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floralpools · 1 year ago

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Professor Howlett

Warnings: Minors dni, smut, no protection, fingering, vaginal, doggy, pet names, squirting, age gap (legal!), first person

Pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine x Student (Mutant) reader

Summary: Your history professor always seemed uninterested in you—well, that was until you missed his class.

Word count: 2.7k

…

Throughout high school I’ve always kind of stood out. To be honest, I only have myself to blame. But, you see, bright colours and statement pieces are just so much more appealing than wearing something bland. And unfortunately, I did more than just “stand out” that day, just three weeks away from senior graduation. That fateful day… I was so close to the finish line when my stupid ex-boyfriend discovered my secret and outed it to the entire student body.

Truth is, i’m a mutant…

That’s what led me across the coast for most of the past year, running from god knows what. I had heard the stories of mutants being hunted and missing, and I didn’t intend to stick around long enough to be next on someone’s hit-list. I prayed I’d at least make it to my 20th birthday.

But then, my days of swindling folks for cash and food came to a stop, when I spotted a man with red-tinted glasses watching me. His invested gaze observed my every movement, so, I quickly grabbed all my shit, and the last bit of petty change I managed to get, and sprinted into the crowd.

Just when I thought I was in the clear, my face collided with a broad, firm chest. I pressed the heels of my palms into it, and felt the cotton of his white shirt, and the rough, yet smooth texture of his worn leather jacket.

Logan Howlett—or should I say, Mr. Howlett, my history Professor...

After he and Scott captured me, I was dragged by the ankles to their school for the “gifted.” I still remember cringing when they told me where we were headed. But once we arrived, and I saw all the kids who were like me, going about their lives freely, I knew everything would be more than okay.

And one thing I knew for sure, is that I wouldn’t mind attending Mr. Howlett’s class. Did I know jack-shit about history, yes. But I’ve always had a thing for the older guy, and from what I’ve heard, he’s more than enough in that department.

...

This morning, racing out of my room, I swore profusely at the time... Just my luck. The one day of the week I get to see and listen to Logan talk for an hour straight, my alarm malfunctions.

Multitasking between attempting to put on my hot-pink heels, wrapping my sparkly bag over my shoulder, and locking my door, I missed the approaching figure behind me.

“It’s past 11, where do you think you’re headed?” I swivel on my toes, spinning to face Storm.

“Class?” I sound meekly, like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“The only class you have left today is at four. You’ve already managed to miss the rest,” she scolds plainly.

“Noooo,” I fake astonishment and defeat, as I slowly back away from Storm's scrutinizing stare.

She calls my name after I’ve taken at least two large steps backward. “Logan wants to see you,” she states, visibly exasperated.

“Oh?” I straighten my spine, stopping my next step short. “Ok!” I exclaim, a little too perky. She huffs a faint smirk and walks off, and I take flight, zooming to Logan’s class room where he’s most likely waiting, dozing off in his chair.

Lo and behold, after knocking once and receiving no response, I open the door to see him snoring. With his legs fully extended, and feet resting on his desk, I bask in his lengthy physic. Then I giggle, moving towards him.

“Mr. Howlett?” I call politely before clearing my throat rather loudly. He grunts in his sleep and I smile. “Mr. Howlett?” I repeat even sweeter. A second later, I swear he mumbles my name and my heart stutters, and yet, he’s still sleeping.

I move in closer to his ear. “Logan,” I announce rigidly, and the change in tone makes him flinch, legs falling off the table, eyes popping open.

He rasps my name, his voice echoing throughout the classroom. I refused to move away from where I stood, despite the closeness. I wanted to seem unaffected by him, though in truth, I was anything but.

With his lazy eyes roaming over my skin, my heart thrashes wildly, beating against the cage I call my ribs. Logan then clears his throat, and rolls his eyes to look away from my attire, as he usually does—giving me a once-over before hauling his focus back to his lecture.

“You missed class. ‘sn’t like you,” he notes, almost to himself.

“Yes, and I’m sorry-“

“I hope it wasn’t cause you were too busy picking that outfit.” Logan scoffs and my eyes widen.

He’s always made snarky comments, and this wasn’t anything new, but every damn time he does, I still can’t help the boiling feeling in my lungs that makes me rise to defend myself.

“No, maybe I just felt like sleeping in?” I declare. A short-lived chuckle escapes him.

“And you’re just gonna admit that?” He smirks as he faces me. “I don’t like kids skipping my class.”

“First off, I’m an adult, second, you don’t care when kids skip your class,” I retort with a grin that beams across my face. His smile drops the second mine comes into full form.

He’s never seemed fond of my smile, or maybe it’s just me…

“You don’t skip my class.” He states once again, and my head quirks in confusion.

“Um, I’m sorry?” I try to compromise, “It won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” He remarks dangerously.

My brows furrow. “Okay…? I don’t get why it matters so much to you Mr. Howlett.” I place my hands on my hips, gazing down at him in his chair like I'm reprimanding a child. Which he is not akin to, especially given the fact that he’s the teacher, not me.

Logan lifts off his chair, standing up, leather heels hitting the wooden floor. I almost gasp when he towers over me, clearly trying to intimidate. “Watch your tone, or I’ll fail ya,” he counters, fighting a smirk.

“What?” I yelp, and his smirk breaks through his stoicism. My jaw goes slack. “Mr. Howlett, that’s not funny!”

“What isn’t funny, is you pretending like calling me 'Mr. Howlett,' doesn’t turn you on.”

I freeze, suddenly drowning in disbelief.

Was this one of my daydreams? Am I really awake right now?

“You heard me— you damn highlighter,” he asserts, eyes flickering to my outfit again. “Call me Logan for fucks sake, if you’re really an adult.” His gravelly voice loses all its humour, and I stay glued to the spot. “Get outta here, would ya,” Logan then orders before he leisurely retakes his seat, getting comfortable for his next nap.

Unable to drag myself away, my eyes refocus on the subject of my desires. A wave of urgency takes over. “Why do I have such a thing for assholes.”

Before Logan can respond to the insult with some more hostility, I sit on his lap, dropping my purse to straddle his hips. I then cup his perplexed face and crash our mouths together. He grunts in surprise, as if he didn’t expect me to retaliate, as if he didn’t expect that I would actually want him this way.

He really is all bark.

Half-heartedly, Logan tries to pull away in between kisses, whispering my name as a small protest, but he immediately gets muffled by my lips. When I grind on his lap, his objections quickly turn into a fierce groan.

Logan then takes my hips into his large hands, tightly gripping my flesh to push me back onto his desk. I whimper as his crotch stays stuck to my core, even as he manhandles me. One hand then moves from my hip to my neck, holding it, then it slowly sliding to my jaw, grasping it to give me a hungry, pressing kiss. His tongue laps my mouth, completely dominating the kiss. I struggle to breathe.

Just as I’m about to pull away to comment on how eager he seems, his other hand flips me over with ease. My stomach is now on top of his desk, his crotch, like iron against my ass, and his hands trace down from my shoulder blades, to my bum. With my head hung over the desk, I pant, practically drooling.

“You’re asking for detention pinky,” he mutters, and I respond by pushing back into his hard cock.

“I'm a sucker for extra attention, teach,” I breath out as sensually as I can muster. He chuckles lowly, and I shudder. The pressure of his crotch doesn’t change, and his hands continue their unhurried venture of me.

“You like attention?” Logan asks, his tone becoming surprisingly soft. His voice makes me shiver and whimper, yet again.

“I like yours.”

“Just mine?” He questions darkly, telling me exactly what he wants to hear.

“Yes,” I whisper.

His voice drops an octave when he swears, rolling his hips into me once more. I moan loudly. “Shhhh princess, you tryna alert the entire building?” He asks with amusement evident. I shake my head, no, and he just dips his head to laugh by my ear. “Good, because I don’t like sharing your attention,” he says passively, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “And I’d like to be the only ‘asshole,’ that gets to see what’s under these ridiculous clothes.”

“Hey!” I object weakly, and feel his smile before he leans back. I turn my head over my shoulder to catch him peering down at where our bodies meet.

“You probably want me to fuck you on this desk.” He speaks as though I’m not here to hear him. “Ya probably want to be taken right here, so that every time you’re sitting in my class, you can imagine me inside you.” He trails off as his hand pushes up my shirt, touching my lower back. “But we can’t do that,” he sighs hoarsely.

“Why?” My reply is so quick that I have to grimace.

He chuckles without humour. “Because… if we did, I’d get hard every time I’m in this fucking room, and that ain’t the smartest idea.” I moan at his crudeness and gasp when he suddenly pecks my naked spine, just below the clip of my bra. “Christ—even your lingerie is pink huh?” His chuckle sounds like silk. “Imagined it would be.”

My legs rub together at his words.

“You imagined it?”

He pauses. “Hell yeah I did, though I tried to fight it,” he muses in between a groan. “It didn’t take me long to figure you wanted this too, princess,” he murmurs almost proudly.

After a long beat of silence, and a little grinding, I speak up again. “So now what? If you’re not going to make love to me here.”

He slowly pushes the hair over my face, behind my ear, tilting my head to face him just a bit. He then leans down and kisses me on the cheek.

“I’ll come to you,” is all Logan says as he reluctantly wrenches himself from me, just after giving my ass a mellow slap. I gasp and nearly pout at the loss of touch. We then hold eye contact as he backs away. “Get going, otherwise you’ll be late for class,” he teases airily, and the edge of his lips twitch upwards. I nod and rush out the room with a grin plastered on my face—which stayed on my face for the rest of the day.

...

After a long, vigorous day, I finally collapse onto my plush bed with a hefty sigh.

“Took you long enough,” a dark voice rings out. There’s a hint of a familiar sass that makes me jolt upright. I spot Logan leaning on my wardrobe. His tight shirt strains against his chest when his arms cross. “Been waiting to ‘make love' to ya all day,” he claims with a goading tone, repeating my earlier remark.

(My best guess is that he assumes I’m a virgin from that sentence alone.)

In an attempt to remedy my reputation and sexual appeal, I sit up on my bed, elbows bracing my body upright, and I slowly spread my bent legs. Biting my bottom lip, I feel his eyes shift down and blacken. “Get on with it then, Logan.” His name rolls off my tongue. The challenge makes his head jerk in an almost feral manner, and I gulp.

“You’re asking for it,” is all he mumbles before pouncing on me. Our limbs tangle and I moan as his leg presses into my clothed clit.

“Please,” I just about sob, to which he responds with an aggressive kiss and another crushing rub of his thigh.

I moan louder, and he grunts, “You like that?” I shove my hands into his hair, running my fingers through the thick strands. He lets out a coarse groan.

Loving how vocal he is, I decide to encourage him by groping his cock over his rugged jeans. “Fuck, baby,” he groans out when his mouth leaves mine. He then runs his tongue over my neck and collar, soon nibbling on my earlobe. His thigh continues to make work of me, and I match his pace, grinding against his jeans. “You're so dirty,” he grins while his nose brushes my rosy cheek, and then he's kissing me. “I love it,” he professes with amusement, and something more gentle.

Just as I begin to undo his belt, he flips me over onto my stomach just like before. Then, when I'm lying flat underneath him, he grabs my hips to lift them towards his crotch as he kneels above me. “That thong better be pink,” he jokes as he strips me bare. He groans in satisfaction when I’m left in just my underwear, tailored for his viewing. “Unreal,” Logan practically purrs.

I wiggle my ass playfully, and he growls and smacks it harder than he did in his classroom. I squeal into my pillow, immediately going quiet when I hear his belt being ripped from the loops of his denim. Leaving my underwear in place, he runs his digits over the lace, making me whine, "Logan."

With his name on my tongue, it shortly turns into a cry as the lace covering my clit gets moved to the side, and two meaty fingers dive into me. "Shit, princess," he rasps. "How am I gonna fit?" He asks rhetorically, and I choke a sob, as he wastes no time building up an energetic pace, with his fingers.

He swiftly tears an orgasm from my trembling body, still holding my hips up with one hand. When his fingers leave, I hear his mouth clean them, and I swing my head to face him hastily, but he shoves my head back into my pillow. "So eager," he more or less snickers.

"Very," my smothered voice emits, barely audible.

I nearly shriek when his tip swipes my wet slit. Logan, without notice, suddenly pushes himself inside me, with an agonizing slowness, but I quietly persist. "Atta girl, that's it," he lazily groans out encouragements. My hands pathetically slide onto his thighs, unsure if I'm urging him for more, or begging for discretion.

At once, he shoves himself in all the way, and I let out an extensive sigh. His palm, which was just holding down my head, joins his other hand on my abandoned hip. He lets out various curses, along with my name, and begins to move, in and out. Soon enough, he's pounding into me at a savage rate, completely untamed. As well, it seems purposeful, how he simultaneously bends down to growl and moan in my ear, still thrusting.

He stirs another orgasm, still notably, not experiencing his own. "You look real pretty like this princess," he begins to ramble. "Gonna do this every fucking day." The rest of what he says gets lost in translation, as I grow overwhelmed and overstimulated.

Thoughtlessly, I try to crawl away while he still has my lower half hoisted up. Once Logan realizes what I'm up to, my pitiful effort has him laughing. "Where ya going?"

"Lo, it's too much-"

"Lo? Call me that again, it's cute," he hums.

"No more," I whimper, ignoring him.

"Just one more baby," Logan coos, while somehow increasing his pace, making me cum instantly, squirting a little. His moan rumbles in his chest, and he doesn't stop hammering into me. I grip my headboard, and one of his arms stretches alongside mine, to do the same.

When he cums, his grip snaps the wood, breaking a part of the headboard, making me shout in between sobs. He seems to not notice the damage, too busy finishing on my backside.

After a long minute, he slumps his large frame beside me. One of his arms stays drifting across my skin as his eyes intently coast over my features. "Maybe consider skipping my class more often," Logan expresses as his lips slightly tip upward. He presses his lips onto my shoulder.

I smile, giggling, "Why?"

"Cause it doesn’t matter where I fuck you, there's nowhere I won't get hard looking at that pretty face," he smiles dreamily, "And you're impractical wardrobe.”

I giggle, "You have a way with words," I pause and smirk, "Mr. Howlett."

He rises onto his elbow with a devilish grin, "Now you're just begging for it princess."

Part two

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saintsanddevils · 4 months ago

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Unravel Me

Liam Mairi x Fem!Reader

Summary: Grief is your constant companion as you struggle to come to terms with losing Liam. You can’t handle the memories, so you ask Imogen to take them away.

Warnings: ‼️18+ (MDNI) explicit content‼️, smut, grief, death, blood, some violence, angst, ALL HURT/no comfort, first person reader pov

Author’s Note: This is probably my fav story I’ve written so far! Liam is my favorite of all of the Fourth Wing men & I’ve been dying to write this for so long. - also, every person who has checked in on me about burnout, thank you, you’re incredibly kind & I appreciate all the love!!

Word Count: 8.6K

AO3 link

Masterlist

• • • •

The stone archway is the only thing keeping me from collapsing to the ground. I lay my back against it, trying to keep myself standing. Breaths saw through my lungs in jagged, sharp inhales. A knife cutting through me from the inside out.

Storm clouds form in the sky above, ominous in the setting sun. The smell of wet stone and soil fills the air as I try to still my racing heart.

It’s been one month.

One month.

Four weeks.

Thirty days.

Seven hundred and twenty-two hours and counting since Liam has been gone.

Knees shaking, I close my eyes, breathing deeply. But the breaths come quicker and faster. The image of Liam’s broken, bloody face surfacing unbidden. The way his blue eyes frosted over before closing, his skin cracked and pale as he slumped against Deigh’s red scales.

Rough, uneven breaths escape me. Thunder rumbles the ground beneath my feet, the summer air chilled by the cool of rain. Each breath clouds around me as I stand beneath an arch, facing the open courtyard.

The very courtyard where I first met Liam.

I remember the way his eyes lit with a teasing gleam when they first met mine. He was playful, flirtatious, but his eyes captured me. Like crystal glass, filled with murky seawater shining in the sunlight. I’d never seen such a blue.

The memory stings, sharp and insistent with its presence. Since his death, I’ve been left with nothing but every memory I have of him. Each one imprinted upon me, unique and shining. How he smiled, fully and entirely intoxicating, when I entered the room. The way his skin glided against mine between sheets. The feel of his calloused hand gripping my own. His lips coasting mine, teasing, before claiming them for his own, stealing the breath in my lungs.

Every day since his death has been my own personal hell. Waking up, alone, forms a hollow ache within my chest that grows with every second. I never want to leave my bed.

For the first week, everyone grieved alongside me. But we’re in the middle of a war. We can’t waste any time.

Only the pestering of my squad mates and the force behind my dragon’s insistent encouragement force me out of my room now. Although they try to hide it, they’re concerned for me. I act like I can’t feel their penetrating gazes, but it’s suffocating.

Every day is suffocating.

Distantly, I hear someone call my name. With my eyes closed, I can pretend I’m not here. I can pretend he’s alive. I can pretend I will find him standing before me, smiling, when I open my eyes. That he’ll tell me I worry too much and he’ll kiss the rain from my cheeks and lips.

When I open my eyes, it’s not him standing there. It’s Imogen.

Concern lines her face as she stares at me. “I’m so sorry. I can’t.”

Tears burn my eyes as the rain begins to fall harder. Overcome by a heaviness crushing my ribs, my knees start to shake. I can’t tell if I’m holding on to the wall or if it’s the one keeping me up.

“Please,” I beg, voice cracking. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t wake up tomorrow with this pain,” I grip my chest, swallowing the grief threatening to choke me. “It’s like a living, breathing thing inside of me. It’s poisoning me. I…I can’t do it anymore.”

Sobs escape from my lips, gasping and heaving. I must sound like a tortured animal as I collapse to the ground, cracking my knees against the stone. The pain grounds me as I slump against the wall.

This pressure on my chest, the one that settled there as I watched Liam limp towards Deigh a month ago, is stifling me. It’s growing more and more, crushing my lungs, severing my breaths as I cling to the stone beneath my fingers.

I completely forget Imogen until she’s stepping towards me. She watches the tears fall from my eyes, shared sorrow evident in her posture. She, too, knew Liam well. They all did. It wasn’t just me who lost him.

But she knows what he was to me. What I was to him.

I don’t know what convinces her. Maybe it’s the tears. Maybe it’s my pathetic whimpers. Or maybe it’s the hollow look in my eyes as grief consumes me. All I know is she’s staring at me with concern and hesitant understanding. And I cling to that like a lifeline.

“Okay,” her voice sobers me from my tears.

A shaky breath. Another.

“Really?” My whisper is broken in the space between us.

She nods slowly. “I’ll do it. But you have to know what you’re asking me to do.”

I nod back, aware of her hands as they clench and unclench at her sides.

The idea came to me last week when a cadet mocked Violet about losing her “guard dog”. Violet flinched and, suddenly, there he was. Xaden was a feral, untamed thing as he hurled himself at the cadet.

It should’ve been me. I should’ve hurt that dumbass cadet. I wish it had been me as I watched Xaden deliver blow after blow on the cadet before being thrown back by Garrick. My knees and hands were shaking as I watched him be crowded against the wall, restrained as the injured cadet ran down the hall like a fucking coward.

Grief is something that’s different for everyone. I think the only person who knew an ounce of what I felt was Xaden. He lost not only a friend but a brother. He loved him.

And as I stood there, staring as Violet calmed Xaden, I had known this grief would pass for him. It would haunt him forever, but it would scar over. He would heal because he had Violet. He had Garrick and Imogen and Bodhi.

I had Liam.

A steadiness settles in me as I meet her gaze. “I know what I’m asking.”

She closes her eyes, briefly, as if debating if this is worth the risk, before raising her hands towards me.

“You need to stay perfectly still,” she instructs, kneeling before me. “I’m not going to lie to you. This will hurt like hell, but the pain won’t last long. It should fade, along with the memories you want me to erase.”

I nod as trepidation and nerves slowly creep up my spine, causing my hands to shake. I clench them, steeling myself. Forcing determination to settle on my shoulders.

Imogen settles herself before me, waiting for my signal before touching the skin of my temples. The pink of her hair is darker in the low lighting, thunder gradually fading in the distance as rain continues to fall.

“Are you sure?” She asks, voice hesitant.

A flash of Liam’s smile has my gut twisting. Liam used to say that love was something he never thought would happen to him. That love was a fairytale.

After almost a year of being together, he whispered with shaky breaths, “I’ve never loved someone like I love you. You’re the other half of something I didn’t know was missing. Something so tied within me, I feel you always.”

I’d gripped him tightly, clinging to him as I kissed his collarbone, neck, all the way up to his jaw. “I feel you, too.”

He shook his head, lips brushing my ear. “Don’t you think it’s terrifying that at any moment, it could be gone? I could lose you?”

I’d given him reassurances. False promises.

I didn’t know I’d lose him so soon. I didn’t know loving him would become a curse.

Wanting something I can’t ever have again will kill me. I can’t do it anymore.

“Yes,” I answer Imogen. “I’m sure.”

She hesitates, only for a moment, before closing her eyes. I close my own, letting the rain wash my doubts away.

Pressure builds behind my eyes, steady and gradual at her fingertips. I can feel her presence in my mind.

“Start from your most recent memory,” she says. “And slowly go further and further until you reach the oldest one.”

I pause, my heart racing frantically in my chest as I immediately recall the last time I saw Liam.

“No!” I scream, but it’s too late.

Deigh slumps to the ground, motionless.

Blood drips from my hands as I run towards Liam, whose eyes meet mine in wide panic. I watch him stagger forward, limping, before collapsing to the dirt.

I’m there, holding him up as his body begins to slump. Xaden appears, helping me, but I barely glance at him. My entire focus is on Liam’s shallow breathing.

“Take me to him,” he whispers roughly, chest rising and falling jaggedly.

We help bring Liam to Deigh. My shaking hands cling to him as we settle him against the red scales of his dragon. Xaden lingers beside me as we both kneel before Liam, whose gaze is fixed on his friend.

“You’re the brother I’ve always wanted,” he smiles. “Don’t forget where you came from. Who you are, and who you’ll become.”

Tears well in Xaden’s eyes as he nods.

I feel like I’m intruding on a moment between them, but I can’t bring myself to leave Liam’s side.

“I-“ he swallows, gaze fixated on Violet behind us. “I hope I did enough-“

“You did,” Xaden smiles, tears now falling down his cheeks. “You did everything you could and more.”

Liam nods, tears in his own eyes. Xaden leans forward to hold him, one last time.

Liam mumbles something to him I can’t hear before Xaden backs away, back towards Violet. I catch Xaden looking at me, guilt written across his features, but I don’t acknowledge it. I can’t waste any second we have left.

Liam finally, finally, meets my gaze. His jaw clenches as he watches the tears streaming down my skin. His fingers reach up, wiping them away. I lean into his hand on instinct, forcing myself to memorize the way his calloused skin feels against mine.

“I don’t know how to say goodbye,” I whisper.

Liam’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Then don’t.”

He pulls me forward, kissing me with his last breaths. I don’t hesitate. I kiss him with every fiber of my being, knowing I won’t have this for much longer. The feel of his lips will stay with me until I, too, meet Malek at the end of this life. Where I hope he waits for me.

When we part, I lean my forehead against his, breaths sawing through me like a serrated knife’s edge.

“I-I can’t lose you,” I gasp.

His skin is pale, almost gray-tinted, as his fingers softly touch my cheek. “You won’t lose me forever. I’ll see you again.”

A sob escapes my lips before I kiss him again. “I love you. Always.”

Liam’s smile is full of sorrow as he kisses me back. “I’ll love you beyond my last breath,” he whispers against my lips.

His fingers suddenly caress the back of my head, tilting my face to look up at him. There’s a severity in his eyes as he stares down at me. “Every moment we have had is something I’ll cherish long after I’m gone. I’ve never felt so lucky,” he kisses the tip of my nose, the top of my cheeks. “Whatever becomes of me, my soul,” a tear falls from his eye as his gaze holds me captive. “I’ll always be with you.”

I turn my head to kiss the palm of his hand. “I’ll always need you.”

“Not always,” he shakes his head. “I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Live,” his smile is beaming as blood trickles down the side of his head from an open cut, staining his blonde hair. “Live and forget me.”

“But-“

“I want you to grow old, live a full life. Fight to live beyond whatever this war will bring.”

I shake my head. “How am I supposed to forget you? You’re all I have.”

“No, I’m not. You have so much to live for, don’t let me stand in the way of something greater ahead of you.” I try to refute, but Liam silences me with another kiss. “You’re the one thing in my life that’s made all of this worth it. For that, I’m grateful for the time I was given with you.”

A whimper escapes me and Liam holds me, breathing me in.

“I kept my promise.” He kisses me once, twice.

In the space between us, we breathe together. I hold my hand to his chest, feeling the rise and fall. One long, deep, shaky breath, a whisper of my name, and he stills.

Silence crowds around me, choking the air as I weep into the skin of his neck, holding him close. A scream builds in my throat as his body grows cold beneath me. Rage rises like a tidal wave within me, numbing the pain.

They’ll pay. Every last Venin will die for this. For what they took from me.

I’m covered in sweat, blood, and dried tears by the time the sun sets and the Venin are defeated in Athebyne. For now.

Flames reach towards the sky, flickering and grasping for the stars. I grip my sword, Liam’s sword, tightly in my hand. Blood trickles down my skin across the blade as I stare into the fire.

Liam’s body burns atop the pyre. Ashes scatter in the breeze as everyone stands to watch. We all lived, and it sickens me. We survived, and Liam, the best of us, didn’t.

Bitterness settles next to the grief. It burns like acid in my gut. The last thing I remember is Violet’s hand gripping my own in comfort.

“You’re not alone,” she whispers.

But I am. I’m entirely alone.

The memory is ripped from my grasp, leaving me gasping, heaving, as the ache in my chest burns.

Before I can steady myself, I’m thrown into another.

Arms wrap around my torso, pulling me close to a firm chest as dim light filters through the arched windows.

“Good morning to you, too,” I whisper, groggily.

A breathy chuckle against my spine has my skin prickling. “Morning, love.”

I bask in the warmth of his arms, the feel of his muscles flexing against my skin as he kisses my shoulder. He hums, continuing kissing up my shoulder to my neck, shifting my hair to kiss up my jaw. I shiver, as his fingers trail down my torso to my hips, pulling the hem of my nightdress up my thighs.

“Liam,” I breathe.

I feel him smile against my ear as he nips at it. “Yes, love? Need something?”

His fingers trail up my thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. When his calloused hand reaches the edge of my underwear, Liam’s lips caress my bottom lip.

I whisper against him, “I need you.”

“Whatever you want, I’ll give you,” he smirks before his lips collide with mine.

He kisses me with a lazy, unhurried pace. As if we have all the time in the world.

I shift in his arms, gaining better access to his mouth as I tangle my tongue with his. My fingers dive through his hair as his own slip beneath the lace of my underwear. His skin is warm and rough against me as the tips of his fingers glide across where I want him most.

“Already wet for me, darling?” He growls into my mouth.

I moan as his fingers sink inside me, pumping agonizingly slow. He continues to tease and caress as I melt in his arms. When his thumb rubs smooth circles around my clit, heat begins to prickle at the base of my core. I’m already climbing to my peak, heaving and gasping breaths as he pumps his long, thick fingers in and out, gaining speed the more I moan his name.

“You’re intoxicating,” he groans as he bites my lip. “I fucking love waking up to you like this. Soaked and ready for me.”

A gasp falls from my lips just before he pinches my clit. Light flashes beneath my lids as I cry out, fire blazing up my body as I fall into the rhythm of his fingers. I pulse and squeeze around him as my hands grip onto him tightly. When I come down from my climax, a pounding on the door has me jolting.

“Don’t make me break this fucking door down!” I hear Xaden’s voice yell.

Liam groans, slumping against me. “Shit.”

The bed shifts as he rolls off the bed, covering me with the blankets before throwing open the door.

“What?”

There’s a pause before I hear Xaden’s low chuckle. “Sorry to disrupt your morning, but we have to leave.”

Liam’s shoulders tense. “Now? What happened?”

People are running in the hall, shouts echoing off the walls that force me to sit up, staring in confusion at the chaos.

“Get dressed,” Xaden commands, all amusement gone.

