#nyu admit

[sommerbueckers]

HI BABY OKAY SO I HAVE A LITTLE ONE SHOT IDEA⁉️⁉️

so basically reader and paige know each other but aren’t exactly close just flirted a few times wtv wtv. so reader goes to a game and she’s wearing the other teams jersey😋😋 after the game paige sees her, they hang out have a few drinks and hookup.. and paige is like “take this shit off” then pulls the other teams jersey off reader

ALSO CAN I BE 🤍 ANON??

yes ofc you can !!

𝐚/𝐧: okay i literally love this idea , and congrats on being my first anon love !

𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞

➪ 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

THREE DAYS AGO you had been sitting quietly in your apartment, the tv displaying an episode of Gilmore Girls that you, if prompted, could recite word for word. Leftover Chinese food sat cold upon the coffee table, your roommate occasionally returning to her forgotten bowl of beef broccoli.

“What’re you doing this weekend?” her voice abruptly cut through the silence, drowning out the show which could hardly be heard to begin with.

You leaned your elbow against the arm of the couch, shrugging your shoulders. “Probably nothing.”

“Per usual,” she snorted, amused. After reaching to pause the tv, she pulled her legs up under her and twisted around to face you. Her face held a look of mischief and you typically tried to steer away from any kind of conversation with her at this point, but there was nowhere for you to go. “Do you wanna take a little road trip?” she raised her eyebrows, hopefully.

“A road trip?” you repeated, your tone laced with confusion. “It’s the middle of February and you wanna take a road trip?”

Excitedly nodding her head, she scooted closer to you. “You know how i’ve been talking to Noa a lot lately?” She hadn’t even given you a chance to respond before she continued on. “Well her school plays UConn on Friday night and she said she could get me courtside tickets! How sick is that?!”

Courtside tickets to any game would be exciting, but courtside tickets to see UConn Paige play was an entirely different level of excitement.

You had met the basketball star at a penthouse party last summer. It was being hosted by some trust fund NYU student whose parents were out of town. It was said to be ‘select invite only,’ the hierarchy groups of the social food chain would be there along with whoever else they wanted to bring. You originally weren’t supposed to go, but after finding out your name was on the invite list, you and a few friends couldn’t think of any better way to spend the night.

Paige had been wearing a white crop top and a pair of jorts, and she looked far too good not to entertain for the night. All night you two had mingled and flirted, dancing together and taking shot after shot. Nothing came out of it other than another follower on Instagram, but you were just happy to have made the night a good one.

“Yeah, that’s pretty cool,” you admitted quietly. You leaned forward to grab the box of shrimp fried rice, aimlessly picking at it with your fork in an attempt to hide your clear interest in the conversation.

“Pretty cool?” your roommate gaped, “it’s fucking awesome! I finally get to meet her and you get to see Paige play in person.” She was practically bouncing off the walls at this point, her cheeks red from how hard she was smiling. She was biting her lip, no doubt to keep from squealing.

You sucked your teeth unconvincingly, your mind scattered as it tried to provide you with a quick response. “Why would I wanna see Paige?” you frowned, avoiding her eyes.

“Aren’t you guys friends?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Well you follow each other on Insta, and you’re always watching her games,” she shrugged innocently, thankfully not picking up on the way your eyes refused to meet hers or the blush that had unknowingly crept onto your face.

“Oh,” you mumbled, “well we aren’t.”

Unfortunately, it was the truth. You and Paige hadn't interacted with each other since the party and you chalked the night up to the two of you just having some drunken fun.

"Oh, so, do you wanna come down or no?"

You weighed your options, though the answer was clear. Stay in your apartment with nothing to do other than binge watch shows by yourself or join your roommate on a trip down to good ol' Storrs, Connecticut. You sighed and leaned back against the couch, crossing your arms.

"When do we leave?"

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡

That was how you ended up sitting courtside at a UConn versus Creighton game, a white and blue jersey over your sweatshirt, the number seven displayed on the front. Your roommate had insisted that you both wear Noa’s jersey, that way she felt ‘double the support.’ You didn’t mind despite the fact that you couldn’t name a single player on the team.

The game ended with UConn sweeping Creighton, you had tuned out sometime during the third quarter after accepting the fact that the blue jays wouldn’t be able to come back. You hadn’t even noticed the game was over until the blonde beside you stood up with a groan, throwing her hands in the air.

“That’s it? It’s over just like that?” she turned to you with wide eyes.

You shrugged your shoulders, “Guess so.”

She was beyond upset, you would’ve thought she had been the one on the court. She went on a tangent after the teams disappeared into the locker room, expressing her opinion on why the game should be longer and what Creighton should’ve done. She had no idea what she was talking about, and you knew that, but still listened nonetheless.

“Are we getting something to eat?” you asked when you were sure she was done talking.

“Yeah,” she sighed out, “not sure what Noa wants to do but we can figure it out when she gets out here.”

“Okay, ‘m gonna use the bathroom real quick.” You stood from your seat, brushing off your jersey and heading toward the bathrooms.

Never before had you been to Gampel Pavilion, and curiosity got the best of you as you disregarded the large ‘Restrooms’ sign for a more enticing place. You ambled down one of the corridors, looking at all the pictures and awards that were up on the walls. Pictures of alumni in all the different uniforms through the decades, different championship trophies and plaques.

Your eyes stopped on one picture in particular; it was from the 80s and the men had bright smiles on their faces as they held up a large trophy. Their shorts were incredibly short, and you laughed to yourself as you wondered how they’d ever played in them. Before you could bring your attention away on your own accord, a familiar voice did it for you.

“You’re not supposed to be back here.”

There stood Paige Bueckers in all her six foot glory, her eyebrows knitted together as she stared at you. For having just played a game, she looked amazing. Her hair was still pulled up in its usual braid and ponytail but it was now partially covered with a gray beanie, she had put on a jacket and sweats over her uniform and looked about ready to slip out without being seen. That’s probably what she was doing.

“Oh sorry, I—I didn’t know,” you shook your head, embarrassed.

“Nah it’s cool, usually it doesn’t matter but they’re tryna clear the place out now,” she explained with a shrug, a keychain jingling from the movement of her bag on her back.

You nodded your head, silently walking past her to make your way back to the gym.

“Wait,” she called out.

You whipped your head around quicker than you should’ve, your face holding a look of innocence as you waited, no, hoped for her to say what you thought she was going to say.

“Don’t I know you?”

‘Yeah, we met last summer,’ was what you would’ve said had you been able to think straight. Instead, you stared at her dumbly until she finally spoke again.

“I think I do, we met at that one kid’s party last year,” she said. Was she trying to remind you? Like anyone would forget meeting Paige Bueckers at a party.

“Yeah, yeah I remember,” you nodded. You rubbed your forehead with a breathless laugh, thinking of what to say next. “That night was pretty blurry to be honest…”

That’s all you could come up with?

It wasn't even the truth either. You remembered everything from that night; every look, every touch.

“No yeah I get what you mean,” she laughed, “don’t even remember how I got home.”

You nodded your head to feign agreement because you knew exactly how you had gotten home.

“Creighton fan, huh?” Paige asked, gesturing to your jersey.

You glanced down, pulling the material away so you could examine it yourself. “No uh, my friend’s girlfriend or — whatever is on the team and we just came down to support her.”

“Ah, so I take it you’re not a UConn fan either?”

You laughed, “I’ve watched a couple games.”

Another lie -- you've watched every game.

“I’ll take it,” Paige smiled. “It was good seeing you again,” she said, beginning to back up. Had you not been so captured by the shade of blue that her eyes held, you would’ve missed the way they'd scanned your body. Running up and down your legs, gently biting her lip. Her eyes once again met yours and she flashed you that signature smirk before she turned around and headed out.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡

"This place is fucking packed," Noa commented, surveying the bar with narrowed eyes.

"Yeah, i'm gonna go see if I can get us a table."

Your roommate left your side and approached the hostess podium, you and Noa now being alone near the door. She awkwardly rocked back and forth on her feet, hands resting comfortably in her pockets. "Y'all came down here together?" she asked suddenly.

"Yeah, got here a little bit before the game actually," you smiled.

Noa hummed, "Hope you aren't driving back tomorrow," she said with a small laugh.

"What do you mean?"

"The couch at the apartment isn't the most comfortable," she sighed, scratching the back of her neck, "so I was just saying you'd probably be better off making blondie drive."

As if on cue, said blondie motioned for the two of you to follow her. "The wait was like forty-five minutes but the bar has the full menu," she said and gestured to three open seats right beside each other. You all gladly took them, sighing as you finally put your feet to rest.

The bartender came around and took your orders and the three of you finally settled in. Conversation came easy, you and Noa bonded over all things basketball. You discussed the calls that were made during the game, how a lot of them were made in favor of UConn because it was their home gym and all. While it hadn't been a complete lie, UConn would've won even without those calls.

You sipped casually on your martini, letting your two friends fall into their own conversation while you busied yourself elsewhere. Your gaze moved from table to table, scouting out someone who could turn your night around from the eventful one it had been. Once again, as though the man above had been listening solely to you, Paige and her teammates waltzed right in.

She had changed out of her basketball uniform, now dressed in a pair of cargos with a long sleeve and a vest.

Instinctively, you straightened up in your chair. They'd seated themselves on the other end of the bar, Paige sitting perfectly in your line of view. You felt like a creep the way you were watching her, but you couldn't help it. There had been a point in time where Paige had been focused on you. Her hands roaming your body as you danced together, her eyes locked on yours only, determined to make you laugh. You smiled unconsciously at the memory of that night, wishing over and over that you could relive it.

When you looked up again Paige was gone, missing from the rest of her group.

"If I didn't know any better, i'd think you were following me," her voice came from close behind you, and you found her standing there with an untouched drink in her hand.

"Well if I remember correctly, I was here first," you smiled, tilting your head. You were hoping you looked cute doing it and not dopey like you had pictured yourself. "So who's really doing the following?"

Paige chuckled, "You got me there." She moved to take the seat beside you, glancing around for a sign that someone was already sitting there. When she didn't find one, she proceeded to get comfortable. You watched contently, sipping your drink with crossed legs and waiting for her to settle. "That's the girlfriend?"

You nodded your head without looking behind you.

"Whatchu got?" you pointed at her glass.

"Dirty Shirley."

"Ah, your favorite."

Paige pursed her lips, a smile threatening to break through. "How'd you know that?" she asked.

"It was all you drank that night," you reminded her.

"Hm," she smirked, "thought you said you didn't remember much."

'Fuck,' you thought to yourself.

"I remember bits and pieces," you shrugged, distracting yourself with your drink.

The blonde playfully narrowed her eyes. She remembered everything from that night, she had only pretended not to because she felt embarrassed that she remembered everything and you didn't. She had visited your Instagram multiple times in the weeks following that, cursing herself for not having the courage to ask you out or do anything other than pointlessly flirt with you.

But here she was, being presented with the opportunity to turn things around, and she planned to take advantage of it.

"So tell me, what else do you remember?"

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡

Two martinis and four rounds of shots later, you and Paige found yourselves in an intense game of pool. She was currently beating you, her only objection to sink the eight ball in while you still had a few balls left to knock in.

You leaned over with focused eyes, carefully lining up the stick with the ball. You could feel Paige's presence beside you, her breath hot on your ear as she spoke. "She's crumbling," the blonde teased. She sensed your stress and she was feeding off it, a thrilled expression upon her face. "Will she sink it? Or will she fumble?"

You pulled the stick back, and with a swift movement, jolted it forward. The ball flew quickly across the table, ricocheting off the side and rolling back toward the middle.

"Oh! She shoots, she misses!" Paige commentated enthusiastically, the alcohol running through her system and giving her a buzz. She pointed her finger annoyingly in your face as she backed away, getting closer and closer to her position behind the eight ball. She mimicked the stance you had done; leaning over the table and zeroing in on the ball.

A beat of silence passed and Paige still hadn't moved, her eyes slowly moved upwards to meet yours. A smile broke out onto her lips, she stood up and twirled the stick around in her hands. "How about we make this a little more interesting," she suggested lowly.

"Interesting how?" you snorted, leaning against the table.

She stepped closer to you, towering over you with a gaze that had you practically foaming at the mouth. If Paige wanted to take you on the pool table right at that moment, you would've let her. Of course, that was just the alcohol talking, and there was quite a lot of it.

"I need one shot to win, and I want a reward when I do."

"A reward, huh?" I raised my eyebrows, noticing her step closer, "What kind of reward do you want?"

"I can think of a few things..." she murmured. Paige was trying hard to be seductive right now, and she couldn't tell if it was working or not. She had already failed to hookup with you once last year at the party, and she'd be damned if she failed again.

"Like what?" you took a step closer, batting your eyelashes at her. You were teasing her and she knew it. The alcohol coursing through your system was giving you a confidence boost like no other, and you couldn't think of a better way to make use of it other than flirting with Paige.

"Well for starters," she sighed, pulling gently on the Creighton jersey that you had yet to change out of, "I don't wanna see this anymore tonight."

"Oh yeah?" you quirked a brow at her.

"Yeah, and when I win, i'm gonna take it off you," she said confidently.

You could feel yourself sweating beneath your clothes, the pool stick in your hand suddenly becoming difficult to grip. You cleared your throat when she finally stepped back, a knowing smile tugging at her lips as she repositioned herself on the other side of the table and focused on the ball. With a quick and calculated shot, the ball swiped cleanly across the table before falling into the desired slot.

The noise from the bar seemed to fade away as the realization of Paige's victory sunk in. People drunkenly moved around; dancing, singing, cheering at whatever was playing on tv, but none of that mattered to you anymore. You were unable to focus on anything other than Paige's blue eyes staring into yours, the color seemingly darker than it was just moments ago.

You rolled your eyes and set the stick down on the table, reaching for the hem of the jersey to take it off. Paige's hands quickly found your wrists, her face contorted in utter confusion. "What're you doing?" she asked.

You were playing with her.

"Taking the jersey off, isn't that what you wanted?" you frowned innocently.

Paige scoffed, "Don't test me. Let's go back to mine, you can take it off there."

You both bid your goodbyes to your friends, your roommate tossed you a questioning look that you dismissed with the wave of your hand. You waited impatiently outside for an Uber, Paige holding you close in attempt to shield you from the cold. Her eyes were fixed on your lips, the very ones that were trembling, begging to be warmed up by hers. From the moment she had seen you in the hallway she immediately recognized you, she'd recognize that ass anywhere. She had planned to send you a message tomorrow, running into you tonight had been unexpected but not unwelcome. It just gave her less time to think of what to say.

The car ride back to Paige's house left the two of you bright eyed and rosy cheeked; the radio was switched off and the driver spelled like he had just played in a basketball game and didn't bother to shower afterward. The backseat windows appeared to have a child lock on them, preventing either of you from breathing in fresh air. Between the buzz from all the drinking and toxicity of the car's air, you and Paige couldn't stop yourselves from laughing the whole way there. Her hands didn't leave your legs, but in the midst of all the welcomed chaos you hadn't even noticed.

You rolled out of the car, basking in the cold air with open arms. Paige trailed closely behind you, her hand on the small of your back as the two of you made your way up to her apartment. The second the elevators doors shut and you two were alone, your lips met hers in a searing kiss. She tasted sweet, like Dirty Shirleys and peach CÎROC shots. With your hands tangled in her hair, you pulled her closer, wanting needing to taste more of her.

Her tight grip on your hips, fingertips pressing into you, sent shivers throughout your body. She backed you into the wall, her tongue exploring every inch of your mouth while you lowered your guard and let her. So caught up in the taste of you, she almost missed the elevator opening up to her floor. Hardly even breaking the kiss, you two made your way out. Paige knew exactly where to go and you were blindly being led by her, stumbling over your own feet.

Paige fumbled around in her pocket for her keys, roughly jamming them into the lock and pushing the door open. The apartment was dark with the exception of a few city lights pouring in through the windows. Standing in place for a couple seconds longer, you felt the kiss slow down before Paige stopped it completely.

"Fuck," she spoke breathlessly, running a hand through her hair. She reluctantly backed away from you, turning on the lights. With the apartment's kitchen now being fully lit, you could see into the living room as well. The place was beautifully furnished, with little fake plants placed around on the shelves and pictures of Paige and her friends framed up on the walls. Her couch looked far more comfortable than the couch Noa had described earlier and you were dreading having to return to it later tonight.

Paige appeared in front of you, her hands coming up to cup your face. "I want you to go into my bedroom, turn the light on, and then sit down on the bed and wait for me," she instructed lowly. You nodded silently, backing up in the direction of the bedroom while giving Paige the sexiest smile you could muster. In reality, you were absolutely panicking.

Once you got to the bedroom, you switched on the lamp that rested on the bedside table and seated yourself on the edge of the bed. You were unsure of how to sit, or maybe you should try lying down? You decided on taking your shoes and socks off first, neatly dropping them on the side of the bed. You didn't have time to further your thoughts on how to sit because just as you had finished putting your things aside, Paige entered the bedroom and shut the door behind her. She was carrying a bottle of water that she set down on the nightstand, laughing when she noticed you awkwardly staring.

"You look uncomfortable."

"I'm not, just waiting for you," you replied, hoping the shakiness in your voice didn't betray you.

Paige walked over and stood before you, enticingly biting her lip. She leaned down at the same time that you leaned back, a seductive game of cat and mouse as she crawled forward whilst you crawled backward. Your smiles grew when your back hit the headboard and you realized you had nowhere else to go.

"You've been staring at me all night with those eyes," she murmured, and you felt her breath on your lips.

"What eyes?"

Paige rubbed her own nose against yours before she reconnected your lips. She pushed your legs apart with her hands, running them up and down the smooth material of your leggings. You let out a soft moan into her mouth when her knee came in contact with your heated center, bucking your hips in order to feel more of her.

Paige took it upon herself to quicken the pace, instinctively grinding into you. Her lips eventually left yours, trailing down your neck and leaving wet pecks all over. Her teeth bit softly into your skin, marking you as hers. You pressed her further into you, hands snaking under her shirt and roaming all over her back. Her attack on your flesh was violent, the pain pulling a pathetic whimper out of you.

"Fuck, do that again," Paige mumbled against your skin, repeating her actions a little rougher this time to gain a bigger reaction from you.

"Ah, Paige!" you slammed your hand against her shoulder, screwing your eyes shut.

She yanked harshly at the jersey still clinging to your body, "Take this shit off," she spat out. She pushed you down into the mattress, ripping the garment from your body and discarding it somewhere in the room. Your sweatshirt came off next, leaving you clad in only a bra and your leggings. Paige pulled her own shirt over her head, her necklace dangling over your face. You used it to pull her back down into you, hungry for a taste of her again.

Her fingertips crept underneath you and she hooked them onto your bra strap, skillfully unlatching it and pulling it off you. Dilated pupils gazed down at your exposed breasts, her hands hastily coming up to touch them like a child in a toy store. She kneaded, sucked, licked, kissed, her attention focused solely on your hardened nipples, leaving your neglected pussy uncontrollably dripping.

"Paige," you whined desperately, your back arching so far off the bed that Paige's hands forced you back down.

"Hm?" she hummed inattentively.

"I need you..."

A loud popping sound came from Paige letting go of your nipple, holding your stare as she lowered her body closer to where you needed her most. Just as she had hooked her fingers on your bra strap, she hooked them on the waistband of your leggings and slowly pulled them down.

Your panties were downright soaked, earning a mocking laugh from the blonde.

"So wet for me mama," she purred, a smirk on her face.

She took her thumb and ran it straight down your clothed slit. You sucked in a sharp breath, hands already grabbing at the sheets on the bed. To Paige, you looked like an angel lying there, like a good girl with those pleading eyes as you waited to be fucked senseless. Finally, Paige removed your panties and tossed them aside with the rest of your clothes.

She shamelessly played around in your slick, soaking each and every one of her fingers in it.

"Tell me you want it."

"I want it Paige," you breathed out.

Paige's face appeared overtop of you, her jaw clenched tightly in disapproval, "Beg."

You were so turned on you didn't even protest, instead just propped yourself up on your elbows to be closer to her. Her fingers danced around in teasingly slow circles on your clit, a knot gradually forming in your stomach. "Please I want you to fuck me, please baby I need it so bad. Want your fingers inside me," you exhorted pathetically.

Without wasting another second, the blonde inserted two lengthy fingers inside of you. It was like looking into a mirror the way Paige's face copied yours; when you bit your lip, she bit hers, when your mouth involuntarily gaped open, so did hers. She was taunting you, forcing you to see how undone you were becoming. Tightly gripping her bicep, you dug your nails into the large muscle.

Her fingers pumped in and out of you, thumb doing work on your clit to bring you closer to the edge. The squelching noise that filled the room sent heat to your cheeks, and if it wasn't that then it was the look Paige was giving you as she fucked you. She was proud of the mess you were becoming, the mess she was making you. She kissed your lips over and over again even though you couldn't kiss back.

Your head was spinning with thoughts of Paige, the feeling of Paige inside you. Your toes curled involuntarily, noises you had never heard yourself make before echoed off the walls of the room.

"Yes yes yes, i'm close," you cried out, "fuck just like that!"

Paige hurriedly kissed her way back down to your pussy, replacing her thumb with her tongue. She mercilessly sucked you like a starved woman enjoying her first meal, or a guilty one enjoying her last. Her tongue moved nimbly against you, fingers fucking in and out of you and feeling the tightness as you clenched around her.

"You gonna come for me, huh?"

"Uh huh," you fervently nodded.

"Hmm," she hummed into you, the vibrations nearly sending you over the edge, "let me hear you say it. I want to hear you say it."

"Yes! I'm gonna come for you..."

Paige expertly curled her fingers inside you, lying her tongue flat against your clit and forcing you to do none other than let go. The knot that had been building in your stomach finally fell apart, your legs snapping shut and trapping Paige's head there. You pushed and pulled at her, your desires becoming fuzzy as the orgasm swallowed you whole. Moans and strings of curse words unconsciously spilled from your lips. They were a stark contrast to the sweet things Paige cooed as she left kisses along your stomach, and your chest, and back up to your lips.

"Such a good girl," she whispered on your lips, "you were so good for me."

You shivered at the empty feeling you got from Paige pulling her fingers out of you, they were covered in the same slick that her chin was, glistening under the lamp's light. You smiled tiredly at her, snaking your arms around her neck and pressing your lips to hers.

"You tired?" she asked, observing your face.

"Yeah."

She pulled away from you and reached for the water bottle on the nightstand, twisting it open and bringing it to your lips. "Sleep here tonight," she said, "I can take you where you need to go in the morning."

Swallowing the water you said, "You sure?"

"Yeah, you probably can't walk after that anyway."

"Shut up," you snorted hitting her chest.

The two of you settled in bed together, your naked body finding warmth against her clothed one as she cuddled you close to her. You smiled to yourself, nuzzling your face in her neck and drifting off to sleep.

[motorsportbarbie13]

Forbidden - Part 1

In which you reconnect with an old friend, much to the dismay of your brother.

Warnings: None. This is mostly background and will be several parts.

Pairing: Max Verstappen x LeClercSister!Reader Word Count: 2.6k words Masterlist Here

It started slowly, this thing between your brother's best friend and biggest rival and you. So slowly that you hadn't been directly involved, you probably wouldn't have even noticed the clandestine brushing of fingers to skin in the paddock or the flickering looks that lingered just a bit too long. Even the way Max managed to stare at you from his garage went unnoticed by everyone but you. But what started slowly over one summer quickly snowballed into something that nearly destroyed you both.

You'd known Max since you were young, of course, so maybe that was why the pair of you managed to keep things hidden for so long. You two being friendly wasn't all that out of the ordinary so maybe that was why it took people longer to connect the dots. You two had always been friends, but it was a quiet friendship so not many people picked up on it, even back then. But he had always been firmly in the ‘my brother’s best friend and track rival’ category for as long as you could remember.

Did it drive you crazy that they were much quicker to involve your younger brother, Arthur, in their antics instead of you? Yes. But Charlie and his friends were like the untouchable super hero's you watched in movies: larger than life and totally invincible so you always lapped up any ounce of attention they gave you.

As you got older though, your trips to the track became less and less frequent with you picking up your own interests. You traded weekends at the track for weekends spent with friends your own age who didn't worship the ground your brother and his friends walked on. Before long, you were headed off to university in New York City, wanting a bit of space from your famous brother and his aura. You loved Charlie and Arthur to death, they were your favorite people in the world after all, but it was difficult being the 'normal' sister to such talented men and the space had allowed you to thrive on your own, in your own way. 

You went home to Monaco infrequently, the trip from New York to the small principality being just long enough to be annoying to do regularly and traveled to races even less. It wasn’t that you didn’t support Charlie. You always made sure to be at his home race in Monaco and the race in Monza of course, but your life was in New York. First it was your rigorous coursework for your degree in economics from NYU that kept you away and then you continued on with a Master’s degree in economics and international business, the intensity of both programs serving you well crafted excuses for years. 

“You’re really going to come travel with us?” Charlie was unable to hide his surprise and excitement this morning when you called to tell him your post-graduation plans. 

