sitting back on your knees on the carpet, as she wiped a hand over her forehead and attempted to sit up.
"Christ." She muttered, not moving. Instead of making her, you crawled up to sit by her head, bringing a tender (and not sticky) hand to her cheek.
"You okay?" You enquired, and she nodded through her eyelids.
"Just... whew. You've drained me."
You chuckled, kissing the back of her hand.
She nodded again, and you left her on the sofa for a second to recover while you pottered through to the kitchen. When you came back she was sat up, back in her underwear, brushing her fingers through her hair.
"Thank you." She sipped gratefully, but avoided your eye, somehow still shy under your gaze.
"Oh god, don't go all silly on me now." You laughed, shoving her shoulder. "I can still taste you, Renée. Now is not the time to get awkward."
She laughed, and the tension broke.
"Okay, okay. Sorry. Just... wasn't really expecting that."
"I like to be unpredictable. Was it everything you'd hoped?"
She smacked your arm in response, but the sparkle in her eyes gave her away.
"I'm really, really glad you weren't doing that to any of my players. I'm pretty sure none of them would be walking, let alone running anywhere."
You crossed the room, pausing in the doorway.
"That's part of my evil plan. I stop you leaving by taking away your ability to use your legs. See!" You laughed as she tried to stand up, her knees shaking. You steadied her elbow, pressing a sticky kiss to her shoulder.
"Come on, I'll show you the bathroom. I need to wash my face anyway."
Your alarm beeped into life, echoing through the dark bedroom.
"What the fuck." Her accent was much thicker in the mornings.
Almost a month had passed since Renée had showed up on your doorstep clutching a coffee cup. It had become routine, over the weeks- she showed up on Saturday, usually waking you from a dream, bearing pastries and caffeine. You spent your weekends together, running errands, taking long aimless walks around the city, tangling your limbs on the couch as the tv hummed into the dark evenings.
Christmas was coming- lights had started to go up on Oxford and Regent street, and you'd even taken the tube over to St Pancras to see the famous tree. On the weekends when you worked, she still stayed- a collection of her clothes gradually accumulating on the left side of the wardrobe. You'd had a lucky run- 4 weeks of games within driving distance of home. Barcelona was coming up, but you hadn't given it much thought yet.
It was Thursday. Renée flung her arm over your face in the dark, smacking your phone onto the floor. The alarm continued.
"We have to get up, baby." You kissed her wrist, still draped across your neck, and nudged her off. She groaned, and covered her eyes as you opened the curtains. Not that she needed to- it was still dark outside.
Mornings before work always felt stranger than the weekends. It was moments like these that your professional and personal conduct became intertwined- making her a coffee, her checking your kit by the door, both dressing in your Arsenal gear and getting into the same car. You made an effort to arrive before anyone else, pulling in 30 minutes before the car park started to fill up. Only the janitor gave you a look, and even then only the first couple of times. He shrugged it off- wayyy above his pay grade to worry about such matters.
The girls, however, were starting to pick up on things. Steph, in particular, would loudly mention your "lady lover" at every available opportunity, in front of various female members of staff, trying to illicit a response. She missed the way Renée concealed a laugh when she made a comment about your "luscious figure" to the catering director, who genuinely looked like she wanted to evaporate on the spot from embarrassment. It was admittedly becoming harder to conceal, not so much the physical affection, but rather the level of comfort that flowed between you.
There was a time you made a comment about Renée having left something "at home," and she smacked your arm when she realised. Beth was standing a few feet away, and your eyes widened in horror as she opened her mouth to speak. Luckily, before she could verbalise the thought stirring in her brain, Viv appeared with a firm hand on her arm.
"Bethy. Think for a second."
Things were becoming increasingly difficult to hide from your best friends, and in all honesty you didn't want to. At first it had felt like a necessity, while you figured out how this dynamic was going to work. But now, with an easy, comfortable routine in place, the requirement for that distance had faded. You'd proven to yourself that no matter how much you wanted Renée, your professional respect for her took priority during work hours.
But that day, you decided it was time. No more lies.