“What’s going on?” Liam asks again.

I can see Xaden’s jaw clench as he stares at his foster brother. “They’re calling us down to the flight field. War Games.”

Liam’s grip on the doorframe whitens his knuckles. “How many minutes do we have?”

Xaden hesitates. “Less than ten, but you need-“

“We’ll meet you on the field.” Liam slams the door shut.

When he turns to me, his eyes are blazing like blue fire. He stalks forward, standing at the edge of our bed. His hands shoot out and drag me to the edge, making me squeal. His fingers tear the lace from me, leaving me bare before him before forcing my legs open. He’s kneeling as I sit up, watching him as he leans forward to lick up my slit in one swift, precise movement. I groan, head falling back as I buck against his unyielding grip.

“But we have to go,” I gasp when he does it once more.

His voice is rough and gravelly as his lips caress my heat. “Guess I have to make every second count.”

The memory fades, like the burning of paper. Ashes scattering in my mind as pain radiates up my spine, throbbing at my temples. I bite my lip to keep myself from screaming as the pressure builds.

My head pounds as I’m thrown further, another memory crashing over me.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it,” Liam groans against my ear, pumping deep into me. “You’re taking me so well.”

I whine, shifting my hips to meet him with every thrust. He hits inside of me deliciously, stars dancing across my vision as his hands hold my waist, pressing me into the sheets.

An urgency fills us as we stop pacing ourselves and chase that fire slowly burning beneath our skin. It races in our blood as our skin slicks with sweat, breaths gasping.

Liam shifts his hips upward on the next thrust, making me moan into his collarbone.

“Gods, do that again.”

Liam smirks, blue eyes glittering when they meet mine. “As you wish.”

The memory warps, lost to time, as I’m thrown further, again and again, into one memory after another and another.

The mat presses against my cheek as Liam holds me down. I can tell he’s holding back since his weight isn’t entirely crushing me.

That’s a mistake he’ll surely regret.

I twist my legs, elbowing him in the face as I throw my weight onto him. He rolls, falling to the mat as I climb atop him, my elbow pressing into his throat to cut off his air supply. My legs hold his arms down to keep him from moving.

He struggles for a moment, but the shining pride in his eyes is what causes butterflies to flutter in my stomach.

“I love it when you throw me around,” he chokes out. I raise my elbow slightly to lessen the pressure on his throat.

I chuckle, leaning forward until we’re inches apart. “You like it when I make you do what I want?”

He smiles. “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll beg for it.”

Paper crumples in his hand, frustration steeling his jaw as he throws it at the wall.

“Stop,” I say, reaching for his clenched fingers. “Stop blaming yourself. It won’t do anything good.”

His hard eyes meet mine, immediately softening. “I don’t know what to do,” his voice is broken, hushed. “I wish I could find her, hide her, take her as far from this as possible.” He shakes his head, closing his eyes. “Sloane doesn’t deserve this life.”

Bringing my hand to his cheek, I force him to open his eyes. “You can’t change the future just as you can’t change the past,” I give him a small smile. “She’ll be okay, Liam. She’ll have us.”

Liam’s gaze holds mine as he breathes deeply. We sit there, suspended in time, as he grips me with shaking hands. I know he’s fighting tears as much as he’s fighting the urge to throw a punch at the wall. But with me here, he slowly begins to calm.

When he grabs my hand laying on his cheek, he kisses it. “I guess I should be grateful she’ll finally meet you.”

I smile at the idea. “I hope she likes me.”

He grips me tighter. “She’ll love you. Besides,” he leans forward, inches from me. “She’ll have to since she’ll be putting up with you for a very, very long time.”

I raise a teasing brow. “How long will that be for?”

“If it’s up to me,” he breathes against my lips. “For the rest of our lives.”

The sunset flickers across the horizon over the distant mountains, casting the room in a dim, fading gold light. It refracts off Liam’s eyes, making the blue iridescent, as he smiles against my lips.

“Will you stay?”

I smile back, nipping his bottom lip. “Always.”

“I-I don’t want to wake up alone anymore.” He hesitates, swallowing. “Move in here with me. Share my bed and steal my blankets. Get dressed with me every morning. I don’t want to waste a moment without you next to me. Make this room both of ours.”

Tears gather in my eyes as warmth fills me, settling in my chest.

I kiss him recklessly, leaving us both breathless as I whisper, “Gods, I love you.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “You have no idea.”

Two cadets with fowl breath and malice in their eyes crowd around me. My heart beats wildly in my throat as I back away. Their hands sharp and insistent as they push me to the corner of the hall. Their hands locked on my wrists to keep me from running.

“Get. Your. Fucking. Hands. Off. Her.”

The words cut through the air like a knife laced with venom. It startles the men, who bolt upright to turn and see who spoke.

Liam’s face is a mask of fury as he strides down the hall. The second our gazes collide, he unleashes himself on them. He throws a punch at one of their faces, knocking them against the wall. The other, he tackles into the brick, cracking the back of the cadet’s skull. He groans as Liam throws punch after punch, blood spraying, before throwing the man to the ground. The other cadet is there, stumbling forward and hurling himself at Liam.

I scream when I see the flash of a dagger. Liam catches it within seconds. Being the best of our year has its benefits as he twists the blade out of the cadet’s grip and stabs it to the hilt into his arm. The cadet’s eyes widen, blood trickling from his mouth as he screams, falling to the ground.

The other cadet bleeds next to him, panting.

“What the fuck?” He groans.

Liam stands, blood soaking his clenched fists at his sides as he stares them down. “You touched her, tried to hurt her, you even scared her.” He shakes his head. “You don’t get to live after that.”

The cadet Liam punched over and over again is now trying to crawl away, but it’s too late. Liam is there, hauling him to his feet and holding him against the wall by his throat.

“Liam,” I whisper, fear rattling my voice.

He stops. Everything stops as he lets go of the cadet and turns to me. He’s there, holding me as he quickly examines every inch of exposed skin.

“Yes, love? Did they hurt you?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m f-fine,” I step closer to him, cradling his bleeding hands in mine. “Just please get me out of here.”

He nods, not even sparing them a second glance as he whisks me out of the corridor. We walk quickly until we’re outside in a courtyard. Under a stone arch he stops, pressing me against the wall as he holds me close.

“You looked so afraid,” he whispers in my hair. “I-I couldn’t handle it. Did-“ he hesitates. “Did I scare you?”

“You could never scare me,” I hold him tighter as the lingering fear begins to fade. A warmth settling in me from his close proximity. A sense of rightness at the feel of his arms around me.

He pulls back, looking me over once more. “If those fuckers laid a finger on you-“

I smile softly. “You stopped them before it got worse. I’m alright.”

He nods, forehead touching mine in defeat as his shoulders sag, releasing all the pent-up tension inside of him. “If I wasn’t there, if things were worse, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. Who I’d become.”

I burrow into him, letting his warmth chase every horrible thought away. “But you didn’t lose me. You won’t.”

Liam shakes his head. “I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Promise me you’ll fight. You’ll fight till your last breath to stay alive, to see the next day. I can’t-“ he swallows. “I couldn’t live knowing I could’ve saved you. But I can’t always be there.”

“You don’t need to be, but I’m grateful you were there today,” I press closer. “I promise to fight and not give up.”

He nods, satisfied. Silence envelops us as the night breeze whistles through the courtyard.

The moon shines on his blue eyes, making them almost silver as he says, “And I promise to fight for you, too. To love you and keep you safe. Till my last breath. You can hold me to that.”

Music floats through the air as Liam holds me close, hands intertwining as he guides me to an alcove covered in shadows. I stifle a laugh as we race through the corridor. We ignore the shouting taunts from Ridoc and Sawyer down the hall as they head back to the party.

Once we’re out of earshot and covered by the dark, Liam presses me against the stone of the alcove. He doesn’t waste a second. His lips are on mine, holding me captive. He’s insistent and intoxicating as he consumes me with just a kiss. He smells of liquor and desire, making me feel lightheaded.

His rough fingers drag the fabric of my dress up as his lips begin to trail down my jaw, neck, and chest. Before I can protest, he’s kneeling, throwing the fabric up to expose my legs to the cool night air.

“Liam!” I whisper-shout. “Someone will see!”

Liam raises a brow. “Then you better keep quiet.”

He grips the back of my leg, tossing it over his shoulder as he disappears beneath my dress. His breath is hot against my skin as he licks up my inner thighs.

I bite back a squeal as he moves my underwear out of the way, fingers toying with my skin.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got you.”

“Liam-“ I’m cut off by the feel of his mouth kissing my heat. His tongue diving deep inside me, causing me to throw a hand over my mouth, stifling a moan. My knees begin to buckle but he holds me in his firm grip, keeping me standing as he continues to twist his tongue deep inside, feasting on me.

I’m delirious with want as he continues to eat me out, thumb caressing my clit lazily. Pleasure spreads up my body, curling around my spine. My hips rock against him, pressure building and building before-

“Liam,” I gasp against my hand as my climax hits me, hard and fast. His fingers and tongue prolong my pulsing as I come all over his mouth. It feels like an eternity before my body gives out, sliding against the stone.

“Gods, I love the way you say my name,” he groans against me. “Especially when I fuck you.”

Liam stands, shifting his hands as I hear the sound of a buckle. Before I can calm my racing heart, he grips my thighs and holds up my legs to wrap firmly around his waist. I obey and immediately suck in a breath. The head of his cock is poised at my soaked entrance.

He suddenly leans forward, surprising me with a kiss on the tip of my nose. My heart swells before he finds my lips, kissing me. It’s consuming, claiming. Leaving me breathless and wanting.

“I love you so much, baby,” he says before pushing into me, stretching me. We moan together, breaths intermixing, as he bottoms out.

Using the wall as leverage, Liam adjusts me so my hips are at the perfect angle, his hands holding my ass firmly before he begins to thrust. My nails dig into his shirt as he hits me just right. This angle allows him to sink deeper and deeper, causing gasps to fall from my lips like whispered secrets.

He stops the sound with his mouth on my own, swallowing my moans. I taste myself on his lips and tongue. It’s incredibly erotic and fills me with immense pleasure as he thrusts harder and harder. I bounce against the stone, clinging to him for dear life as he begins chasing his own pleasure. I’m already climbing with him, breaths sawing through my lungs as I feel myself chasing another orgasm.

“That’s it, baby,” he coos. “You’re incredible.” He hisses as his cock hits me just right. My inner walls fluttering around him as he pumps faster. “Fuck, that feels-“

He groans just as his hips piston into me, wild and untamed as he releases inside of me. I’m right there with him. Like a flower bursting open in the sun, warmth burns through my body at the sensation. I don’t even care if anyone hears us anymore, I’m moaning his name loud enough to echo off the walls as I gyrate against him.

When we both finally come down, we’re twitching and panting, giving one another tired, lazy smiles. Liam towers above me, breathing heavily as he kisses my forehead, my temple, the corner of my mouth.

“Gods, you’re insatiable.”

I laugh before wiggling in his arms, causing his still-hard cock to sink further into me. He moans at the sensation.

“Another round?”

He laughs with me. “You don’t have to ask me twice,” his hands are firm on my wrists as he holds them above my head, trapping them against the cool stone. “As you wish.”

The stars are bright above the flight field as Liam and I lay back in the grass. It prickles the skin of my hands as a breeze flutters over us. The distant sounds of crickets and a nearby river fill the quiet. Both of our dragons lie close by, their sulfuric breathing filling the silence. We’re far away enough from them to feel as though we’re entirely alone.

Liam’s arm is close to mine as we lay, looking up at the constellations.

“What did Ridoc say to you earlier when we were leaving the gym?” I ask quietly. “You seemed annoyed.”

Liam’s breath hitches, his chest stilling. I feel his arm tense as he tries to slowly breathe out, almost like he’s calming himself.

“He, uh, just wanted to know about something.”

That piques my interest. I raise a brow. “About?”

Liam is quiet for a moment. “He wanted to know if you were single.”

“Oh.”

The silence is suddenly suffocating. The presence of our dragons makes this feel incredibly awkward, as if we have an audience. I can feel the weight of my dragon peering at us, like the gossip she is. I ignore her.

I don’t turn to look at Liam as I bite my lower lip. It’s been months of this constant flirtation. Months of tension that’s been building and building but I can’t tell if he’s just incredibly friendly with everyone or actually wanting a relationship with me. It’s driving me crazy.

Liam’s the type of guy who anyone can love and I hate how I’m one of them. How I’ve completely fallen for someone who probably only views me as nothing more than a friend.

A shaky exhale escapes me as I try and compose myself. “What did you say?”

Liam scoffs. “I told him to go ahead and ask you out.”

I startle, eyes wide and heart beating out of my chest as I turn to look over at him only to find he’s already staring at me. There’s a gleam of satisfaction in his eye as he watches my reaction.

Anger rises, sudden and quick. “Did you just say that to see what I’d do?!”

Liam shrugs before winking. “Just making sure you’re not interested in him.”

The anger dies as quick as it arrived. But my heart continues to pound, nerves sparking in my gut. “Why?”

Liam is suddenly leaning close, breath fanning over my face. He smells of mint, earth, and something so familiar, I ache to be closer to him. “I told him to go fuck himself. That you’re mine and he’d end up with a broken nose on that pretty-boy face of his as soon as he even spoke to you.”

My breath catches in my throat, a squeak escaping my lips. Liam’s mouth twitches at the sound.

“Who said I’m yours?” I whisper, unsure and entirely too hopeful for my own good.

Liam’s smile is beaming and brilliant. “You were mine the second you punched Jack in the throat after parapet.”

A laugh bursts out of me, startling the quiet of the night. Liam joins in, but his gaze is heavy and insistent on me.

“He deserved it,” I huff.

“He did,” Liam’s smile is contagious as his fingers move a piece of hair behind my ear, lingering next to my cheek. “But I also knew when you told me I’m just another big asshole at Basgiath,” he winks.

I roll my eyes playfully. “You came on too strong from the second you met me.”

He shrugs. “Didn’t want anyone to steal you away from me before I got the chance to sweep you off your feet.”

I raise a brow. “And did you?”

He lays his hand against my cheek, no more hesitating. “Depends on if you’re truly mine or not.”

I lean into him, eyes closing. “I’ve been yours for a long time, Liam.”

The nighttime breeze wraps us tighter together as he leans in and kisses me. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt his lips on mine and it sends a spark of fire down my body, lighting every nerve like a firework. I’m electrified, lighting up the night sky as he kisses me like something fragile and precious. Something worth having.

“I love you,” I whisper against his lips.

He startles, pushing himself away before he’s suddenly hovering above me. A smile that rivals the brightness of the stars shines on me as he leans down, our noses touching.

“You love me?”

I nod, my nerves fluttering as he reaches out to caress my cheek. I’ve never seen him so soft, so gentle. No one would believe how trusting, caring, and loving he can be. But only I see it. Only with me does he let down his walls.

He’s kissing me again, but this time, he’s no longer holding back. He’s not gentle as he bites my bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth. I moan as his tongue surges into my mouth, claiming me. I’m lost to the feel of him as his hands tangle in my hair, pulling my head back to gain access to my throat.

Against my skin, he whispers. “Gods, I’ve been wanting to hear you say that for so long.” He licks a strip of my skin, biting my pulse, before sucking my clavicle. “Fuck, I love you so damn much, I’ve been going insane with wanting you.”

My breath hitches as his fingers trail beneath my leathers, finding the skin of my hip. He presses me into the grass as he finds his way back to my lips. Kissing me once more.

Time seems to hold its breath as we kiss under the stars, uncaring of what the next day may bring. All we have is this moment, clinging to one another and sighing with relief. I’ve never felt so happy in my entire life as Liam looks down on me with such adoration.

When he suddenly sits back on his knees, I pout up at him. He shakes his head, laughing as he holds his hand out.

“Come with me.”

He pulls me up with him off the grass and starts racing towards the school.

“Where are we going?” I huff, trying to keep up.

Liam’s grip is unwavering as he turns back to look at me. “We only have a few hours till sunrise and I need all the time I can get to show you just how much I love you,” he winks.

Warmth rises up my neck to my cheeks, making him smile wider as he pulls me after him towards Basgiath.

“Is something going on between you and Liam?” Violet asks.

I startle, choking on my drink. Rhiannon snickers as she pats my back, helping me. Once I can breathe, my eyes betray me. I automatically find Liam across the dining hall, talking with Xaden and Garrick. His face is tight with tension and concern as his hands clench beside his plate. When his eyes meet mine, as if he can sense me, the tension is immediately gone. He softens. A smile playing on his mouth as he nods to me, saying good morning.

I nod back, warmth filling my gut before I avoid Violet’s inquisitive stare and go back to eating. “Nothing’s going on.”

Rhiannon snorts. “Sure. And nothing is going on with Violet and Xaden.”

Violet stiffens next to me. “There’s nothing-“

Rhiannon holds up a hand, stopping her. “Don’t fight it, Violet. It’s way too obvious.”

Violet glares at her best friend, causing me to laugh. I catch Liam glancing at us from the sound.

“It’s just as obvious with you two,” Rhiannon presses.

I prickle at their interrogation. “What do you want me to say? We’re just friends.”

Violet shakes her head. “Friends don’t look at each other the way he looks at you.”

I stare at her, brows pinched. “What do you mean?”

Violet glances at Xaden’s table and smiles. “Like that.”

I whip my gaze back to Liam to find him staring. He doesn’t look away when I meet his blue eyes. There’s an underlying intensity in his stare, something heavy and wanting. It leaves me breathless and trapped, wanting more than anything for us to be alone. To finally tell him how I feel. To see if maybe, just maybe, the lingering stares and touches and late-night talks are more than just friendship.

I break away first, staring down at the broccoli on my plate with sorrow climbing its way up my sternum. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Violet throws her hands in the air, clearly exasperated. “Gods, can’t you guys just shut up and make-out already!”

Her voice echoes around the table and I freeze. Closing my eyes, I hope he didn’t just hear her. I hope to every god that can hear me that he isn’t the one whose chair screeched against the floor. That it’s not his booted feet coming towards our table.

“Ladies,” Liam’s deep octave vibrates against my already rattled nerves.

“Oh fuck,” I mumble. I open my eyes to find Liam hovering above me, leaning his hands on the table.

“Morning, gorgeous,” he winks.

I fight the blush rising to my cheeks by curving my nails into my palms. The pain is sharp and helps clear my head.

“Morning,” my voice catches, sounding winded. “Did, uh, you need something?”

I catch Rhiannon smiling at the exchange in my peripheral.

Liam’s hand reaches back to wrap around his neck, showing off the rippling muscles in his bicep as he shrugs. “I was about to head to Battle Brief and wanted to see if you would join me. I mean, since you’re already heading there anyway.”

I nod, butterflies threatening to rise from my gut and fall out of my mouth as I clench my fists beneath the table. His stupid biceps are all I can focus on as his bright blue eyes burn into me.

FOCUS!

I smile. “Yeah, sure,” I turn to Violet and Rhiannon, who are smiling so big and taunting, I want to throw them off the bench. “Are you guys done? Want to head over with us?”

Violet shakes her head. “Oh no, don’t wait up for us. As a matter of fact, I think you’re looking a little chilly though,” she raises a concerned brow. “Do you need my coat or-“

Liam is draping his jacket over my shoulders before she can finish her sentence. I’m startled and staring as his cheeks redden from the attention.

“Ok, we’ll see you guys there,” he holds a hand out to me, waiting.

I turn back to Violet to see a satisfied gleam in her eyes. I glare.

Rhiannon chokes on a laugh as I take his hand, quickly making our way out of the dining hall.

We shove our way through the crowded halls, Liam close by my side as I hold on to his jacket. It’s warm and smells so much like him that I try and resist burrowing my nose into it. Would he think it’s weird if I keep it?

I shrug out of it, not trusting myself or this sudden burst of kleptomania to keep from me stealing it. “Here, I’m not super cold. It’s okay.”

Liam stops me, shoving it back onto my shoulders. “No, I want you to. Besides,” he winks. “You look good in it.”

I hide my blush as we make our way through the crowd once more.

It’s only when we’re at the door to Battle Brief that I realize I’m still holding his hand and he never let go.

Like knotted string, Imogen unravels my mind. Every knot a memory. She pulls and yanks until I’m fraying at the edges. Pain shoots through my veins, burning me from the inside out. A scream slowly builds in my throat as the pain increases to an all-consuming fire.

Just as the pain rises, it falls, like a cresting wave crashing against the shore. And a strange numbing sensation takes over.

A strange hollow throbbing begins to pulse inside of my head. As if something, or many things, are missing. I can’t place it and as soon as I try to recall what’s gone, it whisks away like a leaf in the breeze.

Imogen’s hands are steady on me as another memory, this one golden and bright, surfaces.

“I could show you a thing or two with those pretty long legs of yours wrapped around my-“

A crunching sound echoes in the courtyard as my fist collides with Jack Barlowe’s nose. His head whips back, harsh and startling. I keep my stance, watching and waiting as he whips back around, fury lighting his eyes.

“You fucking bitch!”

My hand shoots out again, this time slamming into his larynx, cutting off the sound in his throat. He chokes, staggering backwards. He falls to the ground, heaving.

The son of a bitch deserves it for pinching my ass and asking me to meet him in the dorms tonight like I’m some sort of whore. I roll my eyes and walk away from him, ignoring the stares that follow in my wake. I didn’t survive the fucking parapet to be groped and manipulated by some jackass.

“Excuse me?”

I whip around, ready to take on another asshole when I hesitate. My eyes widen at the sight of the man before me. He’s incredibly tall and broad. Muscles line his arms, rippling across his skin as if he’s a statue at a gallery. He towers over me with an impish grin on his face. His golden blonde hair a beacon in the sunlight. My heart races in my ears as I stare up at his incredible handsome face.

“You’re in the Fourth Wing, right?” His voice is deep, hypnotic. I could lose myself to the rhythm of it.

I nod, dumbly. “Flame Section.”

He smiles and I feel a strange sense of gravity slipping from beneath my feet at the sight. Gods, he’s beautiful.

But beautiful men often tend to be assholes. Like Jack.

“Me too,” he shrugs. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”

My hackles rise at the compliment. “Why?”

He puts his hands up, showing he’s not a threat. “Hey, I’m just curious. I wanted to know the woman who beat the shit out the biggest asshole at Basgiath.”

I roll my eyes. “All men are assholes here. He just happens to be one of them.”

He cocks his head, leaning forward with a twinkle in his eye. “Am I one of them?”

I step close, glaring up at him. “Most likely, given how you seem to entirely depend on your good looks and charm to get you through your time here. Just like any asshole.”

“You think I’m good looking?” His smirk is intoxicating. “And charming?”

I shake my head. “And apparently brainless.”

He leans closer. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be as long as you keep talking to me.”

My heart gets caught in my throat as I try and swallow. He watches the movement with sharp, knowing eyes. That smirk stretching wider.

“What if I don’t ever speak to you again?”

“You want me to beg, is that it?” His voice is as soft as velvet and it slithers over my skin. “Should I get on my knees for you?”

The image of him on his knees, looking up at me through his lashes, has me jolting away from him. He laughs, which rings through the air like a forgotten melody I only just remembered. It’s frightening how familiar he feels to me.

Annoyance prickles my skin as he continues to laugh at my expense. “You’re just another pompous ass who gets off at the idea of taunting me.”

He shakes his head, his smile never wavering. “Oh gods, you’re entirely wrong. Trust me.” He raises a hand, holding it out to me. “How about we start over, yeah? I’m Liam Mairi and I promise I’m not an asshole. Or,” he shrugs. “Not as big of an asshole as Jack is, at least.”

I can’t help my smile at the words. My annoyance simmers, but something inside of me knows he won’t be like Jack at all. I’ve always been good at reading people and Liam seems like he might actually be the opposite of what I thought he was.

I whisper my name back at him in greeting before reaching out and shanking his hand.

Something golden, like a thread, weaves between us as our skin touches for the first time. Intertwining around the space between our rib cages that has me gasping. It’s familiar, yet frightening. It’s something fragile, but I know it’ll somehow be something glorious. If I let myself curl into it. If I trust it. Trust him.

As I appraise Liam Mairi, I know, deep in the marrow of my bones, that I can trust him. That maybe, just maybe, he’ll become something more. He might be my everything. If I let him.

And that’s the most terrifying thing of all.

As if I’m rising out of water, after drowning for so long and seeking oxygen, I surface from the memories. They fade away with the tide, blinking from existence, as I feel my breath steady me.

Blinking my eyes open, I find Imogen moving back from me. With a quirk of my brow, I stare up at her eyes now brimming with unshed tears.

Why is she crying?

“Imogen?” My voice cracks, roughly, as if I’ve been screaming for hours.

Glancing around, we’re sitting on the stone ground of the courtyard. An arch protects us from the rain. The clouds are dark and ominous above, but I don’t remember coming out here. Weren’t we just having dinner in the dining hall?

Furrowing my brows, I purse my lips. How did we end up here?

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

I whirl to look at Imogen. “What for?”

That’s when I notice the skin of my cheeks are damp. Touching them, I quickly wipe them with my sleeve. Must’ve been from the rain.

“Can we go back inside? It’s cold.”

Imogen is still staring at me as she helps me from the ground. My muscles ache and pinch as if I were sitting for a long time. Strange.

I stretch my limbs and stare up at the dark clouds. “Hopefully we didn’t miss dinner.”

The last thing I remember was heading to the dining hall with Violet. How did I get here without her?

Imogen is silent as she watches me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

She hesitates. “Nothing. Let’s go back-“

“There you are!”

We both turn to find Violet and Xaden heading towards us. Concern is painted across their faces as they approach.

“Are you alright?” Violet asks, stepping towards me.

I tilt my head. “Yeah, I’m fine, why?”

Imogen flinches in my peripheral, catching Xaden’s eye. He narrows his gaze on her as Violet continues to fret over me.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve been there for you. I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone in this. You never will be.”

I furrow my brows, staring at her. “What are you talking about, Vi? Weren’t we heading to dinner?”

She freezes. Suddenly the quiet is stifling as everyone shifts their focus to Imogen.

“What did you do?” Violet asks, her voice piercing.

Imogen stares at the ground, her eyes brimming with tears again. She doesn’t respond.

Xaden’s dark eyes are heavy on me as he steps closer. He whispers my name like I’m a startled animal and it sets my nerves on edge.

Why is everyone being so cryptic and dramatic?

Violet is the one who steps in front of him, taking my hands in hers. “Do you know who Liam Mairi is?”

At the sound of the name, something strange happens. An echo of something deep inside of me leaves me aching and wanting. I search for what it is that has me feeling this way, but I’m left empty. As if a part of me is missing. As if I’ve been cut up and left to figure out how to pull myself back together again. All I can feel are the ashes of something that used to be there and I can’t understand what it was.

“Who’s Liam?”

Weaver of Fate

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multihaven · 6 days ago

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we are the people — drew starkey

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ inspired by ‘we are the people’ by empire of the sun

୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ bf!drew starkey x gf!reader, fluff, the kind of romance author is craving

it’s truly like a movie. it always is like this.

whenever drew as a couple days off from filming, he loves to take you down the pacific coast highway during the sunset. it’s your guys’s thing.

it was the first date he took you on. just driving for hours, taking turns choosing which songs played on the radio, stopping at a restaurant for a late dinner, and then driving once more only to stop on the side of the road and walk down to the beach to look at the stars. all while getting to know each other inside and out. you knew you were done for that night because you could literally feel your heart falling in love with him that same night.

and today’s no different. it’s one of your favorite things to do with him.

the sun is blaring pink and orange, middle of june, the windows are rolled down, sunglasses adorning both of your faces, and it’s serenity.

Love in the summer

Followed the sun till night

you turn your head away from the view of the sea, now looking at drew. and he’s already looking at you. you feel your face flush and look away from him quickly. he still gives you butterflies every time he looks at you, your stomach fluttering in adoration.