“It’s been the hardest year of my life, between my thesis, interning at the investment firm in Manhattan, and finishing up grad school, I’ve barely had a chance to breathe for years. I need a break Charlie.” You sigh, settling into your couch that faces the floor to ceiling windows in your New York apartment that was currently full of packing boxes. 

“I know you do. You’re the hardest working person in this family.” 

You chuckle, knowing that this wasn’t true. Your two brothers worked just as hard, if not harder, at their careers in motorsport. There was no way Charlie would have reached F1 if he hadn’t been a hard worker. You might be the smartest LeClerc though, although you knew Arthur would never admit to that even if Charlie would. 

“What happened to that job in London?” 

You pick at an invisible piece of lint, wanting to avoid the question, as you shrug even though your brother couldn’t see you. “I told them I wasn’t interested. They wanted too much from me and I’m just so close to being burnt out. I’m taking on a consulting gig with the Bank of London. They’ve agreed to allow me to work remotely so I can live in Monaco and travel. I’ve missed so much of your career Charlie, I hate that I’ve been so absent from everyone for so long.” 

Charlie’s voice goes soft at the sound of regret in your voice, “Oh, petit papillon.” My little butterfly. You can’t help but smile at the nickname, despite the melancholy mood that had settled over you. “We know you did what you had to do to make you happy, we don’t blame you for being gone for so long. All that matters now is that your studies are done and we get to see you more.” 

Your heart warms in your chest. Of course Charlie hadn’t held your distance against you, it wasn’t in his nature to hold grudges against you, even when you fought the hardest. “I’m so excited to come home, Charlie.” 

*Six Weeks Later*

A faint tapping on the front door catches your attention from where you sat in Charlie’s living room, staring at the same spreadsheet you had been working on for the last hour. “Saved by the knock.” You mutter, getting up from your spot on you’re brother’s couch. You’ve spent so much time on the plush piece of furniture over the last few days, busy with work, that you’re surprised there’s not a permanent indent of your backside on the cushion. 

Finding an apartment in Monaco was proving harder than you had thought. Every flat you looked at in the city was either so far out of your price range or was missing something you deemed essential to have in your living space so for the time being you were staying with Charlie and Alexandra in their guest bedroom until the right place came around. 

“Coming!” You call out, hoping to alert the person knocking on the front door to your approach. Although you couldn’t fathom who would be at the door in the middle of the day on a Tuesday afternoon. You quickly run through an inventory of where the important people in your life were: Charlie was at a sponsor event while Alex was at doing some content creation in Paris for the gallery that she worked for. Your mother was at work of course and Arthur was off somewhere with his girlfriend Jade today. Everyone accounted for and busy. 

Without checking the peephole, you swing the door open wide, relieved for an excuse to take a break from the project that had found its way to your inbox early this morning. 

“Maxie!” You gasp, launching yourself into the unprepared arms of the Dutchman who you hadn’t seen in years. 

Max was thankful for his quick reflexes that were required of a world championship winning F1 driver because without them, the two of you would have found yourselves in a heap of limbs on the floor. “Beestje! You nearly took me out.” Max sets you down carefully but not before you have a chance to swat at his arm. 

“You know I hate when you call me that.” You pout, nipping at his finger when he teasingly swipes at your lip. Max had called you ‘little beast’ for as long as you could remember, always delighting in your cries of protest when he did. If there was one thing Max loved, it was teasing Charlie’s sister.  

He grins down at you, dimples winking out at the corner of his mouth. “That’s why I do it.” 

Rolling your eyes, you open the door wide enough to allow the both of you to enter the empty apartment. Max follows you into the living room, where your computer sits discarded. 

“I didn’t know you were visiting.” Max says, trying to remain calm as you settle down on the couch opposite of him. 

You had always been gorgeous, those good looking LeClerc genes that Charles was so famous for had obviously been passed on to you as well, but now? You were hands down the most stunning woman Max had ever seen in his entire life. Your social media presence was sparse, at best, so while he followed you, it was rare for you to post much of anything. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw you in person either, knowing that you much preferred to avoid the harsh light of fame that came with being a LeClerc. 

“Charlie didn’t tell you? I moved back!” You wave a hand towards your laptop, “I got a job with the Bank of London doing consulting work, fully remote.” 

“No, Charles didn’t tell me.” Max says, narrowing his eyes. He had just played padel with Charles and Carlos the other day and he hadn’t made a single mention of you being back. “Where is he, anyway? I came by to see if he wanted to go for a run tonight.” 

You shrug, trying to force your heart rate to slow to a pace that couldn’t potentially be heard by people playing the slots at the famous Monte Carlo Casino down the street. You had always had a juvenile crush on Max. Honestly, who wouldn’t? His demeanor on the track and in the paddock was completely opposite of who he was in private. You may have not spent much, if any, time with him the past decade but you knew that the Max that had been your brother’s childhood best friend and rival was the same Max sitting next to you right now. Nothing had changed.

“He’s at some event for Ferrari. I’ll never understand why people want to pay thousands of dollars to get to talk to the likes of you chuckle heads. How would those donors feel knowing they invested so much in a person that once got so drunk on their birthday they thought the Uber driver was trying to kidnap them because they, and I quote, ‘could totally make a killing with the ransom Christian would pay to get me back.’” 

“That was ONE time!” He croaks, blinking at you in surprise. “And how the fuck did you know about that? Charles swore he’d never tell anyone about that.” 

You can’t help the laughter that bubbles out and Max momentarily forgets how embarrassed he is that you know that story. It’s light and airy, the notes dragging their fingers down Max’s skin. “I’m not ‘anyone’, Maxie darling. You know that.” 

And boy did he. Just the way you wink at him while calling him ‘Maxie darling’ is enough to send his mind into overdrive, wondering how it would feel if more of your attention was turned his way. 

Max just smirks back, fighting to keep up the cool facade he’s usually got so carefully constructed in place. He expertly steers the conversation away from anymore potentially embarrassing stories and towards you. How you’ve been. The near year you spent writing your thesis paper for your Master’s degree. The life you’ve built so far away from Max. It makes his heart squeeze something fierce knowing that you two have drifted so far apart.

Before you know it, the sun is sinking low in the sky, casting a glittering glow over the water just outside the apartment. The sunlight filters in through the half-drawn curtains, bathing you in a golden light. Max had never understood why everyone raves about the beauty of ‘golden hour’ until he saw the setting sun reflected in your eyes. 

He was in so much trouble. 

You two are so lost in your conversation you don’t notice the front door swing open or Charles bustling through the door hours later. Charles pauses when he sees the two of you sat on the couch together. Somewhere between the first and second glass of wine that you had poured when it became evident neither of you wanted the afternoon to end, you had ended up quite close to Max. His hand sat outstretched over the back of the couch, hovering just out of reach of your shoulder. You were leaning into him ever so slightly, laughing at something Max had said moments before. The obvious intimacy between the two of you set off alarm bells for Charles, not liking how Max was looking at you over the rim of his wine glass. 

The thing was, Charles is quite protective of you. It was one of the reasons you always tried to leave the details about your love life out of any conversation you had with either of your brothers. Arthur was bad enough, but your twin? Charles was of the opinion that no one was ever good enough for you. Especially someone like Max. While he wasn’t as bad as some of the guys on the grid (lookin at you Lando Norris), Max still liked to party and take advantage of how often pretty girls threw themselves at him. He did not want someone like that interested in his sister. He knew how much you valued your privacy and that was not something someone like Max could offer you. 

“What’s going on here?” Charles fought to keep the hostility out of his voice, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Max jumped off the couch like it had suddenly burst into flames. He knew how protective Charles was over you and judging by the stormy look on your brother’s face, he wasn’t happy to find him there tonight. 

You, on the other hand, found it amusing how quickly your brother’s protective side reared it’s ugly head. There was nothing to be ashamed of, you knew that. You were just two friends catching up after being apart for so long. Totally innocent. Right? Right. 

“Max stopped by to see if you wanted to go on a run and we just got lost in conversation is all, Charlie.” You sooth, knowing your brother has a short fuse when it comes to you. 

Charles narrows his eyes at Max as if he doesn’t believe your words and to be honest, he probably shouldn’t. If he had known the thoughts racing through Max’s head over the last few hours, Max would have probably found himself in the gravel pit of whatever race was next on the calendar. 

“I was just leaving.” Max stutters, glancing down at where you still sit on the couch, amused grin playing at the corner of your lips. 

“It was nice to see you Maxie.” 

Max doesn’t miss the way Charles clenches his fists when you say his name like that. 

“Always a pleasure, Beestje.” He teases, hoping that Charles doesn’t pick up on the nervous waver in his voice. 

You tip your wine glass towards him in a mock salute before picking up your laptop where it’s sat discarded for the last few hours while Max makes a beeline for the front door. Charles follows him out, eyes trained on the back of his friends head, trying to calm the storm of anger that is swirling around his gut. 

“I don’t think it needs to be said but stay away from my sister.” Charles practically growls when Max’s hand closes over the doorknob. 

“We’re just friends Charles. I haven’t seen her in ages, we were just catching up.” 

“I don’t look at my friends the way you were just looking at her.” Charles grouses. “Just don’t, okay? I don’t want to give her any reason to leave again. If you hurt her, she’ll go running. Leave her alone.” 

Max nods, unable to find the words he wants to use because he has a feeling ‘fuck you, I’ll do whatever I want with your sister’ seems like a bad way to end the conversation. But as he waits for the elevator in the quiet hall, he knows that staying away from you is going to be near impossible. 

[iamnotoriginalphil]

I Dwell in Possibility (Casey Novak x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Your aunt Liz warns you to stay away from her ADA. Too bad for her, you'd never been good at doing what you're told.

Words: 9.3k

Warnings: Forbidden romance, reciting poetry, oral (R giving), hickeys, swearing, possessiveness, alcohol consumption, secret relationship, strap (R receiving), dirty talk, angst, hurt/comfort

“You’re not my aunt.”

The woman looking up at you from the low sofa was not the one you were expecting. Strawberry blonde hair shining in the overhead light, fierce green eyes, full pink lips, she was the kind of woman that would devastate your heart with so little effort. Leaning your hip on the doorway, you checked the door again, certain you were in the right place. It was just like you remembered from all the hours you’d spent staying out of trouble under the watchful gaze of your aunt during your more rebellious years as a teenager.

“Not last time I checked,” the mystery woman said.

Her eyes swept over you, assessing in a way that made your nerves vibrate. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip, letting her look her fill, hoping you’d pass muster. You didn’t even know her name, and yet you wanted this woman’s approval.

“I didn’t realise Judge Donnelly had a niece,” she said, her voice a low timbre.

“I have two, and don’t even think about it.”

You whirled, finding your aunt standing behind you, the kind of look that once had you quaking in your boots on her face. Instead, your face split into a huge grin. Her face softened upon seeing you, not in a way most people would notice, but she’d been your favourite person by the time you’d graduated high school and moved away for college. She was the only reason you’d managed to get in somewhere decent. Somehow, despite all your raging against The Man, she’d kept you on track. Your sister had never understood your relationship with her, being one of the people who quaked under her gaze.

“Guess who’s back,” you said, giving her some nice jazz hands to drive your point home.

“No wonder the amount of the trouble in the city has increased,” she said.

“You missed me. Just admit it,” you said, knowing you were being the kind of cheeky that could get you told off.

She sighed but her embrace was tight. You closed your eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume. You’d missed it more than you could possibly put into words.

“So you finally finished grad school,” she said once you’d drawn away.

“I’m a bonafide doctor now. No way you can go around telling everyone I’m your wayward niece. You can just admit I’m your favourite without shame,” you said.

“And you’re a doctor in what?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Something very interesting and not at all practical, just like God intended,” you said.

She shook her head but you saw the way her lips curled up into a smile. She finally entered her office, you trailing after her. The woman, still an unknown, had been watching with a rapt attention that kept making your skin prickle. Your eyes darted down to her, teeth sinking into your lower lip again.

“Please tell me you haven’t returned to the city looking for a hand out,” your aunt said as she sat in her chair behind her imposing desk.

“I’ll have you know I have actual employment like a productive member of society,” you said.

She scoffed but it was the fond kind, not the kind that said you were in danger. You were achingly familiar with both.

“No, seriously. My supervisor knew a guy in the English department at NYU and put in a good word for me,” you said, “I’m teaching intro to the Romantics this year.”

“A worthwhile endeavour I’m sure,” she said.

“Hey, critical thinking is an important skill. Plus, reciting poetry always goes down well when trying to score a date,” you said, falling back on the couch. Only as your arm brushed hers did you remember someone was already occupying it.

“Tell me you didn’t spend all those years at college just to pick up women,” she said with an eye roll.

“That wasn’t the only reason. It was just an added benefit.” You winked at the woman sitting next to you, lips pulling up into a smirk.

“Get out,” your aunt said.

Your eyes shot back over to her but she was looking at the woman beside you.

“You asked me to come see you,” she said.

“Later,” she said.

She stared at your aunt for a moment before she collected up her papers back into the file they’d originally come from. You watched her leave, appreciating the pencil skirt she was in.

“Who was that?” you asked once the door was closed and you knew she wouldn’t hear you.

“ADA Casey Novak and if she knows what’s good for her she’ll stay away from you,” she replied.

“Aw, are you getting all protective, Aunty Liz? You’ll be putting Dad out of a job,” you said.

“Oh, I’m trying to protect her. You’re a hurricane of trouble,” she said.

“Maybe I’ve grown up. It has been a while since I’ve lived here,” you said.

“Stay away from my ADA,” she said, using her commanding voice.

She should have known better. You’d always wanted what you weren’t allowed. And you wanted Casey Novak.

Over the next few weeks you were around your aunt’s office a lot more, traversing the halls as you reacquainted yourself with the building. Keeping your eye out for a certain strawberry blonde, you’d wander around as you waited for your new job to start. Your aunt, doing her best to ignore what you were doing, put up with your impromptu visits with grace.

Sitting in on one of her trials, you found yourself coming face to face with Casey Novak again. Or rather, you could lean back and watch her dominate in the court room. It sent a flutter through your body and an itch in your fingers to sink into her. She was magnificent, a sight to behold, a lion taking down her prey with a precision that was breathtaking.

And from her pursed lips, your aunt was not happy about your presence there to see such a display.

“What are you doing here?” she asked after calling a five minute recess.

“I came to see you in action. I like watching you scare the little people,” you replied, “tell me, I’ve always wanted to know, do you practice that scowl in the mirror or does it come naturally to you?”

“You don’t care about my scowls. You couldn’t keep your eyes off a certain ADA I warned you to stay away from,” she replied.

“Aw, you do care,” you said, “you seriously think I’m going to ruin your ADA?”

Something interesting settled in her face, arms crossed over her chest. You sighed, looking away from her.

“If it means that much to you, Aunty Liz, I won’t do anything with her,” you said, knowing that giving up one gorgeous woman was the least you could do for the woman who kept you from making all the wrong decisions with your life.

She gave you a small smile, one of the fonds one that let you knew you’d made the right decision. It was the kind she gave you any time you came back with an A on a test she’d helped you study for. You sighed.

“But you owe me one. She is insanely hot,” you said, but you were smiling and the sting wasn’t so bad when it was your decision to follow the rules.

You left the courthouse, knowing you had prep work to do before the semester started. No more stalking the halls hoping to run into Casey Novak by “coincidence” and strike up a conversation that might end in her bed. She was just another gorgeous woman who would remain a ‘what if’.

It was easy to push thoughts of her to the side in the flurry of semester beginning. You couldn’t believe how much work went into teaching a college course, your sympathy going out to every professor you’d ever had. Especially those teaching your intro classes, when freshmen came in with all the confidence they hadn’t earned.

“When did becoming devil’s advocate become the cool thing for boys to do?” you asked.

Your aunt looked up at you from over the rim of her glasses, looking less than impressed with your question. You sighed, slumping back against her sofa. On one of the few days you weren’t teaching, you’d sought refuge in the only place you knew would offer you both a slap over the head and a warm hug. Using the pretence of lunch, you’d brought her food and your frustration.

“Okay, sure, they’ve always kind of been like that but now I have to hold my tongue and not go off on how stupid they are,” you complained.

“Yes, because now you’re the adult in the room,” she replied with all the judgement held in her body in her voice.

“How do you manage it?” you asked, looking at her again, “I’ve seen some of your cases. You’ve dealt with some real…”

You couldn’t find the right word.

“Assholes?”

You turned, finding the only woman in the city you were forbidden from even thinking about standing in the doorway. Your aunt’s eyes darted to yours then back to Casey Novak and you saw the warning there.

“You said it, not me,” you said with a small laugh.

The way she stepped into the room had you forcing yourself to look away. Her hips were swaying with a cockiness you’d attempted to pull off plenty of times and had never quite managed. If you kept staring you might never stop.

“Did you need something, Casey?” your aunt asked.

“The Jensen case,” she replied.

“I’ll get out of your hair,” you said, standing, collecting up your rubbish.

Your shoulder brushed Casey Novak’s as you passed her, a jolt of electricity going through you. Your gaze caught on hers as you passed and you felt your breath still.

It was a good thing you loved your aunt so much or else you’d be in trouble.

Taking yourself out for coffee was becoming one of your Saturday traditions. A worn paperback in your hands and a corner table with your caffeine fix and some kind of pastry was easily becoming your favourite part of your week. It was early enough in your weekend that you didn’t feel guilty for not having started on any of the work you still had to get done for Monday morning. You could relax, taking time for yourself.

“Is this seat taken?”

You glanced up, expecting someone looking to steal the other seat and take it to their table. Instead, green eyes were looking down at you, pretty pink lips curling up into a half smile. Casey Novak, in jeans and a t-shirt, hair pulled back, was standing before you in the morning light, looking like a dream come to life.

“Not at all,” you said.

She sat, legs spreading just enough to make you wonder if she was doing it on purpose. Leaning back in the chair, her eyes slid over you, leaving fire in their wake. You took a slow slip from your coffee, tongue dragging over your lower lip as you put the cup down.

“Is there something I can do for you, ADA Casey Novak?” you asked when her gaze darkened.

“You can start by just calling me Casey,” she said.

She thanked the waiter as he placed a coffee in front of her. You watched her take her first sip, her eyes closing in bliss. She placed the cup down again, turning that burning gaze on you.

“So what do you want, Casey?” you asked.

“Knowing your name would be a start,” she said.

The way it sounded on her lips as she repeated it made you shiver. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip again and you saw her focus on it, leaning forward slightly. The heat that went through you was searing and the throb was insistent, keeping time with your racing heart.

This was dangerous.

“Judge Donnelly is very determined to keep us from running into one another,” she said, a soft hum of a voice.

“So you thought you’d hunt me down to see what all the fuss is about?” you asked.

“Call it a happy coincidence. I was passing by, you happened to be here, no planning involved,” she said, “so your aunt can’t crucify me for taking the opportunity to say hello.”

“Do you always do what you’re told not to do?” you asked, tilting your head towards her.

“Not always. Only if it sounds fun,” she said, her smirk making your heart flutter. This felt too much like flirting.

“You’re going to get me in trouble, ADA Casey Novak,” you said, leaning away from her.

“Nothing wrong with a little trouble,” she said.

Certainly not when trouble looked like a smirking Casey Novak.

“And besides, who needs to know? I don’t see you ratting us out to Donnelly,” she said.

Her fingers brushed over the back of your hand, sending sparks up your arm. Your lips parted as your hand flipped, offering her your palm. They traced over it, the feeling of her touch burning through you. You weren’t proud of yourself for giving in so easily, but pretty women had always been your downfall.

“I promised her,” you whispered.

“We’re not doing anything. It’s just coffee,” she said, the definition of temptation.

“You’re used to getting your way, aren’t you?”

“I’m used to getting what I want,” she said and you found it intoxicating the way her eyes smouldered as they looked at you.

“I suppose she didn’t say anything about not having coffee together,” you said slowly.

Her satisfaction was obvious in the smug set of her shoulders. You laughed and something in her face brightened.

“What are you reading?” she asked, nodding down to your book as her finger continued to trace patterns into your palm.

“Frankenstein,” you said, nudging it closer to her, “I can’t read poetry every moment of every day.”

“Do you really recite it to pick up women?” she asked, picking up your old book, the spine cracked to the point it fell open in her hand.

“Thy soul was like a star and dwelt apart/thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea,” you recited to her.

You saw a flush bloom high on her cheeks, eyes sparkling as she seemed to lose whatever smart comeback she had. You grinned, hiding it behind your coffee cup, lowering your eyes in a show of false modesty. You liked seeing her a bit flustered, finding it enchanting.

“I suppose I can see the appeal,” she said eventually.

“Wordsworth has yet to fail me,” you said, fluttering your eyelashes at her.

She pushed your novel back across the table to you and then downed her coffee. Her fingers threaded through yours, palm to palm, making you feel like you were losing control of the situation already.

“Did your aunt happen to say anything about ice cream?” she asked.

You shook your head, teeth sinking into your lip again. She grinned, standing, pulling you with her.

“Then let me show you the best ice cream in the city,” she said.

Later, when she’d managed to convince you to return to her apartment with her, she tasted of danger. And trouble. And everything that could destroy you.

When you returned home early Monday morning you were buzzing. You could still feel her lips on your skin and her taste was burnt onto your tongue. Hickeys littered your body and you were deliciously sore. You still smelt like her and you wanted her perfume to linger on your skin for as long as possible.

Maybe Aunty Liz had been onto something about staying away from her.

When she called on Tuesday night you didn’t hesitate to pick up. Lying on your couch, drink in hand, you pressed the phone to your ear as her smokey voice whispered to you.

“Please tell me your day was better than mine,” she requested without even a hello.

“I suppose that depends on how your day was,” you said.

“My case got thrown out,” she said.

“That sucks. Sorry,” you said, “I had a student tell me that only men know how to write romantic poetry.”

“Do you write poetry?” she asked.

“Only of middling talent,” you replied, “nothing worth repeating.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. You are a doctor after all,” she said with a small laugh.

“That brag was for my aunt, not for you,” you replied but you were chuckling too.

“Lucky me for being in the room,” she said.

A knock sounded on your door.

“Hang on,” you said, standing up with a groan.

Pulling the door open you should have been expecting the woman on the other side of the door but you hadn’t been. Her lips pulled up into a smile and you held the door open wider for her. Her fingers brushed the back of your hand as she stepped inside.

“I’m going to have to call you back,” you said into the phone, “a devastatingly sexy woman just arrived.”

She tossed her cell phone on the couch with a laugh. Your hands landed on her hips, pushing her back until you had her pinned to the wall. Her hands cupping your cheeks dragged you up onto your toes to kiss her, long and slow and deep. She hummed into the kiss, the vibrations going through you.

“Make me forget my day,” she requested when you finally pulled away.

You dragged her to your room, more than happy to oblige. You lowered her onto the bed, crawling up her body. Your hands were seeking her skin, pushing up under the skintight turtleneck she had on. Just the sight of it was driving you crazy, remembering the feeling of her curves in her hands. You kissed her again, not able to stop yourself.

She sighed when you pulled her shirt over her head, your hands finding home on her skin. Your thumb brushed over her ribcage from your hand’s place on her waist. Your lips ghosted down her body, feeling her tremble.

“There witching beauty greets the ravished sight/more gentle than the arbitress night,” you whispered into her skin.

She made such a soft noise, one that suggested her chest was caving in. You brushed your lips over the curve of her breast, enjoying the way her breathy moan spurred you on. Wrapping your lips around one peaked nipple, you laved attention on her. She arched into your, fingers winding though your hair. As you sucked, your name fell like a curse from her lips.

Your fingers were quick as they unbuttoned her slacks. Slipping your hand into her panties, you stroked through her folds. Her hips pressed up against your hand, wordlessly begging for more. You kissed across to the other breast, finding the yellowing hickey you’d left only a few days ago. With your tongue, you circled her other hardening nipple, teeth grazing over it for a moment.

“You’re so good at that,” she groaned, fingers tightening in your hair.

You grinned against her as you finger found her clit. Her breathy sigh was gratifying in ways you couldn’t put into words. Slowly, you kissed down her chest, hand slipping from her panties as you grasped her hips. You dragged her slacks down long legs you still remembered curling around you on the weekend.

“You’re so beautiful,” you said, looking up her body.

Your mouth made contact with her throbbing cunt. Keeping a tight hold on her hips, you pressed closer, tongue sweeping through her folds. You moaned at her taste, still addicted to it, the novelty of having her like this not yet having worn off. Staring up your body, you watched as her eyes squeezed closed, fingers fisting in your comforter.

Your tongue dipped into her entrance and a shaky curse fell from her lips. She was so beautiful as her face contorted with pleasure. Wrapping your lips around her bundle of nerves, you suckled as she whimpered above you. You held her in place, refusing to let her use you the way she wanted. You were going to take care of her.

Lifting her legs over your shoulders, you pressed her into the mattress. You couldn’t get enough of her, wanting to spend hours with her doing this. When she came, it was with your name on her lips, the sound of it going right through you.

You were slow to kiss back up her body, finding her lips waiting for you. She kissed you with an enthusiasm that had you groaning. Flipping you, she gazed down at you, lips pulling up into a smirk that was growing familiar.

“You’re entirely too clothed,” she murmured.

“You’d better do something about that then,” you said.