So, at lunchtime, you slid up beside Renée as she collected her salad in the canteen, and followed her to her usual table in the window. She tried her best to act like she hadn't noticed, even as you spoke.
"We need to talk." You sat down opposite her, and the motion of your chair made her finally look up.
"I'm going to Beth's tonight."
She chewed, making a face.
"I know. It's Thursday- I'll get my own dinner."
You tapped your fingers on the table, heart rate suddenly picking up. Why were you nervous to ask her?
"Well actually... I was wondering if you'd want to come?"
You nodded slowly, desperately trying to read her expression.
"I haven't said anything to them, I swear. I just... I want to. You're... well, this isn't nothing, and I don't want to hide you. Not from them."
Renée was quiet. She chewed again, put her cutlery down ever so gently, and took a long, slow swig from her water bottle. She was thinking, you could tell, but the stillness was agonisingly painful.
"What do we tell them? I can't just turn up with no explanation."
You smiled, relief washing through your body, releasing a tension in your jaw you hadn't realised you were holding. This was sounding positive.
"Well they know I've been seeing someone. They know it's not... official, or anything, but they also know how I feel about you. So this is just... the last puzzle piece. Honestly, they've been like an Agatha Christie novel, trying to figure it out."
"Poirot was Dutch after all."
You erupted into giggles, only fuelled by the confused look on her face.
"I'm pretty sure he's actually Belgian."
There was a pause. Your laughter sat in the air long after it had ceased, and you found yourself hesitant to settle it, to close the conversation, to let the moment pass.
Renée took a deep breath.
You reached across the table and squeezed her hand quickly, getting up to leave. Fate would have it that you managed to catch Viv in the hallway- bumped into her headfirst, actually.
"Oi, watch where you're going!" She joked, poking you in the arm.
You were about to walk away from her when you thought again, catching her elbow.
"Viv, I... I have to ask you something."
The girl cocked her head to one side, a curious smile spreading across her mouth.
"I... is it okay if I bring someone to dinner tonight?"
Viv's jaw dropped. She turned all the way round, dropping the box in her hands with a clatter.
You couldn't fight the grin on your face as she grabbed both your arms, shaking you with excitement.
"Oh my god! They're going to find out! Fucking FINALLY!!" She beamed.
You'd never seen her skip before, but Viv almost did as she turned her back and went on her way.
You raised your hand to knock on the door, hesitating for just a second. You looked at her, and she looked back at you, a nervous smile on her face. Renée slipped her hand into yours, rubbing a little circle on your thumb, and you let out a breath you didn't realise you'd been holding.
"Why's she fucking knocking?" Beth cussed, getting up from her usual seat on the sofa, glass of wine still in hand. She opened the door without batting an eyelid- and dropped her glass. It shattered on the floorboards as her mouth dropped open, her eyes flicking from your smiling face to your joined hands to Renée and then back.
"Uh, Viv," she called, still unable to shift her gaze.
"Could you grab the dustpan please baby?"
"Hey Bethy. Can we come in?"
Beth just nodded, unable to form a sentence. She stepped to one side, sort of waving her arm.
"Just... yeah, careful. There's... glass..." you laughed to yourself as she malfunctioned, squeezing Renée's hand softly.
"Evening ladies," Viv quipped, eyes sparkling as she knelt on the floor and began to sweep up the broken glass.
"You're both well, I take it?"
To your surprise, Renée rolled her eyes.
"Natuurlijk kende je Vivianne. Je was altijd al scherpzinnig."
"Ik zag je, in Parijs. Je bent niet zo subtiel als je denkt."
Renée turned to you then. You weren't sure exactly what had been said, but you'd caught Paris.
"Yeah. She didn't say anything though- not even to Beth, clearly." You looked at Beth, who was stood half in the doorway to the kitchen, just watching the scene unfold.
"Shall we go sit?" You eyed up the living room door.
"There's one more to find out, and I think she might actually lose her mind."
"Oh go on then. I do sort of want to see her face."