“what? is my hair that fucked from the wind?” you giggle, brushing your hands over your untamed hair.

he smiles and shakes his head gently. he turns his focus back to the road and the hand that’s on your thigh squeezes a bit before his thumb starts rubbing gentle circles into your skin.

he shrugs. “jus’ love you.” he looks so good like this. one hand on the wheel, completely relaxed. no work on his mind for the next few days. just himself and enjoying his time with you. not to mention your favorite pair of sunglasses of his resting on his nose. yeah, you’re fucked.

you giggle once again, pulling both of your feet up onto your seat, knees resting against your chest. he grabs your hand in his and brings it to his mouth, slobbering kisses all over your knuckles and the back of your hand. you’ve never felt so free or so loved in your life. you feel high. high on the feeling of happiness and love and adoration for the man sitting next to you.

“oh! our song!” you exclaim, turning the volume dial all the way up.

and immediately, the both of you break out into song, the chorus screaming in every inch of the car.

“i can’t do well when i think you’re gonna leave me, but i know i try!” you sing, dancing as best as you can in the passenger seat.

“are you gonna leave me now? can’t you be believing now?” drew echoes your words with his own, all smiles and funny hand gestures.

“i know everything about you,” you pause and look at drew, pointing your pointer finger at you and him — following the ‘i’ and ‘you’ parts — and pausing your singing.

“you know everything about me,” he mirrors you, one hand still on the wheel, but using his other hand to point at himself and you.

and both of you scream-sing the next line at the same time, breaking out into laughs and dancing, living in the moment of each other.

“we know everything about us.”

you love this man more than anything in the world, and he tells you the same. all the time. how much he loves and adores you, how much he values you and how much he appreciates and respects how you understand that his job is always fucking crazy and that sometimes he’s gone for three or four weeks at a time. he always puts you first no matter what and reassures you whenever you need or whenever he feels like it.

just a bittersweet remembering and enjoyment of what you two have that has not been lost yet. and you know damn well you both hope it stays found.

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sunshineangel0 · 3 months ago

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𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘢

pairing- kim seungmin x reader summary- when the world is given 21 days until total destruction, two friends experience the kind of love that never got a chance. genre- sci-fi, slow-burn romance, angst word count- ~2.6k warnings- end-of-world themes, emotional intensity, mild language, grief, existential dread, implied death a/n- sorry sorry sorry sorry. im on this angsty writing streak right now plwase forgive me. also, if you've ever loved someone in silence until the end, this one's for you.

Three Weeks Prior — Impact Zero

The coffee machine made a noise like it was choking on gravel.

You leaned against the counter in the break room, arms folded, watching the old machine stutter through its final breath. The overhead lights buzzed faintly, casting a yellow tint across the white tile and metal countertops. Everything in this building felt slightly too old, slightly too used — like it had seen better years and was trying to hold on, just like the people inside it.

The mug in your hand had a faded logo on it: NAO — North Atlantic Observatory, your workplace and second home for the last four years. An isolated, high-security research facility perched on the northern coast, built to monitor orbital anomalies and space weather. Boring work most days. Too quiet. But stable.

Until recently.

You rubbed your eyes. The sun wasn’t even up yet. You hadn’t slept.

"Looks like it's finally giving up," came a familiar voice behind you.

You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Seungmin. You just let out a soft huff of a laugh.

"Same," you replied.

He came to stand next to you, setting his elbows on the counter, mirroring your tired posture. His hoodie was half-zipped over his standard-issue uniform, and there was a smudge of graphite on his jaw, probably from him resting his head on his hand while scribbling calculations again. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

"You look like hell," you said.

"I aim for consistency." He smiled, but his eyes were tired too. “Also, this is my third shift in a row. I’m legally a ghost now.”

You handed him the mug. “Drink. It’s toxic, but it’s warm.”

He took it, fingers brushing yours for just a second too long. But you didn’t pull away, and neither did he. That was how it always was with you two — almost something, never said.

The silence settled again. There was something about the early hours, before the building came to life, that made everything feel fragile. And lately, fragile felt more like a warning than a mood.

“I checked the readings again,” you said quietly. “There’s still an anomaly near the asteroid belt.”

He didn’t answer immediately. Just sipped.

You glanced at him. “You think it’s real?”

He met your eyes, and his voice dropped. “I think… we’re not being told everything.”

You nodded once. That’s what scared you most.

A faint beep echoed from down the hall — the server room.

Then another. Louder.

Then, the sound that stopped everything: the intercom crackled to life.

“All personnel to stations. This is not a drill. Orbital threat confirmed. Impact trajectory locked. Impact Zero protocol activated. Estimated contact: 21 days. Repeat — this is not a drill.”

The hallway went still.

In the break room, the coffee machine gave a final wheeze and shut down completely.

You didn’t move at first. You were still holding the paper coffee cup, staring at the wall, not quite breathing.

“...No,” Seungmin said under his breath, huffing a laugh. “That’s not—there’s no way.”

You slowly turned your head toward the hallway. Monitors were lighting up outside the glass walls — red lines, looping trajectories, countdowns. Sirens began to flicker faintly through the base, not full blaring yet, just the beginning pulses of something much bigger.

People started rushing down the hall. A tech assistant dropped her tablet. Someone was already shouting into a radio.

You felt it in your chest before your brain caught up: that sinking, weightless drop of understanding.

It wasn’t a glitch. It wasn’t hypothetical. It was real.

“Seungmin,” you said softly.

He was still staring at the floor, the cup forgotten in his hands. His face had gone pale.

When he looked at you, it was the first time in all your years here that he wasn’t joking, wasn’t sarcastic, wasn’t playing anything off.

Just scared. “You don’t think—” he started, voice thin.

“I do,” you said. “I think this is it.”

And suddenly the room felt colder. The air thinner.

He nodded once. Swallowed hard. "Okay."

Then he said it again, quieter. "Okay."

20 Weeks To Impact —

The base fell apart fast after the confirmation.

People ran. Some in blind panic. Others with cold resolve. The top brass left first — whisked away on private jets, secure transports, escorted under military silence. Then the families, the ones with connections. Then the hopefuls, the cowards, the ones who couldn’t face it.

You stayed.

So did Seungmin.

No one told you to. There wasn’t a command, not even a goodbye. Just... silence. The lights in the hallway flickered one morning, and no one came to fix them. You stopped getting updates from command. Coffee stopped brewing. One by one, the monitors went dark.

You and Seungmin stayed in the operations wing, sleeping in shifts, monitoring what little data still came through. It felt pointless, but it was better than waiting with empty hands.

You didn’t talk about the meteor at first. You filled the silence with sarcasm, inside jokes, trading terrible snack bar finds like currency. But your laughs were quieter. Your eyes lingered longer.

One night, Seungmin found an old vinyl tucked in storage. You had no idea why it was there — maybe someone thought the end of the world should have a soundtrack. He didn’t say anything. Just put it on, turned up the volume, and nodded toward you like it was an invitation.

You danced. Badly. Quietly.

He watched you with this look. Like he was memorizing.

You noticed.

14 Days To Impact —

The outside world started showing signs of rot. The power grid flickered. Civilian broadcasts stopped. Riots spread through cities. Roads clogged with cars that never moved again.

From the base, you could see smoke on the horizon almost every day. Not close enough to reach you. But close enough to remind you.

Seungmin stopped making jokes.

You spent a lot of time on the roof.

He started bringing you coffee — the last of it, rationed with ceremony. Some nights you’d find him already there, staring at the stars, and he’d pass you a chipped mug without speaking.

Once, after a long silence, he asked: “Do you think we would’ve made it, if none of this happened?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

But you stayed next to him until morning.

7 Days To Impact —

By the third week, the base was a ghost. The doors stayed open. Wind blew dust across the lobby. No one was coming back.

There was no plan anymore. No broadcasts. No hopeful countdowns. Just a sky that grew redder every night.

You stopped checking the data. You started living in the in-between moments — eating together in the empty mess hall, flipping through old books, playing music through speakers with frayed wires.

One night, you woke from a nightmare — fire, sky splitting in half — and walked out into the hallway barefoot, your chest tight.

Seungmin was already there. Sitting on the cold floor, head back against the wall, eyes wide open.

You sat next to him.

Neither of you said anything.

You leaned your head on his shoulder.

He didn’t move away.

Two Days To Impact —

Now, it's quiet.

The kind of quiet that wraps around your bones. No sirens. No more data. No more pretending.

You and Seungmin packed small bags. Not because you were going anywhere — just because it felt like doing something.

You didn’t ask where he wanted to go.

He just said, “There’s a place I used to go when I was a kid. A drive-in theater just outside town. Haven’t been there in years.”

You nodded.

He looked at you like he was asking for more than permission.

You nodded again.

Tomorrow, you’d drive out together. Watch a movie that isn’t playing. Under stars that are about to disappear.

And maybe — finally — say all the things you never let yourselves say before.

Day Of The Impact — 2 Hours Until Impact

The sky looked wrong.

Too bright, too red — like the sun had cracked open and started bleeding. Clouds moved strangely, fast and low, as if the world knew what was coming and couldn’t sit still.

But the drive-in was still there.

It sat at the edge of the world.

Not literally — just on the edge of what used to be town. But now, with the roads abandoned and the sky sick with color, it felt like the end of everything. The rusted sign out front still read COSMIC DRIVE-IN in broken letters, and beneath it, someone had spray-painted: “Now Showing: THE END”.

Seungmin parked the car right in front of the big screen.

It leaned, weathered and stained by time, but still standing. Behind the projection booth, the hills rolled out into darkening gold, shadows stretching across the horizon. The sky looked bruised — reds and purples and sick yellows blending into something unnatural.

He turned off the engine.

Neither of you moved for a moment.

“Give me ten minutes,” he said, grabbing the backpack and hopping out.

You stayed seated, eyes scanning the horizon. The clouds pulsed faint orange. Your chest was tight with something massive and unnamed.

Ten minutes later, a sudden flicker lit up the screen.

And then — impossibly — the projector began to hum.

You stepped out, stunned, watching grainy black-and-white spill across the canvas.

Casablanca

Seungmin stood by the shack-turned-booth like it was something sacred. The screen flickered behind him, a grainy beam of black and white cutting across the gravel lot. He crossed his arms, the corners of his mouth tugged up in a smile that looked half triumphant, half broken — like a man who just held a crumbling world together with duct tape and spit and sheer willpower.

He walked back to you, slow and steady, never taking his eyes off your face. Like he was memorizing it.

“I figured...” he said quietly, voice rough with exhaustion and something deeper, “if we’re going out… we should go out watching something that knew how to end.”

You tried to smile, but your lip trembled. Your whole body did.

“God, Seungmin,” you breathed, barely audible. “I’m so fucking scared.”

His face changed — just slightly, just enough. Like a crack down the center of a mask that had held too long. He closed the distance between you in a single heartbeat and wrapped his arms around you like he meant to fight the sky itself.

“I know,” he whispered into your hair, his voice shaking. “Me too.”

You held on like the world was already slipping, like the ground might fall away if you let go. Around you, the gravel lot was still. The air thick with the static of endings. On the screen, Bogart told Ingrid goodbye — again, like he always did. For the hundredth time. Maybe the last time.

You pulled back just far enough to see Seungmin’s eyes. He was already looking at you like he’d never seen anything else.

“I should’ve said this before,” you whispered. “I should’ve said it a thousand times.”

His hands stayed on your waist. Gentle. Solid.

“Then say it now.”

Your throat tightened. The words hurt coming out, like your lungs weren’t built to carry them.

“I love you.”

It broke something open between you — not cleanly, not neatly, but like a dam splitting at the seams. Seungmin didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink.

“I’ve loved you,” he said, voice cracked and raw, “since the first time you brought me that godawful coffee and told me my hair looked like a dying poodle.”

You choked out a laugh that turned into a sob.

“Since you didn’t leave. Since every night we waited and wondered and watched the sky, and you were still here. You always stayed.”

And then you kissed him.

Not like the movies — there was no slow lean-in, no swelling music. It was desperate. Messy. Your teeth bumped. Your tears mixed. It was the kind of kiss people don’t survive without. The kind that says if we go, we go like this.

You didn’t stop there.

In the front seat of the car, with the old blanket pulled over half your bodies, skin pressed to skin, you clung to each other like drowning things. No words. Just gasps, touches, sobs muffled against each other’s throats. His hands trembled against your spine. Your fingers curled in his hair like lifelines. You made promises without saying them — promises the world didn’t have time left to keep.

Above you, the stars were bleeding red.

But for one hour, it didn’t matter.

For one hour, there was only the warmth of him, the sound of his breathing, your heartbeat syncing with his.

After, you lay curled against his chest, your head rising and falling with every breath he still managed to take. Casablanca was long over. The screen was blank. The speakers had gone quiet.

The silence felt like it was holding its breath.

And then you felt it.

That low, distant rumble.

Not a sound — not really. More like a presence. A vibration that moved through your bones like thunder in the marrow. You both sat up slowly, instinct holding you still.

Far on the horizon, the sky had torn. A jagged seam of light split the clouds, too bright to be natural. Too vast. It didn’t spread — it consumed.

You reached for Seungmin’s hand. He caught it instantly, but his fingers were shaking. Yours were too. You held on like it would anchor you. Like it could undo what was coming.

Seungmin looked at you like you were the last real thing left in the world.

“I’m not scared anymore,” he said, and it sounded like the end of something.

Tears ran down your cheeks, hot and endless.

“I am,” you whispered.

He leaned in. Forehead pressed to yours. Eyes wet, but steady.

“I got you,” he said.

The light swelled.

Everything turned gold and white and endless, like the stars had come down all at once to burn the earth clean.

You didn’t look away from him.

He kissed you, one final time.

No fear. No future. Just now.

And when the sky came down, he held you like he could hold it back.

Year 147 A.I.Z (After Impact Zero)

The road was cracked, but it held.

Weeds had burst through the asphalt in places, curling like green veins across what used to be highways. A rusted sign leaned sideways at the turnoff: — COSMIC DRIVE-IN — CLOSED —

No one had come here in years.

The girl stepped out of the all-terrain rover, dust kicking up beneath her boots. She was young — maybe twenty. Hair pulled back in a knot, a thick canvas jacket with a radiation patch on the sleeve. She carried a small camera slung across her chest.

She walked slowly across the gravel lot.

The metal speaker poles were still there, bent and sun-bleached. The snack shack was nothing more than a shell, but the screen stood — faded, cracked down one side, but standing.

She lifted her camera and took a photo.

Inside the booth, everything was half-rotted. Dust covered the console, but the projector still sat like a sleeping relic. She brushed off the label:

Model 1973 | Last Run Logged: April 11

She paused. Eyes narrowed. Something glinted under a drawer.

A tape. A movie. Casablanca.

Old, black, and barely labeled. The words scratched in shaky handwriting:

“our last night — s.”

She took it.

The moment felt sacred.

As she turned to leave, she noticed two names, scratched into the wall of the booth with what looked like a key:

Y/N & Seungmin Final Show.

She didn’t know who they were.

But when she got back to the rebuilt city, she’d restore the film. She’d watch it. She’d tell people.

And they would remember.

Title Card

LAST NIGHT AT THE CINEMA

They didn’t make history. But they made a moment.

One screen. One love. One ending.

April 11 — The world fell silent. But their story played until the final light.

“This was my best scene.”

©sunshineangel0 𖹭 if you liked this work, please consider reblogging, commenting or liking! xoxo franzi 💋

skz general: @velvetmoonlght @scarlet789 @estella-novella @nightmarenyxx @channiesluvrclub

(if you wanna be added to the taglist comment below!)

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softidiotsposts · 4 months ago

Text

I Never Dreamt Before You

weird how strangers can pick up the broken pieces of a heart they don't really know

{Fair warning: heavy angst, explicit sexual content (18+), discussion of sensitive topics (suicide, toxic relationships, death), neighbors, some fluff and a somewhat happy end // word count: 8.5k}

masterlist

A twenty-five Euro train ticket will take you comfortably from Madrid to Barcelona but it doesn't take away the boiling anxiety nor does it make the journey easier. In fact it's harder that way, knowing that Madrid is only twenty-five Euro away makes it so much more difficult not to turn back.

Knowing that only twenty-five Euro will bring back a world of warmth that you wish you could bottle up.

Leaving behind a life to start a new one is difficult, even in your mid twenties you feel yourself being caught in the spider web of emotional attachment of a city. You know the ins and outs of Madrid- know it like the back of your hand, born and raised in the capital. So to move away to the coast, seven hours away from comfort is not easy.

Barcelona, the idea of it, feels like an old wound that has turned into a foreign world. So different from the ease of Madrid, like a whole new world that you've yet to discover.

One that you're frankly not a hundred percent you want to know, the move isn't one that comes out of want but necessity. It's one to pursue greatness in the grueling career you had chosen but the choice had not come without great deliberation.

Barcelona is... different, in many ways. The Catalonian city had its own customs, its own culture, even its own language. It worried you, made you afraid as if you were a child again, as if you were scared of the dark. But this time you had no one to hold you, to comfort you and tell you it's all okay- You had yourself now and that's it.

The train jitters from time to time as it slides along the tracks at such a pace that the outside world seems but a blur. You watch it happen, look out the window as the world mixes into a swirl of colors, the greens of the trees and shrubbery mixes with the beautiful colors of the flowers that you cannot clearly make out. It creates a piece of art that moves, like a painting that adapts each second you look at it. You smile slightly, appreciating the way nature casually crafts perfect art before your eyes then turn your head to glance at the table in front of you.

Pages of sheet music are scattered on the table, different pieces blending into one another as they are placed in an unorganized fashion without much care.

A half-drunk cup of dirt black coffee is in the far corner. It was about four Euros when you bought it at the station in Madrid and you could taste it. A half burnt mix that made you grimace each time you drank it but the water, standing not far anyway from it that rippled ever so slightly, had helped wash the bitterness off on your tongue.

You place a hand on one of the pages, the soft manuscript ever so rough under your dry hands, and pick it up to bring it closer to your face.

The lines and notations blur slightly into a puddle of black ink so you squint and suddenly find clarity, the music flows off the page as you find that it so often does. It's Chopin that you're holding, a poor man with far too many emotions and music that you find to be as heavy as an anvil.

You read over the page from beginning to end, you imagine the way your fingers glide over the keys- pressing softly before launching into an attack of grief. It's not the same as if you were playing in reality, you cannot feel the weight of the keys beneath your fingers nor their polished finish but it satisfies you for the moment.

It was deep into November and for Alexia that meant that outdoor training was becoming regularly more and more cooler as the days went past. Today was one of those days, the wind nipped at any exposed skin and fingers froze outside the comforts of a coat pocket.

Thus Alexia was forced to don her snood and gloves to the training pitch as did many others, all dressed in the same black kit with various winter accessories adorning necks and hands.

Alexia smiled and softly greeted the social media personnel, "Bon dia."

The filming of training had become a regular occurrence over the coming years, ever since the club had launched themselves on to the European stage, their presence had grown.

It filled Alexia with a strange mixture of feelings- there was the obvious excitement but also a nagging feeling of pressure. Pressure to perform, pressure to outdo previous achievements. It brought back that awkward feeling, the one that made her shutdown ever so slightly.

She waited on the sidelines for the rest of the team to arrive, deep in thought, looking at her shoes when a hand touched her shoulder. The sudden weight had her flitch ever so slightly and she turns to see Irene, the older woman furrowing her brow in concern.

"Are you okay, Ale?"

The tone is evidently worrying and Alexia clenches her jaw- there was no need to worry about her. It's actually the opposite, it is her job to worry about her team.

"I'm fine," Alexia forces a smile and walks away as the coach calls them over.

In reality, Alexia is far removed from the idea of 'being fine' when she probably should be: her team is at the top of their Champions League group, their start in the league had been as strong as ever and both Spanish Cups looked to be in the near distance.

Yet nothing is fine, Olga had broken up with her over the month of October and she was hurting- they hadn't been living together but the presence of stray belongings that had been left behind over time was missed, greatly. She had also not told a single soul, the idea being to focus on football. On progress, on being great in a way to get over the grief of the relationship.

Training itself had gone alright, they were solid like they had always been- making intricate plays and passing sequences right in the goal or shooting from range, curving the ball right past the keeper and into the back of the net.

Cold training was followed by a session in the gym, one where the cool of November was traded for sweat and pumping blood. The small space of the Barcelona gym crowded with most of the squad, each taking turns at the stations set up and the yelling on the football pitch had been swapped for the electronic gym music and friendly chatter.

"Doing anything later, capi?"

It's Mapi asking as they both stretch out their hamstrings on the ground and Alexia considers her answer for a moment. In theory, she is not doing anything later- her plans are simple, go home and wallow in her emotions while watching whatever game is playing on TV.

"Sorry, María, I'm taking Nala to the vet."

Alexia cringes at herself the second it leaves her mouth- she had not meant to use Nala as an excuse but there was no other viable explanation that would not warrant additional questioning.

Instead of asking further, Mapi launches into a story about Bagheera's last vet appointment and Alexia is grateful that she's taking all the air time for once.

Alexia leaves promptly after the team is dismissed for the day, all given time in the afternoon for either additional training or other activities they may have. She doesn't stay to practice free kicks with the others like usual, feeling the weight of the seasonal transition on her chest.

Instead, she drives home to her condo. It's fairly nice, not overly modern and has an open concept that satisfies her needs. The neighbors are mostly full-time working people or the elderly, no children or college students that disturb the peace which Alexia appreciates greatly.

When she arrives and takes the elevator up to her floor, she is greeted by the sight of a young woman. Dressed in half-formal attire- tailored trousers with a slight check pattern that hang loosely on her hips, an untucked crumpled white shirt with a black overcoat that rests on her shoulders with dress shoes that look well worn.

Alexia pauses for a moment. The woman is beautiful, that kind of beauty that is timeless, without an expiration date, that can be taken through time period after time period and still fit into every single one.

The woman's hair is slicked back into a bun and her thin fingers rest on a case as she stands in front of a door that is few down from Alexia's own. She had never seen this woman and to her knowledge, the apartment she stands in front of has been empty for a while.

Alexia wants to call out but before she can open her mouth to speak, the woman disappears into the apartment, the door softly closing behind her. Then Alexia is left alone in the hallway, standing in front of her front door in a state of shell shock.

You make it off the train and manage to avoid buying a ticket back to Madrid. The feeling of stepping into a station other than your city's is strange and you decide to ignore the itching feeling of fear and uncertainty before it can get the best of you.

You pick up your leather case with all your sheet music and make your way through the train station and into the bustling streets of Barcelona. The wind nips at you and you can immediately feel the coastal air, you half appreciate the fresh feeling that the sea provides but also feel the nausea of homesickness bubbling up.

You walk to your apartment, seeing as it's not far from the station and all your other belongings had been sent to the flat previously.

You treat this as an opportunity to gaze at the brilliant architecture of the famous Catalonian city, some buildings look modern while others share the intricate stone work that can only be done by hand- making them infinitely more wonderful than the polished creations that sit beside them.

Eventually, after walking several blocks, you make it to your apartment building. It's one of the nicer looking ones on the street and you enjoy the stone work, the different creams mixing with the red of some of the bricks, before entering it.

The lobby itself is nicer than you'd expected. After an initial door, you are greeted with a darker one that has a lovely wooden finish- you fish out your keys, just two stray keys in different colors without any keyrings keeping them company, you turn the key and open the door.

You decide to take the stairs, just to enjoy the view out of the windows as you go up for the first and final time since the elevator is probably kinder on your knees. The view, as you'd imagine, is quite magical- the sun is slowly setting, the giant fireball disappearing into the horizon, in its wake leaving a wondrous sky that is full of pinks, oranges and reds. You pull out your phone and take a picture with a hopeful aspiration to start fresh and new.

Next, you find yourself standing in front of your door, clutching the case in your hands tightly. You contemplate turning back and getting on a train, re-calling all your things back to Madrid and never leaving. You don't, instead you turn the key and enter with a sense of acceptance.

You do not notice the footballer standing a few doors away and even if you had there would be no recognition in your eyes, your vision had been forever tunneled in the opposite direction and never wandered towards sports.

The apartment walls are bare. Plain white, freshly painted for a new tenant and you try not to shiver at the unwelcoming color, you would have to paint over it- maybe a green? or sea blue.

You turn to look around- it's an open concept as you'd seen online, the kitchen overlooks the combined living and dining room with a small hallway on the main wall. It branches off into the singular bedroom and bathroom.

You sigh and glance at the grand piano that takes up most of the space in the living room. It's black with a polished finish and you had spent so many times sitting for hours at a time that you had memorized each scratch and nick that had been etched into it.

You ignore the instrument even though it calls for you to sit down after the tiring journey and you instead focus on more pressing matters.

Checking your watch, you let out a sigh of relief when the hands show that it is not late evening just yet- you had just enough time to put together the stray pieces of furniture and organize the place to your liking without disturbing the neighbors anti-social hours.

You build your bedframe and unroll the mattress, put your sheets on then methodically put together the drawers so that you may store all your clothing. After the bedroom looks somewhat complete albeit plain but complete, you turn your attention to the living space.

It's large and so open that you feel a little naked standing in it- you decide to change that by taking the cloth off the leather chairs and moving them so they face the balcony, giving them a kind view of the city. A bookshelf is against the wall to the right of them, filled with various songbooks and stray novels that you never seem to finish.

There is no sofa since the piano takes up much of the available space, so the TV is left alone on the unit without anyone facing it. You don't find the problem, you never watch it anyway. The old beat up dining table from your old apartment sits near the kitchen, right in front of the doorway, with four chairs that were probably going to be used in rotation by only you.

After the bulk of the apartment is set up, you add the finishing touches. Photographs of people that you rarely speak to from high school but still cherish, art that you purchased on a whim and coats that you wore often hung on the pegs near the entrance.

It is finally after finishing absolutely everything that you sit at the piano, you run a finger on the closed keyboard and a thin layer of dust gathers. You hadn't played for two days and it had already gotten dusty.

Alexia hears the music over the sound of Alba's complaining, it's soft and sounds like utter grief.

A wave passes through her, tugging her heart strings along with it. She has never been a big fan of instrumentals, instead finding a larger appreciation for voice and lyric than strings.

"Alexia? Helloooo? Oh my God, are you even listening to me-" Alba's voice calls from the phone and Alexia snaps out of the brief trance.

"Err yeah, yeah... sorry, someone is playing the piano, I think."

She hears a gasp through the speaker and Alexia rolls her eyes at it.

"Is it loud? Maybe you should complain?" Alba suggests and Alexia doesn't even consider it- she doesn't care about the noise, only that the melody sounds dreadfully sad.

"No- It's fine, actually, I have to go... It's time for Nala's walk."

"Oh okay, then- By-"

Alexia presses on the red button to hang up the call before Alba can even reply and she feels immediately guilty- She had used Nala as another excuse, two in one day. Maybe she should draft excuses for the next day now? Just so Nala isn't used as a constant reason.

Now that Alba is no longer on the phone and the Atletico game is now muted, the music is much louder and clearer. Alexia cannot name what it is but even though there is an evident sadness in the notes, it's played to utter perfection. Each note masterfully curated to fit the next.

Alexia decides that whoever is playing is immensely talented.

It's about a week until Alexia sees the woman that lives on her floor again- It's a Wednesday morning and she has had a slow start to the day. Alexia had woken up ten minutes before her seven o'clock alarm rang, so she stayed in bed and allowed herself to snuggle Nala until the shrill signaled the need to get up. She had dressed herself in the training gear she wore most days, walked Nala, ate breakfast, checked her emails and watched the news until it was time to leave for training at nine.

She grabbed her packed bag, said goodbye to Nala with a kiss on the head and walked out and into the elevator. Alexia pressed the button for the ground floor and the one to close the doors when a hand shot out to stop them from closing.

It was the same woman. This time dressed in a skirt in complete black with polished loafers, shirt pressed but clearly in a hurry since you can tell the imperfections in the white cotton, same overcoat thrown on her shoulders.

"Pardon me," Her voice rang out to Alexia.

It's soft, like cotton in her ears and she melts slightly into it. Then chastises herself, it had only been a month since her break up and jumping into another relationship did not seem wise.

"Going down?" Alexia's voice trembles slightly and she does not know why.

"Yes."

It's curt and Alexia presses the button to close the door, it prompts the elevator to go down. She takes the opportunity to look at the woman again, out of the corner of her eye.

She's fairly tall, about Alexia's height and holds a deep brown leather bag that looks to be full with papers. Maybe she works in an office? Or maybe she's an accountant? She certainly looks the part.