The next morning you woke with her arm flung around your waist and her face buried in your neck. It wasn’t a conscious decision to begin running your fingers through her hair, but when she pressed closer with a soft sigh you didn’t feel the need to stop. You closed your eyes again, nose burying in her hair, breathing in the scent of her perfume again.

“I need to get up,” she mumbled, lips brushing your skin.

“Don’t,” you whispered, “stay.”

“I can’t,” she said, “I need to go fight for my case to be reinstated.”

“You can do that?” you asked.

“If the detectives have found new evidence,” she replied, slow to sit up.

Your eyes tracked over the swathes of skin on display, feeling your mouth water. Something about Casey was addictive to you, making you desperate for more even after hours spent indulging in her body the night before.

“So committed,” you murmured, fingers tracing down her spine, “that’s pretty fucking hot.”

She turned, looking over her shoulder at you. Dark eyes swept over your body, half exposed from where the covers had pooled around her hips. You arched your back, offering more to her gaze.

“And if I win and this rapist goes behind bars, I’ll come back to celebrate with you,” she said.

“Promise?” You tried to smoulder, the way she did that made you feel electric.

She smiled, leaning own to press her lips to yours.

“Promise,” she whispered against your mouth.

She called you by the end of the week. You dressed up all pretty, in a nice dress and a nice pair of heels, hoping to make her head spin the ways yours always did. Meeting her at the restaurant, your breath caught at the sight of the smile she gave you. Then it moved double time as an appreciative look came into her eye.

“If this is what I get for winning a case, I think my conviction rate will go up,” she said, gaze slow to move down your body and then up again before meeting your eye, “you look breathtaking.”

You took her in, the silk dress clinging to her curves, her hair swept up in an elegant undo. Green was certainly her colour. Reaching out, your finger ran along the chain of the necklace she was wearing, watching the way a flush rose to her cheeks.

“You shouldn’t be allowed out like this,” you murmured.

“You don’t like how I look tonight?” she asked.

“I like it entirely too much,” you said, finger stopping at the base of her throat, “the things I want to do to you…”

“There’ll be plenty of time for that later,” she chuckled, “patience, sweetheart.”

“I can be patient,” you replied.

“I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?”

Seated across from her, it was hard to look away. Her foot brushed your calf, sending a jolt through you. The way she was looking at you over her menu suggested you were what she was hoping to devour. You’d let her.

Placing your order, she took you through the trail, her voice soothing where the details were traumatic. Her foot kept bumping against yours under the table and each time her lips would quirk up. You found yourself leaning towards her, not able to stop yourself. Her gravity seemed only to affect you.

“But you didn’t ask for a blow by blow of the case,” she said, shaking her head after the food was placed down in front of you.

“I like listening to you,” you said.

“You do?” she asked, a surprise look crossing her face.

“Is that really so surprising?” Your fingertips brushed the back of her hand before retracting, “you have a way with words and the kind of voice I could listen to for hours.”

Something broke over her face, cracking open into a look of wonder. Your breath caught, not sure what to do with such a lovely expression on such a beautiful face. It was baffling that you could bring that out in someone like her.

“I’m beginning to see why your aunt wanted to keep us apart,” she said.

“What do you mean?” That was not what you were expecting to say.

“She knew I’d never let you go once I had you,” she said.

Your face softened into a smile. Reaching across the table, you threaded your fingers through hers, enjoying the feel of skin against skin. Her fingers tightened around yours, squeezing for a moment before she released you, beginning to eat.

“And here I was thinking the poetry was the way to seduce you, not the compliments,” you said, picking up your own fork, “might have to switch tracks if I want to keep you around.”

“I like the poetry,” she said, eyes darting up to you.

“And if I was reciting it to someone else…?” you prompted, wondering what was going through her head.

“Are you?” she asked, her gaze sharpening.

“Would it matter if I was?” you asked in response.

“I don’t like to share,” she said, her voice lowering, making you press your thighs together.

You took a slow sip from the wine she’d ordered. Her eyes darkened, lips pursing in a way that suggested you might be in trouble.

“So tell me, sweetheart, have you been reciting your poetry to someone else?” she asked.

“Not recently,” you said.

“How long?” she asked, and you were worried you were walking a razor edge with her.

“A few months,” you replied.

“What happened a few months ago?” she asked but you saw her lips begin to curl up into a small smile.

“I met a beautiful ADA and despite trying to be good, she was very convincing in tempting me to be naughty,” you replied.

She lent forward, her hand finding yours again. Tugging it up, her lips pressed a lingering kiss to your skin, making your breath catch. Your foot bumped hers under the table.

“Do you regret it?” she asked.

“I’m not sure I could ever regret you, Casey Novak,” you replied.

“So you don’t want to stop?” she asked.

“When Aunty Liz finds out, we’ll deal with the fallout then,” you said.

“When?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

“If you’re planning on never letting me go, it’ll have to come out eventually. We can’t keep it a secret forever,” you said.

“Eventually.” Her lips pressed to the back of your hand again, “but for now I want to keep you all to myself.”

The thought was pleasing. You held her gaze for a long moment, the weight of it all crashing into you. Your heart thumped in your chest, tripping over itself. You saw possibilities sparkling in her eyes, and the potential future you could build spiralling out before you.

“Who from the cup of amorous delight/dashes the sparkling draught of brilliant delight,” you murmured before taking a sip from your glass of wine. The way she looked at you was like you were something from out of space, beautiful and wonderful and completely unknowable. It was a heady mix.

She didn’t let you return home all weekend.

You slipped back into the monotony of your work come Monday, working through what you should have done on the weekend. It had been easy to forget the stack of papers you had to mark when her mouth was on you and you were gasping her name. It should have scared you, how easy it was to lose yourself in her, but you’d known the first time you’d seen her that she could render you into nothing. You welcomed it.

On Wednesday morning, when a note was sitting on your desk, you rolled your eyes. Curt, to the point, three words that gave you all you needed to know. You put it aside, booting up your computer.

Your aunt didn’t bother standing as you slid into the chair across from her. The food in front of you was what you’d always ordered, your favourite thing on the menu. Especially when she was buying.

“You summoned?” you said, raising an eyebrow at her.

“I haven’t heard from you in a while. I was worried you’d gotten yourself into trouble,” she said.

“I don’t remember you being my parol officer,” you said, taking a bite of your lunch.

“Nothing you feel the need to tell me?” she asked.

“How about you just tell me what’s on your mind and then I can tell you. Or not, depending what it is,” you said with a wicked grin and a small shrug.

“You always go to work with a hickey on your neck?” she asked.

“Only if I had fun the night before,” you said, which you had.

“Do I want to know?” she asked.

“Are you asking for details about my sex life, Aunty Liz?” you shot back.

“Please, I’m trying to eat,” she said, indicating her soup.

“Don’t ask if you don’t want to know,” you said, “so why did you really ask me for lunch?”

“It’s my duty to check in on you. If not, who knows what kind of trouble you’ll get into,” she said.

“Don’t pretend, I know you care. You worry about me.”

She didn’t answer but you knew the truth.

“Are you going to tell me about the girl who’s giving you fun nights?” she asked after a moment of silence.

“Eventually, I’m sure,” you said with a small shrug, knowing you couldn’t tell her, “all you need to know is right now I’m very happy.”

“Clearly.” Her gaze lingered on the hickey you hadn’t bothered covering up that morning, “you know, you’re not the only one who’s coming to work looking less than presentable.”

“You got something to tell me, Aunty Liz?” you poked, trying not to grin at her like a menace. Her beleaguered sigh only made your grin grow.

“ADA Novak has worn the same outfit twice in a row more than once over the last few weeks. Right around the time you stopped calling me incessantly,” she said.

“Lucky girl,” you said.

“And you know nothing about it?” she asked.

“I made you a promise,” you said.

“So it’s just a coincidence?” Her penetrating gaze made you shift in your seat. You’d never been good at lying to her.

“Seems like it.” You looked down at your food, “it’s not a shock two hot women happen to both be getting laid.”

“Okay, you can stop.”

“Good because neither of us is enjoying this,” you said.

She was more than happy to drop the topic. You moved on to much nicer things, like work and how your mother was repainting her kitchen much to your father’s annoyance. She had strong opinions on your sister’s latest boyfriend. You did too.

It was easier when you weren’t talking about Casey.

You started being more careful. You kept the hickeys to places you couldn’t see with your clothes on. She left early enough to get home or brought a change of clothes with her. And you made sure you were never seen anywhere your aunt might be.

Mostly, you spent time in her apartment, curled up in the bubble of the whole thing. You couldn’t understand why your aunt had been so against you seeing her. Everything about her was wonderful, and you’d never felt so sure about a decision before.

“Listen to this,” you said, looking over the top of one of the essays you were marking, “‘he made nature a woman because as everyone knows women are weak and they break under the passion of a man’s love.’ Can you believe that?”

“Yes,” she said, “you should hear some of the stuff men say to justify what they do.”

“I couldn’t do your job,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“That’s why I do it, and why you talk about poetry all day,” she said.

“Is that judgement I hear?”

You placed the essay down, crawling towards her on the couch on all fours. She lent back, watching you with the kind of look in her eye that made you want to submit to her. Her legs spread, offering you the perfect place to stop. Your hands on her knees helped you to push up, drawing closer to her.

“Do you think I don’t have a real job?” you asked, “that I’m just a silly artist who contributes nothing to society?”

“You contribute plenty,” she said, one hand gently cupping your jaw, forcing you to look up at her.

“Do I?” you asked.

“Keeping me happy makes me better at my job. You do your part in putting away all the bad guys,” she said, slow to lean towards you.

“Better make sure you’re on top form tomorrow then, hadn’t I?”

Your marking could wait.

Casey let you stay at her place when your heating went out in the middle of winter break. Curled up in her bed, book in hand, half sprawled against the headboard, you let the hours pass. The door opened and closed again. Looking up, your eyes itched and you realised it had gotten later than you’d expected.

“Hey,” you said when Casey appeared in the doorway.

She looked exhausted, the slope of her shoulders, her heavy footsteps. Your heart ached for her. Her fingers weren’t careful as she unbuttoned her blouse, dropping her slacks to the floor. You still stared every time you saw her naked body, not quite believing you were allowed to see it. She was so beautiful.

She wiggled under the covers, depositing herself on top of you. Her arms curled around your waist, cold hands pressing to your skin as the buried under your sweater. Her face was buried in your neck. With your free hand you stroked a long line down her spine before curling your arm around her waist, feeling her let out a long sigh.

“Long day?” you murmured, lips brushing against her temple.

“Don’t want to talk about it,” she replied, muffled against your neck, arms tightening around you.

“Okay,” you said

In a soft voice, you began reading your book out loud to her until her breathing began to even out. It took a while, her muscles slow to relax. You would read to her all night if it would help, whatever she needed. When she finally dropped off, you gazed down at her, finding yourself enraptured. This was the kind of moment you made sure was burned into your memory.

You ignored the way she made you feel. You pushed away the thought that you were falling for this woman. Even as you knew it was true.

The wolf whistle that passed through your lips was loud. You grinned when Casey’s steps faltered, her eyes seeking you out. She sauntered towards you, an extra swing to her hips when she found you. Leaning back against the pillar you’d been waiting against, you watched her, not even bothering to hide your appreciation.

“I thought I saw you earlier,” she said, coming to a stop in front of you.

“I had to drop something off with my aunt. Thought I’d sneak a glimpse when I got the chance,” you said.

“And?” Her head tilted to the side, crowding you against the pillar without touching you.

“And I think you’re something amazing,” you replied.

Her free hand reached out, fingers tangling with yours.

“Bit risky doing this when your aunt is just inside,” she said.

“She’s stuck in court for the next little while,” you said, “plus, it’s been months and she hasn’t brought it up again. I think we’re in the clear.”

“Lucky us,” she said.

“So can I take you to lunch?” you asked.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” she asked.

“I’m not sure I care,” you replied, then decided to pull out the big guns, “a poet could not but be gay/in such jocund company.”

Your fingertips brushed over her cheekbone.

“Fine, but you’re paying,” she said.

You took it as a win.

You gasped for breath, falling forward onto your elbows. The only sound was the slap of skin and your breathless moans. Casey’s hands were tight on your hips, leaving bruises on your skin. You pressed your hips back, your whines asking for more.

“You like that, sweetheart?” Casey asked, dragging her strap out of you.

“Uh huh,” was all you managed to say.

“Perfect little toy for my cock,” she said, slamming back into you.

You cried out as she hit that place inside of you that made you see heaven. Her name was nothing but a prayer on your lips.

“You were made for this, weren’t you?” she said, “God made you just for me to fuck.”

Her thrusts became rougher, harder, making you see stars. You were so close, feeling the wave about to crash into you. Your entire body was a live wire, every thrust making your head spin.

A loud banging on your door had Casey freezing.

“Ignore it. Whoever it is will go away,” you said, breathless and desperate.

She waited a moment for the knocking to stop before she slowly retracted from you before slowly pushing back in. Your whimper was pathetic, making her chuckle as she readjusted her hold on you.

The banging started on your door again.

Casey sighed, pulling full out of you. You growled, turning, the liquid heat in your veins calling out for more. The throbbing was unbearable. You’d been so close.

“Go handle that, sweetheart,” she said, running a hand through her hair, “then I’ll take care of you.”

You grumbled as you rose onto unsteady legs. Wrapping your robe around your naked body, you did your best to stride towards the door. Pulling it open, you were brought up short at the woman on the other side.

“Don’t tell me you were still in bed,” your aunt said.

“Okay. I won’t tell you,” you replied.

You glanced back over your shoulder, clutching your robe tighter around you.

“Are you going to invite me in?” she asked, her expectant look making you freeze.

“I wasn’t expecting you, Aunty Liz. I’m not exactly set up for company,” you replied.

“Or at least not company you have to be dressed for,” she said.

“What are you doing here?”

She pushed past you into your apartment. You were slow to close the door, hoping she’d leave, still feeling the slickness between your thighs begging you to go back to Casey and finish what you’d started. Her eyes slowly took in your place, lingering on the two cups of coffee on your counter.

“Am I finally going to meet your mystery woman?” she asked, turning to look at you.

“No,” you said, “did you need something or were just hoping to cock block me?”

“You’ve been dodging your mother’s calls. Call her back so she stops bugging me,” she said.

“Sorry. She just won’t shut up about redoing the living room and there’s only so long I can discuss the merits of eggshell vs seashell,” you said, running your fingers through your messy hair.

“Just call her,” she said, “I’d like not to repeat this experience.”

“That makes two of us,” you muttered.

The bedroom door was pulled open and your heart stopped in your chest. Both you and your aunt were slow to turn to the figure that had frozen in the doorway. Casey, wrapped in a sheet, cheeks still flushed and eyes wide, was staring back.

“Uh… it’s not what it looks like?” you tried when you got your voice back.

The look she gave you was withering. You shrunk under it, knowing the game was up. There was no talking your way out of this. Her jaw clenched and the tension in her body was enough to snap.

“I believe you gave me a promise,” she said, voice cold enough to give you hypothermia.

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice shrinking under her glare, “it just kind of… happened.”

“And when I asked you about it, you lied right to my face,” she said.

“What was I meant to do? You were so determined I should have nothing to do with her. An opinion I don’t understand and certainly don’t share,” you said, knowing you were sounding like the petulant teenager who had been dumped on her all those years ago.

“You don’t have to share my opinion but you gave me your word,” she said.

“Don’t blame her,” Casey said, finally stepping into the room properly, “I started this.”

“You also gave me your word,” she said, turning on her, eyes flashing dangerously.

“That’d ridiculous. You can have a say in my personal life but one of your ADAs? Seriously, Aunt Liz?” you demanded, “that’s gotta be some kind of abuse of power.”

“Don’t start,” she snapped.

“It’s fine,” Casey said to you.

“No. It’s totally an infringement on your rights. She can’t ask that of you,” you said.

“Sweetheart, she didn’t ask me as my boss,” she said.

“Fine, then I’ll be angry about it on my behalf. You can ask me but not other people,” you said, rounding on your aunt.

“Did you ever think that maybe I had good reason for telling you to stay away from her?” your aunt asked.

“So why did you?” you asked.

Her eyes flicked to Casey who was looking between the two of you like she was desperate to leave this situation. You shook your head, turning away from her.

“It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done and unfortunately for you we’re happy together. I think it’s time for you to leave,” you said, gesturing back towards the door, “I’ll talk to Mom.”

You didn’t bother looking at her as she left your apartment, the door loud in the silence left in her wake. Your stomach was unsettled, a toxic mix of anxiety and anger, and all you could do was stare at Casey. The color had drained from her face and there was nothing you could do.

“Kind of a mood killer, huh?” you said, hoping to break the tension.

“I should probably go,” she said before disappearing back into your bedroom.

“What? No.” You followed her, “you don’t have to. We don’t have to let her ruin our weekend.”

She didn’t look at you as she dragged her clothes back onto her body. A chill went over you, leaving you off balance and unsure. All you could do was watch as she put herself back together.

“I’ll call you,” she said, hand gently cupping your chin as she kissed your cheek.

The door slammed shut behind her and you fell back onto your mattress, the first tear falling. You’d known it was going to be awful when Liz found out, but you hadn’t thought Casey would be sent running. You’d stupidly assumed her feelings were strong enough to take the hit of your aunt’s disappointment.

She never called.

You kept to yourself for a few weeks, waiting, hoping she’d come back. Any time you called her it went to voicemail and she never called back. You stayed home, ordering takeout you didn’t want and left mostly uneaten. You curled up on the couch, stumbling through the days, wondering what you’d done wrong. Because you must have done something wrong for her to disappear from your life like that.

It took a lot of pride for you to drag your overwrought body over to your aunt’s. It was late enough you thought she’d be at home, but your knocks went unanswered. Sinking down onto her front steps, you lent against the ice cold metal of the handrail debating letting yourself freeze to it. It would be easier than continuing on in the hole you’d found yourself in.

“You make a sad sight.”

You blinked up at the woman towering over you. With a sigh, you hauled yourself to your feet, using the handrail to hold yourself up. Your aunt considered you for a moment before pushing past you to unlock her front door.

“You’d better come in,” she said, “can’t have you freezing to death out here.”

You trudged after her, letting yourself be enveloped in the familiar home you’d spent so many hours in. Her steady hand on your shoulder pushed you down onto her couch, disappearing out the back into where you knew the kitchen was.

A warm mug was placed in you hands, painful against your frozen fingers. You sighed, staring down into the steaming tea, the same brand she’d been stocking for you since you started sleeping over when life got too much for you.

“I sense I’m going to regret this, but do you want to talk?” she asked, lowering into the leather armchair that felt synonymous with her.

“Why didn’t you want me to pursue Casey?” you asked.

You’d been wrong. Your aunt always had a reason for asking things of you and she’d yet to be wrong. This was all your fault by not listening to her. So you had to know why she’d been so adamant this time.

“What’s happened?” she asked in return.

“I haven’t heard from her since you found out. She won’t take my calls. She won’t come see me. So I guess it’s over. I should have listened to you,” you said, staring down into your mug of tea. You took a slow sip. It was the same thing that had been going through your head for days now.

“Yes, you should have.” Your head snapped up to her.

“You knew this would happen?” you asked.

“I knew Casey Novak is a heartbreaker. She’s beautiful and smart and passionate. Makes her a damn good ADA. But the moment I saw the way she was looking at you I knew she was interested. And the way you looked at her said you were too,” she said, “you’ve never been able to lie to me.”

“So why did you tell me to stay away from her?” you asked.

“I think you forget I know you. She’s the exact kind of woman you’d destroy yourself for. I didn’t want to see you get your heart broken,” she said and you were surprised by how soft she could make her voice.

“So it wasn’t because you didn’t want me to distract your best prosecutor?” you asked.

“Distract her. Break her heart. I don’t care. It’s your heart I was trying to protect,” she replied.

“So much for that.” You slumped back, staring into your mug like it held all the answers, “I really fell for her.”

“I know you did,” she said.

“When you brought her up over lunch all those months ago…?” you asked, finally looking up at her again, realising what she’d said about lying.

“I knew you were lying to me. Foolishly, I thought it would lose its charm if I stop telling you what to do. I should have known better,” she said.

“I really thought she was falling for me too.”

And then the tears came. Your Aunt Liz had never been a cuddler, but the squeeze of her arm around you and her steady shoulder beneath your head was exactly what you needed. She let you cry until there were no more tears and then sent you upstairs to bed.

By the morning you felt a smidge better. Less pathetic at least. You stayed the weekend with her, reverting back to your teenage self, letting someone else look after you for once. And so you called out sick on Monday and followed her to work.

Her sharp look was all the opinion she was going to give you. After you’d told her your plan the night before she’d made her disapproval clear. But you needed to do it. For your own peace of mind.

Slipping into Casey’s office, you shut the door with a quiet click. Your heart squeezed as she looked up at you. The expression that went over her face would be enough to bring the tears on again if you hadn’t done your best to harden yourself to her. But there were dark circles under her eyes and it looked like she hadn’t slept since you’d last seen her.

“Hi,” you said, leaning back against her door.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“You never called.”

Green eyes darted away from you, the hands clasped on her desk tightening. You’d grown used to reading her body language and this was not a good sign.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but if you wanted to end things I wish you’d just told me,” you said, leaving the safety of the door, “I mean, I got the message but it would have been nice if you could have just said something.”

“I’m sorry,” she said on a sigh.

You stared up at the ceiling, doing your best to keep from exploding your emotions all over her office. You heard the scrape of her chair pushing back. You focused on the light hanging above.

“Hope is a thing with feathers/that perches in the soul/and sings the tune without the words/and never stops at all,” you whispered.

A broken breath passed through parted lips. You inhaled sharply, turning your gaze back to her. Her eyes were swimming with an emotion you couldn’t name, tears welling, threatening to fall. You shook your head, looking down to your fingers, twisting together until you thought they might break under the strain.

“I really thought you liked me,” you said, “enough to handle my aunt’s disapproval. But I guess I was the idiot who fell for someone who didn’t feel the same.”

She stayed silent.

“She finally told me why she didn’t want us to get together. She knew you were going to break my heart. Next time I think about ignoring her advice I’ll come back to this moment,” you said.

She was still staring at you in silence. You shook your head looking away, disappointment welling in you again.

“That’s all I wanted you to know. I’ll leave you alone now.”

You turned to go, your sigh heavy. You should have expected this. She couldn’t even handle having a conversation to end things with you. As if she was going to say anything when you tried to have one. Still, at least you got it off your chest. That was really all you wanted to do. Your hand landed on the doorknob.

“Wait!”

You froze, not used to hearing such desperation in her voice. The ache in your chest only got worse. You didn’t turn around, but you didn’t turn the doorknob either, hung between one decision and the next.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, and you could just imagine the tear spilling down her cheek. You squeezed your eyes shut.

“I wanted to call. I did. But…” You heard her take a deep breath in, “I’m not good when it becomes real.”

“What does that mean?” You turned, surprised at the spike of anger you felt making your heart beat double time.

“It means the last time I let myself fall in love in went badly. He… It’s not important, but I haven’t been able to let myself get that vulnerable again,” she said, looking at you like that explained everything.

“So this was nothing but a bit of fun for you?” you asked, “you never cared about me?”

“No!” Her hands grasped your forearm, the first touch of bare skin you’d had from her in weeks making your head spin, “no. Maybe that’s how it started but no.”

“Then make it make sense, Casey. If it mattered to you then why did you disappear? Why did you do this?” you demanded.

“Because I cared.”

She thrust her fingers into the front of her hair, gripping at the roots. She turned away from you, the anguish clear on her face. It was like a punch to the gut, sending you reeling. Your shoulders slumped, staring at her as she paced. The impulse to reach out and comfort her was still strong. You hated yourself for it.

“Look, I could ignore the way I was falling for you when it was just us. I could lie to myself and say it was just sex. That I didn’t want more. But then Donnelly was there and you were trying to protect me and I knew. I knew I was in love with you,” she said and you felt your heart break right there in her office.

“You were a coward,” you said, and it wasn’t nice but it was true.

“I was,” she agreed, “I didn’t want to hurt you but I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“You said you’d never let me go,” you said.

“A good line I thought would make you smile,” she said, shaking her head, “I didn’t expect you to actually want it.”

“Do you still love me?” you asked.

“What?” Her brow furrowed.

“After all this, do you still love me?” you asked.

“Does it matter?” she asked in return.

“Just answer the damn question.” You hadn’t expected to get angry but she jumped as you raised your voice.

“Yes,” she said, her voice breathless.

“Good.”

Your hands landed on her hips, forcing her back against her desk. Her lips parted and a flush bloomed over her cheeks. Pushing up onto your toes, your lips ghosted over hers.

“That I did always love/I bring thee proof,” you murmured.

You kissed her then and her whimper was music to your ears. Her arms came up around you, hands pressing between your shoulder blades, keeping you pressed against her. Your tongue swept into her mouth, needing this more than you’d realised. You’d thought this was the end. Instead, warmth was blooming in your chest and you felt giddy as you kissed her deeper. You couldn’t get close enough to her.

She drew back, breath heaving, eyes still closed. You ran your fingertips along her lower lip. She pressed a kiss to them before her eyes slowly blinked open.