And Steph's face was a picture. She leapt up out of her chair, waving her arms around, and she would not stop rambling.
"When Viv said you were bringing her, I was not expecting her. I mean I knew, or I mean I thought, but then I thought maybe I was wrong, but then Madrid and just... oh my god, has this been going on since Madrid? Since Paris? God, Y/N didn't I tell you in Paris? I'd forgotten that, I was so drunk. But like, what the hell? What the actual hell? I... Jesus Christ, I need to sit down."
She flopped back down in the armchair while you stood there, hand in hand, waiting for her brain to catch up.
"You alright Steffy?" You plopped down on the rug, and then looked up at Renée.
"Oh yeah, sorry. I always sit on the floor. You don't have to I- just force of habit."
"Now you're being weird too. It's fine, Y/N. Hopefully they'll get over themselves a bit quicker if they're physically looking down at me."
She stretched her legs out on the carpet, hooking one knee over yours. It was such a tiny touch, so casual and unassuming, but Steph's eyes went wide.
"Sorry, sorry. It's just, going to take a while, you know?"
Then Beth appeared at the doorway, Viv close behind her.
"I've been told to apologise for that rather horrific display of hospitality. So yeah, sorry about that. I don't usually throw glass at my guests. It's good to see you- both." She looked pointedly at Renée, who smiled gently.
"It's fine, Beth. We were expecting... some shock, at least."
Beth grinned awkwardly, moving to sit on the sofa, and then faltering.
"Wait- I'm going to need more wine. Would you like one, gaffer?"
Renée chuckled, but nodded.
"Please. Oh and Beth, please, please don't call me that. Especially here. Here I'm not the boss, I'm just Y/N's..." she trailed off.
"Gir-" Viv went to speak, but you shot her a glance of warning and she stopped.
"Lady lover," Steph cackled, throwing her head back against the chair.
"Steffy!" You covered your face, but when you opened your eyes Renée was doubled over, laughing.
"What?" She grinned. "She's not wrong."
That got you, a smirk playing on your own face.
"Ah, scharrel?" Viv asked, and Renée frowned in mock upset.
"Prela?" She insisted, which earned her an eyebrow raise.
"Ze heeft er niet om gevraagd!"
It was Viv's turn to raise her eyebrows.
"Really. Well that is interesting." She remarked.
"Thank God! It's impossible to eavesdrop when you're not speaking English." Beth came back into the room, and handed Renée a glass. You picked yours up from the table, as Steph raised hers in toast.
"Cheers." She said, leaning in.
"To pleasant surprises, and knowing far too much about our boss."
You clinked your glasses together haphazardly, smiles all round, although you didn't miss the way Renée's cheeks flushed.
She whispered into your ear as the others laughed.
"What on earth have you said to them?"
Yours eyes glinted mischievously.
"Oh everything." You grinned, watching the horror spread over her face.
By the time the clock struck ten, the mood had shifted completely. With bellies full of Viv's hachee and three drained bottles of wine on the coffee table, you were laid comfortably on the floor with your head in Renées lap. Her fingers played with your hair absentmindedly as she debated with Steph about watching films with subtitles.
It took everything you had to sit up, head heavy from all the wine, and look at her.
"We should get home." You announced, propping yourself up and looking at the others. Beth was half asleep, her head on Viv's shoulder, who was sat perfectly still so as not to disturb her.
Renée shifted and then laughed, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"I see now why you said we had to get an uber."
You called one, and within ten minutes you were hugging the girls goodbye. They all hugged Renée too, Steph even pressing a kiss to her cheek.
"I'm so glad you're both happy." She smiled, waving from the doorway.
"See you in the morning!"
At that moment the looming prospect of the morning felt like a nightmare. But in the back of the car, with Renées hand in your own and your head flopped back against the headrest, it didn't really matter.
"She's right, you know. Steph I mean- I am happy."
She rubbed her fingertips over the inside of your wrist.
Your mind flickered back to something, something from much earlier in the evening that had been niggling in your mind.
"Renée... what was it you said that Viv said was interesting? When we arrived?"
She thought for a second.