The ding of the elevator breaks the moment and Alexia is forced to exit but not before she hears a smooth,

"Thank you."

That feels like honey and makes her warm and fuzzy inside.

It's again after a day's work that she runs into the woman again. She's running a little late because Aitana spilled coffee on her and she hopes Nala will forgive her that their afternoon walk will be delayed due to a shower.

The woman holds the elevator as she sees Alexia running for it, she offers a light smile that Alexia has yet to see and is now eternally grateful she has. It makes her forget about the large burning coffee stain on the front of her shirt for a moment until the woman offers her a tissue.

"Would you like one?"

It's a typically plastic packet of cotton tissues that organized people carry about and Alexia takes one with gratitude, thanking her twice over as she wipes some of the coffee with it.

"Are you a fan?”

Alexia stops wiping the coffee off her top and looks at the woman with furrowed brows then follows to where an elegant finger points at her chest. The Barcelona badge is untouched by the coffee, still in immaculate condition.

Alexia feels herself flush and does not know how to answer.

"Err yes, yes I am. Quite a big one."

The woman lets out a laugh as she stumbles over her words and it's music to Alexia's ears, almost as good as the performance that she got to hear a week ago.

"Are you? A fan."

The woman shakes her head, "No, actually... I don't watch football or sports but I appreciate the sentiment of them."

Alexia doesn't know what to say- she has plenty of friends outside of the football sphere she surrounds herself in but her mind is suddenly blank on questions to ask.

The elevator dings and informs them of the floor. The woman goes to leave and Alexia desperately doesn't want her too but has no idea as to why.

They had barely spoken, she had only seen her three times but Alexia felt as though someone who she had been waiting for her whole life had just walked into her life. A crazed feeling of comfort washed over her each time the woman spoke and Alexia leaned into every time.

To Alexia's joy, the woman turns back slightly and looks at Alexia.

"I'm Y/N."

She introduces herself as Alexia steps out the elevator to let it close and carry it's journey between the floors. She has never heard a name so beautiful sounding but doesn't speak on it further, in hopes of staying somewhat cool in the others eyes.

"I'm Ale, I live here."

Alexia points at the door with twenty nine on it as she introduces herself.

"Is that short for something?"

Alexia is stunned into a brief silence because it's so rare that someone asks since the many people she talks to already know the ins and outs of her life better than even she.

"Alexia."

The woman chuckles light and flashes a smile, "Well, Alexia, I live in thirty one."

She points down the hall at a door that's identical to Alexia's and Alexia acts as if she didn't know.

"I'll see you around, Alexia."

Y/N smiles kindly and Alexia feels her face heat up as she watches her walk to her apartment, the loafers she's wearing creating a satisfying click with each step.

The next time they meet is two weeks later when Alexia hosts their monthly team bonding movie night. Most of the team are present and bundled in small huddles on the large sofa or floor in front of it.

Aitana sits with Keira practically cuddling with each other as they pay rapt attention to the film playing on the TV. They seem to be the only two who have not seen the movie before tonight.

Mapi is sitting in between Ingrid's legs on the floor in front of the sofa as she pays attention to the film with occasional snarky comments about the characters that Ingrid hums along to.

Lucy and Ona sit in the very corner of the sofa under one of the many blankets, acting as though they aren't holding hands even though it's fairly obvious to the rest of them.

The rest of the group are evenly spread out on the sofa and floor, with Alexia sitting on a pillow watching the film with sleepy eyes. What awakens her is the music that can be heard over the television, she has not heard that playing for three weeks and had wondered the possibilities as to why.

Had they sold the piano? Or installed sound proofing in their apartment so the rest of the floor could not hear them? Alexia doubted it was that- the walls are paper thin and even the smallest of sounds can be heard.

It's different from the last piece she had the pleasure of listening to, much lighter yet still with a slight tinge of grief. It's also three times louder and she wonders why the person insists on playing between six and eight.

"Is someone playing music or what?"

It's Patri who pauses the film and complains, there is a moment of silence from everyone as the music seems to reach its peak and then they hear the slam of notes before a continuation in playing. Alexia flitches at the moment of anger, she had yet to hear such an emotion from the mystery pianist.

"It's lovely," Frido comments and Alexia is inclined to agree.

Lovely is one way to describe it. The other is masterful, an artist pouring their heart into an instrument that sings a thousand unspeakable words to the world around it.

The music lays heavy on the heart in the most wonderful way and Alexia has yearned for it to come back ever since she had heard it. It's a beauty that she has no experience in but one that she craves almost as much as the pitch.

"It's ruining film night."

Both Patri and Pina whine like children causing Alexia to laugh and shake her head. It's true, the sound of the piano runs over that of the TV and it would seem that Alexia has been granted the opportunity to meet the mystery pianist that has captured a part of her heart.

You had been practicing your Rachmaninoff when a knock sounded at your door, your fingers stilted over the keys, not daring to press another key. You lift yourself off the stool and walk over to the door, taking a few deep breaths before opening it to be met with Alexia's face.

Alexia who had been disrupting your perfectly thought out routine by her causally kind comments that had been running through your head even two weeks later.

You feel embarrassed now, opening the door to the person who had practically been dreaming about every single day wearing worn sweatpants and a henley shirt that had quite clearly shrunk in the wash a few times over.

"Alexia-" You manage to start before she interrupts you.

"You're the one playing piano?"

It's not an accusation but a question full of surprise that you can't help but feel shocked about. Of course, you knew that the piano could be heard- even neighbors had told you how much they appreciated the music in the evenings but you had assumed that Alexia knew.

"Yes, it's me- Listen, Alexia, I'm really sorry about playing so late. I'll stop for tonight."

You try to explain, hoping that Alexia isn't angry but when you glance at her face there is no anger visible. Instead she looks to be in... awe?

"No- I mean, yes that would be nice... but I don't mind."

You raise your brows in shock because you hadn't expected that reaction- sure many of the older folks living on your floor had liked the music but you'd assumed it was because they were older.

Yet Alexia seems to be proving you wrong.

"Okay then, Alexia?"

"Yeah?"

"Have a goodnight, okay?" You say with a light smile and can make out Alexia's nod before you close the door.

You press your forehead against the door when you think it's safe to do so and bring your knuckles to your mouth and then bite down lightly to prevent you from screaming.

It's surreal, the effect the older woman has on you even though the two of you have barely spoken, you've thought about touching her- running your hands up and down her sides and you've thought about her hands on you.

It's difficult to say what you want- friends would tell you to go for it but your mother would be deeply against seeing someone older. All you know is that you want Alexia and have absolutely no clue as to why.

The next time you see her, it's evening and you're in the elevator going home from the opera when she gets in. Alexia is wearing a beautiful dress that clings to her in all the correct places and you cannot stop your eyes from wandering across her figure when she's paying attention to her phone.

She makes you feel underdressed in your pencil skirt, loafers and crumpled blue striped shirt. Every time you gaze upon Alexia it's as if you are looking at one of the paintings that hangs on your wall- she's crafted by renaissance painters that you cannot pronounce the names of and you no else you've met in your life compares.

"Y/N?"

You flitch when a hand clamps down on your shoulder- it's Alexia and then you realize that the elevator has reached your floor but the ding and announcement had gone unnoticed by you.

"Sorry- long day."

Alexia smells faintly like alcohol, but not the cheap stuff you get in the convenience store, and flowery perfume that tickles at your nose blissfully. You wonder whether she was out with friends... or maybe had gone on a date?

"It's okay, everyone has days like that."

Even Alexia? She seemed so perfect- utterly beautiful and spoke with complete intellect every time the two of you interacted.

"Thank you," You mumble out as you leave the elevator but Alexia doesn't let your shoulder go.

Instead, you can feel her fingers dig into the fabric of your woolen overcoat. You don't know whether she's grounding herself or you but you feel yourself begin to calm down either way.

You don't know why you do the next thing you do. Maybe it's loneliness or pure carnal desire that drives you to kiss her in the hallway.

You press your lips against Alexia's soft ones and feel her jolt then gasp into the kiss- you have no clue why she's surprised by your actions and you're about to pull away and apologies but are interrupted by her kissing you passionately.

Alexia kisses as if she were dying, teeth biting down on your lips and tongue prodding inside your mouth. She traces the inside of your mouth as if it were the most important thing on earth and her hands disappear from your shoulders and now rest on your hips.

She tastes like sweet champagne and strawberries and you cannot get enough- never.

You desperately kiss her back, after all you had been dreaming day and night about this moment- you moment where the dam would break and you would finally kiss her. Your hands trail up her back, taking in each curve individually.

The two of you pull away gasping for breath and you want her back straight away- missing the pressure of her mouth on yours.

"I want you, Alexia."

You mutter between the two of you- it's quiet but enough for her to understand and when you raise your head to look Alexia in the eyes, you see that they are filled with want.

You and Alexia barely make it past the door of her apartment, you trip over each other's legs as you refuse to break apart for a moment. You don't pay much attention to the interior- all you know is that it's nice enough that you don't feel cold and unwelcome.

As you kick off your shoes, you notice the little dog that has come over and pet it to say hello. Then suddenly, Alexia pushes your coat off your shoulders and grabs your hand in a tight grip- tugging you to the bedroom.

From then on, it's animalistic. You practically rip off her dress and she unbuttons your shirt with shaky hands then tugs the skirt off your legs to reveal your lacy panties.

It leaves the both of you in your underwear, standing in Alexia's bedroom staring at each other. Your eyes trace from her strong thighs to her tight abs then to her breasts before finally settling on her face- she's wonderfully gorgeous and want pools in your stomach.

You want her more than you've ever wanted anything else, your blood pumps through your veins at a million miles an hour and you feel as though you're high.

She steps closer to you and a hand reaches out to run a finger up your side leaving goosebumps in its wake, you shiver but lean into the touch.

"You're beautiful, cariño."

You feel yourself flush at the compliment and practically feel yourself getting wetter but the second. You swallow deeply and reach out to place a hand on Alexia's stomach- you feel her gasp and flex under your touch.

You crave out her name on her skin and you see her smile slightly as she follows your finger.

"Are you drunk, Alexia?"

You look at Alexia through your lashes and you see her eyes smile for a moment, it's something you wish you could capture and watch forever.

"I'm not."

You run your tongue along your teeth and suck in a breath.

"Good, I don't want you to forget."

You let both of your hands rest on the elastic band of her underwear, snapping it against her stomach- making her flitch slightly. You smirk and then her hands rest on your forearms.

"You first," You say in a hushed tone and take her hands off your forearms.

You kneel in front of Alexia and look up at her, pure rabid desire coursing through your veins. You unclasp your bra with one hand, letting it fall on the floor and Alexia looks at you with her mouth slightly parted at the sight.

You lick your lips as you rest your hands on her muscular thighs then grab the band of her underwear with your teeth and Alexia groans lowly at the show. You give your best performance, pulling them down all the way to the floor before placing your hands on her ass. You give an experimental squeeze and smile when Alexia lets out an airy moan.

You start slowly, licking up the insides of her thighs and place a hand over pussy. You want this to last, you want to remember and you want Alexia to remember even more.

"Please- I...need it..."

You smirk at her impatience, trying your best to stick to your pace.

"Alexia, what is it that you want?"

You trace a finger down her abs to her pussy, purposefully avoiding dipping your finger inside her slit. You instead watch her face contort as she groans again.

"You- only you."

You accept the answer and lick a strip up her cunt- tasting her and it's like nectar on your tongue. You moan as you stuck on her clit and the effect is immediate- Alexia's rough hands go to rest on your head, guiding you as you lick and suck.

You feel the sway of her hips in time with each stroke of your tongue and you revel at it. You want her taste forever, you want to be in this moment forever. Alexia uses you to chase her own orgasm and you look up at her as she does so.

It's not long before she comes with a loud moan and fingers digging into your scalp, you moan with her and can't help yourself from running your hands down her ass again.

After the high is worn down slightly she puts a hand on your chin, making you look up. You feel her trace her thumb across your cheek as she smiles down at you- your heart flutters and core tightens at her expression.

"Get up."

You stand immediately and she pushes you on the bed then crawls to you like a predator to prey, straddling you on the bed and running her hands up and down your body. Occasionally squeezing your breasts making you arch off the bed slightly.

You feel so hot as if in an oven set to the highest temperature and Alexia's hands scald you- they leave behind pools of desperation that you so keenly want to get rid of.

Eventually, Alexia's hand finds its way into your underwear and you are reduced to a moaning mess. Arching off the bed and whining loudly as Alexia guides a finger inside of you while the palm of her hand is pressed into your clit.

It's euphoric, the pleasure runs through you each time Alexia thrusts her finger in and out of you- you claw at her back, desperately trying to hold onto anything. You leave behind red marks but Alexia doesn't seem to care, she lets you, even moans when you cement a hand into the meat of her shoulder.

"Fuck- Alexia, another, please... please!"

You beg even those she doesn't ask, you're too far gone. Alexia is grinding down on your crotch as she fingers and palms you, the idea of forming a thought is unavailable and all comprehension has left you.

Alexia humors you and easily slides another of her long fingers inside of you and you reward her with a long mewl that she smirks at. It's then that you realize that you won't last much longer- not with Alexia practically riding your lap whilst fingering you.

"Alexia- I'm gonna come, can I? Please?"

You don't know why you beg or ask for permission- you just do and Alexia smiles sweetly at you.

"Of course you can, cariño, you've been so good."

It pushes you over the edge and you let out a half yell as you come, shaking ever so slightly before going completely boneless in Alexia's sheets. You close your eyes as you breathe deeply- then feel Alexia slide off your lap and lay right beside you.

You feel her arm against yours and you turn to face her- your eyes meet her brown ones and you study them for a moment, committing them to memory. They remind you of freshly wet tree bark that smells like childhood in forests and you smile at the sentiment,

You raise a hand and trace the bridge of her nose then each cheek bone as if sculpting her face from scratch. You feel an ache in your heart as much as you do your legs... Alexia to you is a stranger. You know nothing of her and she knows nothing of you.

It's oddly comforting how there is no judgement, not when two strangers meet.

Alexia finds it hard to process the fact that you are in her bed. It's odd really, how peaceful it had been after the whole ordeal. You touched her face for a bit and she let you, leaning into it and then you had slipped under the covers and so had she.

You held her and she let you, leaning into the touch and in an ideal world she would wake up with you- cook breakfast for two and sit on the terrace with you as you laughed at her silly jokes.

Instead when Alexia wakes up the next morning, you are no longer holding her close and all your things are gone. A note in your place:

'Had to leave, Y/N'

Alexia sighs and picks herself up, walks Nala, cooks breakfast for one and eats alone at the kitchen counter.

She doesn't see you for a week and Alexia knows should have assumed that it was a one time thing but hope had been at the back of her mind; hope that you would knock on her door the next day with flowers or a card asking her on a date.

Instead, radio silence... well, almost radio silence.

She hears the piano for the first time that week on a Thursday evening. It's the same grief that is always sung from the instrument, just today it's louder. Louder than at the movie night and the slamming of keys creates an unnerving feeling inside of.

You play with anger, you're angry at yourself... angry at her- angry at grief. You slam the keys with no real talent, just pure rage. A knock brings you out of it for a moment but you don't care, you ignore whoever is at the door and keep playing until a series of loud knocks finally crack your shell.

You open the door and see Alexia, in a Barcelona sweatshirt and trousers. You feel a rush of guilt, you had ignored her- in good faith but still avoided her.

You hadn't meant to but still did so, bad habits returning like a disease.

"Alexia."

You greet her, it's short and it's so unlike the night you two of you shared last week. No passion, no want.

"Y/N? Can I come in?"

You sigh and survey the apartment, it's a mess- plates stacked up in the sink, stray cups far away from their home in the cupboard. Sheet music is everywhere, the floor, the table and kitchen tops but you sigh and open the door wider to let Alexia in.

She thanks you with a nod and does her own little sweep of the apartment- you think she's going to judge you or maybe give a snarky comment but instead she turns to you and you feel her hug.

It's soft, like your favorite bed sheets and you sigh into the hug- it's what you need. Alexia's strong arms around you, someone who doesn't know enough to judge, someone who just wants to be with you- in any way.

You pull away after a while, allowing Alexia to remove her shoes whilst you sit on the piano bench. It's weird, having another person in your new personal space but Alexia doesn't look out of place- she actually looks like the opposite.

You're lost in thought when you notice that she's stood right in front of you and you look up- Alexia doesn't look angry or disappointed, she looks concerned... an expression you know very well.

"You were gone for a week."

It's not a question and you don't treat it like one- You did disappear for a week.

"I was."

You slide to the right so Alexia can sit next to you on the piano bench, none of you say anything when she does so. You want to tell her everything but you've realized that you don't know Alexia- you don't know her favorite color, thing to eat, time of year... you don't even know what she does for work.

The two of you are strangers- neighbors that you know each other's bodies but not each other's hearts.

"I- can't... I can't tell you why, Alexia," You whisper, voice hoarse and dry.

You cannot tell her- it would break everything, break you and her- destroy the half built home you've made for yourself in Barcelona. You expect Alexia to demand an answer like most people would or maybe just walk out and never come back, instead you feel a hand wrap around your waist.

"I don't want to know, not unless you want to say."

“Just- don’t leave again?”

You face her and she's smiling- it's a little sad, that kind of smile you would see after a funeral service but you don't care and lean in any way. Kiss her slowly, like you never want it to end because you don't, you want her to stay in this moment forever.

Toeing the line between someone who knows too much and a stranger is right where you want her to stay.

"Stay?" You ask like a child does for a new toy and she grants you your wish.

The two of you walk to your bedroom and lay on top of the bedsheets facing each other as if you were twelve and gossiping about your classmates.

"Tell me about you," You ask her to fill the silence when you don't have the strength.

Alexia does so with comfort, "I'm a footballer-"

"So you aren't just a fan, liar!" You let out a laugh for the first time in a week and give her a little push.

"You never asked? I have a little dog, Nala... You've met her- and I'm here with you and I don't think I want to be anywhere else."

It's half sheepish and half confident, you can't help but smile at it.

"I don't want to be anywhere else either."

The next month is the best one so far since you've moved to Barcelona- you see Alexia practically every day, go out sightseeing (something you had yet to do), go to the grocery store together, sometimes sleep around each other's places and eat dinner together each evening. It's a routine you find yourself getting comfortable in, even catching yourself smiling more and more when you're with her.

One evening, when it's your turn to host dinner, you play the piano for her. You're used to an audience but when you're on stage everyone seems so small- inconsequential so that’s why, when you're sitting on the bench about to play with Alexia sitting in front of one of the mismatched chairs, you feel suddenly nervous.

"Promise you won't laugh?"

Immediately Alexia laughs and you frown.

"I won't, you know I wont."

You decide to ignore the nervousness stewing in your stomach and finally press the keys and play Franz Liszt, liebesträume. A piece you had ignored for so long because it hurt so much but Alexia is here with you now and she deserves to know what she means to you.

Your fingers glide across the keyboard and the emotion slips out unwillingly- the piece means so much to you, good memories, bad memories, arguments and makeups.

By the time you're finished and look up Alexia is crying- hot tears streaming down her face without control and you shoot up to wipe them away.

"I'm sorry," You don't know why you apologize but it seems fitting.

Between hiccups, Alexia says, "Don't- That... was beautiful."

After that you eat dinner with a small candle between you- smiling and chatting about absolutely everything and nothing at the same time.

This bubble the two of you built over the month grows by the day until it's burst one evening by reality.

It's just after Christmas and New Year when it happens- you finally get to see Alexia after she returns from visiting her family and the two of you fall back into that same routine.

Yet Tuesday is different, you sit at dinner in silence this time. Listening to Alexia talk about training and teammates with occasional hums that sounds like you don't really care.

You aren't paying attention, methodically taking bites of your food every so often when the clatter of a fork breaks you out of it. You look up to see Alexia staring at you with the same expression of worry.

You sigh and put down your own cutlery. This was a long time coming, you'd been walking a tightrope with Alexia- your hands out for support desperately trying to stay balanced and now your balance had been broken.

"Alexia."

It's an invitation to a conversation you would rather avoid altogether but it's been a long time coming... and Alexia has become more important to you than you'd intended. A crutch to your unstable life, some kind of stability.

"I'll tell you, if you'll listen," You offer in a meek voice, one that you don't normally find yourself speaking in around Alexia.

Alexia's eyebrows shoot up and you know that she knows what you're talking about- the reason for practically everything you do. Why you're in Barcelona, why you play, why you lean on Alexia- seek her out.

She nods and you sigh, preparing yourself to hold back scalding tears.

"My- my best friend... actually, my girlfriend or ex now... she was from Barcelona and-"

You pause as a lump forms in your throat, choking you and making unwanted tears form in your eyes. An anvil rests on your chest, thick and heavy grief passes over you in waves that you desperately try to hold back.

"She... died- and... and it was all my fault."

You're crying as you're saying it, tears flowing down your cheeks freely, ruining the makeup you had put so much effort in and making that heavy feeling looming over you into a storm.

Alexia jumps out of her seat and kneels next to yours, taking your hands in hers. They are warm and normally you'd find them comforting but here, now, they burn you with guilt. Guilt for finding her and moving on.

"No, that can't be true, cariño-"

"It is, Alexia! I... we fought a lot- over my career... and one day- she... she couldn't take it anymore- she.. she," You let out a choked sob that makes your throat ache.

You can't say it- you never have been able to. It's a pain that is so present yet never comfortable enough to process- it's the pain of losing a part of yourself as much as losing a friend.

You look down at Alexia and her facial expression is kind- something you don't expect, you'd actually expect the opposite; disgust, guilt on your behalf, maybe even hate. It makes you cry harder, knowing that she must be the only person that doesn't hate you for not stopping something so far out of your control.

She stands and you feel strong arms wrapped around you. They give you stability for a moment, awakening some kind of strength that you didn't know you possessed anymore.

"She- killed herself, three years ago yesterday and.. and I found her, Alexia."

Alexia's arms tighten around you ever so slightly and you feel her hand run up and down your back in an odd sort of comfort.

The two of you stay there for what feels like forever- an eternity that you wish were true. You want Alexia to stay forever, to forever hold you as you cry tears that have been marinating your years.

When she finally lets you go, she doesn't speak and you thank her silently, instead she wipes your tears with the back of her thumb- clears the table by herself and leads you to her bedroom.

You strip your clothes off quietly and so does Alexia until the two of you are in bed with your underwear on. This time, she holds you, arms wrapped around your middle in a way you didn't think you needed.

The silence is comfortable and you don't go to fill it as you normally would- there is nothing to say, nothing to explain because no questions are asked. Alexia asks nothing of you, no why, or how and it's refreshingly loving. She wants nothing but you, here with her and not reliving the past with her as a passenger.

The both of you stay like that for a while, laying together in the dark room, just holding each other as if you were the only people in the universe. You find yourself breathing without issue- the heavy weight of guilt slowly decreases.

You know it's never going to be gone and you don't want it to be, you want to remember her as best as you can but it feels so new to have so little guilt upon your weakened chest.

"Ale?" You check whether Alexia is asleep and a soft hum answers you, then a kiss on your shoulder solidifies her sleeplessness.

You sigh and wrap your arms around the ones on your waist, "I used to not be able to dream- never have I dreamt."

"Isn't that weird?"

Alexia answers softly, "Maybe... but maybe that's what makes you special."

You shake your head and crack the lightest of smiles.

"No, because I dream now, vividly- ever since I saw you in the elevator, I've been dreaming of what I'll be doing next... with you."

It turns out that twenty five Euros can buy you a ticket to Barcelona from Madrid but it can also guide you to a stranger that will eventually pick up the pieces to your broken puzzle with her own hands. Help you find your place as much as you help her.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas fanfic #woso fanfics #barca femeni

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

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Hey! I LOVE the comic you posted of the reader going to a club pre-relationship! I was wondering if you could write a part 2 to that of all of them going to a club together. With some jealousy, like when the reader goes to the bathroom on her way back she is getting flirted with by a random guy and the marauders reaction. Feel free to ignore

(Also I adore you comic that make my day every time I have re-read all of them at least 3 times!)

Hi lovely, thank you so much ! This took me forever to get to sorry, hope you enjoy it <3

part 1

cw: alcohol, unwanted/nonconsensual touch

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Your shriek cuts through the loud music, and you turn to Remus with an open-mouthed grin.

“This is my favorite song!” you shout.

He laughs. In the past half hour, four songs have been your favorite. “Yeah?” he asks.

You nod happily, throwing your hands above your head as you spin. You’re tipsy twirly, surprisingly sprightly considering you’ve downed enough shots to get Remus hammered, and he’s got several inches on you and has been drinking since he was thirteen.

Sirius is in a similar state. Remus and James have been steering the two of you around for most of the night, but now James has put himself in charge of crisis prevention, playing goalie between either of you and the bar.

“Oh be fun, Prongsie,” Sirius wheedles after getting spun around by the shoulders for the upteenth time. “I know you can be fun.”

“I am fun,” James agrees. “I have my most fun when I’m not cleaning up your vomit. Go dance with y/n.”

You’re game for this plan, giving Sirius an enticing smile and moving your hips to the music in a way that makes Remus’ mouth go completely dry. He knows he’s not the only person in this club who’s noticed, but thankfully the little circle the four of you have made in the dance floor stays clear of intruders. Thus far, your prediction has proved correct; no other men have come up to you with your roommates around. He’s not particularly distraught about it.

You seem oblivious to your own allure, laughing when Sirius hurries toward you like a called puppy. You take his hands, letting him twirl you around and then holding your arms up to twirl him in return, and at the chorus, you both jump around so that your hair flies all about. Your laughter is loud and sparkling. Remus sips his drink, entranced.

There are two more favorite songs before you careen towards him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. He hastily grips you by the elbow, wary of a fall, but you seem to have done this intentionally. You beam up at him, your smile lopsided and far less shy than anything he’s ever seen from you.

“M’gonna go to the toilet,” you tell him, one word leading into the next like they’ve been sloppily tied together with string.

“Oh, okay.” Of its own volition, Remus’ hand coasts up the back of your upper arm, then down to your elbow again. “Do you think you’re gonna be sick, honey?”

Your face screws up as if this is taboo to mention. “What? No.” You make a funny pffting sound. “I’m miles off from that, I’m fantastic, it’s just,” you lower your voice, expression turning grave, “I think it’s time to break the seal,” you tell him meaningfully.

This time it’s entirely intentional, but he also can’t help it. You’re just too cute. Remus sets his hand on the top of your head affectionately, grinning at you. “Alright, love, sounds good.” He looks around for the women’s bathroom, locating it a short distance away. “Want one of us to go with and wait outside for you?” It’s not like he can’t see it from here, but a girl as intoxicated as you probably shouldn’t be going anywhere by herself.

“No, no, I’ve got it,” you say, patting his chest lightly. “Back soon.”

It’s like you’ve disappeared into a mist, the way you fade into the crowd so quickly. It takes Remus a moment to spot the top of your head moving towards the bathroom. You turn around just before you go in, giving him a dazzling smile paired with a dorky thumbs-up.

“Where’d she go?” James asks, holding his drink aloft while Sirius grabs for it. “And what has made you smile like that, Moony?”

Remus makes a dismissive sound, but he feels his face heat as he takes a long sip of his own drink. James’ grin widens.

“Ooh,” Sirius catches on. “What’d she say to you?”

“Nothing. She’s gone to the toilet.”

Sirius’ kohl-rimmed eyes bulge, and James laughs, following his train of thought immediately. “Did she ask you to follow her? I didn’t think that was your style, you rake.”

Remus rolls his eyes. “You’re depraved.”

It’s not long before you reappear, catching Remus’ eye on your way out of the bathroom like you knew he’d be looking. You give him another of those heart-stuttering smiles and head his way, weaving your way through the crowd with a drunken expertise.

A happy glow of anticipation starts up in his chest, but you’re intercepted on the way. Another head, taller, steps in front of you, blocking Remus’ view. He cranes his neck, but he can’t see you.

He must make some sound or simply be emanating discontent, because James is back at his side in an instant. “What’s wrong?”

“Someone’s talking to her. I can’t see her anymore.” He sounds ridiculous, like an overprotective douche, but he can’t imagine one can be too cautious when a drunk girl is surrounded by guys in a place like this. Remus is being purely practical.