“I know you’re scared, and I know you think you’re not good at this, but I’m not letting you go without a fight. I love you, ADA Casey Novak,” you said.

“Just Casey,” she whispered, voice breaking, a tear slipping free.

You wiped it away, then the next and the one after that.

“I don’t deserve you,” she said.

“No, you don’t,” you said, sliding your fingers into her hair, “but lucky for you I’m pigheaded and I’m used to getting what I want. Sound familiar?”

Her chuckle was wet but she pinched your side until you laughed too. She lent forward, forehead pressing to yours. Your hands slid around to interlock at the small of her back.

“So will you pick up when I call you tonight?” you asked.

“I’ll do you one better.” She cupped both your cheeks, tipping your face up towards her, “I’ll give you my spare key and you can be waiting for me when I get home.”

You kissed her again, not able to help yourself. Possibilities tasted so much better when they were coming true.

[zegrasdrysdale]

Hey! Could you write a John Marino x Reader fluff where he has a girlfriend that nobody knows about and he brings her to family skate and they being super cute and everyone has no idea who she is and he basically hard launches the relationship to everyone? Thank you!!

[ since when ] j. marino

pairing : John Marino x fem!reader

summary : John brings his girlfriend of several months to family skate before the Stadium Series game, surprising everyone

warning(s) : none ! just some tooth rotting fluff

author’s note : i am all over the place w requests so pls bear w me while i try to get them out for y'all. this is on the shorter end and prob not my best work but i hope you all like it <33

༺═──────────────═༻

"Are you sure?" she questions as John runs around like a crazy man to grab this things so they can leave. "I don't want to ruin family skate for you."

John stops and looks at her from the front door of the apartment. An equipment bag slung over his shoulder.

“I would love to have you there,” he replies. He drops the bag on the ground by the door and walks over to her where she stands in the hallway that leads to their room. “I love you and want you there.”

She’s still very hesitant despite his reassurance. “What if your teammates don’t like me?” she asks. “I’ve never met them. Or their wives and girlfriends.”

“They’ll love you,” he tells her. “I promise. I might throw them off by bringing you and showing you off but they’ll love you.”

Showing you off.

The one thing that John hasn’t been afraid of doing is showing her off. She’s been introduced to his non-hockey friends and his parents. All John did was brag about about beautiful and smart she was.

Today was the day she’s been excited for and dreading at the same time. She’s finally going to get introduced to his teammates. That group of guys are like John’s found family. She’s extremely nervous. There's a reason why he's waited, and she's completely understood why he's been waiting to introduce her to his teammates. They are the most important people in his life, and he wanted to make sure they were both ready for that.

“You’re sure they won’t mind if you bring me?” she asks as John pulls the beanie he had made for her. It has his number on it. “I don’t want to pull you away from your teammates.”

John smiles as soon as the beanie is secured. “I think they will be more in shock that I’m bringing my girlfriend that they didn’t know about to family skate,” he admits. “Some of them are definitely going to swarm and ask a lot of questions. They’ll be more of a pain in our asses.”

A small smile forms on her lips. “Okay,” she sighs. “I’m ready, I guess.”

“You look cute all bundled up,” John comments as he leans down and presses a kiss to her nose. “Just so you’re aware.”

Her cheeks get hot but she isn’t sure if that’s because of his compliment or because of how hot she is standing in the apartment in a puffer jacket and sweater underneath.

She opens the door so he can walk out of the apartment. John waddles down the hallway with his gear bag so they can get to the rink in time for the Devils to practice before family skate starts.

The closer they get to MetLife stadium, the more nervous she gets.

She's terrified to be introduced to a huge group of people that have no idea who she is. John hasn't told anyone about her. She's really a nobody dating an NHL player. All of the wives and girlfriends have things they do, and she feels like she does nothing even though she's attending graduate classes at NYU to get a master's in literature.

Sometimes she has no business having this kind of life.

John parks the car in the back with the rest of the players' and staffs' cars. He finds a spot that's somewhat close to the door.

An excited John looks over at her, and she's pretty sure she has a look of pure fear in her eyes with the way his face falls. "Baby, what's wrong?" he asks.

"I don't belong here," she blurts out. A weight has been lifted off her shoulders as she finally admits what's really been bothering her. "I don't ... I'm a nobody compared to everyone I'm about to meet. I'm a grad student. I don't have some cool job like everyone else does."

Her boyfriend turns in his seat and grabs her hand. "Listen to me," he tells her. "You are a smart, badass, sometimes smartass, woman that is studying for her master's." She tries to hide the smile that forms on her face at his comment. "You do belong here. You're going to be a New York Times bestseller one day and you're going to have the coolest job that anyone has ever seen. Right now though, you are the most beautiful person to walk into that building. You look good. You should feel good."

She pouts at John trying to hype her up. She swears she could cry. "I love you," she says to him after a minute. "Please don't ever leave my side though until I actually talk to someone."

John smiles at her. "Deal."

They get out of the car. She grabs her ID badge that lets her get into the building and anywhere she really wants to go tonight. John grabs her hand and they walk into MetLife together.

At first, no one notices her. John says hi to some of the staff that works with the Devils. His teammates are probably getting ready for practice.

She follows John as he turns down a hallway. There is music coming from one of the rooms and John peeks his head in. "Oh, good," he says. "No one has started getting ready yet. Families are still in the locker room." John turns his attention to his girlfriend. "You ready?"

With a heavy sigh, she nods. "Ready."

John smiles and pushes the door completely open with his shoulder. Every single head turns in their direction as soon as she's standing at his side again. Conversation dies down as the Devils realize what's happening.

"Dude," Brendan Smith says to break the silence. "Since when?"

"A few months," John admits. "Um, I'd like everyone to meet my girlfriend. Baby, this is everyone."

She gives them a little wave before she takes a small step closer to John before a couple of the wives and girlfriends whisk her away to get to know her.

When she looks back at John, several of his teammates have gathered around him to probably ask him so many questions.

She takes a liking to Erik's wife almost immediately, but also likes talking to Lazar and Toffoli's wives as well. They seem to be pros at this whole thing so she sticks with them until families can join the players on the ice. She watches practice with them and enjoys being able to see what goes on at a Devils practice that has John exhausted when he gets home.

John immediately finds her as soon as she hits the ice in her new skates that he got for her for Christmas. That was the day he asked her to come to family skate with him. She said yes, and right now, she's happy that she did.

Despite being very nervous, she feels like she's made some new friends.

He takes her hands and guides her on the ice. "Feeling any better?" he asks as they glide around, avoiding running into other people.

"A lot better," she admits. "How many questions were you asked when I was kidnapped by the wives and girlfriends?"

John laughs and laces their fingers together. "I never want to get asked again how long we've been dating," he tells her. "They all asked me probably twenty times how long we've been together and why it took me so long to introduce you to them. Jack said we 'hard launched' our relationship, whatever that means."

She smiles and wraps her arms around his torso. He looks so much taller on skates, even when she's on skates too. She still has to look up at him. "It basically means that we dropped our relationship on everyone without any hints," she explains. "You really didn't tell them that you had a girlfriend?"

"No, I did," he says. "Yesterday. Some of them didn't get that text." She laughs as John's back hits the glass. He lifts his hands and cups her face. His fingers are cold against the warm skin on her cheeks. "They all already love you. I might have hyped you up when you were taken away from me."

Her cheeks heat up even more, probably warming John's fingers at the same time. "You didn't," she sighs.

John smiles and sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. "I did," he replies. "It's because I love you and you deserved to be hyped up. You were so worried, but they're all excited about the book that you're writing and can't wait to read it."

"John Marino!" she gasps as she playfully hits his gear covered chest. "No one was supposed to know about that yet. I'm still drafting it."

"I'm proud of you, baby," John softly tells her as he leans down. "You should be proud of your work too."

She smiles and wraps her arms back around his torso. "I am."

He tilts her head up and captures her lips in the softest kiss she's ever experience. Both of them smile into the kiss that follows.

They don't get too into it though because somewhere behind them is a shouting Dawson Mercer. "Get it Johnny!" His teammates join in soon after.

John groans and pulls back from the kiss. "They can't ever mind their own business," he sighs.

"They're happy for you," she giggles. "It's cute that you have a whole team that's happy for you."

He smiles and looks down at her. "Thank you for coming, by the way," he says as he pulls her along behind the net.

"That's what she said."

"I cannot stand you."

"You love me."

"I do."

༺═──────────────═༻

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[edmunsonss]

Love Letters to Future Selves

Pairing: Eddie Munson x GN! Reader

Summary: Eddie finds a letter that he was never supposed to read.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: Swearing, kinda angsty??, it's also overly dramatic and not proofread because I just wrote this in class (sorry professor!).

A/N: I don't know what this is but I had the idea sitting in my lil idea dump, so yeah! I hope you like it :)

•:•.•:•.☾☼☽•:•.•:•.

Air hits your face as you stand there, alone, overlooking the city from your small apartment’s even smaller balcony. Ever since you arrived to New York, standing out on the balcony at night and looking at the lights that illuminate the buildings all around you is something that brought you comfort. Now it’s just a poignant reminder of the decisions that have brought you there.

You still remember the day the letter arrived in the mail. Eddie was there with you, sitting on your bed as you both tried to complete your English Lit assignment. It was one of the first times in your whole High School experience where you could genuinely say homework was enjoyable. Even Eddie seemed to be enjoying it, more involved in a project than you’d ever seen him be.

Your mom called your name, told you there was mail for you, which immediately made you look at Eddie.

“I think I’m going to be sick, Teddy.” You wished it was a joke, but you had genuinely felt your heart fall to your ass at her words. You had been waiting for that letter for months at that point.

“It’s going to be fine,” Eddie reassured, “There’s nothing to worry about, my little valedictorian.”

Eddie had never cared much about school, as demonstrated by the fact that by next fall, he would be a three-time senior at Hawkins High. He would have never imagined that he would end up becoming the biggest nerd in school’s best friend. Life was funny like that sometimes. Now there you were, about to escape Hawkins and go to college while Eddie stayed behind.

“Okay, okay.” You mumbled, anxiously playing with the ring on your finger, “I’ll just go get it before I throw up.”

You ran into the kitchen and basically yanked the letter out of your mother’s grasp. After mumbling out a quick apology, you went back into your room and shut the door behind you.

You stood there for a few seconds, back pressed against the door. It felt as if the purple envelope in your grasp was mocking you, like it knew the letter inside of it would change the course of your life.

“Well, open it!” Eddie laughed and secretly wiped the palm of his hand on his ripped jeans, just as nervous as you were.

“Shit, shit, shit.” You went and sat by his side once again.

“NYU.” He whispered. Your dream school ever since you were a little kid, the dream he had seen you chase for years.

You messily ripped the letter open, blinded by pure excitement. Everything went silent for a few minutes, you swore you even stopped hearing the Metallica record that had been playing.

Eddie read the letter with you, slightly craning his neck to look over your shoulder. The next thing he knew, you were screaming out of pure joy. He barely managed to catch the words admitted… Tisch School of the Arts before you threw the piece of paper into the air.

He treated you to a celebratory dinner that night. With the little money Eddie had, he took you to your favorite diner and let you ramble on and on for hours about everything you would do once you were in New York.

When the time came, Eddie was the one who helped you get settled into the apartment you would be sharing with two of your classmates. He helped you decorate your room and stayed the week before school started. You explored the city together and he made sure to take the subway to Tisch with you every morning until you had it perfectly memorized. You also took him to watch West Side Story and insisted on going to George’s for breakfast, just like your family did when they visited the city. It was probably the most magical week of your life.

Back then, you had been afraid of the distance pulling you apart from each other, but Eddie killed your fear with every call he made and letter he sent. You would even visit each other on holidays and it would almost feel as if nothing had ever changed.

You were still living inside that illusion until about an hour ago. You had just gotten back from class and figured it was a good idea to give Eddie a call before his show at the Hideout, craving to hear his voice. Neither of you had been able to talk over the phone that whole week and all you wanted was to hear how your best friend was doing.

You dialed his house number, which you had memorized as well as if it were your own. What you didn’t expect, was for someone else to pick up the phone on the other side.

“Munson residence,” Spoke a sweet voice. You frowned, what the fuck?

It definitely didn’t sound anything like Eddie’s voice, or Wayne’s. It did sound familiar, but you couldn’t put a face to the voice.

“Hello? Anyone there?” She said after a beat of silence had passed. That’s when it dawned on you. It was Emily Richards.

WHAT THE FUCK? Emily was a cheerleader, one of the nicest ones of the bunch, sure, but that still didn’t explain what she was doing at Eddie’s trailer. It surely wasn’t for one of his deals or she wouldn’t have picked up the phone.

“Uh… Ah… Hi,” You mumbled awkwardly as you anxiously toyed with the telephone cord. You told her your name, “I’m Eddie’s friend.”

“Oh! It’s so nice to finally meet you! Eddie always speaks wonders of you. I’m Emily, his girlfriend.”

You felt your jaw go slack at her words. They almost seemed to repeat themselves in slow motion inside your head… His girlfriend. Panic invaded your mind as jealousy crept into your heart and punctured it with a knife, but why?

It was perfectly fine for Eddie to have a girlfriend, right? Right? Millions of questions swarmed your mind, from thinking why he never told you about her, to wondering where this blinding jealousy came from if you were just friends.

“I think Eddie’s in the shower.” She said, abruptly putting a stop to your train of thoughts, “But I can tell him to call you back if you want.”

“Uh, that’s-that’s alright, I’ll just call him another time. Thank you though… It was nice meeting you.”

You hung up immediately after that. You’ve been out in the balcony ever since, sulking for God-knows-what reason. You fish around your pocket for the clove cigar you know you’ve got somewhere, but before you can even find it, your roommate, Tessa, walks into the apartment.

You turn to greet her, only to find she’s already looking at you with eyebrows raised. A sigh almost escapes past your lips at her expression. Tess hasn’t been your roommate for long, yet she seems to pick up on every time you’ve had a shitty day just by taking a look at you. In your opinion, it’s fucking insane… Slightly scary too.

“Don’t look at me like that! It’s not my fault you chose the balcony as your ‘I’m miserable’ spot.” Tess goes over to your tiny kitchen and you can see her shuffling around until she comes across the box of cookies that has become part of every deep conversation you have with her.

You spend most of the night sitting on the couch, talking about Eddie. Tessa is clearly unaware, but when you stir close to the topic of your jealousy she makes you question everything you thought you already knew about where you stood with Eddie. You still think about it as you lie in bed and stare blankly at the ceiling.

“I don’t understand him,” She had said, “Why would he cheat on you?”

“Cheating? Who said anything about cheating? You do know Eddie and I were never dating, right?” You reply. Tessa raises her eyebrows as she shoots you a questioning look.

“Friends with benefits then?”

“No,” You laugh. “We’re just… really close. I mean, we’ve basically known each other our whole lives. Eddie’s my best friend, nothing more, it’s how it’s always been.”

“Babe, I really don’t want to be pushy here but… does Eddie know he’s just your friend? He’s smitten! I swear he looks at you like the sun shines out of your ass.”

She then asked the question that kept you up the rest of the night, “If you feel nothing for him, why are you this upset over him getting a girlfriend? You can lie to me all you want, but you can’t lie to your own heart.”

You teased her for how cheesy her words sounded, but deep down, the question left you with more doubts than you’d like to admit.

You’re more than aware that there was a time where you did have feelings for Eddie, but a long time has passed since then. Back in your freshman year of High School, you had awkwardly tried to shoot your shot on at least three occasions, only to be turned down every single time.

It hurt at first, but you eventually got over it, because your friendship with Eddie was far more important than your romantic feelings. Yet, there seems to be where the lie is, isn’t it? To think you actually got over it. If that is the truth, then your discovery shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

So, as you lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, you come to the realization that your feelings for Eddie have never gone away. No, you are in love with him. Shit!

The thought startles you out of bed in an instant. A million thoughts buzz around inside your head and you cannot imagine a way in which they will quiet down on their own, so you do what you’re best at, you write.

You sit at your desk for a long time and write out a letter for Eddie. A letter you know he will never read because you find it unfair that you’ve decided to write something like this when it’s already too late. So you just use it to write all the feelings you’ve bottled up for years, then, you bury the letter somewhere inside your closet, never to be found again.

TWO YEARS LATER

Eddie

A smile illuminates Eddie’s face as he listens to the soft purrs of the cat perched on his lap. His fingers comb through her soft fur while his eyes are focused on the TV in front of him.

He’s been trying to keep himself busy until your classes end for the day. There are still a few boxes of stuff waiting to be unpacked, but Eddie wants to get your permission to do so first, knowing the only empty space left in the room is in the closet, which still has some of your stuff.

After Tessa moved out once she graduated and Eddie finished High School, he had moved to New York to help you keep the apartment you loved so much. The salary paid by the bakery wasn’t cutting it anymore and month by month you struggled to gather up enough money to pay rent.

Eddie had gotten himself a job at the bar downtown to help out. You’d insisted on him taking the biggest room and despite his refusal to do so, you had already moved most of your things into Tessa’s old room, claiming it was the least you could do for him after he left so much on pause back in Hawkins just to be with you.

After a while of watching TV, Eddie finally hears you open the door and turns to look at you as you walk in. The cat on his lap jumps down and walks over to you after stretching out her body nonchalantly. Eddie pouts and mumbles a barely audible “Hey… come back.”

Your shoulders sag as you pet her soft fur, then lazily drop your bag by the door and change your shoes. Eddie watches as you head straight for the coffee maker. A big yawm escapes your mouth and you rub your tired eye.

“Hi Teddy,” You turn your attention to him once the coffee starts brewing and offer him a smile, which he gladly returns. He can’t help but think of how adorable you look in your fluffy white sweater and the pair of bunny slipper that are keeping your feet warm. He’s no stranger to this sight, you’ve had more sleepovers than Eddie can count. Yet, the desire to wrap you in his arms and cuddle you is still present.

“I see you’ve met Storm.” You say, looking at the cat brushing her body against your leg.

Eddie straightens up ever so slightly and wiggles his legs like a little kid to stretch them out, “I didn’t know you guys had a cat.”

You laugh, “She’s the neighor’s, actually, but she likes sneaking in through the balcony sometimes. Don’t let her get too close to your hair though, she’ll chew on it.”

“Isn’t that like a sign of love or some shit? Pretty sure Henderson said that once…” You shrug and finally pour yourself a cup of warm coffee.

You cradle the cup on your hands as gently as if it were your most prized possession, “Wouldn’t know, Teddy. Anyway, I’ve got some homework to finish, but feel free to tell me if you need anything. We can go get dinner once I’m done too.”

Eddie hums—basically moans—in delight at the idea of food, already picturing the delicious pizza he’s going to be eating later, “Ugh, yes please. I can’t stop thinking about Joe’s pizza.”

“I told you it was better than Wade’s.”

“Woah! Nothing’s better than Wade’s.”

“Keep lying to yourself. It stopped being good like… years ago, it’s the nostalgia talking.” You argued and picked your backpack back up, making a beeline for your room.

“Hey, sweetheart, before you go. Is it okay if I move some of your stuff out the closet?”

You shrug once more, “Sure, knock yourself out, Eds.”

•:•.•:•.☾☼☽•:•.•:•.

Eddie has spent almost a whole hour organizing the closet and he’s sure it’s only a matter of minutes before he goes utterly insane. He’s never been the biggest fan of cleaning, especially not when the only thing in his mind is what he’ll eat when he’s done.

His dark eyes scan over the next box and he can’t help but let out a deep sigh at what he knows is inside. An “in need of sorting” label is messily written on the side of the cardboard box, which contains some of his records and some things Emily gave him during the months they were together.

It’s been over a year and a half since they broke up and he’s over it, but even then, he isn’t exactly thrilled of having to sort through those things. As much as he likes to deny it, Eddie still feels a slight pang of guilt in his chest when he thinks of her.

He decides to move the last box of your stuff out of the closet instead. It looks small, which makes Eddie assume it mustn't weigh too much, so he picks it up, not putting much care in supporting the box from the bottom.

He quickly realizes his mistake when he picks it up and it is as heavy as if it was filled up with stones. He huffs and watches helplessly as the bottom of the box gives out and all its contents end up scattered on the bedroom floor.

Eddie doesn’t give it much thought before he kneels down and folds de box closed again, securing it with some tape he sees lying around. He starts picking up your stuff and dropping it in the box. It’s mostly school papers, Eddie notices, the weight coming from a few pocket-sized books.

His fingers brush over a folded piece of paper. Eddie doesn’t mean to snoop, but he can’t help but notice that at the top of the pages Dear Eddie is scribbled in your handwriting.

He thinks it’s probably a letter you meant to start but didn’t finish, which wouldn’t be too unusual given how busy you are with school. That’s why it comes as a surprise when he unfolds the paper and sees it’s filled with your writing. The With love at the bottom an indication that you did finish writing it.

Eddie sees no harm in reading it, after all, it’s addressed to him, right? So he plops down on the floor and shimmies around until his back is resting against the bed.

Dear Eddie,

It has always amazed me to think of how much you’ve changed my life. I still remember the day I met you, do you remember it too? You walked into the classroom wearing a shirt that was a few sizes too big for you, fingers tightly holding on to Wayne’s hand. You were so reluctant to let go, but you eventually did and sat on the only empty seat left, which was right next to me. The rest is history.

Eddie smiles as he reads. He remembers that day too. You don’t mention it in your letter, but at the time, you had greeted him with a bright smile, which had reassured him everything would be okay despite everything.

*I hold the memories of every moment we’ve spent together close to my heart. They remind me of how lucky I am to have you in my life. Maybe I’m getting too emotional, but you’ve done so much for me all these years. Like that time I was upset because my parents were going to miss my first play, so you made Wayne, Gareth, Jeff and Grant go with you so I’d have people cheering me on in the audience. Or that other time when I was practically shitting my pants out of nerves a few days before my Tisch interview so you made us go on a road trip to Indianapolis to “*calm my nerves” as you’d said.

There are obviously thousands of other times where you’ve been my knight in shining armor, despite me saying I don’t want one. Truth is, I want one if it’s you behind the armor. Is that a cringy thing to say? Maybe. I don’t know.

I found out about Emily just a few hours ago. I keep wondering why you didn’t tell me about her when I went over to visit for Thanksgiving break. I’m glad you didn’t though, because you can read my expression annoyingly well and I’d be afraid of you finding any traces of dissapointment on it. Keep in mind I’m not disappointed in you for having a girlfriend, it’s great actually! You deserve nothing but happiness because you’re nothing short of an amazing human being, whether you believe it or not. I fear my state of dejection would have been my own fault ‘cause of something I didn’t say.

I feel the need to say it now because I’m stupid and I’m selfish. That’s why I don’t really plan on sending this letter out. I can’t be unfair and burst into your mailbox with my confession right after I’ve found out you have a girlfriend. I just wanted to write this out because I don’t know what else I could possibly do with all this love I feel for you. Which is actually funny if I think about it, because if it were about anything else, I would have already called you so you’d knock some sense into me, but I can’t exactly do that right now, huh? Not when it’s about this. Not when I don’t want you to know.

But yeah, Teddy, I love you. I love you so much more than a friend should. I always share my secrets with you, but I think I’ll keep this one to myself. I’m sure you know already though, I asked you out like three times in freshman year, I wasn’t exactly the most secretive about it back then, huh?

Eddie has to stop reading right then and there, both to collect himself and wonder what the hell it is you’re talking about. Eddie’s sure he’d remember you asking him about because the one thing he’s dreamed of for years is taking you out on a date. He’s always fantasized about how he’d drop you off at home and kiss you on the porch like they did in those boring romance movies you liked. It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried, in fact he had asked you out on several occasions during freshman year too! You rejected him every single time.

Now that he has time to think about it, he comes to the conclusion that all along you’ve just been morons. Two lovesick morons. He figures it’s time to fix it, but first he finishes reading your letter.

Whether you know… or don’t, I’m not sending this letter. Even if I were to, it isn’t cohesive enough, or whatever. My creative writing professor has made me become obsessed with writing everything perfectly, it’s fucking exhausting, not like it matters right now anyway.

I don’t really know what else to say other than: I fucking love you and I hope it’s the only secret I ever keep from you.

With love.

There’s a deep sense of longing in his heart, accompanied by nostalgia as he remembers growing up with you by his side. Eddie wasn’t stupid, he knew just how lucky he was to have you in his life, had never taken it for granted in fact.

In hindsight, a lot of things make sense now that he knows what you felt back them. Eddie can’t help but think of a particular Friday night, the week before Halloween.

Eddie had his eyes on the road, but otherwise, his attention was fully set on you. Hellfire’s yearly Halloween campaign had just finished and, per tradition, he was driving both of you to the trailer so you could have a scary movie marathon.

Ever since the campaign ended, you had been catching him up to what went down during the brief time window where you didn’t see each other that particular day. Much to his dismay, you were telling him about how Christian Adams—some guy from science class—asked you out on a date after first period.

“My first date! Can you believe it?” You shouted over the music playing loudly inside the van, “I’m kinda nervous, Teddy.”

He tapped his fingers on the steering while as he stole a quick glance in your direction, “Who was the date with, again?”