"Oh yes, that. I... I don't want to put any pressure on you, we don't have to talk about it if-"
"Renée." You interrupted. "Please just tell me.”
"She... implied that we were in a relationship, but hadn't acknowledged it yet. I told her you hadn't asked me."
You sat quietly. A million thoughts raced around your head, but they felt fuzzy, like you couldn't quite grasp them.
"Oh. That makes sense, I guess."
She didn't say anything. Renée just sat there, unflinching.
"You have been at my place every night for like, 2 weeks."
She shifted, just a little.
"That's not a problem, is it?"
"No. But it does seem like something a girlfriend would do."
You took a deep breath. She shifted again, not closer or further away, just making sure you were touching.
"Do you want that? To be my girlfriend?"
She laughed softly, pressing her face into your neck. She kissed you there, gentle, and then trailed a string of tiny kisses up behind your ear and across your cheek.
And then she kissed your mouth.
Your heart swelled, straining at the constraints of your ribs, fighting to get out in the world and scream it from the rooftops. You brought both hands up to her face, kissing her deep and slow. It felt like confirmation, like reassurance, like a decision... like a Yes. You kissed her until you couldn't breathe and the car was pulling up to the curb, and against in the lift as the doors slid closed.
You allowed her to take your hand, leading the way to your room like it was her own. You closed your eyes and allowed her to tug your tshirt over your head, kissing her again as her hands met your chest. Within moments you were stripped naked in a way that felt vulnerable, honest, the brush of her skin against yours like a confession. Your head tilted back as she traversed over the curve of your stomach, slow and careful, taking her time to build the burning, swirling desire at your centre. She paused, her cheek resting against your thigh.
"Yes baby," you breathed, barely able to speak with the anticipation.
There was no way you couldn't. She'd spent weeks learning every inch of your body, and now she used her mouth on you like she was being assessed. Like she had to prove to you, or maybe just to herself, how well she knew the source material. She timed every movement- every swipe and swirl of her tongue, every curl and flex of her fingers- as though you were instructing her.
If it had been an exam, she would have passed with flying colours, A*, distinction, whatever... it was perfect. Not only technically, but laced with an emotion and care that refused to waver. You gave yourself over completely, back arching and thighs flexing beneath her, your heavy breaths melting into whimpers. You tried to control the sounds, to be reasonable, to let yourself sit in the pleasure before it overflowed.
But she made it impossible- building you exactly as she wanted, entirely at her whim. Before long you were screaming, properly, the sounds raw and guttural in your throat between desperate whines of her name and a steady stream of expletives.
"Fuck... fucking shit, yes." You cursed through gritted teeth.
Your legs were starting to tremble, breath catching desperately.
She didn't speak, just hummed into you, the vibrations buzzing through your bones. It was the final straw, the pressure in your core erupting like a dam, wave after wave rippling through every muscle in your body. She kept going, gentler than before, but attentively coaxing you through each aftershock.
Then she crawled up your body, fingers still anchored inside you, and pressed a sticky kiss to your mouth.
Through ragged breaths, you chuckled.
"You're something else, you know that?"
She smiled, licking the taste of you from your own lips.
"I've been told." Then she locked her eyes onto yours, revelling in the look on your face as she finally withdrew her hand.
"Clean me up?" She posed it as a question, but you both already knew the answer, your lips wrapping around her fingers eagerly. Her eyes fluttered closed and she groaned as you sucked, eventually opening your mouth and letting her slick fingertips slide down your chin.
"I'll never get tired of that." She flopped back on the bed beside you, a little out of breath herself.
She wrapped an arm around you, rolling over so her cheek pressed into your shoulder. You kissed her hair, breathing in her familiar scent of bergamot and woodsmoke, your eyes closing gently.
"You're my girlfriend." You muttered, a sleepy smile spreading across your face. You felt her press a kiss to your collarbone as she responded.
She laughed, reaching behind her to click off the light. The darkness swallowed her body from your view, but you knew every familiar curve of her as she curled into your side. She sighed, sleepy and happy, and then she answered.