“Let’s go get her.” James is on board immediately, taking Sirius by the elbow and beginning to bulldoze his way through the crowd. Sirius grabs Remus’ hand just before the gap closes behind them, dragging him along.

Remus hears you before he sees you.

“Really, I appreciate it, but I’m not looking for anything.” Your voice sounds slightly tight, and Remus knows you well enough to tell by the sound of it that you’re giving whoever you’re talking to one of your big, fake smiles.

A man’s voice says, low and sure, “You don’t mean that—” and that’s as far as he gets, because you interrupt to exclaim, with no small amount of relief, “My friends!”

“Hi, sweetheart,” James says, and you’re right in front of them. You’ve cleaned up your makeup in the bathroom, the eyeliner that had transferred sweatily under your eyes now pristine again, and your smile is indeed giant and thin-lipped as you look between them and the man in front of you, subtly flaring your eyes. He reads the look clearly: Help, please!

Remus looks you over. The man has his hands on your hips and one of yours is around his wrist, a cautious touch. Sirius takes care of that quickly, wrapping his forefinger and thumb around the wrist closest to him and removing it like it’s a piece of trash he found on the street.

“Do you two know each other?” Remus asks. Without permission, his voice comes out gruff and accusatory.

“No,” you say speedily, taking a step towards Sirius. Towards them. “I was just on my way back to you guys, actually.”

“We were talking.” The man looks between the three of them scrutinously, like they’re threats. Remus doesn’t hate the thought of being a threat to this guy.

“Sounded like you were done talking, mate.” James smiles easily. You’d have to really know him to hear the sharpness in his tone.

Sirius snakes an arm around your waist, but you don’t shy from the bold touch. In fact, you lean into him, your smile slowly beginning to resemble the genuine article. “Wanna get another drink, baby?” Sirius asks you, gaze salacious.

“Mhm.” You bob your head eagerly, and he leads you off, James and Remus following. “Thanks for the help,” you tell them as soon as you’re away. “He didn’t, like, do anything, but it was a bit intimidating.”

“Anytime, sweetheart,” James replies, expression going a bit stormy now that he’s done feigning lightness. “And I wouldn’t say he didn’t do anything, he shouldn’t have put his hands on you like that.”

“It’s whatever,” you wave it off so easily Remus’ heart gives a little throb. “What’re we drinking?”

“Oh, that was a ploy,” Remus says. “We’re done drinking, remember?”

You pout, and Sirius hugs your side sympathetically (entirely for your benefit, Remus is certain). “You mean we’re done,” he sneers. “You and Prongs get to have however much you want. Who made you king of the beer?”

“I think you did, actually,” Remus says thoughtfully. “At Mary’s New Year’s party, remember?”

Sirius sniffs, presumably because he does not.

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reasonsforhope · 2 years ago

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"Namibia is the driest country in Sub-Saharan Africa, and home to two of the world’s most ancient deserts, the Kalahari and the Namib. The capital, Windhoek, is sandwiched between them, 400 miles away from the nearest perennial river and more than 300 miles away from the coast. Water is in short supply.

It’s hard to imagine life thriving in Windhoek, yet 477,000 people call it home, and 99 per cent of them have access to drinking water thanks to technology pioneered 55 years ago on the outskirts of the city. Now, some of the world’s biggest cities are embracing this technology as they adapt to the harshest impacts of climate change. But Namibia leads the way.

How did this come about? In the 1950s, Windhoek’s natural resources struggled to cope with a rapidly growing population, and severe water shortages gripped the city. But disaster forced innovation, and in 1968 the Goreangab Water Reclamation Plant in Windhoek became the first place in the world to produce drinking water directly from sewage, a process known as direct potable reuse (DPR).

That may sound revolting, but it’s completely safe. Dr Lucas van Vuuren, who was among those who pioneered Windhoek’s reclamation system, once said that “water should not be judged by its history, but by its quality”. And DPR ensures quality.

This is done using a continuous multi-barrier treatment devised in Windhoek during eight years of pilot studies in the 1960s. This process – which has been upgraded four times since 1968 – eliminates pollutants and safeguards against pathogens by harnessing bacteria to digest the human waste and remove it from the water. This partly mimics what happens when water is recycled in nature, but Windhoek does it all in under 24 hours...

Pictured: These ultrafiltration membranes help to remove bacteria, viruses and pathogens. Image: Margaret Courtney-Clarke

“We know that we have antibiotics in the water, preservatives from cosmetics, anti-corrosion prevention chemicals from the dishwasher,” Honer explains. “We find them and we remove them.”

Honer adds that online instruments monitor the water continuously, and staff ensure that only drinking water that meets World Health Organisation (WHO) guidelines is sent to homes. If any inconsistencies are detected, the plant goes into recycle mode and distribution is halted until correct values are restored.

“The most important rule is, and was, and always will be ‘safety first’,” says Honer. The facility has never been linked to an outbreak of waterborne disease, and now produces up to 5.5m gallons of drinking water every day – up to 35 per cent of the city’s consumption.

Namibians couldn’t survive without it, and as water shortages grip the planet, Windhoek’s insights and experience are more important than ever.

Interest from superpowers across the globe

In recent years, delegations from the US, France, Germany, India, Australia, Singapore, and the United Arab Emirates have visited Windhoek seeking solutions to water shortages in their own countries.

Megadrought conditions have gripped the US since 2001, and the Colorado River – which provides 40 million people with drinking water – has been running at just 50 per cent of its traditional flow. As a result, several states including Texas, California, Arizona and Colorado are beginning to embrace DPR.

Troy Walker is a water reuse practice leader at Hazen and Sawyer, an environmental engineering firm helping Arizona to develop its DPR regulations. He visited Windhoek last year. “It was about being able to see the success of their system, and then looking at some of the technical details and how that might look in a US facility or an Australian facility,” he said. “[Windhoek] has helped drive a lot of discussion in industry. [Innovation] doesn’t all have to come out of California or Texas.”

Pictured: The internal pipes and workings of Namibia's DPR plant. As water becomes scarcer in some parts, countries are looking to DPR for solutions. Image: Margaret Courtney-Clarke

Namibia has also helped overcome the biggest obstacle to DPR – public acceptance. Disgust is a powerful emotion, and sensationalist ‘toilet to tap’ headlines have dismantled support for water reuse projects in the past. Unfortunately, DPR’s biggest strength is also its biggest weakness, as the speed at which water can re-enter the system makes it especially vulnerable to prejudice, causing regulators to hesitate. “Technology has never been the reason why these projects don’t get built – it’s always public or political opposition,” says Patsy Tennyson, vice president of Katz and Associates, an American firm that specialises in public outreach and communications.

That’s why just a handful of facilities worldwide are currently doing DPR, with Windhoek standing alongside smaller schemes in the Philippines, South Africa and a hybrid facility in Big Spring, Texas. But that’s all changing. Drought and increased water scarcity worldwide are forcing us to change the way we think about water.

Now, the US is ready to take the plunge, and in 2025, El Paso Water will begin operating the first ‘direct to distribution’ DPR facility in North America, turning up to 10m gallons of wasterwater per day into purified drinking water – twice as much as Windhoek. San Diego, Los Angeles, California, as well as Phoenix, Arizona are also exploring the technology."

Of course, DPR is not a silver bullet in the fight against climate change. It cannot create water out of thin air, and it will not facilitate endless growth. But it does help cities become more climate resilient by reducing their reliance on natural sources, such as the Colorado River.

As other nations follow in Namibia’s footsteps, Windhoek may no longer take the lead after almost six decades in front.

“But Windhoek was the first,” Honer reminds me. “No one can take that away.”"

-via Positive.News, August 30, 2023

#namibia #africa #desert #water shortage #water conservation #dpr #potable water #water recycling #clean water #drought #united states #colorado river #science and technology #sanitation #good news #hope

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aealzx · 11 months ago

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Update Post

Prologue | AO3

Previous Next

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Being taken to a rich man’s manor left an uncertain taste in Jazz’s mouth, having long ago learned of the trouble her siblings and friends dealt with in relation to such places. But the positives were too important to them to get hung up on being prejudiced, so she tried to remain hopeful while they drove to their destination.It wasn’t like every rich man was the same. They couldn’t all be lonesome stalkers trying to kidnap other people’s spouses or children. Right?

It was tough having four people squished into the backseat of the car, but having her little siblings both so close to her was doing a lot to keep Jazz’s frazzled anxieties from that morning from fraying any further. She couldn’t believe the sun was already so high in the sky now, the clocks she’d glimpsed before reading just an hour or so before noon. She tried to blame her irritability on being hungry, but her nervousness making her have little appetite tried to disprove that.

The drive was thankfully quiet, leaving Jazz a recently rare moment to sort through her thoughts as one hand lightly rested on Danny’s chest and the other absently ran fingers through his hair repeatedly. Sometimes it was hard to hear or even see him breathe, so the physical movement of his chest rising and falling reassured her. And since she knew sometimes comatose patients could still register stimulus from the outside she hoped he earned some sort of comfort from her fingers through his hair.

It was those thoughts Jazz was lost in when they pulled through a set of heavy iron gates amidst stone walls. As expected, the manor was huge and the grounds surrounding it were expansive. But what was unexpected was that the grounds and manor exterior actually looked lived in and welcoming. Well kept gardens and walkways, and clean windows that weren’t even partially hidden. The glass was mirrored to keep prying eyes from seeing anything they shouldn’t, but somehow while the manor felt isolated it also felt inviting to those who were welcomed in its walls.

“Here we are,” Dick announced needlessly, pulling the car in to coast up next to the curb leading to the front door. There were both a set of stairs and a ramp leading up to the threshold. Something Jazz couldn’t remember seeing before for a private manor. She heard Sam draw a deep inhale while she stretched and realized she must have been dozing. She couldn’t blame her, even Danielle had decided to take a short nap to recover some of the energy she’d spent in the fight. While Sam, Tucker, and Danielle pulled their lethargic bones from their seats, Jazz waited patiently for Dick to half jog around to her seat. She didn’t realize her legs had fallen partially numb until Dick carefully lifted Danny from her lap, letting her help him keep the blanket tucked around the lad before he stepped away to allow her to exit the car and close the door.

“...Do you think he’ll be like Vlad?” Tucker asked once they started heading up the stairs, and Dick made a mental note of the name. It didn’t sound like someone the kids liked.

“No,” Sam answered easily, and when Tucker squinted at her incredulously Sam pointed towards the front door. “For one thing, he doesn’t live alone in this huge house like a loser,” she commented, having noticed Alfred already waiting for them at the entrance.

“Welcome to the Wayne Family manor, young masters and misses. Master Bruce will be with you shortly,” Alfred greeted them when they reached the top of the stairs, stepping forward to open the front door and hold it for their guests.

“Thank you,” Jazz responded quickly, causing the other teens to give a muttered chorus of thanks as well.

It was nice to be in an actual home again, after so long, and Jazz didn’t realize the kind of comfort it would bring to have the door closed behind them. The manor felt safe. Solid walls blocking the world from staring at them with suspicious eyes. A warm air that smelled faintly of burning wood from a fireplace. They gathered in the foyer for only a short minute before a calm voice came into the room. “Alfred, is that Nightwing with the kids?”

The voice was strangely concerned. Not in a way that made Jazz think the owner was reluctant to have visitors, but someone who knew what to expect and it worried them. A moment later a middle aged man in a suit was entering from another room, followed by a young lad and two dogs.

“Yes, Master Bruce. The children you told us about are here,” Alfred confirmed as Bruce approached them, looking them all over with an openly worried gaze. Jazz wasn’t sure what to say, openly staring back as Bruce took the sight of them in. Even the other three weren’t sure how to respond, the behavior being completely different from what they were used to from rich people. Of course Vlad always feigned concern, but it was easy to see he was being manipulative and it was isolated to certain people.

“Good morning, Mr Wayne. I hope we’re not intruding unwelcome,” Dick greeted, momentarily surprised by Jazz stepping between him and Bruce to block Danny from the apparent stranger. He allowed her to do so though, not wanting to stress her out more by trying to control her.

“Of course not,” Bruce assured, seeming to regain his composure and stop over analyzing his guests. “I have to admit I’m somewhat confused as to why I was the one chosen to entrust these kids to. But after hearing they were somewhat like my son Duke, it made a little more sense.”

“You have kids?” Sam spoke up, unable to keep herself from asking the question. So the quiet boy hovering in the back wasn’t just another visitor? And the other two older boys that had come into the room like curious spectators too? One of them was leaning against a doorway, while the other tried to look inviting as he’d come down the stairs. And to Dick’s surprise Stephanie was also there, giving him a subtle wink as she entered from a different room than the others.

“Yes, I have several children,” Bruce confirmed, reaching his hands out for Duke and Damian since they were the closest, resting a hand on each back. “This is my youngest, Damian. This is Duke, who I just mentioned. Stephanie was adopted shortly before Duke. And my second oldest is Jason, over there. You caught him and Stephanie while they were visiting, they actually live closer to where they work, but they and the rest of my children are free to come and go as they please. I hope you won’t be bothered by that.”

“N’no, that’s fine. It’s their home after all, not mine,” Sam stammered, backing away from the conversation uncomfortably. None of these people looked all that similar, and none of the kids looked uncomfortable about being there. In fact Stephanie seemed excited about something. Was she just happy to have guests? Duke looked nervous, but it was that general unease of someone trying to make a good first impression. And the way Bruce held them wasn’t out of possession, but familiarity. They could easily brush him off if they wanted to, but they didn’t. At first glance Bruce seemed to genuinely have the life Vlad wanted, minus there not being a wife as far as the kids could see. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy after all.

Throughout the light conversation Danielle had been looking between the home’s residents, squinting slightly as more people showed up. She knew Jazz had thought this arrangement was strange, and they all had a general unease towards rich men. But it hadn’t been until Jason made himself visible that Danielle had realized what was going on, and all of her unease fled. Of all the ones who had been helping them, Jason was the one that had the most distinct presence to her. Something not quite like her and her family, but also not quite like the others. A lingering sensation that Danielle recognized even without the usual red helmet. And when Jason raised a hand from his pocket to briefly wave at them when Bruce introduced him, Danielle immediately noticed the bandaged finger on his other, mostly hidden hand and grinned.

“Hey! It’s nice to finally see your face. You look a lot less grumpy without the red helmet hiding everything,” Danielle suddenly beamed, lifting off the ground to float over to Jason.

To their credit, the Wayne family tried to act surprised at her comments and metahuman feat. “Excuse me?” Jason asked, pulling back slightly when Danielle hovered close to him.

“You’re the one that was carrying Danny when we all first met. With the red helmet and brown jacket,” Danielle insisted, pointing. “So your name’s Jason? That’s great. That must mean… Damian is the little guy that sedated me. Stephanie is the really cool girl in purple. Duke has to be the one in yellow that drove everyone away from Deathstroke. And you must be Batman.” She pointed to each of the members in turn, ending with Bruce as the rest of her family's expressions changed from general discomfort to dawning realization.

“That’s why you brought us here,” Sam commented as the pieces lined up in her mind “You could have just told us we were going to your house. That would have made the drive a lot less sullen.”

The room was quiet as the Wayne family subtly glanced between each other, trying to rapidly judge whether they should lie, or confirm the observations. The pause was short, but also long enough to cause Danielle to look between them all in genuine confusion, knowing she was right but wondering why no one was saying anything about it.

Yet before anyone else could comment or otherwise respond Jazz was the one making a distressed noise, rushing over to Danielle to grab her and pull her back. “HHHHHH DANI!” Jazz wheezed, snatching the girl from the air and lightly placing her hands over Danielle’s mouth. “What did I tell you about spilling people’s secrets? You’re supposed to wait for them to tell you first,” she scolded, looking for all the world like an embarrassed parent whose child had just announced something inappropriate in a public space.

Danielle was already sputtering when Jazz pulled her back to ground level and smothered her. “What? I thought that’s what all this was over. You really expect me to just go along with the hoodoo pretend that they’re completely normal people we’ve never met before?” she protested, pulling away from Jazz and almost stomping in front of her.

“Yes!” Jazz almost hissed. “If they’re not ready you just have to wait,” she insisted, eyes flicking between the others as they were collectively starting to give up on the facade.

“Oh come on!” Danielle burst in response, throwing her hands up in exasperation and breaking away from Jazz. “We’ve had dinner together, a sleepover, kicked each others’ butts, kicked butt together, and she’s seen me topless! You really think we’re NOT on a first name basis yet? Most people just have to say Hi to each other.” Throughout her list of evidence Danielle gestured to various members, Stephanie and Jason from the first watch, Dick and Duke, the three that had taken her down, then Stephanie again, then wildly gesturing back and forth between herself and everyone else. She really couldn’t fathom why Jazz was making such a fuss about playing pretend when it would be so much easier to just let them know they didn’t have to hide around her.

Jason wasn’t sure who broke first, but he was going to blame Stephanie for her almost immediate snort. She tried to smother it down to save face, but it had already been done. And a moment later Dick started chuckling helplessly in both mild disbelief and amusement, which immediately set Stephanie off into a full laugh. And at that point Jason gave in and started laughing quietly as well while Duke and Damian turned to see Bruce’s opinion on the matter.

At this point Bruce could only heave a helpless sigh, relaxing his demeanor completely and taking away any residue of what persona he may have had.

“Well, this will certainly make it easier,” Damian commented as Stephanie settled down into giggles and Jason pushed off the door frame.

“How did you even recognize me? I’m the only one you never saw even a glimpse of my face, and I made sure all the injuries from this morning were hidden,” Jason asked, half curious and half wanting ammo to counter the others’ badgering for him being the one who was called out first.

“Oh, it’s because you’re the only one I’ve met in Gotham that has… that whole vibe thing you got going on there,” Danielle responded, pausing as she wasn’t completely sure how to explain what Jason had that the others didn’t, rolling her finger in a circle while pointing to him.

“The what now?” Jason asked, unimpressed. How was he supposed to figure out how to cover for something so vaguely described?

“The… weird… I dunno what it is, man. Okay? You just feel different from everyone else. Like Jazz and Sam and Tucker feel different from Danny and me, and everyone else feels different from all of us. It’s just a vibe you got,” Danielle tried to elaborate helplessly.

“She says you stink, Jay,” Stephanie blurted, sticking her tongue out slightly to tease.

“Can it, Steph. I smell fine,” Jason shot back.

“Ooookay. Since we’re all officially on a first name basis then, why don’t we get settled in so I can change and get cleaned up too?” Dick interrupted the mild squabbling. “.... Babs says she’ll also meet us here after working with the JL since we’re not doing the double identity thing.”

“I’ll prepare a meal for a full house then,” Alfred announced, “Will you still need me to show them to their rooms?”

“No, Alfred. Thank you. We’ll take care of it,” Bruce declined, hands still resting on Duke and Damian’s backs. This wasn’t how he’d wanted it to go, but maybe it would be for the better. Maybe this would better facilitate the openings to learn more about the Phantom children like Tim had also realized having them in the manor would allow. “Take Danny upstairs, I’ve already contacted Dr. Thompkins to help get him settled, and get you two looked after,” he directed Dick. “I left the door open for which room to use.”

“Good,” Dick nodded, shifting to head towards the stairs Duke had come down from. “Jazz, we’ll put you next door, so you can follow me too,” he offered, knowing Jazz would want to keep Danny in her sight as much as possible.

Giving a nod to Dick, Jazz started to follow, but took a moment to point a finger at Danielle. “Don’t cause anymore trouble. And don’t tell anyone about these guys being who they are. Got it?” she warned, putting on her best serious face.

“I got it, sheesh. I’m not going to go blurting their secret out to anyone. Who do you take me for? It’s not like I’ve told anyone at home about Danny either,” Danielle protested, rolling her eyes.

As Jazz’s expression reflected immediate barely suppressed frustration at Danielle just blurting a hint about Danny, Jason hurried forward one step and put his hand between the two girls. “We already knew about that. Danny is also known as Phantom, yeah?” he revealed, defending Danielle this time so she didn’t get more unnecessary lectures her way. Jazz seemed uncomfortably surprised at first, but then calmed down significantly.

“See? I know what I’m doing,” Danielle grinned smugly.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. I just don’t want to deal with the amount of chaos you deem acceptable,” Jazz retorted to the girl.

Stephanie had to laugh at the exchange, stepping towards them to finally get them moving considering Dick was waiting patiently by the stairs and Alfred had already left. “Come on, let's get some actual clothes for you instead of stolen cheap things,” she laughed, grabbing Danielle’s hand and pulling her towards the stairs. “If you don’t like anything in my closet I’ll take you shopping later. On Bruce’s card of course.”

Following Stephanie’s lead, Duke approached Tucker and started to usher him upstairs too. “You too champ. We’ve got more boy clothes than girls. There should be something that fits you too. And I’ll show you which room you can use.”

“Wait, I get my own room?” Tucker gawked, following Duke as Sam had already started to Follow behind Stephanie and Danielle. It earned a laugh from Stephanie and Duke as they led the new residents to get settled.

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I already had this part typed, so just had to spend like 6 hours drawing the pic today. Yey quick update~

Also I had to rewrite Bruce like 7 times in this part because I could not figure out how he would/should behave for the initial part. @ v @ So I just settled for more confused dad vibes.

I also learned from the previous chapter that Dick's butt cheeks have names like boobs, and I cried from laughing too hard X'DD I knew he was a fan favorite, but I didn't think he was that kind of favorite. I appreciate all the facts you guys give me. They're so fun.

Also just to clarify/restate, Jason is not a halfa in this fic, he's a revenant. So he doesn't have the same vibes as Danny and Dani, but they are still different from the others.

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Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @megacharizardx99

@bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai,

@fanaroff, @raven1508, @nebulainajar, @serasvictoria02, @oliocelottafanfics,

@honeysuckletook, @omniithe-deer, @wolf-under-the-stars, @gingernutcalo, @that-random-fangirl,

@op-sys-chaos, @kirasigncomics

#my art #dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #phantom rogues #fanfic #writing #long post

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dilemmaontwolegs · 2 years ago

Note

Hey love I absolutely love your fics 🥰 I was wondering if you could write a dark toxic romance for Lando or Charles or even Logan where she’s the girl next door??? I love you keep it up ❤️

Crazy For You || LN4

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, implied smut, gaslighting, dub/con, dark themes WC: 4k Part one || part two || part three || part four

It had been two months since you moved into your apartment in Monaco and you still hadn’t managed to introduce yourself to your neighbour. He kept strange hours and seemed to be away more than he was there. From what you had glimpsed, you had been delighted to see he was probably around your age and quite handsome in an innocent way. Mr Riley on the other hand was a stoic old man who only spoke to you when your cat climbed over the balcony and into his space.

Known for its year-round beauty and calm climate, Monaco had welcomed you with a comfortable breeze and enough sun to warrant leaving the house without a jacket, even at dusk on a winter's night. If you had checked the weather reports you would have seen that a storm was quickly blowing in from the coast - arriving by the time you had finished having a few cocktails with your new friends.

Christmas lights twinkled around the shop fronts as you exited the bar and nutcrackers stood proud in doorways. You always loved Christmas and seeing the smiles it put on children’s faces but there were no children out this late.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride?” Luke asked as he twirled his keys around his finger. “It’s about to start raining.”

“She’s good,” someone answered for you and you looked over to see your elusive neighbour at your side, his hand coming to rest in the small of your back. “I can take her home.”

“You didn’t tell us Lando was picking you up.”

Your mouth was dry and you didn’t know what to say as the liquor, or his presence, left you confused. Lando, you stored that piece of information away and tried to figure out why it sounded so familiar.

“I was just out doing some Christmas shopping and about to head home,” he said with a smile. “Ready?”

“Uh, yeah,” you mumbled as you let him guide you away from your friends.

“Are you sure?” Luke asked with a frown. “You don’t look comfortable. Do you even know him?”

“Kind of, I’m just surprised,” you assured him. “Lando is my neighbour.”

“Okay, well, text me when you get home.”

You gave Luke a nod and waved to the others before going your separate ways.

“Are you cold?” Lando asked, already slipping his arms out of the jacket he wore over a dark hoodie.

The alcohol had made you numb to the temperature but you let him drape it over your shoulders anyway, wrapping you in the decadent scent that came along with it.

“Thanks.”

“Any time, it’s what neighbours do.”

“I don’t think Mr Riley would,” you teased.

“The grumpy old guy in 4C? We just call him Carl, like the movie Up.”

You smiled awkwardly and toyed with the zip on the jacked. “I’ve never seen it.”

“What?” He pulled you to a stop and grabbed your shoulders with a serious look on his face. “This just won’t do. I cannot be seen with someone who hasn’t watched Up!”

“Oh,” you mumbled as you started to take off his jacket and hand it back.

“What are you doing, you muppet?” He grabbed the jacket and put it back on your shoulders before opening the door to a very expensive looking car.

“I thought you meant…”

“It’s fine, I have tinted windows,” he teased. “As soon as we get home though, we’re watching the movie.”

Lando followed you inside without an invitation but you could hardly turn him away with his boyish smile and mop of curly hair that sprung out of his hoodie when he pushed it back. “This makes sense,” he chuckled as he stuck his head in the bedroom, pointing to the wall that your bed was pushed against. “Our apartments are mirrored. I thought I woke up to a voice a few times. Do you watch Friends?”

Your head tilted at the odd question. “Why do you ask?”

“You sing ‘smelly cat’ a lot.”

Mortification hit you and you felt your face burn as you turned to the culprit walking through your house with a loud purr. “That’s Eddie. Do you have any pets?”

“No, I’m always travelling for work and I’m not very good at looking after myself let alone another living thing. Do you actually know how to use those things?”

You looked at the kitchen where he was pointing to the appliances. You had planned to make some Christmas cookies over the weekend and had the stand mixer ready on the benchtop. You thought he was joking but he was genuinely intrigued by the inquisitive look of wonder on his face. “Cooking relaxes me,” you said with a shrug. “You probably have plans already but if you want to come over and-”

“Absolutely, say no more, I’m in.” He crossed the living room and dropped into the middle cushion of the three seater sofa and patted the space beside him with one hand, the other reaching for the remote. “You do have Disney+, right?”

“You really do like to make yourself comfortable, don’t you,” you joked as you took a seat beside him.

“I’ve been told I can be a bit much,” he said with a small frown, placing the remote down. “Should I go?”

“No, no, I appreciate the company,” you said as you caught his arm to stop him from going. “Being alone in a new country is a little isolating, it’s nice having someone here.”

He settled back into the seat and sent you a grin as he searched for the movie. “Anytime you need someone to talk to, you can just knock three times.”

The weeks before Christmas were a madhouse. Work kept you busy as well as the many requests to go home for the holidays, but it just wasn’t going to be feasible to take leave so soon after starting. You knew your parents were going to be disappointed but you promised them you weren’t going to be alone for Christmas.

You had eventually found out why Lando’s name was so familiar when Luke explained who he was and why he was away so often. But since the race season was over he had plenty of time to spend at home, yours and his.

Just like every other evening, you knocked three times on the living room wall knowing Lando would be able to hear it despite the special Christmas Eve stream he was on. It was the last one of the year and he wished everyone a Merry Christmas before the live feed of him playing Counter Strike came to an end.

“Ouch, Eddie, fuck,” Lando swore a few minutes later as he knocked at your door. “Stop it.”

You opened the door to the frequent occurrence and took the hissing Eddie from his outstretched arms before he could get clawed again. Your ginger cat seemed to hate Lando for some reason, or maybe it was because he was always bringing the escapee back home to you.

“I think you should just move in with me,” Lando joked as he followed the mouthwatering scent into your kitchen. He came to your house for dinner most nights after finding Eddie on his balcony and usually stayed for a movie. That routine had changed slightly when the movie he chose one night was Friends With Benefits. There had been a moment after a sex scene when you both looked across at each other and the idea had passed between your eyes.

He cleared his throat and you realised you had been staring at him for too long. “Eddie likes my place better.”

It clicked, he wasn’t actually asking you to move in with him. But for a moment you had considered it.

“Right, Eddie,” you laughed at your idiocracy. “I really don’t know how he keeps getting out. I must be going crazy because I’m sure I locked the window this morning.”