You groan, “Eds! Don’t start falling asleep on me, dude. It’s with Christian Adams, you know-”

“Ah! The idiot who told Harrigan two plus two was five?” A throaty laugh escaped past Eddie’s lips, you rolled your eyes.

“It was stupid, wasn’t it? I thought I’d seen it all when I heard you say Thor was a Greek God.”

“You absolutely cannot compare my honest mistake with that shit! I’m about to be a super senior and even I know basic math.” You guffawed at his comment and shook your head in pure amusement.

Eddie parked the van and you walked into the trailer, still laughing a bit. Wayne, who was sititng on the kitchen counter with a bright blue cup in hand, looked at you.

“Hey, old man,” Eddie greeted his uncle lovingly and gave him a side hug.

“Hi Wayne!” Your best friend gave your hand a gentle tug and gestured to his bedroom.

You playfully swatted his hand away and took a moment to open your backpack and grab the mug that was securely wrapped in layers of newspaper and paper towels. Both men watched with interest as you peeled each layer of paper away to reveal a beautiful mug decorated with a detailed drawing of a deer.

“I got this for you! From Colorado.”

Wayne gave you a small smile, which for someone like him was basically the equivalent of a toothy grin, “Look at that boy, should take notes from them.”

Eddie pouted jokingly at his uncle’s words and turned to look at you, “Where’s my souvenir?”

“It’s in my backpack, Teddy. Shut up.”

“Make me.” You furrowed your brows and turned to look at him, only to find him looking back at you with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“You suck.”

He pulled you towards his bedroom once again and this time you didn’t put up any resistance. Wayne watched it all unfold and sighed, “You kids are going to be the death of me.”

•:•.•:•.☾☼☽•:•.•:•.

You had been in Eddie’s room for almost an hour at that point. Wayne had already gone to work and Eddie was busy writing down something on his DnD notebook.

Your fingers plucked at the strings of his beloved guitar, which you had insisted on not hooking up to the amp.

“So… Why did you say you were nervous for that date?”

“Well, what if he wants to kiss me?!”

“You kiss him back if that’s what you want.”

“I’ve never even kissed anyone before, what if it’s gross? What if I suck?” By that time, you were pacing around the room, Sweetheart long forgotten in Eddie’s bed. This was a topic you had discussed with Eddie countless times, but it was never something that was the cause of actual concern, until that moment.

“I heard somewhere that pretty people are good kissers, so you must be amazing at it.” You stopped dead in your tracks at his words. You knew he was probably kidding, but that didn’t stop you from feeling your cheeks heat up at his compliment.

“Ha. You’re so funny.” You replied in a dry, sarcastic tone. A beat of silence passed before you spoke again, “We could always test that theory though.”

From his expression alone, you knew he couldn’t tell if you were serious—you were… Kinda. You thought that your crush on Eddie wasn’t much of a secret at that point. You’d asked him out when you were younger, but you had never been so direct about it.

There was a glint of mischief in his eyes as he stood up walked towards you. For the first time in years, you felt nervousness crawl into your heart. For as long as you could remember, Eddie had been your safe place, you always found solace in those warm brown eyes of his, yet at that moment, you couldn’t help but wonder if your stupid comment was about to ruin everything.

Eddie’s fingers grazed your face as he cupped your face. He was intimidatingly close by that point. You let your hands wander to the curls that sat right below his shoulders. That naughtiness in his eyes was long gone, replaced by a tender look.

He took that last step needed to close the distance between you. His lips brushed against yours in a timid peck that couldn’t have lasted longer than a few seconds.

The brief contact gave you enough confidence to kiss him one more time. You let him guide you and quickly realized just how correct it felt to have his lips on yours. There was nothing but pure joy in your heart as you enjoyed the feeling of having him close.

Much to your dismay, Eddie eventually pulled away. He said nothing for a few moments that seemed to stretch into eternity. Then, he let out a breathy laugh and spoke, “Well, theory confirmed. That was… wow… you’re totally ready for your date, yup.”

Back then, Eddie had noticed something in your expression shift after the comment he’d made, but you’d left almost immediately after, which left him no time to ask. When you saw him Monday morning, you acted as if nothing had happened and told him all about your date with Christian. He had been hurt, but now he understood how much of an idiot he was for that comment and how he had hurt you too.

In his own defense, Eddie was genuinely convinced that you had no other intention behind your comment. He actually thought you wanted to practice kissing for a date! WHAT A FUCKING IDIOT!

Eddie stands up, doubt planted in his heart like a poison, but he isn’t going to let that stop him, not again. He firmly holds the letter in his hand as he walks down the hallway to where your new room is. His hand trembles as he raises it up to knock.

He doesn’t even need to knock again before you open the door, a confused look on your face, “Since when do you knock?”

“Since, uh, now… I guess.”

You smile at him, “Well,that’s a mi—”

The words die down in your throat and your smile vanishes as you notice what he’s holding.

“Oh.” Is the only thing you manage to say before tears start welling up in your eyes.

Eddie can see your temptation to close the door on his face, but before you can do it, he musters up the courage to speak up, “I found it by accident while cleaning out the closet. Why didn’t you send it?”

Your lip trembles as you find a way to answer his question. “How could I? I had no right. I spent years hearing you talk about how you wished someone would give you a chance to show them you’re so much more than stupid town gossip. I wasn’t going to ruin your chances of that happening, not when you had someone so perfect by your side.”

“I always had—still have someone perfect by my side. You.” Eddie watches as you shake your head and tears start falling freely down your face.

“You can’t say that, Teddy. You can’t give me hope.”

Eddie doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around your body and pull you close, “I never told you why I broke things off with her, did I?”

You shake your head against his chest, “I broke up with her because I kept comparing her to you. I kept hoping to find at least half of what I have with you. I know it’s wrong, but you’ve changed my life. You know every little thing about me and you’ve never loved me any less for it. You care so much about me, about Wayne. It’s you, always been you and I wish I could have had the courage to say that I love you sooner.”

“You love me?”

He cups your face with the same gentleness as he did that one autumn night, “So much more than words can express.”

“Kiss me then.”

“As you wish,” He says with a lopsided smile and lets his lips meet yours.

Eddie feels a heavy weight lift from his chest at the feeling. The kiss is so tender yet full of so much passion, caused by those bottled up feelings you have shared all this time. The way you hold each other makes him feel like you’re both trying to say every feeling to that single kiss, and it’s truly magical.

When you pull away, Eddie is met by a sweet smile and your kind eyes, “I love you to.”

It’s a funny thing how everything has played out, or at least it is to Eddie. For two people who understand and share things with each other, you’ve sucked at sharing one of the most importat things of all. That you love each other. For this reason, Eddie can’t wait to make up for all the time he didn’t spend showing you how much he loved you.

[tortillamastersblog]

➶The Bet - Part 4 | Kate Bishop➴

Pairing: Kate Bishop x reader

Warnings: angst with happy ending

Summary: Being known as the quiet and reserved student, you mind your own business and stay out of people’s way.

Kate Bishop is the exact opposite. Outgoing, bubbly, and loud, she’s the definition of a popular girl, so it comes as a surprise when she asks you out on a random Thursday afternoon.

(A/N: I couldn’t find out what college Kate goes to, so I’ve decided to just put everyone in NYU. . .)

Previous Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

The fundraiser is as boring as I thought it would be, but at least it has an open bar which is where I’m sitting currently, waiting for the bartender to pour me another glass of wine.

Riley is talking to Professor Lopez close by, asking some questions about our newest assignment. There are other students, faculty members and sponsors are all around us, mingling and enjoying their evening.

I’m honestly not that bored, but the evening has gone on long enough for my liking, and I’m just waiting for Riley to wrap things up so we can go home.

“Y/N?” A hand on my shoulder makes me spin around and when my eyes land on Grace, of all people, I can’t help but gape at her.

“H-Hi, Grace.” Stunned, I don’t object when she pulls me into a quick hug before taking a seat on the bar stool next to mine. “What are you doing here? Last time I checked, you weren’t a student at NYU.”

She smiles shyly and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, you’re right, but my parents are alumni and they were invited to the fundraiser, so I came with them and—“ she looks at her hands in her lap—“Riley might have mentioned you’d be here tonight, too, and I wanted to see you, you know, since it’s been a while since we last spoke. I’m sorry if that’s too forward, I just, I like you and if you’re up for it maybe we could get to know each other a little better?”

Of course Riley told her I’d be here, and I bet Grace is the reason she invited me to come along in the first place.

Little shit.

I want to be mad because I told her not to play matchmaker, but the way Grace smiles nervously when she looks back up makes me drop all my defenses. It’s honestly very endearing that she was so eager to see me again and even though I’m not looking for a relationship, getting to know her won’t hurt anybody and it will help take my mind off of Kate.

So, I smile and signal for the bartender to come over. “Alright then, but I must warn you, I’m not looking for anything romantic at the moment, so this is strictly platonic, okay?”

Grace’s eyes widen and she nods eagerly. “Oh, yes, of course, that’s fine. I just want to get to know you a little better.”

My smile brightens. “Great then. What would you like to drink?”

Time with Grace goes by in a blur, and before we know it, it’s nearing midnight and the fundraiser is coming to an end.

We’re both a little tipsy, and I can honestly admit that the night took a turn for the better when Grace decided to sit with me. She’s funny and quick witted, and I see myself being friends with her in the future.

Riley already went home a while ago because she was feeling a little under the weather, and I just know I’m going to have to take care of her tomorrow, making her soups and bringing her cold medicine.

It’s fine though because she’s been there for me every day for the last couple of weeks, so the least I can do is deal with her runny nose and disgusting coughs.

“Do you guys want anything else to drink?” the bartender asks when he approaches Grace and me with a polite smile, interrupting our giggles. “Because if not, I’ll go ahead and start closing the bar.”

I glance at Grace. Her eyes are glassy and her face is slightly flushed because of the almost two bottles of wine we shared. “No, I think we’re done, right?”

She eyes our empty glasses before nodding. “Yes, thank you.”

The bartender smiles again and gets to work on cleaning the bar.

“So,” Grace says, turning her attention back to me. “Where were we. I know it’s getting late, but I kind of don’t want this night to end yet.”

A smile tugs at the corners of my lips, and I’m about to agree, but then someone bumps into me from behind, spilling their cold and sticky drink down my neck.

“Ah!” I squirm and spin around, my eyes widening when they land on who bumped into me.

Kate.

I didn’t think she’d be here, but her mom helped organize and fund tonight, so I’m not surprised.

“S-Sorry,” she slurs, slumping against the bar. She reeks of alcohol and her blue eyes dart around, unfocused, until they land on me. That’s when realization hits and she straightens up immediately, swaying on her feet. “Y/N. . .Shit! I-I’m so sorry!”

I would scowl and snap at her for spilling her drink all over me, but she seems to be really out of it, so I don’t. “It’s—uh— it’s okay,” I say awkwardly.

Grace hands me a napkin from the bar and I take it with a thankful smile, getting as much of the champagne off my neck.

“I’m really s-sorry,” Kate slurs again. She steps forward and reaches up as if to help me clean up, but then she trips over her own feet and bumps into me again.

“Woah, careful,” I warn, catching her just in time before she hits her head on the edge of the bar.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpers, holding onto my arm around her waist. “I’m so sorry.”

She sounds close to tears and I hate how it makes sympathy tug on my insides. She’s obviously not just talking about spilling her drink, and under any other circumstances I would’ve shut her down immediately. Not now though. She’s vulnerable and hurting, and even after everything she’s done, I just can’t bring myself to push her away.

“It’s okay, Kate. It’s fine.” I glance at Grace who’s watching us with an understanding look.

She’s not dumb. She knows something’s up and instead of getting jealous or asking questions she just sobers up and asks, “Do you want me to call a cab so you can take her home?”

I want to say no because Kate getting home safe is not my responsibility, but then again, if this was anyone else, I’d help them. Also, neither her friends nor her mom are around, so I agree. “Yes, please. That would be very kind,” I say lowly, adding, “I’m really sorry. This is not how I thought the night would end.”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” Grace smiles sympathetically and excuses herself to go make a call.

“She”—Kate hiccups and leans against me— “seems nice.”

“She is. Now come on, let’s get you home.” I get off the barstool and tighten my arm around her to make sure she doesn’t stumble again. She reeks of alcohol, but her perfume still makes my head spin, and the feeling of her hands on my arm makes my skin tingle.

I hate feeling like this. I wish I could just tell my body to stop reacting like this. She has this unexplainable grip on my heart even though we only went out like four times, and I don’t know how to stop it.

I should hate her, but I can’t. After seeing her in class yesterday, I’ve come to realize she’s hurting too. She’s no longer hanging out with Greer and Franny, she’s getting horrible grades lately and from what I’ve heard she’s no longer going to her fencing classes.

Now, I know most people wouldn’t bat an eye at that. They’d say she deserves it and move on, but that’s not how my parents raised me. Especially not my dad. He taught me that people make mistakes and even though some things are unforgivable, life is too short to spend your time holding a grudge. I know he’d also chastise me right now if I just walked away and left Kate alone, drunk and confused, so I push what she did to the back of my mind and focus on making sure she gets home safe.

“Where’s your mom?” I ask, taking my jacket from the back of the barstool.

Kate shifts slightly in my hold to look at me with her glassy blue eyes. “Left earlier,” she mumbles with furrowed eyebrows. “Why are you being so nice? Why are you helping me? You should— You should hate me.”

I sigh and put my jacket around her shoulders before guiding her to the exit of the venue. It’s cold outside and I don’t want to risk her getting sick in just a dress. “I don’t hate you, Kate.“

“But you should. It’s like you said, I’m selfish and cruel,” she says, trying to get away from me, but I pull her back by wrapping my arm around her waist again.

“That’s. . . not true,” I admit. I’ve come to realize that what I said to her before I stormed was a little too over the top. I was just so hurt and fired up by what I found out that that was the first thing that came to mind. “You’re neither of those things, and I’m sorry I made you believe that. You made a mistake, and you hurt me, really badly, but that doesn’t make you a bad person.”

Kate stops abruptly, making me stop as well, and looks at me with wide eyes. Her bottom lip is quivering and it looks like she’s about to break down in tears. “I don’t— I don’t know what to say, Y/N. I just know that if I could go back in time and undo what I did, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I—“

“Stop,” I interrupt softly when I see Grace approaching us with her phone and jacket in hand. “Let’s not talk about this right now. You’re drunk and I want you to be sober if we’re going to have this conversation.”

“You want to hear me out?” she asks, her eyebrows furrowing. There’s a spark of hope in her eyes, but it looks like she’s trying not to get too excited about it.

A week ago, I would have never even entertained the thought, but it’s all getting kind of old and I hate to see Kate so down in the dumps. After all, I still have some feelings for her, and even if we never get to be friends again (much less more than that), I want to clear the air between us.

“Yes, but not now,” I say just as Grace steps up to us. Kate blinks back a few tears and lets out a shaky breath, gripping my jacket around her shoulders.

“Cab’s waiting outside,” Grace informs us, smiling softly before addressing me. “I guess I’ll see you around then?“

I nod. “Of course. Tell Riley to give you my number so we can stay in contact.”

Grace smiles and even though it’s less bright than it was all night, it’s still genuine. “Alright. Good night.”

“Good night, Grace.” I smile as well, and squeeze her forearm when Kate and I move past her to go outside.

The cab Grace mentioned is idling right by the door, and after confirming the ride with the driver, I help Kate into the back seat.

She thanks me quietly and leans her head against the window, staying quiet the entire ride until we make it to her apartment building.

I pay the driver and get out, helping her out as well before taking her inside.

“Okay, here we go,” I say, letting her fall onto her bed. “Is it okay if I take your shoes off?”

Kate mumbles a ‘Yes’ into the pillow and I crouch down to take off her heels, placing them on the floor next to the bed before getting back up. Then I pull the comforter out from underneath her and drape it over her, making sure she’s covered properly.

“Do you need anything else?” I ask when she closes her eyes and lets out a deep breath.

“No,” she whispers. “Thank you for taking me home.”

I pat her leg over the covers and step back. “You’re welcome. Now get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

She hums and not even a second later, she’s fast asleep.

“Y/NNNN,” Riley whines which makes me smile and roll my eyes.

“I’m coming, you big baby.” I push open her door with my elbow and enter her room. The cup of tea and bowl of soup on the tray I’m carrying sway a little, but I manage not to spill anything as I carry it over to the bed and set it down on Riley’s lap.

Like I predicted, I’ve been roped into taking care of her because she’s sick, but I’m really not complaining.

I did give her a bit of a talking to earlier though because of the whole fundraiser-Garce-meddling thing, but that was short lived since she apologized profusely before breaking out in a fit of coughs.

“Thank you,” she says, picking up the tea and taking a careful sip with her eyes closed. “You’re a lifesaver.”

I sit down on the edge of the bed and smirk. “I know.”

Riley scoffs which makes her cough slightly before taking another sip of tea.

She doesn’t have a fever, but she’s sluggish as hell and coughs and sneezes every few minutes. She’s also a little pale, but that’s to be expected.

I’m honestly a little surprised I’m not sick because unlike her, I haven’t been talking care of myself properly lately. I went for runs when it was cold and raining, I barely ate, and my sleep schedule has been basically nonexistent.

If anyone should be sick, it should be me, but no. Riley caught it and I can’t help but think it’s some kind of karma because she meddled in my life even though I told her not to.

Speaking of meddling. . .

“So, how did it go with Grace?” she asks, hiding a sly smile behind her mug.

I raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

“What?” She tries to sound innocent, but her voice is unnaturally high. “I’m just asking.“

“Sure you are.” I deadpan and smack her thigh. “You set us up, you little shit.”

Riley shrugs and busies herself with the soup I made. “Well, did it work?”

“No. She’s nice and I want to be her friend, but that’s all we’ll ever be,” I explain, watching as Riley blows on a spoonful of soup.

“Hmm. Alright then. Did anything else happen after I left?” she asks and even though she sounds nonchalant, I know she knows something because otherwise she wouldn’t ask. I honestly don’t know why she always thinks she so slick with it.

I level her with a bored look. Not answering isn’t an option because she’ll just keep pestering me about it, so I just go ahead and tell her what happened with Kate.

“She spilled her drink on you?!” Riley shrieks once I’m done. “Do you think she did it on purpose so you’d talk to her?”

I shake my head and run my hand through my hair. “No. Definitely not. She was really out of it. I doubt she coulf have done it on purpose even if she tried.”

“Okay, but what does that mean now? You’re going to talk?” she asks, slurping some soup off her spoon.

“Mhmm.” I get back to my feet when I hear my phone ringing in the kitchen. “We’ll see what happens after.”

Riley nods in approval and says, “Good,” before shooing me out of her room.

I hurry into the kitchen and sigh inwardly when I see that it’s Kate who’s calling. I mean, I told her we’d talk today, but it’s barely noon and I wasn’t expecting her to call this early.

Let’s just get this over with.

I pick up my phone and answer the call. “Hey, Kate.”

“Alright, you wanted to talk, so. . . talk,” I say the moment Kate opens her front door.

When she called me half an hour ago, she thanked me once again for taking her home before timidly asking me to come over so we could talk.

Now, she looks taken aback by my directness and swallows nervously. She nods though and gestures for me to come in first.

There are dark bags under her eyes and she looks a little hungover, but I can tell she’s made an effort to look nice.

She’s not wearing anything fancy, but she smells freshly showered and has her hair in a high ponytail. The purple sweater she’s wearing fits her perfectly and her washed out jeans look comfy and stylish at the same time.

“Uh, do you want anything to drink? Maybe some coffee? Or tea?” she asks politely as I take off my shoes and jacket.

I can tell she’s scared of me just turning on the spot and leaving again, so I agree to a cup of tea and follow her into the kitchen. The tension between us is so thick, you can almost cut it with a knife since neither one of us is saying anything and I just want to get this over with as soon as possible.

“So, first,” Kate starts once we’re sat at her table, “I want to start this by saying I’m sorry again. What I did— I mean—What happened it-it was never my intention to hurt you, but I did, and for that I’m truly sorry.”

I stare at my steaming mug and run my finger along the handle. She’s obviously not done talking, so I stay quiet, listening to her take a shaky breath before continuing.

“The bet— It wasn’t my idea. . .“

I want to scowl and tell her that she still took part in it, but I promised myself I’d let her speak, so I stay quiet.

“Greer and Franny made it because, well”— I look up and see a faint blush creep into her cheeks—“I’ve had my eyes on you since orientation a year ago. You were kind to everyone, but so shy and reserved it bordered on unapproachable. I wanted to talk to you and get to know you, but I never knew how. I took several classes just because you were in them, but I still couldn’t get myself to talk to you unless we were in a group for a project together.”

My stomach flips involuntarily at the revelation that she took up some classes just for me. I had no idea she liked me all this time. She never said anything, but I guess I can’t fault her for assuming I don’t want to be approached since I know I’m reserved and introverted.

I leave campus as soon as class ends and never stick around for small talk whether it’s with a professor or some other students. Not because I don’t want to though, but because I get really awkward sometimes and that makes me anxious which is why I tend to avoid interacting with strangers.

“I constantly talked about you with Greer and Franny and they tried to get me to just approach you, but I was scared. That lead to relentless teasing for months on end until a couple of weeks ago. We’d just gotten out of class and Greed and Franny saw how I watched you make your way to the library. They teased me until I couldn’t take it anymore and I just snapped.”

I know where she’s going with this and I hate how the hurt she’s caused slowly makes way for sympathy and understanding.

“They teased and teased, until I snapped and told them to just drop it. . . They didn’t though and started betting on whether I would ever ask you out.” She takes a deep breath and clutches the mug between her hands until her knuckles turn white. “It made me so mad because this was you we were talking about. . . I just— I wanted to make them stop and prove them wrong—That I would ask you out eventually! But that just spurred them on further and before I knew it, I was roped into the bet.”

She dares to look up and the regret shining in her blue eyes makes me feel bad for her. It doesn’t change the fact that she did what she did, but it’s a start and I want her to keep talking.

“I know that I should’ve never agreed to it, but I did and I can’t go back now and change it, no matter how much I want to. I should have asked you out just for the sake of it, and not because of some bet, but I know that without it, I never would have had the courage to actually do it.”

I find myself smiling sadly. I understand where she’s coming from because I’m no stranger when it comes to troubles talking to people. Yes, it’s messed up that she asked me out the way she did, but now I know that even without the bet, she wanted to get to know me. As fucked up as it sounds, it gave her the courage to talk to me and I know that if it weren’t for the bet, we’d still be strangers right now and Kate would still be pining after me in silence.

“When you said yes,” she continues, her voice cracking, “I couldn’t believe it. Talking to you was so. . . easy. You were so sweet and it made me sick knowing that I could have just asked you out without the bet. I felt— I felt so incredibly guilty, I almost blew the whole thing off right then and there because you deserved so much better, but at that point I’d wanted to ask you out for so long, that I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you the truth.” She wipes away a tear and sniffles slightly. “After all, I did want to get to know you, and I though I could just forget about the bet and go out with you for real, but Greer and Franny just kept adding to it and I didn’t know how to stop it without telling you the truth.”

I let out a shuddering breath and place my hands flat on the table. “And then I found out,” I say.

“And then you found out.” Kate nods and sniffles again. “The look on your face that night— It broke my heart and I realized I’d made a huge mistake. I knew all along what I was doing was wrong, but when you found out, I just— I wished I’d never agreed to the bet. I wished I’d just left you alone. That way you would’ve never looked at me the way you did. You would’ve never been hurt. I— I never meant to hurt you. I swear I—“

“I know.” I wipe at my own tears and push my untouched tea to the center of the table. “I believe you, but I” — my voice cracks and I clear my throat—“I need some time to process all of this.”

Kate’s chin quivers, but she doesn’t cry. “I understand,” she whispers, standing up as well when I get to my feet.

I thought I was ready to talk, and I definitely appreciate the insight into why Kate acted the way she did, but it’s reopened some wounds and I need some time to process it.

I go to the door and put my shoes and jacket back on, feeling Kate watching my every move. Until I’m done though, I don’t look at her, but when I finally do, I can tell she’s trying her best not to break down crying.

“I’ll call you, okay?” I say quietly. I don’t want her to think I’m just turning my back on her again because I’m not. It’s like I said, I have a lot of thinking to do, and I can’t do it while she’s around.

“Okay,” she whispers and the way her voice wavers makes me want to pull her into a hug.

I don’t though, obviously, and open the door with a thin lipped smile. “Bye.”

Kate can’t bring herself to return the smile, so she simply raises a hand in goodbye with her head hung low. “Bye, Y/N.”

4 months later. . .

As soon as Kate exits the locker room and her eyes land on me, she drops her bag and runs to me.

“You won!” I exclaim when she jumps into my arms, her legs wrapping around my waist. Riley, Greer and Franny take a step back to give us some space while everyone else either watches us fondly or just passes by without a second glance.

“I did!” she giggles and beams before leaning down and pecking my lips a couple of times.

Smiling into the kisses, I tighten my grip on her legs. “I’m so proud of you,” I whisper against her lips.

Kate leans back a little and brushes her thumbs over my cheeks. A bashful smile is pulling at her lips and she leans down to kiss me once more. “Thank you.”