You both looked at the window that opened onto the balcony, the skies dark with another storm. “Maybe your cat is a genius and learned how to open it?”

You rolled your eyes but managed a laugh at his attempt to make you feel better while you readied two plates and took them to the table where he sat. “Maybe I should change his name to Houdini.”

“Better than Ed the Ginger.” Lando grinned as he pulled you onto his lap and scooped up a dollop of creamy mash potato with his forefinger, holding it up to your mouth. You sealed your lips around his finger and swirled your tongue around the tip, watching the blue of his eyes be swallowed by his pupils. “Naughty girl, you’ll be getting coal this year.”

Your head fell back with a laugh.“Who are you? Santa Claus?”

“Well, you are sitting on my lap, aren’t you?” He winked and his tongue rolled across his bottom lip. “Wanna see my North Pole?”

“Oh my god, eat your dinner,” you giggled. “We still have to watch A Christmas Carol and Nightmare Before Christmas!”

You had both written a list of all the Christmas movies you wanted to watch and they were the last two left. It was just in time as midnight was going to come all too soon and you wanted to be tucked up warm in bed when the storm hit.

A loud crash had you jolting awake and you blindly reached across the bed in search of Lando to find it empty. Panic gripped you as you wondered if you were being broken into and a scream almost erupted when your light flipped on and Lando rushed in soaking wet.

“Holy shit, you’ll never believe what just happened!”

You stumbled into the living room where Lando threw an arm out to save you from stepping on the glass that covered the floor. The doors that opened out onto your balcony had been completely shattered during the storm and you shivered as the cold wind and rain blew straight into your home. A huge puddle was quickly spreading across the carpet and it was making its way to the Christmas tree in the far corner while you were still in shock.

“The presents!”

Lando twisted away from the pot plant that had been on your balcony wall, now it lay on the floor with the dirt turning to mud. Seeing the urge you had to cut across the glass, he shook his head and pointed to the kitchen where you would remain safe. “I’ll get them.”

Lando carefully navigated his way to the tree, turning off the power to the glittering lights, and bundled the gifts up before hopping his way back with a wince. The wrapping paper on some of the presents were splattered with rain drops but most seemed in perfect condition when he placed them on the kitchen bench.

“You’re bleeding,” you gasped as he balanced on one foot and you wrapped an arm around his waist to help him. “There’s a first aid kit in my bathroom. Can you make it there?”

He nodded and limped with your help away from the mess. “I think you should come and stay at my place until the doors can be fixed.”

“Are you sure?” you asked as you carefully used a pair of tweezers to pull out the small sliver of glass in his foot. “I can just get a hotel.”

“Ouch,” he groaned as it came free and blood welled at the site. “Not on Christmas Day, everywhere will be fully booked. I really don’t mind. It would save you from having to pack a bag.”

“If you’re sure…”

He smiled at the silly Spider-Man bandaid you placed over the wound before running the back of his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I am.”

You shivered at his cold touch and remembered how wet he was when you woke up. “What were you doing up anyway?”

He bit his lip and looked away sheepishly. “I was putting a present under the tree when a flower pot blew through the door.”

“Oh, wow, that wind must be insane. I hope all the boats are safe out there,” you mused, knowing some people lived on the mariner. “Wait, you got me another present? Lando, there’s already too many.”

“I wanted to spoil you,” he said with an unapologetic shrug. “You have single handedly kept me fed for weeks. You may have put a few restaurants out of business too.”

“You weren’t that bad were you?”

“You have no idea,” he chuckled. After testing his foot he took your hand and led you back to the presents to find a thin box that hadn’t been under the tree when you went to bed. “It’s after midnight, you know, you could open it.”

You took the box, surprised by the weight it had, and untied the pretty bow on top. The delicate silver writing drew a gasp and you looked at Lando with wide eyes. “Tiffany? I can’t open this, it’s too much.”

“Go on,” he urged as he placed your hand on top of the lid and gave it a squeeze. “Please, for me.”

Your fingers slipped twice as you tried to open the hinge and Lando’s hand enveloped yours, lifting it open to reveal the beautiful necklace within. The teardrop gemstone was the same shade as his eyes and it hung from a white gold chain that was polished to shine impossibly bright, even in the dim light.

“Lando, it’s beautiful,” you whispered in awe as he lifted it up and stepped behind you to drape it around your neck. The weight of the stone settled in the centre of your chest and you turned to face him with a sincere, “Thank you.”

“So..?” He bit his lip as he showed you the empty box, a question written in the silk lining. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

It wasn’t until the week after New Years that a glazier would be able to fix your doors. The holidays had left a backlog of people needing repairs but supply chains had been delayed too. Once the doors were finally fixed you realised the carpet was beyond repair and that took another week to have done.

It was strange to go back home after nearly three weeks of living in Lando’s apartment. It was too quiet.

“Babe, have you seen my hairbrush?” You had looked through the bathroom drawers he had cleared out for you to use but there was nothing left. You went back to your apartment and did another search but it wasn’t there either. It wasn’t the first thing you had lost going back and forth and you were beginning to worry.

“I’m sure it will turn up somewhere, love,” Lando said as he paused his game and turned to his friend in the simulator behind him. “Max probably used it.”

“Did not,” his friend replied with an indignant splutter. “Didn’t I see you singing into a hairbrush?”

“You’ve been experimenting with drugs again,” Lando snorted. With a resigned sigh, you decided your hair was decent enough to get away with at work and Lando tipped his head back so you could give him a kiss goodbye. “I’ll order dinner tonight. Chinese?”

“Sounds good,” you said as you gave Max a wave on the way to the door. “Try not to let him sit there all day, you know how his back gets.”

“Yes, yes, Lando has an old man’s back. I’ll make sure he moves his ass at some point,” Max joked. “Have fun at work.”

You screwed up your face at the sarcasm and their laughs followed you out of the apartment. You weren’t sure they had actually moved all day as they were still in the same spots when you got home. You had crossed paths with the delivery man in the lobby and your arms were laden with the takeaway Lando had ordered.

“How many spring rolls did you order?” you murmured as you kept unpacking more and more of the small styrofoam boxes with the treat.

“He’s going for a record,” Max said with a roll of his eyes. Ten minutes later Lando groaned, holding his stomach tightly. “I told you to stop.”

You had quickly showered and changed into some comfortable clothes and found most of the boxes empty when you joined them at the table. “How many has he had?”

“18, and he’s got no chance,” Max bet, reaching over to steal a spring roll for himself and swiping it through the sweet chilli sauce. “You’ll thank me later. Ah, fuck.” Max looked down at the red blotch on his white Quadrant shirt before sauntering off down the hall. “Mate, do you have any more stain remover? This one’s empty.”

“Yeah, under the sink there should be another bottle,” Lando yelled back, dropping his fork onto his plate in defeat. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Why the hell do you have cat food?” Max appeared in the living room with the same brand of pet food you bought for your cat.

“That’s not mine, obviously.”

You looked at Lando, who was rubbing his full stomach and as reclined back as much as the chair would allow. “It’s not mine.”

“You brought it over during the storm, remember?”

“No I didn’t.” You hadn’t wanted to disrupt Eddie’s routine and fed him at home each morning before work.

“Yes, you did.” He laughed as he tapped your temple gently. “You have a terrible memory, love. You can’t even remember where you left your hairbrush.”

You didn’t have an argument for that, since you still hadn’t found it. You were sure you hadn’t brought any cat food over, but maybe he was right. You did seem to be a little confused lately.

“I think I need an early night,” you admitted as you cleaned up the dishes. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You’re not staying?” Lando asked with a pout as he joined you at the sink, wrapping his arms around your waist and peppered your neck with soft kisses. “Who am I going to cuddle with?”

“I’m sure Max wouldn’t mind a snuggle,” you teased him as you turned in his arms. “I have an early start tomorrow but I can stay tomorrow night.”

He groaned at the thought of sleeping alone and held you tighter so he could have you in his arms a little longer. “Fine,” he huffed, relinquishing his hold on you and filling the kettle. “I’ll make you a chamomile tea so you sleep better.”

You smiled at his sweetness and savoured a few more minutes of kisses before the water boiled and he scooped out a few spoons of some boutique tea leaf mix he swore was the best sleep tea money could buy. Given how rich he was, you believed him.

Placing the hot mug in your hand, he bit his swollen lip and nodded to the front door. “Go before I tie you to my bed and never let you leave.”

“You wouldn’t,” you laughed, rolling your eyes as he winked. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Goodnight, love, sweet dreams.”

Something disturbed your sleep and you rubbed your eyes as you woke up well before your alarm. You reached for the lamp beside your bed and accidently knocked into the cup of tea you hadn’t finished before falling asleep, the cold liquid sloshing over the side before you caught it and froze.

Your bedroom door creaked open but it was too dark to see who it was. Your heart hammered in your chest as you tried to think of what to do before the shadow reached the edge of your bed. Your throat was so clogged with fear you couldn’t even scream, your hands trembled and closed them into fists before banging on the wall behind you, begging Lando would wake up at the sound.

Bang, bang, bang.

The figure lunged onto the bed, pinning you down with their weight and slamming your fists into the mattress. “Shh, love, it’s me.”

You relaxed as Lando’s voice soothed you, but the fear soon crept back up your spine with an icy shiver. “How did you get in here?”

“You forgot to lock your door,” he whispered as your wrists began to ache from the hold he had. “I was coming to check in on you.”

“No, I didn’t,” you said as you tried to shake him off. “I know I locked it. I know…I…I’m not crazy. Get off me, get off me right now.”

“You were meant to be asleep, love,” he groaned as his hands tightened to the point a pained cry escaped your gritted teeth.

“Why are you doing this?” you whimpered as he kissed your neck, but you couldn’t feel anything but repulsion.

“You should have just moved in with me, we are meant to be together.”

“You’re crazy,” you spat as you tried to buck your hips and throw him off but he was too strong. “Help! Somebody, help!”

His hand clamped over your mouth and you bit him as hard as you could before kicking and climbing away.

“I’m not the crazy one, that’s you, love,” he laughed. “You’re my girlfriend, you’re sick, but I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

“You are fucking insane!”

“No, no, sweetheart, I’m trying to help you, remember?”

You froze in the doorway as you saw a cutout of your key on the kitchen bench, along with your hairbrush, phone, a negligee and dressing gown. All things you had been convinced you had lost in the last few weeks.

“Why are you doing this?” you repeated as you backed away from your boyfriend. He was someone you had trusted, someone you thought had fit perfectly into your new life - but he had been messing with you this whole time. Max and the cat food came to mind. “Eddie…he used to go to Mr Riley’s house.”

“Couldn’t have that,” Lando tutted with a shake of his head as he took a step closer, “not when he was going to help me get close to you.”

“Don’t! Don’t come any closer to me!”

“Baby, don’t be like that, let’s just go back to bed. You’re under a lot of stress, let me make you a chamomile tea.”

You swiped your phone up as you bolted but he was quicker and blocked the front door, holding his hand out. “Give that to me, you don’t want to do that.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I do,” you hissed as you started to dial the emergency number.

“It’s you they will take away,” he said with a blase shrug that made you pause. “Everyone knows how unstable you have become.”

“Me?” you shrieked.

“You’re barely holding it together now. They aren’t going to believe anything you say.” He opened his arms as if to say, I’m famous and you are no one. Unfortunately, he was right. “Come on, love, let’s go back to bed.”

He took the phone from your limp hand and locked it before slipping it into his pocket. You were so confused that you had no idea what to do when he guided you back to the bed, turning the sheets down before tucking you in gently. “I love you,” he whispered as he kissed your forehead and handed you the cold mug. “Drink up, baby, this is all just a bad dream.”

Click here for the next morning.

#dark!lando #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1 rpf

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love-quinn · 5 months ago

Text

— THREAD OF GOLD

summary — a thread of moments that defined your relationship with mike.

warnings — uh i don’t think there are? me not caring about the irl timeline of events and making up my own shit cause i can. also i switch between past and present tense like nobody's business so we're all gonna pretend we don't notice that.

pairing — mike faist x fem!famous! reader

pronouns — she/her

word count — 7.8k + social media posts

note — hi sorry i’ve been MIA i’ve been working on this for 5ever truly it came to me one day and i couldn’t write anything else. this isn’t edited because it’s nearly 8k and i’m not about that life.

important note that i tried to make it so yn’s skin tone changed in at least some of the pictures to make it more inclusive but pinterest fought me SO hard i spent maybe four hours just finding images. this is NOT meant to be a depiction of what yn looks like, just a general vibe of the images used in the thread <33

ONE. july 2017

California doesn’t have seasons the same way your hometown did. California has two seasons: wet and dry. You grew up in the suburbs of New York, in Westchester county, about an hour north of Manhattan. You went to the city a few times growing up, but you spent almost all of your upbringing on a quiet street with a cul-de-sac and a park a street away.

You’d lived in California for a while, you were based there for most of the year, but you’d still say you lived in New York. You were lucky enough to be at a break between projects where you got to spend more than a few weeks at a time at your New York apartment.

You’d been back maybe two weeks and knowing that you didn’t have to go back to the west coast for at least six months felt like a major weight off your chest. Finally retreating back to your cocoon, the air around you still felt thick, but this one felt more like a wall keeping things out rather than one keeping you in.

So, naturally, the first thing you did with your newfound seclusion was to venture outside with a man you’d been trying to go out with for a few months now.

You and Mike had known each other for a little over half a year now. You’d met at a new year’s party hosted by a mutual friend of a mutual friend and you had known immediately that he was someone that you wanted to know desperately. You’d been elated that he seemed to reciprocate. Unfortunately, with your work schedules, this was the first time since January that you’d had enough time in the same state.

He was unlike anyone that you had ever met, and now that you were in the same place, you were revelling in his presence. He’d taken you to a park near his apartment, he’d let you hold his hand on the subway and you were pretty sure that he was going to kiss you later.

It had been a while since you’d been outside - like, properly outside, and Mike was enjoying how happy you seemed to be. While you’d been trying to organise yourselves, Mike had spent hours on the phone with you, trying to avoid sounding so disgustingly happy that he scared you off. This may have been your first real date, but Mike already knew that you were it for him.

You were chattering about a story from your childhood, and he was really trying to listen to you, but he was focused more on the way the golden hour was hitting your face, and the way you would subconsciously squeeze his hand when you made yourself laugh.

“Yeah, since then my mom makes sure that she puts the cat treats away whenever he comes over,” you giggled. Mike let the sound fill him from the inside. He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by you dropping his hand. “I’ve needed this,” you let your head fall back to bask in the dying sunlight. “Air that I’m not sharing with Buzzfeed HQ, grass that is made in real dirt.”

“I see,” Mike nodded seriously. “You’re not even here for me, you were just waiting for a guy to take you to see some trees.”

You reach back and grip his hand, eyes sparkling directly into his. “Thank you,” you say sincerely, “for knowing your place.”

He laughed and let you drop your hand again, watching fondly as you speed off in front of him, stopping maybe fifteen feet in front of him. “Will you come with me to the emergency room when I fall out of the tree I’m about to climb.”

Mike was sure you could see exactly how much he wanted to kiss you from the look on his face. He laughed, nodding. “That’s actually the next stop I had planned anyway.”

TWO. october 2017

You couldn’t remember dolling yourself up for a date in so long, but it was clearly paying off the way that Mike hadn’t let you out of arm’s reach the entire cab ride. You hand two hands on his arm and he’d been talking in your ear the whole ride.

You were taking him to lunch at one of your favourite places in the city, quiet, not visible from the street, with a wonderful goat cheese salad. He’d been ecstatic that you were clearly showing him parts of your life that you kept close to your chest.

The two of you had only been together properly for about three months now, but you’d known each other for nearly a year. Mike hadn’t really dated anyone in the industry before, definitely not publicly.

You’d mentioned to him a few of your past dating experiences before, and you had been steadfast on the fact that if you were going to have a relationship that it would be as completely private as possible.

Mike didn’t think he’d ever hesitated less to reply - he was all in, same page. It felt simultaneously too fast and too slow. You’d been dating for three months, sure, but he’d known you since January, and it had felt like that first seven months had been confirmation that he liked you again and again and again.

Mike had been calling you his girlfriend to everyone, his friends, his family, some of his closer co-stars. But as he sat across from you at the restaurant, he realised he hadn’t actually asked.

He valued communication, he thought he was pretty good at it. But he’d settled into such a comfortable settlement with you that it had slipped his mind entirely. You didn’t mind. You were on the same page as him.

You referred to him to those closest to you as your boyfriend. You weren’t sitting around, desperately waiting for him to ask you to be his girlfriend, if that’s how you felt you would have asked him before you got to this point.

The two of you were doing what you usually did, you ordered a few different things with the intention of sharing, and Mike, as usual, was way more interested in what you had picked than he had.

You were giggling across the table at him, watching the way the breeze from the window by your table kept blowing his hair into his mouth. .”Here,” you took the scrunchie from your own hair and stood up, coming to a rest behind him.

He tilted his head back - good for him, he could see your face; bad for you, you couldn’t grab all his hair - while you worked and after a second you’d tied his hair up out of his face.

You moved to return to your seat, but he half-lifted himself from his chair to make sure he got to kiss you before you left. “Thank you, honey,” he said softly. Your thumb rubbed his cheek with a soft touch.

“‘s okay,” you mused, looking at him. He loved the look you got in your eyes when you were fully concentrated on his face, he wondered if he got the same look when he saw yours. “You look cute.”

“Says you,” he mumbled, looking down at your outfit. He could tell you’d put in extra effort, he wanted you to know it hadn’t been for nothing. “Y’look so pretty today, can’t believe I get to be the one here with you.”

You giggled, preening under his thoughtful gaze. You could feel your cheeks growing warmer, but you made yourself not look away from him. “Yeah?”

He turned his head and kissed the palm of your hand. “Can’t believe I haven’t asked you to be my girlfriend properly,” he sounded so positively disappointed that you couldn’t help but giggle. “Don’t laugh at me, it’s embarrassing.”

You giggled a little bit harder. “Oh, baby,” you let your thumb brush his lips, soaking in the way he kissed the pad of the finger. “Can’t be embarrassed, I didn’t even realise.” Mike hummed in question. “Don’t know,” you shuffle in place. “in my head you’ve been my boyfriend for like six months.”

“Thank god,” Mike laughed, letting his head drop. “Quick, sit down, I need to ask you to be exclusive so I can tell people that I did.”

You pause for a second before nabbing the fork on his plate, scooping up a piece of chicken before sitting back in your chair. “Go on, then, boyfriend.” You take a bite. “Get it over with, I’m hungry.”

THREE. december 2017

You were curled into Mike’s side when you got the text. You didn’t usually look at your phone when the two of you were together, but he was watching a documentary about something that didn’t interest you, while you were reading a book on your phone.

He had his hand sitting on the back of your neck, knuckles brushing a line from the nape to the top of your shoulder. It was one of your costars from an earlier project, sending you a link.

“LMAOO not people”

It was a People magazine article, one that instantly had you rolling your eyes. Mike sensed your shift in mood and laid his palm flat on the curve of your shoulder. “Okay?”

“People says we’ve been together since…” you scrolled through the article.” “October last year,” you snickered.

“Cant believe you didn’t tell me.” Mike let his head fall back against the sofa. “I wish,” he said as an afterthought.

“You didn’t even know me back then,” you pointed out.

Mike leaned forward and kissed your temple. “Still,” he said, concretely no but with supreme amounts of gentleness. “I’m sure I would’ve wanted you with great desperation.”

You and Mike had gone through conversations before about revealing your relationship to the public. You had little to no intentions of doing that, especially not so soon. But you’d wanted to manage expectations.

You’d become famous young, not as young as some, you’d only been twenty when you landed your first major role. You’d done principal photography during your summer break in college, working towards getting your degree, and by the time you graduated you had two feature films and one golden globe nomination under your belt.

You’d had a college boyfriend at the time, it had ended naturally, not without pain, but not as a result of your blossoming career. The magazines had eaten it up, though, with all sorts of speculations.

You didn’t want that again. You didn’t owe them anything. And you were so grateful that Mike seemed to share the sentiment. You were so grateful to your fans but you knew at the end of the day that they didn’t own you, which is why you were not above lying to them to keep them out of your life.

Especially when the comments of the post were already filled with dozens of suggestions to who it could be. Not when your friends, your coworkers, or random strangers who hadn’t done anything other than be someone people thought you might like if you met them, we’re getting their personal lives dug into in order to confirm a suspicion that a stranger had about you.

Not when you were curled up in the arms of one of the kindest most charming men you’d ever known, one that you might even want to spend the rest of your life with. He definitely didn’t deserve this, and neither did you.

So, you went into your camera roll and found a selfie you’d sent to one of your friends a few days earlier. You typed up a short sentence and then hit post on your Instagram story without thinking too hard about it.

When you showed it to Mike he smiled endearingly. “Aw man,” he mumbled, pressing his face to the crook of your neck. “Can’t believe you didn’t tell me we broke up.”

FOUR. march 2018

Days on set were long, they were often exhausting, and they were where you’d thrive.

You’d finally wrapped after thirteen hours, and the first thing you did when you got your phone out of your trailer was to text Mike.

He was in New York still, but you guys had been speaking as often as you could. With him three hours in front of you, it often ended up in the two of you just missing each other. Mike had texted you four hours earlier while you’d been filming.

You look pretty here.

It’s a Vanity Fair video that you filmed about a month ago with one of your costars. It was a movie about love, being in love, loving people, loving places, loving time. Your character was the main romantic love interest to the main character, and she was one of your favourite characters that you’d ever played. A young woman who finds love in her career, love in her family, and eventually begins giving it to the main character. You and your costar had become very close, and you were talking candidly to them in the video about your experience with love.

Mike had sent you a screenshot of the video, where you’re smiling across to your costar. It had been a simple question they’d asked; have you ever been in love.

Now, you couldn’t say blatantly, “yes, I have a boyfriend.” And you couldn’t say that for two reasons. Number one, you and Mike had been so careful to the point where you didn’t even think your fans knew that the two of you were aware of each other, let alone that his tongue had been in your mouth.

And number two was that you hadn’t actually told Mike that you loved him. You did, god you did. You probably would have told him months ago if things were more normal. If you both worked 9 to 5s, you lived primarily in the same city, you could go on dates and pull him over to the side of the sidewalk, interrupting him mid-sentence to kiss him.

Unfortunately, you’d spent months apart, and while you spoke multiple times a day, at least through texts, it felt like not the right time.

You try to brush off your smile as you reply to him. Stop ittt you’re giving me an ego <333. In that exact moment, you know what you’d been spewing some media trained answer that avoided mentioning your partner but still felt authentic. “I’m just really glad that I spent most of my early twenties trying to find myself before trying to find someone else, I guess.”

Mike took a moment to reply. Guess you didn’t find me :(

You giggle as you finish changing back into your own clothes out of the costume you’d just been wearing, ready to head home now that your last scene of the day had concluded. Nope! You sought me out 100% I actually have no idea who you are.

That time the reply was instant. This is awkward then. What else is instant is the knock on your trailer door, the way you wrap your arms around him once you’d thrown open the door, and the knowledge that you’re going to tell him that you love him.

FIVE. september 2018

Mike knows that most people are more nervous to meet their girlfriend’s parents than he currently is, and ironically that actually does make him nervous.

It wasn’t really his first time meeting them, he’d spoken to them on the phone before and he’d even texted your mom a couple of times when you’d asked him to. You’ve been his girlfriend officially for almost an entire year, but the two of you both agreed that you felt you’d been together since July of the year earlier. That was over one whole year together. Even if your parents didn’t like him - which, based off the amount that not only he’d spoken to them, but you’d talked about him, seemed almost impossible - it wasn’t going to be the be all or end all.

But he wanted your mom’s birthday brunch (of which she was very serious about) to go well as his first official family event that he attended as your boyfriend.

The two of you were getting ready at his place, as you do most days that you’re in New York. You spend maybe two or three months in your home state and as you and Mike are together for longer and longer, you spend as much time together as you can. Mike had not only let you spend every second you could at his apartment, he’d actively encouraged it.

You’re wearing an outfit he’s seen on you a hundred times, standing in front of his bathroom mirror as he ducks in to grab his phone. He stops behind you, watching you apply mascara, and places both his hands on your shoulders.

“Love you,” you say absent-mindedly, trying to focus on not stabbing yourself in the eye.

He squeezes your shoulders and kisses the back of your neck, the closest part he can reach. “Love you more. I’m ready to head out whenever you are.”

You lean back so your face is no longer just inches from the mirror. “Reservation’s at 11 so we should probably leave soon,” you say. “Give me five or so minutes.”

You let him hold your hand the entire way to the restaurant, knowing exactly how nervous he is. He’s a grown man, he knows your mom already loves him, but he appreciates that you don’t say any of this as he follows you into the restaurant.

Your mom is already there, with two seats beside her that Mike knows are reserved for you, and she leaps out of her chair at the sight of you. You greet her with a hug and a happy birthday, having let Mike hold the gift so he felt less like he was coming empty handed (you’d bought it together). The second you’re out of her path, she’s coming for him. “Oh, it’s so lovely to finally get to meet you!” She’s gushing over him and he’s trying not to look embarrassed in front of you.

He fits right in with your family, sitting on your left hand side while you sit pride of place beside your mom. He gets caught up in one of your mom’s friend’s conversations (“Oh I just adore Broadway, what’s it like?”) and that’s when your mom takes the opportunity to lean over and whisper over her bellini to you.

You lean in so you can hear her without much strain.

“I’ve never seen you look this happy.”

You beam back at her.

SIX. november 2019

You’re thinking of selling your California apartment.

You know it’s probably a bad idea, and that because you spend so much time in LA, it’s good to have a place to call home. But you also feel like it’s keeping you tied to the west coast. That you’re more likely to spend more time in California if you have a place there, and that’s not something that you want anymore.

You’ve been in California for the last nine months, it’s been longer than that since you’ve seen your family, your friends, or your boyfriend. You missed your two-year anniversary because you spent the day on set and Mike wasn’t able to fly out due to his work schedule.

You have your co-stars, people you spent months with every day that you genuinely enjoy being around - one of them you even worked with on a past project, you spend a lot of your free time with them between takes - but it’s not the same.

And now you’re done. You have over seven months until press from this movie begins and then you have to start working again. Normally, you’d stay in California while you looked for another project to latch onto, but that wasn’t what you wanted to do.

You missed Mike, plain and simple. He was in New Jersey filming a movie, but that’s about as far away as he’d be if he was in New York. You knew of plenty of actors who didn’t live in LA and still made it work just fine, and as far as home states went, you could definitely have done worse than New York.

“I think if it’s something you want to do you should look into it.” You’d called your boyfriend to have him either talk you into or out of it, but frustratingly all he’s done is point out that it’s your apartment and that he’d be kind of an asshole if he pushed his opinion on your assets onto you.

“I want your opinion,” you let out a dramatic sob, sitting at your kitchen counter. Your phone is on speaker while you’re on your laptop, answering emails.

Mike laughs, it’s crackly through the phone but you know the ins and outs, the layers of breath. “My opinion is that you should do what feels right for you, and I’ll back you up no matter what.”

“You’re annoying,” you grumble, changing tabs to instead look through your camera roll. You had a few days left to post one of your monthly photo dumps, something you much preferred to posting consistently. There was one photo that your camera roll had put in the forefront, of you at dinner with Mike and two of your mutual friends to celebrate his 27th birthday. You’d taken the photo almost eleven months earlier, and hadn’t done anything with it, but you did think you looked cute.

“I love you,” he offers instead.

You hum in response, bringing up the photo. “Is it weird if I post a photo from your birthday dinner? You’re not in it, obviously.”

He laughs at your bluntness. “Right, because why would I be in it? It’s only my birthday.”

That brings you out of it. “No, wait,” you giggle. “Just cause I don’t want them to know that it’s your dinner, idiot.”

Mike groans. “I was gonna ask when you next are coming home but I actually don’t care anymore about it.”

“I’ll forgive you if you tell me what to do about my apartment.”

“Forgive me?”

“Fine, I love you or whatever.”

Mike laughs again, and you don’t even notice the crackles. “Or whatever.”

SEVEN. november 2019

You don’t think you’ve laughed this hard in a while.

“I’m sorry,” she moans, leaning on your shoulder.

You’re with one of your closest friends, sitting on your sofa, almost crying with laughter. You’d been staying with her while the sale of your California place was going down, with every intention of moving back home to New York after it was done. She’d commented on your yearly photo set, talking about a photo of you and your mom, and you’d realised exactly where people’s minds would go.

“No,” you giggle, “I was the one who decided to be messy and post the photo.” You’d posted a photo that had been taken of you and Mike when he’d come to visit you on set the year earlier. Everyone knew it was old, you’d thought it was funny, and sure you had probably revealed a little bit too much about your relationship, but Mike had thought it was funny too, so that was enough for you.

Your favourite part, though, was that not a single person had commented, tweeted, messaged you asking who he was, if he was your boyfriend, or what was happening. You hadn’t seen a single person give a fuck.

The two of you had been sneaking around like teenagers and literally no one had cared, so Mike had allowed you to be a little messy on your Instagram feed.

“If I’m the reason you and Mike get doxxed you can feel free to post any blackmail you have of me,” she promises. You can tell she feels awful about the possibility of having just exposed your multi-year long relationship, but if you’re honest you think it’s kind of funny.

You wave her off. “No, I guarantee no one even cares. Worst case scenario someone asks, you just tell them you were talking about the photo of me and my mom, it’s so fine.”

The reason that you’d posted that photo now was because when it had been taken, things were definitely too new to be making hints towards it, and you would have posted a more recent picture but that was literally the only one of the two of you you could fine.

And the best part was while all this was happening, so blatantly obvious to everyone who knew, you still got so many comments, dms - fucking interview questions - asking if you had a boyfriend, and every single time you’d either dodge it or outright say no.

Your phone vibrated; a text from Mike.

Rachel told me she hasn’t seen a single tweet about it and if anyone would have seen it it would be her.

yeah i run a stan account of you and haven’t put my phone down in 8 years - rachel :))))) She sends an entire row of kisses with hers.

You’d met his costar a few times, only over the phone, and he sent you pictures of the two of them together on set often. You heart her message, giving his a thumbs up and knowing that she’d appreciate that.

“See, it’s fine.” You show your friend.

She breathes an audible sigh of relief. “In my defence you did post the photo.”

EIGHT. june 2020

The plan had been in the works for six months before it got derailed. Your California apartment had officially been sold, and you were set to move in to Mike’s place until you settled back in. Once things had calmed down with work for the two of you, you were going to start looking for your own place together.

You’d ended your lease in your New York place, you had all of your stuff - not that you carted much around with you anyway - most of the furniture you had came with the place, and you’d donated or sold most of it. You had been living off of display furniture and minimal decorating, knowing that wherever it was would sit vacant most of the time anyway. This was going to be it, where you finally started building a life, and you’d be doing it with Mike.

And then the country had gone into lockdown and, after a very lengthy conversation, the two of you had decided to relocate back to Columbus, Ohio, where he had a place for when he went to visit family.

It had been a fast move, but you’d planned for every thing that you possibly could have. Your family was safe, in New York, and you knew that was the best place for them to be. Your dad had an autoimmune disorder, so you knew that even if you were living in the city you wouldn’t be able to visit them much anyway. After three years with Mike, spending most of your relationship states away, you couldn’t let him leave without coming with him.

So, there the two of you were. In Mike’s house in Ohio, one that was entirely familiar to him and somehow, it felt that way to you as well. Like you knew him so well that anything he knew was something you instinctively understood.

Despite how long you’ve known Mike, how long you’ve loved him, you feel a bit like you’re taking over his space. Like when he moves something to make room for one of your trinkets that you’re minimising him in his own home.

He doesn’t let you think that for long. Sometimes you’ll come into your shared bedroom and find him rearranging his bookshelf so your books fit too, moving his Grammy to a shelf where there’s enough room for it to sit beside your awards, changing the sheets to a set that you’d picked out.

You’ve been a successful working actor for the last eight years now, for almost five of them you’ve forgotten what it’s like to go outside and not worry that you’re going to be spotted.

Sure, when you go outside now, you’re masked and there’s less people outside to recognise you. But to the people you do run into, you’re not an actor to them, not a celebrity, not anything. You’re Mike’s girlfriend.

You can understand how that’s frustrating, you are your own person, but after three years of being together but constantly apart, you’re okay with your neighbours knowing you simply as Mike’s girlfriend.

Now that you’re always in the house your screentime goes way down, you don’t need to text him anymore. All of the things that had you stressed and anxious to leave the house for have changed. And of course the state of the world is by no means good, but if everything is going to be happening anyway, you’re glad that you’re able to be with him during it.

NINE. october 2020

You had become a bit of a homebody in the 9 months that you’d been living in Ohio. You only ever left the house when Mike did, and you didn’t go with him every time. Mike can tell it’s starting to wear on you a little bit.

So, in an effort to pick yourself up a bit more, you’ve started doing all the grocery shopping. You and Mike make a list together so as to not give you all the mental load with it, but you walk down the few blocks to the small general store.

It’s convenient, a nice place, with a pharmacy attached to one side and a bakery on the other. Sometimes you take Austin and the girl who works at the bakery puts a bowl down for him while you go in and get your medication.

Sometimes you drive, when you have the aching exhaustion that only comes with being sad for hours on end, or when it’s raining, but the fresh air and just the act of being outside was usually enough to make you feel better.

It was late, and the pharmacy was closing soon when you realise you’d forgotten to pick up your medication, so it’s a no brainer that you’ll zip down and grab it while Mike makes dinner.

You’ve slowly started setting down roots here, the shop assistants know your name and your prescription, they know you and Mike have officially moved into the mostly vacant house a few streets away, and they know that you seem like you’re maybe not always doing the best, because they’re always extra kind to you when you need it.

You like the domesticity. Sitting on the kitchen counter while goes through the fridge, telling you what to write down. Walking his dog - Austin absolutely loves you, which Mike did tell you is normal for most people - or holding his hand with his spare one on the leash.

You’ve been really tired lately, and despite the fact that it’s meant to be your time to be by yourself and get fresh air, you find yourself in the kitchen, arms around your boyfriend’s waist. “Please?” You ask.

Mike’s stirring something cheesy on the stove. You can smell it behind the wall of his cologne, the smell of wood and cinnamon. “Dinner’s almost ready,” he laughs and you feel the vibrations where your cheek is pressed to his back. “It’ll be cold by the time we get back.”

Your voice is small, and he knows he has zero intention of actually saying no to you, but he’s wondering if you’ll change your mind given a little bit of coaxing.

“We have a microwave.” He wouldn’t be able to hear you if you weren’t so close to him.

He loves you, and he’s also not blind. He can see you’re struggling. He likes to think he knows exactly when to give you space, and when you need him there. He puts the spoon down on the cutting board he has beside the stove and turns off the gas. “Okay,” he says comfortingly.

You brighten, and he feels you stand up straighter. “You’ll come with me.”

Mike doesn’t even pretend to think about it this time. “Of course I will.”

TEN. february 2021

Press was finally happening for your project that you had filmed all the way back towards the end of 2019, and with that came your first ever zoom interview. It was a bit awkward, you’d never really liked doing press much face to face but now online it was worse.

You and Mike had both found it a bit weird. He’d done a bit more of it in 2020 than you had, so you’d asked if he’d be in the room where possible to help ease your nerves.

You were in your bedroom, set up at the designated Work Spot. You and Mike had made an agreement, no work was to be done outside of the Work Spot. It was the only thing that stopped it bleeding into your everyday life, especially now that you were working from home.

Mike was out of frame so you could still see him, sitting in the corner reading a book. He’d glance up at you every single time you looked at him, like he could feel that you needed him.

Things were going well, it wasn’t a standard interview with an interviewer, but rather you’d been given a list of questions that the group of you took turns asking the others and then answering yourself.

There was a bit there where you knew you had a note written down about something important, but you’d written it on Mike’s phone. It was the only one near you at the time, and you were actively regretting it now.

You muted yourself on your computer and tried to subtly gesture for him. He notices you immediately and comes to stand right beside him.

“Can I grab your phone really quick?” He hands it over.

“You okay?” He asks, wary of the camera he’s standing just outside of frame of.

You unlock his phone and open up his notes app, trying to find what you’re doing. Mike didn’t have a phone case until you met him, but you’d cajoled him into a clear on“Did you…” you hum. “Did you move my note?”

You handed Mike back his phone and told him what he’s looking for and he scrolled for a second. “No?” He frowned. “Uh…” he bites his lip. “Oh wait, I cleared out a bunch of stuff hang on.”

You can hear everyone else, so you know no one has clocked your absence yet. “Found it,” he hands you back his phone and pulls up the one. “This one?”

“Love you,” you say in lieu of an answer. He gives you a look that makes a smile worm its way onto your face.

Mike goes to sit back down as you skim through your note, ready to have your talking points ready. “Love you,” he calls back.

When it’s eventually your turn to answer, you turn your microphone back on like nothing ever happened. And your costars, who all knew everything were was to know about exactly who you’d been talking to, all kept their mouths shut too.

ELEVEN. august 2021

The material of your dress was scratching his skin, but Mike couldn’t seem to mind when you were so deliriously happy. In one hand you had a glass of champagne and in the other a beautiful bouquet of flowers that you’d snatched from the air after it had left the hands of your childhood best friend.

People had been giving him knowing looks about it since then, upturned smirks and elbows to his ribcage. Mike laughed it off. The two of you were good, and he knew that you weren’t the type of girl to expect a proposal just because she caught the bouquet.

Over the course of the night he had stood by, chatting idly with another group of plus ones. He’d met your best friend countless times, but there was no denying that he would not have been invited if he hadn’t been with you for the last four years. He was just happy that you seemed to be having a good time.

Eventually, you staggered over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You weren’t drunk, didn’t need to be, you were simply so elated to not only be able to leave the house without feeling anxious but also to be able to celebrate your best friend getting married.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He chuckled, your nose pressed to his adam’s apple.

You hummed. “Yeah. Tired. Happy. Miss you,”

He ran his hand along the back of your dress, cringing at the material. “‘M right here.”

The night was winding down, it was out in a big greenspace that they’d rented, the sun had well and truly set. You were basking in the glow of the massive outdoor lamps they’d set up, and they bathed you in a golden hue.

“Thank you for coming with me,” you said genuinely. “I’m really happy.”

You were swaying on the spot slightly to the faded jazz playing in the background, and he let his arms envelope you, pulling you impossibly close to him. “Of course, baby,” he’s beaming wide, his voice low and soft. You can hear how happy he is.

It’s your first time being back in New York since you left, your longest stretch away from your home state in your whole life. The two of you have started looking for work again now that things are starting to open up. Mike’s riding the high of his West Side Story performance, he’s been getting offers since it came out. He hasn’t taken any of them, though, instead focusing on smaller things that he likes more. The TV show he’d spent a while filming in Texas had been cancelled, which was a shame because you really enjoyed watching TikTok edits of him in that.

Instead, he’d been waving off scripts his agents sent him. He’d been asked to do a screen test in a movie in the UK, but he didn’t seem to interested in it. The most interesting thing about it was that his screen test was apparently with Zendaya, so you’d encouraged him to go just to meet her.

Things are picking up again. Your agent’s sending you offers and auditions and after two years of not being on set you’re itching to get back.

But, getting back meant going back.

You’d settled in Columbus. You didn’t want to leave, but you and Mike both knew that you’d have to go back to New York.

It was something that you’d been talking about for a while, getting another place in New York. You’re fortunate enough that it’s something you’re able to afford, and it seems like a good idea. It doesn’t need to be discussed tonight, though.

Instead, you ask him quietly, “Are we ever gonna get married?”

Mike mused, “Do you want to?”

You’re playing with the longer strands of hair on the back of his neck. “I think I might. With you.”

“Yeah?” He asks. He feels so warm inside there’s glee practically pouring from him.

“Not right now, though,” you admit. “I think I want more of a career before I’m willing to become known as someone’s wife.” Mike knows exactly what you mean, and that even though you eventually want to be his wife, that regardless of what you’ve accomplished, from that moment on there will be people who know you exclusively as ‘Mike Faist’s wife.’ At this point in time, you’re not even known as his girlfriend, a fact that the two of you enjoy.

“You just let me know,” he hums. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

You’ve been together almost four and a half years now and still no one knows. You don’t really need people to.

You kiss his jaw and reach down to take off your heels, complaining about your feet. He takes them from you and watches as you make your way back towards your friends. He knows he’s going to ask you one day, and he knows you’ll say yes. The two of you know just how much you love each other. You don’t need anyone else to just yet.

TWELVE. november 2021

So, a new arrangement has been reached. You n’t living in New York permanently but you have a lease on a place together. You’re back to doing live press, with the movie finally being shown in theatres. To be completely honest, you’re pretty much done with press on this movie. When you were cast in it three years ago, you didn’t expect that you would still be doing it.

Mike is sympathetic but amused. They haven’t organised the screen test for that one movie yet but that’s because the director was working on another project and the one Mike had been scouted for had been pushed back for a short period.

Sometimes companies will send you a car to come to your interview, but you take the subway home. Mike comes with you most times, more than happy to come tag along and sit in a room with your stuff and bring you your water bottle between shoots.

“Thank you, baby,” you tell him genuinely the fourth time he does it. He kisses your forehead. “You didn’t have to come with me, I appreciate you.”

He hums as if the idea hadn’t occurred to him. “I need to earn my keep somehow, I’ve been your stay at home boyfriend for like two years.”

You giggle around the straw of your water bottle, softening at the way he reaches to take it from you. “And your services have been appreciated and they will be missed when you inevitably book again.”

It’s not something that you expect to be so comforted by. The knowledge that wherever you’re living - Ohio, New York, California, wherever, even if you’re in different states - that you just love being around him. No matter how much time he spends with you, he doesn’t get sick of you, you don’t get sick of him.

You’re infinitely happier when he’s within arms reach than when he’s not.

“Only book I care about is the one I’m reading over there,” he leans in to kiss you briefly. The director of the shoot gives out the five minute warning to roll into the next section, Mike takes your phone and water bottle and heads back to his corner.

It’s almost comedic, the way that the producer immediately starts the next section with asking you “Do you have a celebrity crush?”

You have to make a conscious effort to not look over at Mike, even though you know he’s watching you.

“Uh,” you laugh awkwardly, “I don’t really have one.”

Your coworkers’ faces are stone, and you don’t know if that make you want to laugh more or not. You keep your eyes directed straight at the barrel of the camera and you know everyone’s going to see how uncomfortable you are.

“I guess having one when…” you struggle to find the right words, “when you are where I am in life, is just kind of weird,” you laugh again. “It feels wrong, I don’t know.”

You finally let your gaze land on your boyfriend. He’s smiling at you, and you calm immediately knowing that even once you’re out of this building, back on the train to your one bedroom, your hand in his, sharing earbuds, he’ll be there.

THIRTEEN. april 2022

“Tell me again, what she said,” your feet are in Mike’s lap. You have people over, and you can’t imagine being happier. Your apartment is bustling, a charcuterie board that you are very proud of on the kitchen counter. You still have New Years decorations up, and there’s music playing. Mike got back from his screen test a week ago, and you’re revelling in his presence again.

Mike takes a sip of his drink and moves so he’s resting his arm on your calf. You have a few of your friends sitting on the sofas around you, hanging on to every word. “She told me to tell you-”

You interrupt him, too excited “She brought me up!” You giggle over your champagne.

Mike giggles, the side of his mouth pinching up with his smile. “Zendaya wanted me to tell you that she had just seen your most recent movie, and that she thought you were really good in it.”

You flail back so you’re resting on the arm of a friend. “Zendaya knows my name.”

One of your friends puts his drink down on the coffee table. “Don’t you guys have a Grammy in your bedroom, why are you surprised by this?”

“It’s not mine,” you roll your eyes, tipsy off the champagne and drunk on the party. “I would never take credit for my wonderful boyfriend’s accomplishment.”

“She’s taken so many selfies with it,” the friend you’re leaning on chimes in.

Mike laughs and almost as if by magnet you’re trying to get closer to him. Your head comes up beside his, resting on the wall behind the couch, his hand on the back of your neck.

You don’t even know what you’re celebrating. Just being able to have people over, having a space to have them in. Having someone you’d want to host a party with.

“Okay, and?” you shoot back. “You’ve taken selfies with me.”

He’s kissed the hollow of your collarbone, his hair, getting longer now, tickling your neck. You love him so much, you’re surprised there’s enough room in the apartment for all your guests with how much space it’s taking up.

The apartment itself is obviously a new development in your life, but the area isn’t. Just two streets over is the apartment you were living in when you met Mike. Barely furnished, not decorated, not lived in.

A place so physically close to the room you’re sitting in with a group of people you love more than life, but that couldn’t have possibly been further away. Now you have family pictures on the wall, you have his toothbrush right beside yours. You have a ticket to the show of Dear Evan Hansen you went and saw right when you two got together, sitting front row in the audience and marveling in the fact that the man onstage liked you, pride of place in your clear phone case. He has a ticket stub from that time a theatre in Columbus was playing a rerun of your feature film debut and he’d dragged you with him to go see it wedged in his. You have a delicate chain around your neck with an M on it so well hidden it might as well be lost to legend, he has your first initial hanging on his keychain.

It’s been five years, three lived-in states, several hundred shared meals, and an apartment just two streets away, but as you laugh at a story someone is telling, your cheek pressed against Mike’s, you’ve never felt closer to home.

#mike faist #mike faist x reader #mike faist fic #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #challengers

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seulgisqt · 5 months ago

Text

𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃 — mapi león

mapi león x reader

(a/n: ugh my first fic for my barça babe ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ finally was able to finish this cause I actually enjoyed writing this so I hope you guys enjoy it too <3)

word count: 1329

genre: fluff

summary: maybe a little chaos wasn't the worst thing, especially when it came with a motorcycle and mapi's laughter in the wind

You sat at your desk, posture immaculate, eyes skimming over her laptop screen as you meticulously edited your latest feature on the highly anticipated Copa de la Reina. Every sentence was subjected to your rigorous examination, and every word was weighed. In the world of Journalism, reputation was paramount, and you had painstakingly crafted yours through unwavering accuracy, thoughtful balance, unyielding fairness, and a steadfast commitment to professionalism.

Across the small, cluttered living room of your shared apartment, your girlfriend, Mapi lounged on the well-worn sofa, her body sprawled in a way that disregarded any notion of good posture. She flipped through a stack of team meeting notes with an air of nonchalance, the crinkle of the paper punctuating the otherwise quiet space. Her mismatched socks, a vibrant pink on one foot and a dull grey on the other added a touch of whimsy to her otherwise casual appearance. A curious smudge, perhaps remnants of a late-night snack, lingered on her cheek, resembling chocolate, giving her a carefree and slightly messy charm. Meanwhile, you tapped away furiously at your laptop, the rhythmic clattering of keys contrasting sharply with her relaxed demeanour, creating a subtle tension in the air.

“You’re frowning again,” Mapi said without looking up, her voice tinged with amusement, “that means you’re overthinking.”

Not bothering to glance away from the screen, you sighed, “I’m not overthinking, I’m being thorough.”

“Mm-hmm.” Mapi hummed softly, her eyes fluttering as she tossed her notes to the side. She stretched her arms above her head, her muscles arching gracefully. “You’re so thorough that you’ve rewritten that sentence, what, five times now?” She smirked playfully, a hint of amusement dancing in her voice.

“It’s four, actually.” Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you shot Mapi a pointed look.

Your girlfriend’s lips curled into a playful grin, her bright eyes sparkling with mischief as she leaned closer, completely unfazed by the chaos of deadlines surrounding you. “My bad,” she teased, her voice light and airy. “Still, you really should consider taking a break.” With an effortless grace that caught you off guard, she slid off the sofa and made her way to your cluttered desk, where she perched herself with a casual elegance, nudging your shoulder softly with her elbow. “Why not let me distract you for a bit?”

You felt your lips twitch in a barely contained smile, the corners wanting to betray your feigned annoyance. “And what exactly do you suggest I do? My deadline is looming just a few hours away,” you replied, trying to sound serious despite the warmth spreading through you.

Mapi gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart in mock horror. "Oh no, tomorrow morning? That gives you," she glanced at the clock as if it were a ticking time bomb, "exactly twelve hours to indulge in a proper panic!" Her playful exaggeration momentarily made the weight of your workload feel lighter, the tension in your chest easing just a little.

“Not everyone can coast through life like you do, Mapi.”

"Coast? Excuse me, I work very hard at being effortlessly cool." Mapi gasped again.

“That’s one way to put it,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Finally, you leaned back in your chair, the tension gathering in your temples prompting you to rub them softly with your fingertips, hoping to alleviate the pressure. Seizing the moment, Mapi leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Come on, just a tiny break. Five minutes. Ten, if you’re feeling rebellious.” She wiggled her eyebrows playfully, a teasing grin spreading across her face. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

You arched a perfectly shaped brow, “I’m not sure I trust you to define ‘what’s worth my while.’”

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Mapi shot forward, grabbing your hand with a playful tug that pulled you out of your chair. “Okay, okay, hear me out: ice cream and a motorcycle ride. Just imagine it—the perfect mix of productivity and relaxation,” she proclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious.

"A motorcycle ride?" Scepticism etched on your features. "Mapi, the last time I agreed to one of your 'brilliant ideas,' we ended up lost in the countryside with zero signal and a very confused goat."

Mapi laughed, squeezing your hand in reassurance. “Hey, that goat loved you. You have a way with animals.”

“I was bribing it with the granola bar you stole from my bag.” You deadpanned, but there was a hint of a smile playing at your lips.

"Details, details," your girlfriend waved a hand dismissively. "Come on, cariño. It's a gorgeous evening, and I promise this time there will be no unexpected livestock involved. Just us, the open road, and some ice cream."

You let out an exasperated groan, knowing all too well the charm she wielded. “You are impossible,” you said, but despite your words, you found yourself being led away, your reluctance melting under the warmth of her excitement.

“And yet, you love me,” Mapi declared with a hint of mischief in her voice, her eyes sparkling as she interlaced her fingers with yours, sealing the moment with a touch that felt both daring and intimate. A triumphant smile spread across her face, radiating confidence. “Now, let’s get you out of those stuffy, serious clothes and into something a little more...wind-resistant.” She waved her hand toward your impeccably pressed blouse and tailored blazer, her playful tone hinting at a teasing adventure that awaited.

A short while later, you stepped out in a casual leather jacket that Mapi had somehow convinced you to buy months ago. Whistling appreciatively, the footballer looked you once over. “Look at you, a total biker chick. We should get matching helmets.”

"Don't push it." You warned, slipping on the helmet Mapi handed you.

As you set out on the open road, the exhilarating rush of the wind swirled around you, tugging at your clothes and playfully tousling your hair. You found yourself gripping Mapi a little tighter than you had intended, your fingers entwining in a way that spoke volumes, though Mapi offered no protest. The deep, resonant hum of the engine vibrated through your bones, merging with the chaotic symphony of honking horns and distant laughter from the city streets, which slipped by in a vibrant blur of colors and movement.

Each glance outside revealed a fleeting kaleidoscope of urban life, the gleam of sunlit skyscrapers, the flicker of passing pedestrians, and the multicolour banners flapping against the backdrop of a rich blue sky. Meanwhile, the steady rhythm of Mapi's heartbeat pulsed beneath your palm, grounding you in the moment and filling you with comfort. It was an intimate connection, a rare indulgence that stirred feelings within you that you typically kept at bay. In this fleeting experience, amidst the rush and Thrill of the ride, you allowed yourself to embrace that feeling, relishing the sense of closeness that momentarily eclipsed your usual reservations.

As the traffic light glowed bright red, Mapi turned her head slightly, glancing back over her shoulder, a playful grin lighting up her face. “Admit it, you’re having fun,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

You let out a mock huff, striving to sound indifferent while your grip on the bike tightened protectively. “It’s tolerable,” you replied, trying to maintain an air of coolness.

Mapi’s laughter rang out, infectious and bright. “I’ll take it! Now, what about ice cream?” she asked, excitement dancing in her voice.

“Fine, but I’m choosing the flavour,” you declared, determined to have your say in the matter.

“Deal,” Mapi responded, the engine of the motorcycle purring to life as the light shifted to green. With a playful twist of the throttle, she surged forward, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. “Just remember, if you pick vanilla, I might have to reconsider this whole relationship.”

Behind the protective shell of your helmet, a smile threatened to break free. “Too late,” you said, warmth flooding your chest. “You’re stuck with me.”

#mapi leon #mapi león #mapi leon imagine #mapi león imagine #fc barcelona femeni #barcelona femeni #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso fluff #seulgisqt writes

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citrusandrottefruit · 7 months ago

Text

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Steve probably should have had surgery after Vecna died, because Hanahaki's roots seemed deep, but he chose to alternate between Max and Eddie's hospital rooms. There was no time to waste on his own health.

His parents were back this time. They had sold their house and bought a huge apartment for Steve, who wanted to stay in the city. His parents didn’t even question it, they just demanded his time for a week before leaving with a big hug and the promise of a trip somewhere nice that summer. If he had been a little younger, Steve would have been happier, but after so many years of neglect, all he could think was that this was as far as he was going to get.

A side note, an afterthought. They cared about their son, just not as much as they should have.

Steve's new apartment had four bedrooms, more than he needed, but he was glad his parents tried so hard to make up for it, because it meant he could offer Robin a room when she graduated and there would always be room for the kids. And Eddie and Wayne, who stayed with him while the government found them a new place to live.

Eddie made a joke about Steve's parents being more powerful than the government, for being able to find Steve a great place to live so quickly in a broken city while he and Wayne had to wait.

Wayne was usually around, and despite being a somewhat taciturn man, it was easy to see the love that overflowed for Eddie. It made Steve think of his mother, who had loved and suffered so intensely that she had developed Hanahaki.

And yet, she was not with him.

The cough got worse.

One day, Steve woke up in the middle of the night, struggling after yet another nightmare of torture. Some days, it was easy to forget about Vecna in favor of that hour beneath the Mall, with his life in someone else's hands. On days like these, Robin was needed more than ever, but her parents didn't want her away so much, so sleeping in his new apartment was hardly an option. Calling her wasn't a good idea either, because all it would do was stress her out and they'd end up up all night on the phone. So he resigned himself to taking medication and going out to the balcony, longing for the fresh, clean night air.

He would turn on the TV or music, but he didn't want to wake Eddie, so he just stood outside with his eyes closed and imagined being alone again when Wayne and Eddie left, then tried to imagine what the trip with his parents would be like, if it were to happen. Steve still wasn't sure if he wanted to go, but it might be nice. Maybe he'd get something out of being away from Hawkins for a while. Maybe the coast would make it easier to breathe.

As lost in thought as Steve was, after years of trauma it was impossible not to be aware of the sounds around him, so when Eddie opened the bedroom door and started walking down the hall, he heard it. He stayed silent, not wanting to disturb Eddie.

Of course, Eddie didn't care and showed up a few minutes later with some tea.

For your cough, man.

After that, it became almost a ritual between them. Eddie was always there when Steve woke up startled, and Steve reciprocated. They always had nightmares, so who went to who depended on which one of them woke up first.

Sometimes they would stare at the stars in silence, other times they would talk. Most nights, they would end up in Eddie's bed, in one of the spare bedrooms, without touching each other.

Steve's room, which was definitely his and not a temporary arrangement, felt too intimate.

At the same time, Eddie began asking more and more about Steve's throat, about his shortness of breath, if he was okay, when he planned to go to the hospital. The questions became so frequent that Wayne noticed, too.

The feeling of being cared for was too much. Feared and desired in equal measure.

Eddie shouldn’t even be doing all this, because he was still bandaged, still covered in pink scars, still had a long way to go in physical therapy.

For the second time in his life, Steve felt suffocated by love.

This time, Steve almost hated it. Because he was in love with Eddie, because Eddie didn’t know the things Robin knew. Even if he loved Steve back, how could Steve demand that Eddie take care of him?

Mr. Harrington had reasons to stay with Mrs. Harrington. Although no one talked about it, Steve was sure that his father had been the trigger for his mother’s Hanahaki. And maybe if she had never left, chasing her father across the country, trying to be happy with him to stay alive, maybe… Just maybe, Steve wouldn’t have been alone and maybe he would have been healthy.