She just won the national fencing championship and I couldn’t be prouder.

After our talk four months ago, we slowly started to reconnect. It started with her bringing me coffee and handing me paper roses with little notes attached to them until I eventually couldn’t take it anymore and just asked her out.

She still apologizes for what happened sometimes, but I’ve moved on and I keep reassuring her that I’m no longer hung up on it.

It took a little longer for Riley to forgive her too because she’s very protective over me, but she eventually came around too and the two of them get along great now.

Kate also made up with Greer and Franny since she cut them off out of guilt after I found out about the bet, and they even, for good measure also apologize to me for what happened.

Grace has also become a good friend of mine and we hang out from time to time. She admitted recently that she used to be interested in dating me, but then quickly dropped it when she realized I’d never fully be hers after she saw the way I looked at Kate at the fundraiser. I didn’t know I looked at Kate a certain way that night, but apparently I did which just goes to show I was smitten with her all along even though she made a mistake and hurt me.

Kate kisses me one more time before unwrapping her legs from around my waist and sliding down my body until she’s standing on her own two feet. She’s grinning like a kid in a candy store and when she grabs my hand and intertwines our fingers I feel the same giddiness wash over me.

“Great, now that you’re done sucking faces, how about we go out and celebrate?” Riley asks, returning to our side with Kate’s bag in her hand.

My cheeks turn red at her choice of words, but Kate owns it and stands up straighter, taking the bag from Riley with a thankful nod. “Absolutely. What did you have in mind?”

Greer and Franny also join us with smiles. “Pizza?” They say in unison and everyone agrees.

Kate’s medal glints in the sun outside of the venue on our way to the car and I can’t help but press a kiss to her temple as we walk to my car.

I’m so proud of her and no matter what happens in the future, I know nothing as trivial as a stupid bet will ever come between us again.

“You okay?” she asks with a slightly confused smile, her eyes sparkling with adoration as she looks at me.

I squeeze her hand in mine and nod, feeling my heart flutter at the way she looks at me. “Never been better, Darling.”

_______________________________________________

Phew! The last part is finally done. I’m so sorry for the long wait. For some reason it was incredibly difficult to write this last part. I also didn’t want to post just anything after the story got so much love.

I hope you guys are happy with how things turned out.

Love you all!

- Soph

(Not proofread yet)

Tag list: @vyvvycg

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 60

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,660ish

Summary: Life continues to move along, as does Logan's feelings.

Notes: Things are moving along! Please share reactions! 

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

“So, where are you thinking of applying?” You asked Laura as the two of you got ready to bed.

“Columbia and NYU,” Laura admitted, though you could hear her hesitation.

“Those aren’t far.”

“Well, I’m not willing to go far.”

“Laura—“

“No, mom. I want to go to college so I will, but I will not be going too far from you.”

Your heart swelled with pride. Yes, you hated that you felt like you were holding Laura back, but you were so proud of the woman she was becoming.

“I’m also thinking of getting a job,” Laura continued. “I don’t want all of my tuition to be on you.”

“I don’t mind, kiddo,” you told her. “You’re my daughter and I’m here to help. If you want me to be able to let you help me, you have to do the same.”

“Okay.”

You pulled her in for a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, mom… I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”

You kissed her temple as you pulled away. “Wanna have a slumber party tonight? Whip out a movie?”

“I’d love to. I’ll get the popcorn started.”

“And I’ll get the bed together.”

~~~

Logan had never been this nervous before, but for some reason he kept checking to make sure he looked presentable as he headed for your work. It was Logan’s turn to walk you home and he hadn’t gotten a chance to since he had started feeling different or enhanced emotions towards you. He didn’t know what these feelings meant or how to even handle them. He’d never felt emotions like these before, even with his original you.

With his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, Logan made his way down the street with a long stride. He wanted to get to the bar before it closed to help you clean up. You had been taking better care of yourself as well as letting others help you, no matter how hard it was for you. But Logan could still see the pain shining behind your eyes and he would do what he could to help.

When he entered the bar, Logan’s eyes immediately found you standing behind the counter. Though you were worn out from a long night of work, Logan felt like his breath was taken away at the sight of you. That had been happening more and more lately, how he found you gorgeous in every situation. Logan finally got his feet moving again, heading straight for you.

“Hey, doll,” he greeted, slipping into a stool in front of you.

“Logan,” you smiled at him. “You’re early.”

“Wanted to give you a hand in closing.”

You shook your head. “You don’t need to. I can do it.”

“I know. But I wanted to.”

Your chest tightened at the idea that Logan just wanted to help you. It wasn’t something new. He had done that basically since the day you met, but you would never get used to it. Especially after the years you had spent talking care of everyone else. Not that you minded taking care of others, it was just different to remember how to let others help you.

“What can I help you with?” He asked.

“Uh, I guess, uh, can you grab a rag and wipe down the empty tables?”

“Of course.”

“They’re back here and there’s cleaner with them.”

“Okay.” 

Logan slipped off the stool and quickly got to work. You finished up helping the last few customers, closing out their tabs, and then locking the door and turning off the open sign. 

“Do the chairs and stools need to be stacked?” Logan asked, wiping them down as well as he moved from table to table.

“Yeah, on the tables and bar,” you replied.

Logan nodded and began putting the stools and chairs up. You focused on closing out the register and doing the dishes while Logan finished wiping everything down, sweeping, and mopping. Your closing duties were done in half the time, which you were grateful for.

“Thank you for helping me,” you told Logan as the two of you headed back to the apartments.

“Anytime, doll,” he answered.

You bit your bottom lip at the term of endearment and focused your attention on the path ahead. “How was work today?”

“Fine,” he shrugged.

“Yeah? Make any friends yet?”

“Don’t need to. Just workin’ on cars.”

“We’ve had this discussion, Logan. Friends are good for you.”

“I have friends, just not at work.”

“Who?”

“Wade.”

You laughed. “I can’t believe that you’re admitting that.”

“Better not find out that you told him.”

“Yeah?” You looked over at him with a hint of mischief. “And what would happen if I told him?”

“I don’t think you want to know, darlin’.”

You hummed. “Well, maybe I’ll just have to tell Wade and see what happens.”

“Try it.”

“Okay.” 

Suddenly, you were running down the street. It took a second for Logan’s mind to catch up with what you were doing. 

“Hey! Wait!” He shouted after you. “Y/N!”

You laughed. “Gotta catch me before I tell Deadpool that Wolverine thinks they’re friends!”

Logan was able to catch up with you quickly, hooking his arms around you and pulling you back into him. Both of you were laughing in front of the apartment building as Logan held you close to him.

“Got you,” he chuckled, his lips brushing against your ear.

The close proximity had you catching your breath. Your laughter slowly faded as you tried to recall the last time you laughed and felt relaxed the way you just did. It had been far too long.

“You alright?” Logan noticed the shift and reluctantly let you go.

“Nothing,” you shook your head, unwilling to meet his gaze. “I’m fine.”

His brows pinched together as his concern grew. “I don’t believe it, darlin’. Talk to me.”

You sighed, keeping your eyes down. “It’s just… thank you.”

Those were not the words that Logan was expecting to hear. “For what?”

“For taking care of me and Laura. For making me smile and laugh. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this relaxed… like I’m not surviving, but… living. You’ve been a big part in that. And I just need to thank you.”

Logan thought he could melt right there. Everything he had ever done for you was always worth it, but now he felt like it was worth it times a million now. He was actually helping, making a positive difference, and it was for you.

“You’re, uh, welcome,” he mumbled, nervously. “But it’s all really no big deal.”

“It is to me,” you responded.

The two of you stood there, a thick awkward silence falling between you. Neither of you knew what to do or say next. Logan suddenly broke the tension by clearing his throat and scratching the back of his neck.

“We should, uh, get home,” Logan said.

“Yeah,” you nodded. You took a step forward and winced.

Logan was quickly at your side, a hand to the small of your back. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. Are you hurt?”

“I guess that I shouldn’t have ran like I did. Haven’t done that in a while.”

“So you’re in pain?”

“It’s not bad, Logan. I can— ah!” Logan swept you up into his arms and headed into the apartment complex. “I can walk.”

“Not until we get some medicine in you, darlin’.”

You sighed, allowing yourself to relax against him. It wasn’t worth arguing with him. Logan carried you to your apartment.

“I need you to put me down now, Logan,” you said. “I need to unlock the door and I don’t want to worry Laura.”

“Fine,” he huffed.

Logan set you down but kept a hand on your back. He leaned over and pushed the door open as soon as you unlocked it. Laura was working on the laptop at the kitchen table when the to of you walked in. She had taken to staying up, waiting for you, too. 

“Hey, mom,” she greeted. “Logan. Thanks for getting her home safely.”

“No problem, kid,” he responded with a nod.

“I’m not a child, you know,” you commented, rolling your eyes. “But I am tired.” You turned and set your hand on Logan’s arm, rubbing your thumb against his jacket. “Thanks again, Lo.” You turned and walked to Laura, kissing her head. “Goodnight, kiddo.”

The two watched as you disappeared down the hall and into your bedroom. 

“Do you need anything, kid, before I head out?” Logan wondered.

“I heard the two of you,” she stated quietly.

“What?”

“The window was open. I heard the two of you laughing.” Logan nodded, opting to remain silent to let Laura continue. “Thank you. I don’t think I’ve heard her laugh before like that… But… be careful. Don’t hurt her.”

“I’d never do that.”

“That’s what my father said, yet he still did.”

“What do you mean?”

Laura sighed. “Please don’t tell her I said anything… He left her and took Charles when he had his first seizure… Mom told me that he promised that she’d never be homeless like she was before everything. She ended up homeless and alone until she found him again… All I’m asking is for you to not make promises that you can’t keep. Don’t make promises and then walk away. She won’t be able to survive it again.”

Logan was taken by surprise. He clearly didn’t know your whole story, which was fine, but he had put your husband—the other him—on this pedestal. Though it was clear that he had even let you down at one point or another. He wasn’t going to let himself to the same thing.

~~~

“Alright! I’ve got the popcorn!” Wade exclaimed as he plopped down in the chair beside the couch. 

You were already sitting down, curled up with a blanket with Laura on one side of you. Logan walked into the room and noticed that there was an empty spot on the other side of you. He wanted to sit by you but he didn’t know if he should.

“Peanut!” Wade shouted as he reached over and patted the open seat next to you. “Saved you a spot.”

Logan’s eyes flickered your way to see you already looking at him with a soft smile. Tension eased from his shoulders as he walked over and sat beside you. He squished himself into the arm, trying not to overcrowd you.

“I’ve chosen the best movie for tonight!” Wade continued. “It’s a love story. There’s a bit of time travel. And a handsome hunk of a man.”

“What’s the movie?” You giggled at Wade.

“Kate and Leopold.”

“Never heard of it.”

“It’s probably trash,” Laura commented. “Wade never picks good movies.”

Wade gasped dramatically, hand falling over his heart. “You wound me, Little Wolf! I only choose masterpieces! And you will see that this is no exception.” 

Wade quickly clicked the movie on and flipped the lights off. You glanced over at Logan, noticing that he seemed to be awkwardly pushing himself into the corner. You leaned over.

“I don’t bite,” you whispered.

“What?” Logan’s head snapped to look at you.

“You’re sitting so far away. Relax. I’m not scared of a little touch. Here.” You tugged at his arm and he moved closer to you. Then you untucked the large blanket that was laying on top of you and Laura and laid it on Logan’s lap. “There. All better.”

“Thanks,” Logan muttered.

The four of you fell silent as your focuses fell to the movie. You were enjoying the movie, but you couldn’t help but think that the actor playing Leopold—Hugh Jackman—was cute.

“Hey!” Wade suddenly interrupted. “Don’t you think that that Hugh Jackman guy looks like our Peanut here?”

“Oh my gosh,” you mumbled, eyes widening.

“What?” Logan questioned, confused. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Yeah, okay, he has less hair in this and is definitely skinnier, but the two of you could be twins!” Wade continued.

“I’m sorry, Lo,” you said, placing a hand on his arm. “I’m afraid Wade is right.”

“See!”

“Whatever,” Logan scoffed. “Just watch the movie.”

The movie continued with Wade’s comments here and there. Your eyes began to grow tired and your bead began to bob. Logan noticed. His arm slipped onto the back of the couch as he leaned close to your ear.

“It’s okay, darlin’,” he whispered. “Just relax and fall asleep.”

“I’m not tired,” you mumbled, words slurring.

Logan couldn’t help but chuckle quietly. “Bullshit. Just lean back and fall asleep.”

After a moment, you nodded and allowed yourself to lean against Logan. It didn’t take long before you were sound asleep against him. Logan kept his arm along the back of the couch until your body began slipping and he quickly wrapped his arm around you to keep you still. You needed your sleep, Logan knew that, and he wasn’t going to allow anything to get in your way.

You slept through the rest of the movie, snuggled into Logan’s side. When the movie ended, Laura got up and moved to stand in front of you.

“I can take her,” Laura offered quietly.

“I got it,” Logan responded. He carefully maneuvered you into his arms and stood up. Laura led the way as Logan carried you to bed. He tucked you in and pressed a light kiss to your forehead. “Sleep well, doll.” 

Logan walked out, wishing Laura goodnight, and headed for the roof. He lit a cigar and let it sit between his lips. It was beginning to dawn on him that the emotions he was feeling and the thoughts he was having meant that his feelings for you were growing more romantically. Logan didn’t want to push you into something, especially as it was clear that you were still dealing with the love and loss of your husband. Your wedding ring never left your finger and the dog tags rarely left your neck. He also hated the idea of losing your friendship. The two of you were finding something new in your friendship and Logan was enjoying it. 

Despite whatever may come of Logan’s emotions, he knew one thing for sure. Logan wasn’t going to walk away from what he found here with you, Laura, and Wade.

~~~

Logan was tired as he trudged into the apartment after work the next day. When he opened the apartment, Logan found Wade preparing his weapons as he stood in the center of the room with his Deadpool suit on.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Logan asked.

“I have a possible lead on something that could help our Little Flame,” Wade stated, focusing on his task to prepare his weapons.

“What? And you were just gonna leave?”

“Awe, so glad to know that you’d miss me, Peanut. But I did leave a wonderful note on your pillow with a few pictures of me just in case.”

“Wilson. What did you find?”

“Nope, my lips are sealed.” He pretended to zip up his lips and throw away the key. 

“Well then just wait and I’ll go with you.”

“No can do, Peanut. You need to stay with Little Wolf and Buttercup. They need to be watched over in my absence and you, though you are not that qualified, are the only one I trust.”

“Fine. Can you at least tell me what you’re chasing after?”

“You can’t get their hopes up. But I’ve been doing some digging and I’m going back to the TVA. There are more Y/N’s out there and at least one of them has to have dealt with a similar issue. I’m gong to do my research and see what can be done.”

“Wow… that plan’s not terrible.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, Peanut.”

“Keep me in the loop.”

“I will try. And don’t let our Mama and Daughter Duo get into too much trouble. I won’t be long.”

“Good luck, Wade.”

next chapter >

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 26

Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: smut sorta brief

A/N: ONE MOREEEEEEEEEE

----

It was late afternoon, and you had been nursing a cup of coffee, scrolling through potential second hand furniture finds on Facebook Marketplace. Sliding your finger across the screen, you answered with a warm, “Hey, Wilson. How’s my best friend doing?”

Sam’s chuckle filled the line. “Don’t let Bucky hear you say that, I’m doing good, though. How about you? What’s been going on?”

“Everything’s good here,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “Boston is becoming more real by the day. I can’t believe I can say I’m a homeowner, we just had the inspection guy out and everything is perfect.”

“You’re really doing it,” Sam said, his voice tinged with excitement. “I’m still in shock that you’re finally moving out of the city.”

“It feels right,” you admitted. “Bucky and I have been talking about this since we started at NYU, way too busy and hectic. Never thought we’d do it together, and honestly? I’m ready for something new. A fresh start.”

“Speaking of fresh starts,” Sam said, his tone turning playful, “when are you going to drop the bomb on the rest?”

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “I’m telling Wanda and Nat during girls’ night in a couple of days. Steve’s a little more complicated. Bucky’s going to help him move into his new apartment upstate, and that’s when he’s going to tell him.”

“Wow, real division of labor there,” Sam teased. “You get wine and face masks, and Bucky gets a moving truck.”

“Hey, it’s strategic,” you countered with a laugh. “And I have to confess something else.”

“Oh, I love secrets,” Sam said, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “Lay it on me.”

“I don’t think I’m going to work in editing anymore,” you said, feeling your stomach flip at saying it out loud. “I’m thinking of writing my own book.”

The line was silent for a moment before Sam practically yelled, “Shut up! Are you serious? About time! You’ve been hiding that talent of yours for too long.”

“Thanks, Sammy,” you said, your cheeks flushing even though he couldn’t see you. “It’s just an idea right now. But Boston feels like the perfect place to start.”

“It’s more than an idea if you’re telling me about it,” Sam said knowingly. “I’m so proud of you. Seriously.”

“Thanks,” you said softly, your chest warming at his sincerity.

“So, how’s everything else?” Sam asked, his tone casual. “Things with Barnes are still good?”

“They’re amazing,” you said, the smile evident in your voice. “Better than I ever thought they could be. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Sam said. “I’ve also heard from a little birdie that Steve and Nat have been spending more time together. Any truth to that?”

“There definitely is,” you confirmed, grinning. “They’ve been hanging out a lot. It’s nice to see them finally figuring it out.”

Sam let out a satisfied hum. “Good. I was rooting for those two. Look, let me know the date for the housewarming party once you’re settled in Boston. I’ll be there with bells on.”

“You better be,” you said, laughing. “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Sam’s voice softened slightly. “It’s good to hear you so happy. You deserve this.”

“Thanks, Sammy,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “You’ve always been my biggest cheerleader, you know that?”

“Don’t make me cry,” Sam joked. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

---

The apartment was a maze of half-packed boxes, bubble wrap, and the faint scent of pizza from the night before. You were crouched over a pile of books, trying to fit them into an already-too-full box when Bucky walked in, holding two mugs of coffee. His hair was tousled from running his hands through it, a few strands falling lazily over his forehead, and the plain white t-shirt stretched over his chest just right. He looked effortlessly gorgeous.

“Coffee delivery,” he announced, his voice warm and teasing as he set one of the mugs on the table near you.

“You’re a lifesaver,” you said, reaching for it, your fingers brushing his briefly. A spark, familiar yet thrilling, ran through you. “We’re never going to get this done in time.”

“Not with that attitude,” Bucky teased, leaning against the wall, his muscles shifting under the thin fabric as he sipped his coffee. “Besides, we’ve got time. You’re just stressing out for no reason.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Maybe, but I like being ahead of schedule.”

Bucky stepped closer, crouching beside you, his scent—coffee, a hint of cologne, and something undeniably him—enveloping you. He peered into the box with mock seriousness. “You sure you’re not just stalling because you don’t want to leave this apartment?”

You shrugged, the weight of his presence making your heartbeat quicken. “Maybe a little. There are a lot of good memories here.”

Bucky’s grin softened, his fingers brushing a stray hair from your face before leaning in to kiss your temple. The kiss was brief but lingered, its warmth spreading through you like sunlight breaking through clouds. “We’re going to make even better ones in Boston. Just wait.”

The tenderness of his touch, the promise in his voice, it was too much. You turned your head, capturing his lips with yours, your kiss soft at first, then deepening. Bucky's hands framed your face, his touch grounding yet electric. You let the coffee mug slip from your grip, forgotten as your fingers found the soft cotton of his shirt, bunching it as you pulled him closer.

The world around you blurred, the half-packed boxes and looming deadline fading into irrelevance. Bucky shifted, the heat of his body pressed against yours as his lips moved with practiced ease, drawing you deeper into the moment. A subtle tug of your bottom lip made your breath hitch, and you couldn’t help the quiet sound that escaped you—a sound that seemed to ignite something in him.

Without breaking the kiss, Bucky guided you backward, his movements careful yet unrelenting. You both tumbled over a pile of empty boxes, landing in a tangled heap on the floor. A surprised laugh bubbled out of you, your back against the hardwood as Bucky hovered over you, his weight deliciously pressing you down.

“Guess that’s one way to take a break,” you said, breathless, brushing a piece of hair from your face.

Bucky’s grin was devilish as he propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at you. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

You raised an eyebrow, still catching your breath. “That we need to be more careful with the boxes?”

He shook his head, his voice dropping an octave, sending a shiver down your spine. “It means we have to make a new memory here before we leave.”

“Bucky,” you protested weakly, even as your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.

“Don’t fight it, doll,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jawline, then lower, to the sensitive curve of your neck. “Let me take care of you.”

The protest died on your lips as his hands skimmed down your sides, his touch reverent yet possessive. His lips found that spot just below your ear, the one that made you gasp, your back arching against him. His hands slipped under the hem of your shirt, the calloused pads of his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he said, his voice a low growl that sent heat pooling low in your belly. He paused, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath warm and tantalizing. “Say the word, and I’ll stop.”

You bit your lip, your pulse pounding in your ears. Instead of answering, you slid your hands up his chest, over the hard planes of muscle, and pulled him down to you, your lips crashing together with a need that made your head spin.

“Thought so,” he muttered against your mouth, his tone smug but affectionate.

Bucky’s hands slide beneath your shirt, his touch deliberate yet achingly gentle, like he’s savoring every inch of contact. His fingers skim along the curve of your waist, warm and rough against your softer skin, as he slowly pushes the fabric up and over your head. His eyes flicker to yours as he tosses it aside, the air between you charged with unspoken words. When his gaze finally drops, it’s not just hunger you see—it’s reverence, like you’re something sacred.

You feel your chest rise and fall, your breathing uneven beneath the weight of his stare. A blush blooms across your skin, and you wonder if he notices how the anticipation makes you tremble.

“You’re stunning,” he murmurs, his voice low and hoarse. It’s the kind of tone that makes you believe every word, even as your instinct is to look away, overwhelmed by the intensity of his attention. But you don’t, because you can see how much this moment means to him too.

He leans down, his lips brushing against the swell of your breasts, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. He presses open-mouthed kisses there, his pace unhurried, and you feel the faint scrape of his stubble—a delicious contrast to the softness of his lips. His hands follow the curves of your body, his touch familiar yet thrilling, like he’s rediscovering you all over again.

Your body responds instinctively, arching into him, and your fingers tangle in his hair. You tug lightly, guiding his mouth lower, and he follows without hesitation, his lips and tongue teasing the sensitive peaks of your chest. The heat of his mouth against you sends a sharp jolt of pleasure through your body, and you can’t help the quiet gasp that escapes you.

“Bucky,” you whisper, the sound somewhere between a plea and a prayer.

His name falls from your lips just as your hips shift against him, unbidden, desperate for more. The hard length of him presses against your thigh, a tangible reminder of his own desire, and the realization sends a flush of heat coursing through you.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to sit up and tug his shirt over his head. The motion is fluid, practiced, but there’s something almost shy about the way he pauses, letting you take him in. Your eyes roam over him “Beautiful,” you murmur, your voice soft but full of meaning.

The corner of his mouth twitches, but he doesn’t reply. Instead, his hand brushes over yours, steadying you as you reach for the button of his jeans. Your fingers fumble slightly, and you both laugh quietly, the moment laced with affection despite the heat simmering between you. When you finally slide the zipper down and free him from the denim, his breath hitches, and you feel a surge of confidence.

You wrap your hand around him, your touch slow and deliberate, and his response is immediate—a low groan that vibrates through you as his hips buck involuntarily. His lips find yours again, the kiss messy, hungry, as though he can’t get close enough.

Without warning, he pulls you back down to the floor, his body covering yours, his weight grounding you as his hands resume their exploration. Every touch, every caress is a silent declaration, a promise etched into your skin. His fingers slide lower, finding the heat between your thighs, and when he slips inside, your gasp turns into a broken moan.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, his voice a soft command. You do, your eyes meeting his as he watches you fall apart under his touch. The intimacy of it, the vulnerability, is almost too much, but you don’t look away.

“Please,” you breathe, your voice trembling with need. Your nails dig into his shoulders, and he seems to understand exactly what you’re asking for.

He withdraws his hand, and the loss makes you whine softly, but then he’s shifting, positioning himself between your thighs. The weight of him, the way his body fits against yours, makes you feel like you were made for this—for him.

He pauses, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. “I love you,” he says, the words thick with emotion.

Your chest tightens, and you reach up to cup his face, your thumbs brushing over the stubble on his jaw. “I love you too,” you whisper, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside you.

When he finally presses into you, it’s slow, deliberate, as though he’s savoring every second. The stretch is perfect, a mix of pleasure and ache that has you gasping, your body instinctively rising to meet his. He stills for a moment, letting you adjust, and you can see the effort it takes for him to hold back.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You nod, your hands sliding down his back, anchoring him to you. “Perfect,” you murmur.

He moves then, his thrusts slow and deliberate, each one sending a wave of pleasure coursing through you. His eyes never leave yours, and it’s that connection—the raw, unguarded intimacy—that undoes you.

Time seems to blur, the world outside fading until there’s nothing but the two of you. His movements grow more urgent, more desperate, and you meet him with equal fervor, your bodies finding a rhythm that feels as natural as breathing.

When the tension finally snaps, it’s overwhelming, a flood of sensation that leaves you trembling beneath him. He follows moments later, his body shuddering as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and uneven against your skin.

In the aftermath, he doesn’t move right away, his arms wrapped around you as though he’s afraid to let go. You press a soft kiss to his temple, your fingers tracing idle patterns along his back.

“I love you,” he whispers again, the words barely audible but heavy with meaning.

“I love you more,” you reply, and in that moment, there’s no doubt in your mind that it’s true.

“Most romantic floor sex ever” Bucky laughs brushing a strand of hair from your face as he rolls off of you.

Your phone started to ping over and over again “Told you we didn’t have time for this,” you teased, your voice hoarse and shaky as you turned your head to meet his gaze.

“Worth it,” he said with a lazy grin, his thumb brushing against your hip in lazy circles. “But I guess we should get going.”

You groaned, half in exasperation, half in contentment, as you pushed yourself up, reaching for your discarded shirt. Bucky’s gaze followed you, his expression a mix of admiration and mischief.

“Keep looking at me like that, and we’ll really be late,” you warned, pulling the fabric over your head.

“Noted,” he said, chuckling as he sat up and pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder. “Till next time.”

----

The sun was high as Bucky carried another box up the steps of Steve’s new apartment. The place was smaller than his last one, but it had character—exposed brick, tall windows, and just enough space for Steve to live comfortably. Still, it was far. Far from Natasha, Wanda, and even farther from you and Bucky.

“You sure about this place?” Bucky asked as he set the box down just inside the front door. “It’s far from Nat’s, and Wanda’s, and our place.”

Steve shrugged, wiping sweat from his brow as he came up behind him with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “Yeah, I know. But it’s closer to work. The commute was killing me. Besides,” he added with a small smile, “the only reason I moved closer to you guys in the first place was to stay near everyone.”

Bucky leaned against the doorframe, nodding. “I get it. Makes sense.” He paused, watching Steve organize his stuff. “Speaking of moving…”

Steve froze mid-step, turning to look at Bucky. “Speaking of moving, what?”

Bucky shifted his weight, scratching the back of his neck. “Me and Y/N… we’re moving to Boston.”

Steve blinked, the words taking a second to register. “Holy shit,” he finally said, setting the bag down. “Boston? That’s a big move. Congratulations, man.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said, smiling softly.

Steve studied him for a second, his brow furrowing slightly. “This doesn’t have anything to do with me, does it?” he asked, his tone careful. “Because I’m working on it, you know. I’m starting to see things differently. I actually… I asked Nat out on a second date.”

Bucky straightened at that, a grin spreading across his face. “Did you now?”

Steve nodded, a little bashfully. “Yeah. She really is something.”

“Well, it’s about damn time,” Bucky teased, clapping Steve on the shoulder. “And no, this isn’t about you. Me and Y/N just want a house, something with a yard, and we’ve been thinking about the future. Boston just felt right.”

“The future, huh?” Steve said, his lips curving into a thoughtful smile. “Like a family?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, his voice softening. “A family.”

Steve let out a low whistle, leaning against the counter. “Man, we’re getting old.”

“Hell yeah, we are,” Bucky replied with a laugh.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “Feels like just yesterday we were sneaking out at night, getting into fights over the stupidest shit.”

“Like that time you dared Y/N to climb the water tower, and she actually did it,” Bucky said, laughing. “She was halfway up before the cops showed up, and we had to book it.”

Steve groaned, covering his face with a hand. “God, I’ll never forget that. She was fearless. Still is.”

Bucky grinned, his eyes softening. “Yeah, she is.”

Steve glanced at him, his expression turning contemplative. “You’ve got something good, Buck. She’s… she’s one of a kind.”

Bucky nodded, his smile small but sincere. “I know. And for what it’s worth, I hope things with you and Nat work out. You deserve it, man.”

Steve looked away, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “She really is something,” he repeated quietly.

Bucky clapped him on the back, his tone lighter. “So, when’s this date?”

“Tomorrow night,” Steve admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “You think she’ll say yes to a third one?”

Bucky smirked. “If you don’t screw it up, maybe."

They both laughed, the sound echoing in the empty apartment. For a moment, it felt like old times, the weight of life and change lifting just enough for them to breathe.

“Man, life,” Steve said after a moment, his voice soft with nostalgia.

“Life,” Bucky agreed, his gaze distant but warm.

-------

The wine glasses clinked together as you, Natasha, and Wanda settled into the plush couch in Natasha’s living room. The music was soft in the background, and the mood was light, filled with laughter and the warmth of wine. It had been too long since you’d all spent time like this—just the three of you, unwinding and sharing pieces of your lives.

You swirled your glass, grinning. “Speaking of life—”

“YOU’RE PREGNANT!” Wanda blurted out, her eyes wide with excitement.

Your mouth fell open in shock, nearly spilling your wine. “Excuse me?!”

Natasha burst into laughter, smacking Wanda’s arm. “Wanda! Oh my God, reel it in! Let the girl finish a sentence before you start naming her unborn child, she wouldn't be drinking if she was Wanda."

Wanda raised her hands in defense, her cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry! But look at her! She’s glowing!”

“Glowing?!” you repeated, glancing down at your stomach in horror. “Do I look pregnant? Oh my God, is it the wine? Am I bloated?” You started poking at your belly, your tone spiraling into a ramble. “Okay, so relationship weight is totally a thing, and Bucky does make the best pasta, but I’ve been good about not going overboard! Besides, doesn’t sex burn calories? We’ve been doing plenty of that—”

Natasha was nearly doubled over, her laughter loud and unrestrained. “Stop, stop! Oh my God, you’re killing me.”

Wanda was laughing now too, shaking her head frantically. “No, no! It’s not like that. I just meant you have that look, you know? You’re happy. Content.”

You let out a dramatic sigh, clutching your chest. “Thank God. You really had me questioning everything for a second.” You paused, side-eyeing her. “But for the record, you should know better than to accuse someone holding a glass of wine of being pregnant.”

Wanda giggled. “Noted.”

Natasha wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. “Alright, Miss Glow. What were you going to say?”

You straightened in your seat, taking a sip of wine for courage. “Well, I was going to say that Bucky and I are moving to Boston.”

Natasha froze, her wine glass halfway to her lips. Her eyes welled up immediately, and her voice cracked as she said, “What? Boston?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, glancing between them. “We found a house we love, and well, we can work from home, plus Bucky only has to come into the office once every 6 weeks and well that means guaranteed day to see everyone. Plus, we just… we want to start fresh. Somewhere new.”

Natasha set her wine glass down carefully, and then, much to your surprise, she started crying. “I’m so happy for you,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I really am. But first Sam, then Steve moving upstate, and now you and Bucky… it’s just—I’m going to miss you both so much.”

Your heart ached at the sight of her tears, and you reached out, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Nat, we’re not going anywhere far. Boston isn’t the moon, and you’ll always have a place with us. Always.”

Wanda hadn’t said anything yet, her expression unusually quiet. You turned to her, concern tightening in your chest. “Wanda? Are you okay?”

She sighed heavily, setting her glass down as well. “I’ve been meaning to tell you both something, actually.” She hesitated, her voice soft. “At the end of the year, I’m moving back home.”

“What?!” you and Natasha said in unison, both of you sitting up straighter.

“My work contract is up,” Wanda explained, her tone bittersweet. “And I decided not to renew it. It’s been amazing here, but I think it’s time for me to go back. Be closer to family.”

The room was silent for a moment, the weight of her words settling in. And then, as if by unspoken agreement, the three of you huddled together in the middle of the couch, your arms wrapped around each other tightly.

“I’m so proud of you both,” Natasha said through her tears. “But this really fucking sucks. This feels like the end of an era."

Wanda laughed weakly, her own tears spilling over. “I know. But we’ll always have this. We’ll always have each other.”

“And road trips,” you added, your voice wobbly. “So many road trips, and Nat its just the beginning of so many new wonderful chapters."

The three of you stayed like that for a long time, holding each other and crying—tears of sadness, of joy, of the inevitable changes that life brought. It wasn’t the end, not really. Just a new chapter. But saying goodbye to the comfort of what you had now still hurt, and none of you pretended otherwise.

“You’re both stuck with me,” Natasha said finally, sniffling. “No matter where we are.”

“Always,” you and Wanda echoed, squeezing her tighter.

----

Bucky and you stood by the moving truck, the last few boxes stacked neatly inside. It was surreal seeing the apartment building that had been your home for years now reduced to a memory. The truck loomed large, a bittersweet symbol of everything changing. Natasha, Wanda, and Steve were there, huddled together on the sidewalk, their expressions a mix of pride and sadness.

Natasha was the first to approach, her arms crossed as if trying to keep her emotions in check. “So, this is it,” she said softly, her voice tinged with emotion.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah. This is it.”

She pulled you into a tight hug, her usual sarcastic edge melting away. “I’m gonna miss you, you know that?” she murmured, her voice cracking.

Tears stung your eyes as you hugged her back just as fiercely. “I’m gonna miss you too, Nat. But you’ll come visit. And we’ll visit you.”

She pulled back, her hands gripping your shoulders as she smiled through watery eyes. “You better. And if I don’t get weekly updates, I’m coming to Boston to drag them out of you myself.”

Wanda came next, a bouquet of wildflowers in her hand that she pressed into your arms. “For your new home,” she said with a small, sad smile. “You’ll make it beautiful, just like you always do.”

You hugged her tightly, the scent of lavender and roses filling the air. “Thank you, Wanda. For everything.”

Bucky and Steve were nearby, their conversation quieter but no less meaningful. Steve clapped a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, his expression calm but reflective. “You’re gonna do great, Buck,” he said. “Both of you are.”

Bucky nodded, his voice low. “Thanks, man. And… I hope things work out with Nat. You deserve it.”

Steve looked down for a moment, his lips curving into a faint smile. “We’ll see. One step at a time.”

When it was Steve’s turn to say goodbye to you, he hugged you tightly, lingering for just a moment longer than usual. “I’m soproud of you,” he said quietly, his voice thick. “And I’m gonna miss you like hell.”

You blinked back tears, squeezing him tightly. “I’m gonna miss you too, Stevie. But we’ll keep in touch. I promise.”

The goodbyes felt endless but fleeting all at once, each hug, each word of encouragement, making it harder to leave but also more meaningful. When you finally climbed into the passenger seat of the truck, Bucky squeezed your hand, his own eyes red but his smile steady.

“You ready?” he asked softly.

You nodded, your voice trembling. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

As the truck rumbled to life and pulled away from the curb, you looked back through the rearview mirror. Natasha was wiping her eyes with Wanda’s sleeve, and Steve had slung an arm around Natasha’s shoulder, pulling her close. The sight made your heart clench, but then you couldn’t help it—you squealed softly, clutching Bucky’s arm.

“What?” he asked, startled.

You pointed out the window. “Steve and Nat! Did you see that?”

Bucky glanced in the mirror and let out a chuckle. “Well, would you look at that? Those two are finally figuring it out.”

Your laugh bubbled out, mixing with the tears still on your cheeks. “About damn time.”

As the city skyline faded in the distance, the weight of leaving was tempered by the excitement of what lay ahead. The road stretched endlessly before you, and Bucky reached over, lacing his fingers with yours.

“Road trip playlist?” he asked, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

You laughed, reaching for your phone. “You mean the one I specifically made for this drive?”

“Of course you did,” he teased. “Let’s hear it.”

[aleskie]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 SUMMARY: On a night out with friends, Mila meets a cute guy with a cute face and a cute accent. Ice to Meet You Masterlist Next

Word Count: 2.9k Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, Mentions of a toxic family but nothing detailed, Dialogue

It was weird being back in New York after all these years. When she left for Boston at thirteen, she never imagined she’d come back. Boston was lonely, yes, but loneliness was better than her mother’s constant noise. It was better than her father’s cold silence. It was better than her brothers’ unending teasing. And sure, training was brutal—cold and unforgiving like the ice she skated on—but it was easier than enduring her parents’ endless criticisms or dodging her brothers’ roughhousing. 

Now, here she was, back to where it all began. Funny how one phone call could change everything. One moment, she was settled in Boston, content with life and loneliness, and the next, her mother was on the other end of the line, dragging her back to the city she’d grown up in but vowed never to return to.

“You’re attending university,” her mother had said matter-of-factly. “You can’t be the only one in our family not to have gone.”

Mila had refused at first, but her mother had a way of getting what she wanted. A few pulled strings later, and suddenly she was enrolled into the biology program at NYU, her life hastily packed up, and she was moving back to the city she’d once hated.

“I think it’ll do you some good,” Georgi had said, ever the optimist. “Besides, Nicole and I are coming with you! That should make it easier, no?” She didn’t know this yet, but he’d be right, of course.

Georgi wasn’t just her coach. And he wasn’t just some washed up figure skater. In fact, he was one of the best skaters of his time, with all the medals to back it up. For the past eight—no, nine—years, he had been more like a father to her than her own. Nicole, his wife, had filled the role of mother, too. They didn’t have to take her in when she first moved to Boston at thirteen, but they did. And they gave her the home and care her parents never did.

They went to her parent-teacher conferences, helped with her homework, accompanied her to interviews and photoshoots, even taught her how to drink responsibly (and what to do when you didn’t drink responsibly). When it was time to move to New York, they helped her settle into her new apartment, just as they had done so many times before. Maybe it was because she was Georgi’s first and best student—or maybe it was because they saw something in her beyond just skating.

Mila hated to admit it, but Georgi had been right. New York had done her good. For the first time in years, away from the hustle and bustle of competition, she felt like a normal person. Older than most of her class, sure, but she still crammed for tests and pulled all-nighters, she still went to the occasional party and gossiped with friends. She laughed until her stomach hurt, had deep conversations late into the night, and lived more in that one year than she had since she was thirteen—when her life had been an endless loop of eat, sleep, homeschool, train, repeat. A life of just her and the ice.

But life didn’t look like that anymore. Today, she’d submitted her Leave of Absence form in preparation for the 2022 Olympics. And tonight, her friends were throwing her a ‘See You Whenever You’re Free’ party. She never thought she’d have something like this again—friends who cared enough to celebrate her and reassure her that they’d still be there when she came back.

Maybe, just maybe, forcing her to return to New York was the best thing her parents ever did for her. 

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

“But it’s your celebration!” Chloe whined, her voice carrying that mix of insistence and playful frustration. “You can’t not drink at a celebration meant for you!”

Mila smiled as she applied the finishing touches to her makeup. Chloe was adorable—petite, with short, bobbed hair and the widest blue eyes that always seemed to sparkle with mischief. She was persistent, too, and stubborn as they came. They had met during freshman orientation and reconnected in their Molecular and Cell Biology class. Now, they were practically inseparable, sharing late-night study sessions, spontaneous coffee runs, and, apparently, pre-party prep in Mila’s bedroom.

“I’m totally fine just driving you guys around and dancing,” Mila replied, pulling her hair into a loose, casual bun. “Besides, it’s Olympic season and I’d rather not get wasted a few weeks before Worlds.”

“She’s got a point,” Cole chimed in from his spot on the floor, where he was seated cross-legged in front of the full-length mirror. He was one of Georgi’s newer students, but they’d bonded fast. He had that snarky, sassy edge to him—always quick with a sarcastic remark—but underneath it all, Mila knew he was a softie. More bark than bite. “Don’t worry, Clo, I’ll drink for both of us. You’ll still get one drunk figure skater. That count for anything?”

Chloe crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes as if considering. “Hmm… I guess that’ll do. But you,” she said, turning back to Mila with exaggerated drama, “you better win a gold for this. I’ve been slighted, abandoned, betrayed!”

She flopped onto the bed, her small frame making the most of the theatrics. Mila laughed, shaking her head. Chloe could be such a character when she wanted to be.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Mila said, rolling her eyes with a grin. But as she glanced in the mirror, there was a flicker of something in her gaze—a reminder of the pressure that came with her upcoming season. Worlds. The Olympics. The dreams she had worked her whole life for.

But tonight wasn’t about that. Tonight was about her friends, about being in the moment, about celebrating the life she had outside of skating. Tonight, she would have fun.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

The three of them met up with Michelle when they hit the third bar of the night, a stylish little place tucked away in a narrow alley. It was one of those hidden gems you’d miss if you weren’t looking for it, and of course, it was Michelle’s pick.

Michelle was... well, Mila wasn’t exactly sure how they’d met. She was pretty sure they'd exchanged Instagrams at some party, but after that, it was like Michelle had always been there. She was one of those people who just blended seamlessly into your life without you even realizing it. It wasn’t long before they were hanging out at each other’s places, either studying or swapping stories over cups of coffee. Michelle always had the juiciest gossip and knew all the latest drama around campus—something that never failed to amuse Mila. She was bubbly, funny, and somehow always had the best spots for nights out.

Which explained how they ended up here. In New Jersey. Of all places.

“Guys, I swear, this bar is amazing! It’s super cozy and a little formal! The music is great, and they have this huge dance floor!” Michelle had gushed earlier, her words slurring in that slightly buzzed way of hers. Already a few drinks in, she was babbling about everything and nothing at the same time. Mila had learned not to question Michelle’s wildly contradictory descriptions when she was tipsy. Cozy and formal? Sure. Big enough to dance but still intimate? Why not?

Despite the questionable logic, Mila couldn’t help but smile on the drive over. Michelle’s infectious enthusiasm was part of her charm, after all. Case in point: the way Cole and Chloe, also buzzed, were now chanting the name of the bar as if it were some fantastical destination and not…a bar in New Jersey.

When they walked into the bar—ambience set with dim lighting, plush velvet seating, and a DJ spinning soft beats in the corner—Mila had to admit, Michelle had done it again. The place was the perfect spot for their little night out.

So perfect, in fact, that the night went almost exactly how Mila predicted it would go. The chiller beats and soft atmosphere disappeared at around nine-thirty, replaced with thumping dance music and electro-pop. Her three friends had disappeared on the dance floor, though she was getting sporadic updates on their whereabouts from Michelle—thankfully still grouped together, though each photo was blurrier and each message was more misspelled than the last thanks to their steadily rising intoxication.

And here Mila was, alone at the bar, nursing a diet coke and scrolling through her social media while her friends danced the night away. She didn’t mind, content to be in her own company for a while. And then she felt a presence sit on the stool next to her.

“Hi,” the voice said, low and casual, with a slight accent that caught Mila’s attention. It wasn’t unfriendly, just smooth and easy. Mila glanced up from her phone to find a man leaning against the bar, offering her a kind smile. He was tall and broad, built like a brick wall, with dark, perfectly tousled hair that looked effortlessly stylish. His cool, self-assured air seemed to soften slightly as she met his gaze.

“Um, can I get you something stronger than that?” he asked, nodding toward her barely touched diet coke with a playful grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Mila raised an eyebrow, matching his smile with one of her own. “Tempting,” she replied, “but I think I’ll stick with this for now.”

His grin didn’t falter. “Not even one drink? Seems like a shame to waste a night out with just soda.”