Neither Eddie nor anyone else had a good reason to pursue any kind of happiness or emotional stability with Steve.

In addition to the burden of living with a chronic, progressive disease that would possibly become terminal at some point, being emotionally involved with someone with Hanahaki was very complicated. It required loyalty, responsibility, patience, a willingness to accept endless arguments and a desire to reconcile.

Communication was essential. Making sure the other person felt good and loved, comfortable and safe. All of this was too much work, too demanding.

Loving Steve was a prison.

I'll try to post part 3 soon. I've already written the ending, but I'm thinking about how to connect this part to the ending, which will be happy.

#It's Hanahaki #but a little different #More realistic #I guess #I always think about how #even though people have flowers growing out of their chests #they recover so easily and there are no major problems other than difficulty breathing #It's pretty absurd #I think it would cause massive damage to the entire body #But I like to think that a slow progression and symptom control would be a good thing to incorporate #Also #I think it would be possible to treat some of the complications #Maybe I'll do another post later #just to talk about some of the things I think about how Hanahaki could affect multiple organs #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #stranger things

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biibini · 6 months ago

Text

fuck me thru the phone ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

modern!mizu x teasing!reader

tags: nsfw, teasing, flustered mizu, modern mizu, sexting in public? well yes! , brat reader, reader sends nudes, BOLD READER, yall r having a freak off, mizu down bad, college mizu

a/n: i just think ab mizu and sigh sometimes. ao3 is down right now so my imagination will have to run free on here.

Having you as a girlfriend was plenty for Mizu. Content with college classes, some friends, and a beautiful girlfriend who’s there by her side. The stability is good.

At least, for most days, you were on her side.

Some days would be a little different. Of course, Mizu would try to check in with you as much as she possibly could, despite all the classes and responsibilities she had. These check ins were simple: maybe it was a quick text, or a “hi baby, i missed u too”, or even an “are we still on for tonight”.

This day’s texts was filled with… surprises.

18+ content below

It was Mizu’s morning lecture. Thankfully, your morning class got cancelled. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the same for Mizu.

Instead, she has to sit with many engineering students, who are also tired from the amount of projects, and listen to her professor go on about updating software, blah blah blah. In the depths of her backpack, Mizu feels the buzz of her phone. Her hand reaches for her phone, still focusing on her professor’s complicated explanations about the importance of formulas.

Placing the device in her lap, Mizu watches her professor dawdled on and on until—

Bzzt!

She looks down, tapping the screen to find two text messages from you:

Y/N♡ : skip morning class alreadyyyy :(

Y/N♡ : [ image sent with invisible ink ]

The blurred image stares back at Mizu. Instantly, she promptly flips the phone over in her lap. At one glance, it immediately hits her as to what kind of image you just sent: the recognizable skin-colored shape matching with the same colored sheets of her bed in the back, the small bubble of rosy pink that faintly resemble your lips. The lack of clarity of the image teases her, waiting for her curiosity of your body to get to her.

If only Mizu could take a peek…

She looks around to scout the area, keeping a hand to safeguard her phone. Thankfully, the lecture hall was much larger than she anticipated and was able to snatch a seat near the top, far away from most of the students at the front. The closest person was four seats away to her left, luckily occupied with watching Netflix instead of the lecture. To her right was another student, at least six seats away, figuring out how to play sudoku.

With the coast clear, Mizu slowly flipped over her phone, taking the necessary precautions such as lowering the volume, dimming the brightness, and turning off the ringer. The talking of her professor warped into mumbling to Mizu, as her focus was on you.

Opening the phone again, she laid her eyes on the blurred image once again. She looked up one more time to find very student still distracted and a professor describing the details of their colleague’s meticulous work.

Perfect.

Her thumb held down on the image, revealing the image you deigned to send at this hour: a selfie you taken sideways, practically naked, with the morning sunlight peaking through the blinds highlighted your curves, outlining your body from your waist to your hips and down your legs, your breasts blocked by a soft pillow. Mizu searched for your face, cut off except by your teasing, smug smile.

Good lord, you looked good.

So good.

Too good that it felt like heat was radiating off her cheeks. With her heart racing, Mizu immediately flipped her phone over again, the racy sight of you running through her mind over and over again. The thought of you waiting for her in her bed with nothing on, oh the things she could do—

Bzzt!

Mizu flipped over the phone to take a peek at your next message:

Y/N♡ : so r u skipping or r u gonna continue to stare at my ass thru ur class?

She quietly scoffed at the taunt, intrigued at your tone. It’s not everyday that you’re this playful, let alone send a nude so early in the day.

Mizu: i’ll be staring and thinking during class but i’ll be back home in 45

Mizu closes her phone, taking a deep breath to cool down, and attempt to relax her racing heart with every inhale and exhale. She couldn’t help that you can get to her in such deceptive ways.

Before taking the chance to take another check at her professor, two buzzes vibrate in her hand. Turning the phone once again, Mizu reads:

Y/N♡ : what if u made it 30?

Y/N♡ : [ image sent with invisible ink ]

She stares at her phone, studying the blurred shape of the recent nude you sent. It’s hard to paint the image, but one thing is for sure: you’re showing it all for her to feast on.

With no hesitation, Mizu holds down the image to get a glimpse of your promiscuity. There in front of her was a picture you took through the bedroom mirror, sitting cowgirl style on a pillow, bare naked and basking in the sunlight with your whole ass reflecting back. Her eyes lit up as they made their way to your breasts, softly outlined by the sunlight. Their appearance this time around was short lived, due to its lack of visibility from the mirror’s angle.

Holy fuck, she thinks.

She immediately closed her phone as the newest image of you burned in her mind. Every curve, the softness of your skin, the way your lips parted slightly developed her thoughts. In an attempt to shake her thoughts away, she looked back up, focusing on the subject at hand.

Thankfully, no one seemed to notice the dilemma Mizu was in. Some were watching a movie, others were playing 2048, and some were even playing Minecraft of all things. No one could even guess that covered by her sweaty palm, was pictures of you, completely ready for her.

Does she dare leave now?

Bzzzt! Bzzt!

Her breath halts to a stop. With eyes forward, she slowly flips her phone over again, making sure to suck up any final bits of information before she plans to ditch class. After a final nod, she looks down to find another message from you.

Y/N♡ : is this motivating enough?

Y/N♡ : [ image sent with invisible ink ]

Her thumb immediately holds over the hidden image, unmasking your version of motivation. Her jaw clenched at the sight of your body position.

The nude was simple: you sitting atop a pillow, naked, and her favorite strap sitting right in front of your lower stomach. She squinted at the color of the toy, staring at what seems to be a glossy, colorless stain at the tip of a dark blue toy.

Mizu: honey

Mizu: did u play with it w/out me?

She watches her screen like a hawk, taking another deep breath in as the three small dots start to pop up on her screen. There was no way you actually used it before she can put it on and fuck you properly, right?

The dots go away, leaving Mizu focused on one thought: making you finish when you get home.

Y/N♡ : maybe…

Y/N♡ : if u come back, i’ll show u how i did it

Oh, fuck it.

Mizu: make it 10.

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allisluv · 6 months ago

Note

for totally appropriate and pg reasons....I imagine finnick having reader suck on his fingers when she's too loud..so pg..

flattery will get you nowhere.

pairing: finnick o'dair x wife!reader

content warnings: pre-established relationship, brief mentions of the war, found family trope, nsfw, finnick is such a tease, praise kink, risk of being caught but not really at the same time, petnames, use of the phrase "good girl", finnick has reader suck on his fingers to stay quiet, soft!dom finnick.

word count: 1k

To commemorate the first year since the war ended, Peeta and Katniss invite you, Finnick and the rest of your friend group over for dinner at their new house on the coast.

Finnick comes out of the bathroom with the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows. The smell of cologne wafts into the bedroom as he runs a hand through his golden curls. “I’m ready to go if you—” He cuts himself off when he sees you.

You’re wearing a white dress that stops right above your knees. A golden pendant with Finnick’s initials is draped around your neck. Youre slipping a pair of matching dangly earrings into your lobes when your husband’s voice cuts through the air. You make eye contact with him through the reflection in the mirror and smile. “Hey.”

Finnick grins and two dimples carve their way into the spot above his lips. He steps up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him. “Jesus Christ, woman, I swear you’re trying to kill me before we even leave the house.”

You laugh as he presses feather-light kisses along the slender column of your throat. “Oi. We can’t be late. Effie will have my head on a platter if I’m not there on time.”

Finnick groans and buries his face into the crook of your neck. His fingers trail down the length of your arms. “Do we have to go, angel? Can’t we just stay here?”

You roll your eyes upwards, but you can feel a hot heat pooling between your thighs. Your voice holds a warning tone as you say, “Finn.”

He drops his voice an octave, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You know that I would make it worth your while, hm?”

You weigh up the options in your head. On the one hand, you want nothing more than to stay here and have him take care of you like you desperately need but you know you can’t. “We can’t let them down.”

“Why not?” He kisses the sweet spot behind your ear and grins when you melt into him.

Fucking smug bastard.

“Because Katniss and Peeta are expecting us. And it is rude to let them down.” You argue. “I know we’re staying the night but surely you can have some self- control for less than twenty-four hours.”

Finnick pouts. “But you look so pretty in that dress, baby.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Finnick grins. “That’s not what you said the other night when—”

“Oi!”

He laughs. “Alright, I’ll keep my hands to myself… for now.” He presses a quick kiss to your cheek and pulls away before taking you by the hand and interlacing your fingers together. “C’mon. Let’s get going.”

Finnick keeps his hand on your thigh all the way from your house to Katniss and Peeta’s. His fingers every so often trail higher, tracing the lining of your underwear innocently before his hand goes back to your thigh and his eyes back to the road.

It’s warm inside of Katniss and Peeta’s house. Annie, Johanna, Beetee, Haymitch and Effie are already at the dinner table as Finnick leads you over to an empty seat, where he sits you down and settles down beside you. His hand falls back to your thigh.

Dinner passes smoothly. Everyone talks and drinks wine or water and by the time dessert is served, your stomachs are fit to burst. The conversations pass well into the early evening, and eventually, when the tiredness sets in, every one starts to retreat to the guest bedrooms.

You’re on edge by the time you and Finnick head back to the bedroom. Once the door is locked behind you, you spin on your heel to face him.

Finnick grins. “What’s wrong, angel? You look flushed.” His voice holds mock sympathy and you can tell that he is holding back a laugh.

“You’re such a dick.” You hiss out, folding your arms over your chest.

Finnick does laugh this time. “Huh? What’re you talking about, angel?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, mister. What was that, hm? Sliding your hand up my thigh when we were eating our dinner, whispering dirty things in my ear, sitting me in your lap when we were on the sofa?”

Finnick grins like the cocky bastard he is.

You glare at him, cheeks burning. “Well?”

“Well, what, baby?”

“You gonna fuck me or what?”

Finnick tsks his tongue but obliges by crossing the room in a few quick strides and guiding you to sit down on the edge of the bed. “So needy,” he chastises.

“Don’t test me, Finn,” You huff.

He cuts you off by slotting his lips over your own and swallowing your moans. His hands slip up the hem of your dress, bunching the fabric up over your hips as he makes quick work of ridding yourself of your underwear. He groans into your mouth and his fingers slip under the thin material. “You’re soaked, angel. Can I take these off?”

You nod but he cocks his head to one side with an arched brow, silently telling you that he wants to hear you say it. You roll your eyes. “Yeah. Take them off.”

Usually, he would make you beg for it or give out to you for being bratty, but if the bulge in his pants is anything to go by, he’s just as needy as you are, if not more.

He pulls your panties down your legs and tosses them to one side carelessly. Slipping his tongue into your mouth once more, he runs his fingers through your folds and he groans. “You really are trying to kill me.”

You moan. “Please.”

Finnick shushes you gently. “Need you to be quiet, f’me, angel. Think you can do that?” His thumb finds your clit and you whimper. Clicking his tongue disapprovingly, he lifts the same hand and coaxes your lips apart so that you are taking his thumb. He smiles as you suck on his thumb, using his other hand to gather your wetness and increase the pressure and pace of his fingers. “There you are. There’s my good girl. I’m gonna fuck you soon, but you have to show me you’re gonna stay quiet, got it?”

#grace talks🐚🌷#the hunger games #thgs #thg #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #finnick odair x you #finnick odair smut #smut #blurb #drabble #oneshot #fem!reader #afab reader #sam claflin #catching fire #mockingjay

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queen-of-the-avengers · 18 days ago

Text

Moving On

Pairing: Eventual Bartender!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~3.3k

Warnings: angst, fluff at the end

Summary: Bucky is definitely moving in with Sharon, whether you want him to or not. If you can’t get on board, then you’re going to try like hell to make him realize what he’s missing. Then, you come to the realization that if you love someone, you do what’s best for them, even if it sucks for you.

One in a Million Series

Square Filled: shipwrecked (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

Not even twenty-four hours have passed since Bucky dropped that huge bomb on your life. He’s leaving. He’s really leaving, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. No more late-night conversations. No more drinking his new concoctions he’d like to serve at the bar. No more going on late-night drives on the back of his motorcycle because neither of you could sleep.

All that is going away because he thinks Sharon is a changed woman. You, Sam, and Steve are sitting at the dining room table while Bucky sits at the head of the table studying your reactions. He refuses to meet your eyes because he knows what he’s going to see in your eyes. You’re disappointed. No, you’re heartbroken. He’s leaving for another woman. He’s chosen.

He didn’t choose you.

Not like he’d know you were ever an option. You never told him how you felt about him. Now, he’s gonna live with Sharon and live out his life not knowing that he could have had a life with you. What about you? You broke things off with Tony because there wasn’t any passion. Bucky is passionate. Are you just going to coast through life with meaningless relationships while Bucky is out there living his life?

“So, as you all know, I am going to be moving in with Sharon. Is there anything any of you would like to say?”

“You’re making a huge mistake. Why can’t you see that?” you ask.

“Think of all the money I’m gonna save not covering for you,” Sam chuckles.

“We could turn his bedroom into a movie theater. You always love watching movies at full blast like we’re not right next to you,” Steve says to Sam.

“What are you guys doing? Are you seriously going to let this happen?” you gasp.

“What can we do? He clearly knows what he wants.”

“Do you?” You look at Bucky. “Do you know what you want?”

“I do.” You look away from him so he doesn’t see the film of tears in your eyes. “Listen, this isn’t easy for me.”

“It sure as hell sounds like it. This is bullshit. I’m not going to sit here and listen to this.”

You stand up and storm to your room.

“Y/N, come on,” Bucky sighs.

“This is going well,” Sam grins.

“Shut the fuck up, Sam.”

Bucky leaves the table and approaches your door. Sam and Steve are silent until they hear him go into your room.

“You know what we gotta do, right?” Sam asks.

“She won’t like it.”

“Rent’s gotta be paid, though. Want to increase your cut, or do you want someone else to live here?”

Steve sighs and pulls out his phone. “I’ll put an ad out.”

Meanwhile, you rummage through your closet for something else to wear while Bucky shuffles on either foot awkwardly.

“We gotta talk about this.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Y/N, just stop and think about this through my eyes. I know you don’t like Sharon, but I think this could work between us.”

You pause and let the tears fall freely. You don’t dare look back at Bucky because then he’d see how heartbroken you are. He’s moving on with you, all because you were too cowardly to confess.

“I’m not doing this to hurt you.”

“I know,” you whisper. “Please leave. I just want to be alone right now.”

Bucky sighs, but he leaves without another word. You wish you didn’t fall for him. You wish you could be happy for him. All you see is him with her, loving her, when it should be you who he loves. It’s like you’ve been shipwrecked and you can’t find your way off this godforsaken island. You don’t see Bucky for the rest of day, only in the morning as he continues to pack.

Unbeknownst to you, Sam and Steve put out an ad for the place yesterday, and there is already one person who is interested in taking Bucky’s room. Maybe this is for the best. The sooner someone else moves in, the sooner you can get him out of your head. You, Steve, and Sam are sitting on the couch with the new potential tenant in the small chair across from you. Bucky shuffles around the place and quietly packs, but he always looks back to watch you.

“So, Reese, tell us about yourself,” Sam says.

“Okay, well, I am a mechanic and I own my own shop not far from here. I think I’ve worked on half the cars in this city. I don’t do my jobs half-assed. I also dabble in a bit of home maintenance because I know how unreliable landlords can be. I’m thirty-five and single, and I’m a pretty quiet guy.”

“Reese, was it?” Without waiting for him to answer, you continue. “How do you feel about really loud music, because I love playing my music to the max. I also love going on feminist rants. I hope you don’t mind the rats in this place.”

Bucky rolls his eyes as he passes by. “Don’t listen to her. She’s just trying to scare you.”

“Would you mind giving us a few minutes? We’re just going to talk for a second.” Steve nudges you and Sam. “Come on.”

You three walk into the bathroom, and Sam shakes his head. “What the hell is wrong with you? You’re acting insane.”

“Don’t give me that look, Wilson. Why are we even entertaining the idea of another person right now? Bucky isn’t even gone yet.”

“We need a way to pay the rent. Unless you want to cough up Bucky’s share.”

“I think we need to take a step back and just think about this for a second. Why are you two rushing this? Don’t tell me it’s the rent when I know one month won’t kill us.” Sam and Steve are silent. “Please, just slow down.”

Steve sees the desperation in your eyes, and he can’t help but cave. “Fine. I’ll tell him.”

Steve leaves to tell the guy that while he is a good candidate, they’ll need some time to think about it. You shrink away from Sam’s gaze.

“Do you have a thing for Bucky?”

“Drop it, Sam,” you say, and leave the bathroom.

Bucky doesn’t have a lot of things, so with the guys’ help, he’s done packing by the afternoon. The truck he rented is parked outside, and the guys help bring his things there. It’s not a lot, but it looks like they don’t need you. Not like you’d help. You don’t want to aid in his departure.

Bucky slides the door closed and locks it. “Alright, that’s the last of it. Thank you for helping me pack.”

Steve and Sam agreed to go with him to the new place so that unpacking goes as smoothly as the packing, but you’re not going. You don’t know if you can face Sharon right now. What would you say to her? You know what you’d like to say, but if you keep acting like a petulant child, you’re going to push Bucky away.

You look up just as Bucky walks to the driver’s side. “Bucky, wait.”

Steve and Sam get into the truck, giving you two a moment alone. “Yeah?”

“Look, I’m sorry for my behavior.”

“It’s okay. I get it.”

“Are you absolutely sure this is what you want? You don’t want to, I don’t know, slow down?”

“I know what I want.” Even he doesn’t believe his words fully. “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

He gets into the truck and leaves without another word. You turn and head back inside the apartment, not even shocked to see Natasha here. Steve must have called her when he saw you close to freaking out. Bucky’s room looks so big when it’s empty.

“Have you ever stopped to ask yourself why you feel like this? Why you hate the idea of him being with Sharon?”

“You know why. You’ve heard the stories. She mistreated him. She took advantage of him.”

“Come on, that’s not the reason.” She follows you into your room. “Answer me this. If it were anyone else, would you feel this way?” You don’t answer because you both know your answer. “Maybe you should tell Bucky how you feel about him.”

“It doesn’t matter now. He’s gone and he’s not coming back.”

“Look, I’m going to sleep over tonight, but I have a few showings to get to. I’ll be back later, okay?”

“Take your time.”

You’re left alone in the loft, something that is never a good idea. Now that Bucky is gone, all you can think about is his empty room and Reese. He seems like a sensible roommate, but you’re not going to stop fighting Bucky until all his things are unpacked. Not until you know he is happy with her.

On the drive, all Bucky can think about is you. Is he making a huge mistake? Did he choose the wrong woman? He doesn’t even know if you’re an option, so there’s no one to choose between. Sharon is the only one who has shown him interest, but she’s not the one with whom he has spent almost every night.

His mind is confused, blurry with images of you and Sharon. He truly doesn’t know what he wants, but if he wants to get over the idea of you, then he has to do this. Regardless, that doesn’t calm his mind. In fact, it only makes him panic more. Instead of driving straight to his new place, he keeps driving and drives onto the freeway.

“What are you doing?” Steve asks.

“I’m freaking out!”

Bucky drives straight until he can’t go straight anymore, and then he parks on some cliff that overlooks a desert valley. He gets out and walks to the edge of the cliff, just staring at the valley below. Steve and Sam watch with worried glances. Not worried because they think he’ll jump, but worried that Bucky is making a mistake he won’t be able to get out of easily.

“Look, Buck, this was a nice day trip, I’m sure, but I don’t normally drive one hundred and fifty miles out of my way for nothing. Look, let’s just get back in the car and go home,” Sam suggests.

“Yeah, we should,” Bucky whispers.

You’re about to go out of damn mind when you get a call from Sam. Natasha is back and is making herself comfortable on your bed.

“Hey, how is the new apartment looking? Does it reek of desperation and compromise?”

“I wouldn’t know. Bucky drove us to the middle of nowhere and threw the keys like a goddamn sociopath. We’re stranded.”

“What?” you ask, alarmed.

“Yeah, we’re gonna need you to come get us.”

“Fine. We’re on our way.” You hang up. “Apparently, Bucky freaked out, and they’re in the desert. Maybe he doesn’t want to live with her. I knew this was going to happen. You’re coming with me. Grab some water bottles for the guys.”

“Cool. I’ve never done it in a desert before.”

“No weird sex things with Steve.”

One hundred and fifty miles later, you pull up to the same clearing where the moving truck is, and the boys look grateful.

“Thank God. I did not want to spend a night out here,” Steve shudders.

You pass out the water bottles to the boys. “Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah. Look, if we leave now, we’ll get to Sharon at eight.”

“Wait, you’re still going back to her?” you ask.

“Yeah. I had a moment, but I’m good now. We’ll just come back for the truck tomorrow.”

No. If you drive back now, he’s going to live with her and ruin his life. No, he needs a night to think about what he is missing. You don’t want to do what Bucky did because you’re not an idiot, but if you pretend to throw your keys, then he’ll be forced to stay here. He’ll be forced to think about what he’s trading in for a life with Sharon.

“How are you gonna get there?” you ask.

“You’re going to drive me.”

“Kinda of hard to do that without keys.”

You run to the cliff’s edge and pull your hand back. With a slight of hand, you transferred the keys to your other hand and throw the empty fist out. Everyone is too far to not see the keys, so they all think you’ve thrown them.

“What are you doing?” Steve yells first, followed by protests from the others.

You slip the keys into your pocket before turning around. “What?”

“What do you mean, what? Why the fuck would you throw your keys?” Bucky asks.

“Sorry, my hand slipped.”

Now that the gang is forced to camp out here for the night, the back door to the moving truck is opened, and Bucky’s things are laid out to create a cozy campsite. No fire, but the few furniture items are out. One of his bed sheets is tied to the top of the truck to the top of two lamps to create a flimsy roof. Other items are scattered around to make a makeshift bedroom.

Bucky, of course, packed a cooler full of beers, so everyone is lounging around drinking beers and making lemons out of lemonade. You look through one of the boxes and grin when you see one of Bucky’s cassette tapes.

“Look what I found!” You grin and hold up the tape. “Let’s see what’s on this bad boy.”

You put the cassette tape into his battery-powered radio, and 80s music crackles to life. “Time After Time” by Cindi Lauper starts playing, and you all sway softly to the music. This goes on for hours, even with the sun already below the horizon. Just sitting back, listening to good music, and being in each other’s company. This is what Bucky is going to miss, and you’re going to make this the best last night possible if he is going to continue to see Sharon.

Madonna’s “Crazy For You” comes on, and you look at Bucky who is laughing with Sam. It’s true. You’re crazy for him, and he doesn’t even know it. Steve and Natasha are sitting together on the couch with his arm around her shoulder and a beer in the other hand.

“I’m gonna miss this. All of us just hanging out together.”

Bucky pauses when he feels the weight of his words. He can’t believe he’s been so blind.

“Alright, I’ll give it to you. You got me. I see what you guys are doing. You’re trying to force me to remember how great it is that we’re all hanging out so I won’t want to leave.”

“We’re just having fun, Bucky,” you say.

“I get it. I haven’t always made good decisions, but this isn’t that. This isn’t some mistake.”

He sets his beer down and walks off.

“Bucky, where are you going?” you ask.

“To find my keys.”

He walks off alone, and you debate whether you should follow him or not. You stay planted on the dirt and watch him disappear further into the valley. Natasha nudges Steve and gestures to you with a tip of her chin. He pats her knee, kisses her cheek, and walks over to you.

“Hey, you doing alright?”

“No. I hate this whole thing.”

“You like him, right?” You start to deny it, but Steve sees right through you. “Come on. It’s me. It’s just us. You like him, right?” This time, you nod with tears in your eyes. “Do you care about him?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want him to be happy?”

“Yes, Steve,” you huff out in frustration.

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but when you care about someone, you do what’s best for them… even if it sucks for you.”

His words weigh heavily on your mind. All you ever want for Bucky is for him to be happy. If he’s happy with Sharon, then so be it. It’s time to stop playing.

“Thanks,” you whisper. “I’m gonna go find him.” You walk in the direction that Bucky went, and you see him using his phone’s flashlight to search for the keys. “Hey, Bucky? Come on, we’ll look for the keys in the morning.”

Bucky sighs and looks at you. “I don’t want to come back, Y/N. I want to be in my new bed in my new apartment with my new old girlfriend.”

“I get it, Bucky. I’ll help you look for the keys.”

After thirty minutes of looking, you’re no closer to finding the keys. Yes, you have yours in your pocket, but he needs those keys if he is going to get the truck out of here.

“Why did you keep driving, Bucky?”

He pauses and looks away from you. There aren’t any clouds preventing the moonlight from shining down, and his eyes have never looked so blue as they do right now.

“I’m not talking about this with you. I know what you’re going to say, and I don’t want to hear it.”

“No, you don’t.” He looks at you. “You don’t know what I’m going to say.” Bucky parts his lips as he waits for you to continue. “I want you to be happy, and if that means moving in with Sharon, I think you should do it.”

“Really? You really think I should do it?”

“Yes.”

“I think you need me too much.”

“I’m gonna be fine. Do you know why?” He doesn’t answer. “Because I met you.” He briefly glances down at your lips. “That’s why I’m gonna be okay.” Bucky steps closer to you. “Come on. We’ll look for the keys in the morning.”

Right. The keys. Back to Sharon. The night is cold but you make it until morning without incident. The keys are lost, but Bucky was able to call a tow truck to come get his things. While he is on the phone, you’re off to the side with your keys in hand. This is for Bucky’s happiness.

“I found my keys!” you yell to the others and hold your keys up.

“Finally!”

The truck is packed and hooked up to the tow truck when they arrive. You drive the one hundred and fifty miles back to Bucky’s new place in silence. Everyone is tired and aching from the awkward sleeping positions. Everyone piles out of the car to give Bucky a proper goodbye. Sam and Steve are first, followed by Natasha. The last one is you, and you step closer to Bucky. Everyone is back inside the car, but the windows are rolled down so they can hear what you say.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“As long as you’re happy, right?”

Bucky barely nods. “Yeah.”

You pull Bucky in for a hug and rub his back. “Listen, make sure Sharon knows you like sleeping with the fan on full blast. I also made sure to slip in some of that lotion you like because I know the skin where it meets your metal arm is sore sometimes. Oh, and I left some coupons in a box for more of that deli meat you like, so you can have that with your eggs. Oh, and if she has one of those key hooks, make sure to use it. You’re always losing your keys.”

Bucky can’t believe what he’s hearing. You’re gone before he can say anything else. The loft feels empty without Bucky, and you sit on the couch in defeat. This is for him. It’s because he’s happy, and that’s all you ever want him to be. After a shower, Steve sits next to you.

“It’s not like you’ll never see him again.”

“It’s not the same.”

That night, you’re folding your laundry when you notice something outside your window. You push your curtains aside and gasp when you see Bucky’s moving truck parked outside. The front door closes, and you turn to see Bucky leaning against the doorframe.

“I broke it off with Sharon. It was never going to work anyway.”

You bite back a smile, but you can’t really hide it. Not like you’re trying too hard.

“Welcome home.”

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