“Nahh,” Mila said, her tone light, almost teasing, “I’ve got a long celebration night going on. Gotta stay sharp.”

“Celebration?” he repeated, leaning in slightly as if she had just piqued his interest, “Now you’ve got me curious. What’s the celebration for?”

She paused for a second, still smiling, but now it was her turn to add a little mystery. “Let’s just say…I’ve got a big event coming up that I need to focus on.”

He chuckled, clearly entertained but aware she wasn’t going to spill the details. “Alright, I’ll give you that one,” he said, attempting a wink.

Cute.

“So tell me,” she said, resting her head on her palm, eyes glinting with interest, “What brings a stud like you here tonight?”

He glanced toward a group of young men—some rowdy, some more reserved, sipping beers. “See those guys? They dragged me out,” he replied, scrunching his nose a little, as if this wasn’t his ideal way to spend the night.

“I get that,” Mila chuckled. “I would’ve been wasted by now if I hadn’t practically begged to be the designated driver.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Designated driver? On a night like this? You’re not having any fun at all!”

“I’m having a lot of fun right here,” she said, “I’ve got quite the view.”

“Don’t get too distracted,” he teases, “Do you at least know where your friends are?” 

“Oh, y’know,” she gestured vaguely, “dancing their hearts out somewhere. They’re still texting me though, so that’s a good sign. The increasingly blurry pictures? Not so much.”

He chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. “Well, I hope you don’t have to leave too soon. It’d be a shame.”

“And miss out on you telling me where that accent comes from?” Mila shot him a coy smile. “I don’t think so.”

He grinned. “Switzerland. Moved here for work.”

“Switzerland? Nice.” She tilted her head, intrigued. “What kind of work brings someone from Switzerland all the way to Jersey?”

He smirked, leaning closer, their conversation now a little more intimate in the bustling bar. “I’ll tell you if you tell me what this ‘little event’ of yours is about.”

Mila let out a mock sigh, pouting playfully. “Aw, party pooper. That’s not how the game works.”

“I’m just keeping it fair,” he said with a smile, obviously enjoying the banter.

“You’re smooth,” she said with a soft laugh, “but I’m not that easy.”

“I wouldn’t want you to be,” he replied with a grin, “But fair’s fair, right? Besides, you’re clearly the one with all the secrets.”

“Secrets?” she echoed, feigning innocence. “Who, me? I’m just a regular girl enjoying a night out.”

He looked amused. “I don’t think you’re a regular girl at all. Maybe just...one who’s really good at dodging questions.”

Mila grinned, relishing the playful jab. “I like to think of it as a talent, yes. Keeps handsome guys like you guessing.”

He leaned in even closer, his expression shifting to something more serious yet still playful. “You think I’m handsome?”

Mila felt her cheeks flush, but she maintained her composure. “Fishing for compliments?” She raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

He chuckled softly. “Alright, Ms. Mysterious, if you’re so skilled at evading questions, how about you tell me what you think of my accent instead?”

“Now that’s an interesting angle,” she replied, tapping her finger to her chin thoughtfully. “Let’s see… it’s charming, sophisticated, with just the right amount of intrigue. Perfect for someone who seems well-traveled.”

“Not bad,” he said, clearly pleased. “I’ll take charming and sophisticated any day.”

“And I’ll take smooth-talking Swiss guys anytime,” she shot back, her smile playful.

“Anytime, huh?” His voice lowered, and she could have sworn his eyes darkened. 

Hot.

“I said what I said,” she winked, feeling a flutter in her stomach.

They shared a laugh before he asked, “Ever been to Switzerland?”

“A few times, actually, but always for work,” she said, taking a sip of her drink. “I never get to stay long.”

“Well, if you ever find yourself there over the summer, look me up. I’ll give you the best tour—show you all my secret spots.”

Mila laughed. “How charming! A stranger offering to show me around a foreign country? No red flags there,” she smirked, her eyes glinting with amusement.

His gaze sparkled with mischief. “Well, maybe I can be less of a stranger right now. I’m N—”

“MILA, YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS!” Michelle suddenly burst onto the scene, giggling uncontrollably as she nuzzled her head into Mila’s arm.

Mila glanced at her, concern etched on her face. “What’s wrong, hun?”

“Cole is projectile vomiting on the street!” Michelle cackled, laughing as if it were the funniest thing in the world.

Mila let out a long sigh, glancing back at the handsome stranger, who was watching her with a grin. “Well, duty calls,” she said with a teasing smile. “See you around, pretty.” She blew him a playful kiss as she walked away, his gaze lingering on her until she disappeared into the crowd.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

“Alright, you troublemakers,” Mila says, laughing softly as she loads her three very drunk friends into her car, “It’s time to go home.”

Chloe stumbles into the back seat with Michelle following close behind, while Cole barely manages to slide into the front seat, giggling to himself. As Mila starts the car, the once lively, noisy crew falls into a rare moment of quiet. The only sounds are Taylor Swift’s voice playing softly through the speakers and Chloe’s occasional attempts to get up and give Mila a hug from the back seat.

“Mila, I love you! Thank you for taking us home! You’re the best, I love you!” Chloe slurs, leaning precariously over the seat, her head swaying with the car’s motion.

All Mila can do is chuckle. Chloe always got overly affectionate when she was drunk. “Love you too, Chlo. Now sit back down before you fall on your face,” she says, gently pushing her back. They’re all going to regret this tomorrow, Mila thinks, imagining the hungover groans and complaints that will inevitably come.

The drive back to her apartment is mostly quiet, her friends either drifting in and out of sleep or mumbling incoherently. She parks smoothly in her usual spot and steps out of the car, taking a deep breath of the cool night air. Before dealing with the dead weight that her friends had become, she heads over to the nearby security desk to ask for help hauling them upstairs.

A few minutes later, with the security guards' help, she manages to guide her friends to her apartment. They stumble through the hallway, laughing and tripping over their own feet. Mila shakes her head, trying not to laugh at the chaos.

Once inside, she gently settles Chloe, Michelle, and Cole onto her couch and guest room bed. She takes her time making sure they’re makeup-free and tucked in comfortably, ensuring they’re all lying on their sides just in case. Chloe mumbles something incoherent as Mila pulls a blanket over her.

Finally, when her friends are taken care of, Mila retreats to the peace and quiet of her own bedroom. She slips out of her clothes and takes a long, hot shower, feeling the warmth of the water wash away the tension of the night. When she emerges, refreshed and ready for bed, she slides into a silk nightgown and brushes out her damp hair.

With a deep, contented sigh, Mila climbs into bed, the events of the night playing on her mind. She smiles, thinking of her friends' antics—their excitement, their drunken affection. It had been a good night, a chaotic end, but fun. Yet, as her thoughts drift back to the bar, she finds herself remembering him—the man with the charming accent and easy smile.

He was handsome, sure, but also kind and a surprisingly good conversationalist. Mila turns onto her side, grabbing her phone from the nightstand. Maybe she should give him a call tomorrow, see if he’s free to hang out.

She scrolls through her phone, opening her Notes app where she typically stashes random numbers from nights like this. Her fingers move over the screen as she searches through the list.

But then it hits her.

She never got his number.

Her eyes widen, realization settling in.

Shit.

She never even got his name.

[theartofcollapse]

could you write f reader x casey abt when casey had just started working with svu so they’re still kinda hostile to her and she had a really hard day and their attitude towards her didn’t help at all so reader is extra gentle and sweet to casey when she gets home?

a/n: thank you for requesting, hope you like how it turned out :) summary: read it above pairing: Casey Novak x female reader warnings: none word count: 870

masterlist

Home is Where You Are - Casey Novak

Casey slammed the door to her apartment with more force than intended. The sound echoed through the quiet space, and she froze for a moment, eyes closed, teeth gritted. She didn’t want to bring her anger home, not here. Not to you. But today had been unbearable, and the apartment that usually felt like a sanctuary seemed suffocating in the wake of her frustration.

The SVU squad had made it clear, once again, that they didn’t trust her. No matter how much she researched, no matter how carefully she built her cases, their snide remarks and pointed glares made her feel like a failure. Every time she tried to assert herself, they met her with more hostility, as if she didn’t belong, as if she were just another cog in a broken machine.

Her bag slipped from her shoulder to the floor with a thud, and she let out a heavy sigh, raking a hand through her hair.

“Case?” your voice came from the living room, soft and warm, like the light of a candle in a dark room.

Her head turned toward the sound, and for the first time that day, she felt a flicker of something other than exhaustion. You stepped into view, wearing one of her old NYU sweatshirts, your expression shifting to concern the moment you saw her.

“Hey, baby,” you said gently, closing the distance between you. “What happened?”

Casey shook her head, trying to muster a smile, but it faltered. “Just… work,” she said, her voice strained. “The squad doesn’t trust me. They think I’m just another lawyer who doesn’t understand what they do. And maybe they’re right.”

“They’re not,” you said firmly, cupping her face with your hands. “You’re brilliant, Casey. You’re the best ADA they’ve ever had, they just don’t know it yet.”

She leaned into your touch, her eyes fluttering shut as she exhaled shakily. The warmth of your palms on her cheeks was grounding, soothing the ache she hadn’t realized had settled in her chest.

“I’m so tired,” she whispered.

“I know, love,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Come on. Let me take care of you.”

You led her to the couch, her steps heavy as if she were carrying the weight of the entire city on her shoulders. She sank down with a groan, and you knelt in front of her, unlacing her shoes and sliding them off gently. She watched you with tired eyes, her heart swelling despite the day she’d had. You always did this, always took the time to notice what she needed, even when she couldn’t bring herself to ask.

“You don’t have to…”

“I want to,” you interrupted softly, looking up at her with a small smile.

Once her shoes were off, you guided her to lie back, pulling a blanket over her and tucking it around her. You sat beside her, running your fingers through her hair in slow, soothing strokes.

“Talk to me,” you said after a moment. “Tell me what happened.”

Casey hesitated, but the gentle way you were touching her made her feel safe, safe enough to let the walls crack. She told you about the icy stares, the mean words, the way no one seemed to believe in her despite all her effort. Her voice wavered as she spoke, and when she finished, she looked up at you, her green eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“I just don’t know if I’m cut out for this,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

You shook your head, brushing a tear from her cheek with your thumb. “You are. You’re strong, Casey. Stronger than anyone else I know. And those detectives? They don’t know you yet. They don’t see what I see. But they will.”

Her lip quivered, and she bit it to keep it steady. “And what do you see?”

You leaned down, cupping her face again. “I see a woman who fights for what’s right, even when it’s hard. I see someone who cares so deeply, even when people don’t give her the same in return. I see someone who inspires me every single day.”

Her tears slipped free then, but you caught them with gentle kisses, pressing your lips to her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, and finally her lips. It wasn’t rushed or desperate, it was soft, tender, filled with everything you couldn’t put into words.

When you pulled back, she was looking at you with a mix of awe and gratitude. “I don’t deserve you,” she murmured.

“You deserve the world,” you replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

You stayed like that for a while, holding her close, letting her rest against you as your fingers continued to comb through her hair. She didn’t say much after that, but she didn’t need to. The way her body relaxed against yours, the way her breathing evened out, told you everything.

When she finally spoke again, her voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “Thank you,” she said, her hand finding yours and squeezing it gently.

You kissed her temple, smiling softly. “Always, Case.”

For the first time that day, Casey felt the weight on her chest start to lift. She had you, and that was enough. More than enough.

[antique-traveler]

this is probably because of glenn’s training at juilliard. most acting teachers will encourage actors to talk about their character in the first person so they feel less separated from their motivations and emotions. it’s a lot harder to say “joe is finding it difficult to be who he really is because he knows that harper is dependent on him” than it is to say “how can i leave her? she’s my wife!”

of course, this is all pretty dependent on what acting technique the instructor is following. techniques based on stanislavski’s work— like stella adler or sanford meisner— tend to preach a certain “oneness” with the character, imagining that you are them when you’re onstage/on set, but others— brecht, mamet— sometimes focus more on connecting to the audience or your scene partner than yourself. i don’t know who glenn studied under, so i can’t say for sure which method he’s following but i wouldn’t be surprised if it’s meisner or stanislavski; and since rob and charlie didn’t study theatre, they likely got lots of techniques from lots of directors.

My favourite thing to come out of the Podcast is learning how often RCG refer to their own characters or each other’s characters by their real names.

Like the amount of times Charlie, especially, calls Mac ‘Rob’ is just insane

Just thins the line a little bit more…

[iboatedhere]

Hi friend! Thanks for asking for prompts!

I’d love to request a fic based on a prompt from the June list - Peaches 🍑 (any interpretation you like 😏). Can’t wait to see what your awesome brain comes up with! ❤️❤️

start with a little inspo

"I'm having a full-on crisis."

"Henry, darling," Pez says over the line, "you'll have to be a tad more specific. You open a conversation this way at least three times a week." 

"This is the most urgent. This is the one that will have me change my name, grow a beard, and flee to the woods. It was lovely knowing you, Percy. Truly."

"I'm not entirely sure you could pull off a beard," Pez says. "Too blond and too pale. It'll just blend right in."

Henry groans.  

"Perhaps plastic surgery," Pez offers. "Although it would be a shame to cut up that gorgeous face." 

"Percy—."

"I'm sure I could find you an excellent surgeon. Let me make a few calls."

"Please go ahead and do that because I'm hanging up."

"I'm sorry, I'll stop," Pez says with a laugh that negates his promise. "Tell me what's wrong. You'll feel better once you do."

"I might have, accidentally, slightly, sexually harassed a politician on Instagram."

"That's quite the adventurous statement," Pez says after a moment. "Care to elaborate for me, Haz?"

"I don't even know where to start."

"The beginning, love." 

"You know how dreadful I am at social media."

"Indeed. If I had a penny for every time you accidentally posted a screenshot or sent me a DM filled with gibberish, I would never need to tap into my trust fund."

"Yes, well, there's this man that I follow—."

"The politician? Haz, if you dare tell me that you've taken an interest in some old, white dolt—."

"He is none of those things. He's quite young, and I believe he's said his father is Mexican—."

"Oh, you believe?" Pez says as if he already knows Henry has hung on to his every word since he followed him. 

"He's brilliant," Henry continues, "and beautiful."

"But still a politician."

"He's pro all the correct things, Pez. Nobody is perfect, but he's as close as I've seen."

"And you sexually harassed him?"

"Slightly. Accidentally. And via Instagram, which I know doesn't make it any better."

"What is his name?"

"Unimportant."

"You do realize I can find him by looking through your followers. It's the price you pay for only following one hundred people."

"I like to keep my feed neat and organized. Plus, the fewer people I follow, the less of a chance I have of embarrassing myself."

"And yet here we are."

"Indeed."

"Henry George Edward James Fox. What in the world did you do?"

"Well. He posted this photo to his stories, and I meant to scroll past it—."

"Did you?"

"I meant to screenshot it," Henry admits. 

"That's more like it. Do continue."

"I meant to screenshot it and then move on—."

"Wank off."

Henry hangs up. If Pez isn't going to be helpful, then they don't need to have a conversation. 

Thirty seconds later, Pez calls him, and Henry picks up against his better judgment. 

"Is his name Alex Claremont-Diaz?"

"Pez!"

"He's not hard to find. Running for New York's 11th Congressional District. Originally from Austin, Texas. Yee-haw."

"Pez, please, I'm dying."

"Moved to Manhattan to attend NYU law, then relocated to Brooklyn where he decided to try his hand at politics. Seems to volunteer a lot and posts quite a few thirst traps. I'm telling you, Haz. A man in a well-fit suit is a thousand times sexier than one with his shirt off."

"Did you look at his stories?"

"Looking now. A photo of the Brooklyn Bridge. Basic.  A Goldendoodle in the park. Adorable. A little photoshoot. Oh. Oh my. I see."

Henry hums, knowing precisely what Pez is looking at. 

Congressional hopeful, Alex Claremont-Diaz, facing sideways toward the camera in a jumper and khaki pants. 

"Certainly has a body on him, doesn't he? What did you accidentally say to him?"

"I didn't say anything. But I somehow sent him the peach emoji."

There's a moment of silence and then bubbling laughter. "Oh, Henry," he wheezes. 

"I don't know, my finger slipped on the screen or something, and then that little bar came up on the bottom, and the peach emoji auto-filled. I tried to delete it, but I hit send instead. Then I tried to delete that, but I couldn't, and now I'm panicking."

"Oh, darling."

"I don't know what to do. I'm so embarrassed I could die."

"I do think you're overthinking this a bit. The hopeful congressman did post that photo for a reason."

"So you think he was looking for this kind of reaction?"

"He's young, gorgeous, and very clearly knows it if he's taking GQ photo shoots and posting them to his socials. Plus, the angle of this shot…I think it's safe to say he got plenty of peaches sent his way."

"Oh," Henry says, doing an awful job of hiding his disappointment. He spends entirely too much of his time thinking about this man, and in return, he's barely a blip on his radar. "Okay. I suppose it's not as dire as I thought."

"As long as he doesn't block you, I think you're just fine."

"Okay," Henry says again as his phone dings. He pulls it away from his ear and looks down at a new Instagram notification. 

"Oh bloody hell," he breathes when he realizes what he's looking at. "It's a message from him."

Pez gasps. "What does it say?"

Henry holds his breath as he opens Instagram. "He sent me a photo of myself. That ridiculous one you made me post from during our trip to The Hamptons."

"The one in your swimsuit? By ridiculous, you must mean how ridiculously hot you looked. Posting that was a public service."

"I beg to differ," Henry says as another message appears. "Oh. Oh."

"What?" Pez asks. "What?"

"He sent the eggplant emoji. What does that mean?"

"Oh, Henry," Pez says, "love. It means you'll have quite the story to tell the grandkids."

[motorsportbarbie13]

What's A Soulmate? Part 3

In which your best friend comes back to you. But is it too late?

Warnings: oof the angst. swearing. that's it. Pairing: Lando Norris X SainzSister!Reader Word Count: 2.5k words

(a/n: this is how i cope after that hot mess of a race today. i hate everything and everyone except for my pookie bear lando norris)

- What's A Soulmate? - Part 1 - What's A Soulmate? - Part 2 - What's A Soulmate? - Part 2.5 - Master List

2021 You keep your promises. 

2022  And then he started dating her. 

2023 Silence.

March, 2024Australia 

“We are so excited to have you join the team.” Your new boss beams back at you as you follow her through the corridor. “Thank you for making the flight at such short notice. Had we known Summer was going to quit so abruptly, we would have had you come out with the team earlier in the week.” 

You nod, adjusting the collar of your new papaya and black polo. “Of course, I’m just happy it all worked out.” 

The heat of the Australian sun beats down outside the McLaren hospitality building, but inside the air is cool and dry. You’d landed in the country last night after what felt like the longest flight you’ve ever taken from New York into Melbourne but were so happy to be back in the paddock after what felt like ages. 

“Like we discussed earlier in the month, you’ll be working with Oscar as his primary press officer. I’m sure you know what that entails and everything, not much has changed since Carlos was with the team, but if you have any questions you have my number.” Brenda smiles down at you as she hands you your new McLaren issued iPhone.  

Three weeks ago, you had graduated from NYU with a double degree in public relations and business management. One week later, you had accepted a job offer from McLaren to join the communications team working with Oscar. Between your dual degree and experience working in the paddock with your brother, the job had been a slam dunk for you.

“The boys are just finishing up some filming up stairs. Let’s go up and introduce you to Oscar. You already know Lando.” She says, with a bit of a smile. Your friendship with the Brit was well known back during the years you were still working with Carlos. No one knew how much it had changed since though. 

Nerves fluttered around in your stomach as you follow Brenda up to the second floor where you could hear Oscar and Lando loudly laughing at something. As far as you knew, Lando was unaware that you had taken a job with McLaren. You had asked Carlos and Charles to keep your new job quiet around the paddock, not wanting to create drama before it was necessary. This was certainly going to be a shock, you knew that. 

The last time you saw him flashes through your memory, quick and painful, as Brenda approaches where Oscar and Lando stand each holding dry erase boards. 

Early 2022

“What do you mean she doesn’t want me around?” You nearly laugh, the absurdity of what your best friend is telling you not fully computing. 

Lando grips the back of his neck, eyes looking everywhere but at you. “Our friendship makes her uncomfortable.” 

Now you really do laugh. “What friendship, Lan? I’ve barely seen you this year!” 

It was the truth. Ever since you had started classes in New York last year, your time to see your best friend had dwindled down into nearly nothing. You went to as many races as you could but going from spending nearly 24/7 with your brother and Lando to barely seeing them once every few months was more painful than you had anticipated. It hurt so much to watch him continue on, seemingly so unbothered by losing you, but this? This was the last straw. 

He had been dating the Portuguese model for a bit now and you had to admit, she was pretty and wonderfully nice. You truly had no issue with her, having met her once at a Grand Prix you had attended before classes had started this year. She was quiet, sweet, and obviously adored Lando so her being with him was fine with you. You wanted to see your best friend happy. But now? Now she was threatened by someone who wasn’t even a second thought in Lando’s head? 

You had spent the last few months desperately trying to believe that Lando wasn’t pulling away, that he wasn’t purposefully putting distance between you and him. Texts would go unanswered, calls went unreturned. You had chalked it up to him being busy and adjusting to having a new teammate but now you guess you had the truth: he was avoiding you. 

“If that’s what you want, I’ll respect your wishes.” You murmur, taking a step away, suddenly wanting nothing more than to retreat back into the Ferrari motorhome where you could nurse your embarrassment in peace. 

“It’s not…” Lando fumbles, but you know what he’s about to say isn’t true. This is exactly what he wants. 

“No, I get it Lan. She’s threatened by me. I respect that and I’ll make myself scarce this weekend. You and her won’t have to worry about me anymore.” 

The pain of your words slices through Lando. He hadn’t wanted to do this, far from it. But the fight that she had started last night when she had seen you in the pit lane laughing with Carlos and Charles had put him in a tight spot. You were his best friend, but she was his girlfriend. He owed her the respect, right? Even if he knew that nothing was going on, nothing could happen. It wasn’t in the cards for the two of you. 

“I’m sorry.” He says. 

“Me too, Lan.

You blink rapidly, erasing the painful memory from your brain as your boss steps towards Oscar and Lando, who are watching you approach. The look on Lando’s face sends your pulse skyrocketing. It’s a look that’s somewhere between surprise, confusion, and maybe even a bit of betrayal and you hate every bit of it. 

“Oscar, I wanted to introduce you to your new press officer. She just landed last night so I’m sure she’s a bit jet lagged but she insisted on getting to work straight away. She’ll be taking you around for media duties after FP2 today so be nice, okay?” 

“I’m always nice.” The Aussie says, soft smile on his lips. “It’s nice to meet you. Lando talks about you all the time.” 

Your eyes dart towards Lando, who is still somewhat glaring at you like he can’t believe you’re in front of him. He talks about you? Still? Your stomach does an involuntary somersault at this bit of information, blush creeping its way high up on your cheek bones. 

The phone in your hand chimes with a reminder. Oscar is due to an Australian media outlet in ten minutes for an interview. “Well, that’s my cue.” You turn to the girl that had been filming the segment with a friendly smile. “Is he good to go?” 

“He’s all yours!” 

With permission to leave, you turn on your heel and walk towards the staircase, Oscar in tow. Lando watches after you, still struggling to process what just happened. You worked for McLaren now? As Oscar’s press officer? He had just played padel with Carlos this fucking morning and he hadn’t said a single word about this. Surly Carlos had known about your taking the job so why hadn’t he told him? Did you not want him to know? Did you hate him so much that you didn’t even care if he knew or not? How had the most important person in his life become someone he just used to know once? 

That last fight before he…said some of the the most shameful thing he’s ever said flashes through his mind as he wanders down to his drivers room, suddenly needing a break. 

“You literally never shut up about her. ‘She does this.’ And ‘she does that’. Jesus Christ, Lando you could not be more obvious about it.” The anger in her voice had set his teeth on edge. “And now I have to sit and watch the, what did they call you guys? The Chaos Gremlins? Now I have to sit and watch The Chaos Gremlins be reunited for the entire fucking weekend and just sit back and take it?” 

“There is nothing going on between us.” Lando insists, running his hands through his curls. “I haven’t seen her in months. Months!” 

“But there would be if she was here, right?” 

He had no answer for her. Because she was probably right in her assumption. If you had stayed, Lando had no idea what would’ve happened. 

“It’s her or me, Lando.” 

The rest of the day passes in what feels like the blink of an eye. By the time Oscar is done with all of his interviews at the end of the evening, you feel dead on your feet. You’ve lost all sense of time, feeling like you’ve been hit with a truck and you want nothing more than to get back to your hotel room and sleep for the next 5 to 10 business days. Or the last free practice tomorrow afternoon. 

The Uber to the hotel takes far too long but just as your eyes are about to shutter closed in the back seat, you arrive and drag your near lifeless body up to your room. A quick shower is all you have the energy for, desperately needing to get the germs of the day off and then, you’re in bed, blissfully tucked between soft white cotton sheets watching some weird Australian soap opera. 

Your eyes are heavy when the alert dings and you nearly ignore it, assuming it’s Carlos checking in. He could wait until you saw him tomorrow. But a quick glance shows you it isn’t Carlos. 

You don’t fully understand why you gave him your room number. Not when the only thing on your mind is going to sleep. This is probably a really bad time to have such an important conversation too but a part of you, that part of you that never stopped hoping that maybe one day your best friend would come back to you, that part of you wanted to get this out of the way so you could move on, with or without him. 

Ten minutes later, there’s a soft knock on the door and you haul yourself out of bed, still bone numbingly tired but also strangely keyed up with nervous energy. This would be the first time you had really spoken to Lando since that night two years ago. Sure, you two had exchanged pleasantries when you found yourself in the paddock for a race weekend but most of the time you kept to yourself in the Ferrari garage and motorhome, making sure your presence wasn’t noticed by anyone outside of your brother and Charles. 

Tugging on your favorite NYU crewneck, you pad towards the door while willing your racing heart beat to slow. This is fine. This is going to be okay. You two needed to talk if you were going to be working closely this year so this had to happen sooner or later. 

The door swings open and Lando stands in front of you looking just as exhausted and devastated as you feel. 

“Hi.” He breathes, hands wringing together. 

“Hi Lan.” You sigh. 

His smile widens at the nickname and you open the door a bit wider to allow him in. You cross the room, settling on the king size bed before staring up at him. “You wanted to talk?” 

The pain in his eyes cuts such a deep slice through you, it’s a wonder you don’t start bleeding out on the bedspread. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?” He crosses the room towards you, setting every nerve ending in your body firing. He’s too close and you can’t control yourself when he’s like this. 

You shrug, wondering how you’re still able to hold yourself together at this point. “I didn’t think you’d care.” 

Lando drops his gaze away from you then, shame and anger surging across his handsome features. “Of course I’d care.” 

“You didn’t when you chose her over me.” 

He drags a hand over his face, the look of misery that sits on his face is reminiscent of the night you told him you were moving to New York City all those years ago. The memory brings a surge of white hot pain that cuts you so deeply it steals the breath from your lungs. If you had known that this was where you’d end up, you didn’t know if you would have made the same decision. 

“And listen, that was fine, I guess. You had to respect your relationship with her but the most confusing thing was afterwards. Why the radio silence after?” You fold your hands into your lap, unable to meet the gaze that you feel so heavy on your skin. He’s practically begging you to look at him but you simply can’t. 

“I was ashamed.” He admits and you feel the tears prick at the back of your eyes, a hot and painful sting that reminds you of how much you’ve lost. “I was ashamed at how I treated you and couldn’t face it.” 

“Rightfully so.” You mutter, rolling your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs while reaching for your hand. “I’m so sorry for how I treated you. I should have told her to fuck off for making me choose between her and you. I should have chosen my best friend and I’ve regretted that decision every day of my life since.” 

The fact that you’re finally hearing the words you’ve been dreaming of hearing for nearly two years hits you like a ton of bricks. Here he was, your best friend, finally apologizing and owning up to his mistakes and for some reason, it felt like it was all just too little too late. How many nights had you stayed up, sobbing on your living room couch with your roommates over the stupid boy who was mean to you? Wondering what you had done to make him treat you like this? Hadn’t your friendship meant more than what it had ended up being? 

And now, here you were, back in his orbit again and it just…didn’t matter. You had spent so many nights wishing this would come and now that he was finally taking responsibility and owning up to his actions, it just didn’t feel like it was enough. 

“I think you should go.” 

“What?” He stutters, fingers gripping yours almost desperately. 

“I am exhausted and need some time to process this Lando. And you have quali tomorrow, you need to be focusing on racing, not on our issues.” 

“I don’t give a fuck about racing.” He bites out, blue eyes turning stormy gray with anger. “I want to fix this.” 

“This isn’t something that can be fixed with a single conversation.” 

You didn’t even know if it could be fixed at all, if you were being honest with yourself. 

“Then I’ll keep going until it is fixed, I promise.” 

“Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep, Lando.” You warn, rising from the bed. “I need to get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Lando feels like his heart is being ripped from his chest. He had never intended for your friendship to end up like this. It just…slipped away from him and he was so swept away by his lifestyle the last year that he convinced himself you were both better off where you were instead of together like the universe intended. He had been so scared to admit how wrong he had been, choosing her over you that night that he had allowed it to spiral so out of control it might never come back to him. You might never come back to him. 

Tag List: @anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @charlesgirl16 @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @sltwins @linnygirl09 @powerfulmess @technicallypleasanttree @meglouise00

[foggymyst]

sent a link about the taptaptap induction to a furiend cause she admitted to having fantasies of kitty dropping her by tapping on her forehead and she dropped super hard and cutely :3 kitty advised her to read nyur other inductions too kitty hopes nyu dun mind :3

yes kitty may have a bit of a serial recruitment kink why do nyu ask

How cute! I love when good girls make more good girls for me!!♡ You're so cute, kitty~

[daintyys]

baby i'm yours

fem!reader x tasm peter parker, 1.3k words, light swearing

this is a college au, basically peter and reader are dormmates at new york university. i love peter so pls give me prompts for him &lt;3

Peter was your best friend, and nothing more. That's what you kept having to tell yourself.

But, it was hard to think like that when you got a glimpse of him fresh out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, and hair dripping. Let's face it, he was comparable to a Greek God.

You had been friends with Peter Parker since highschool, and it was a pleasant surprise to find out he had gotten into NYU just like you did. It was automatically settled, you would be roommates.

While you were studying creative writing, Peter was diving into the field of biochemistry. You couldn't seem to comprehend why he was so interested in science until a year ago, when he confessed to you that he was Spider-Man. You had to admit, it wasn't too surprising. He had that Spider-Man air about him.

Mornings in your dorm were nice, especially since you and Peter had breakfast together. You could always tell when he had been out in the city the night before, because he was ravenous.

"Mphm, mowe eggths?" He mumbled through a stuffed mouth. "If you're so hungry you should make them yourself." You giggled to him. He rolled his eyes, those gorgeous brown eyes. You stood up, wanting to start getting ready for your day. Peter's classes started before yours did, so right after breakfast he would always leave, but today was different.

You could feel his eyes on your body as you filled your glass up with water. A tank top and sweatpants was normal apparel for you, so it was hard to tell what was different about now. "Are you checking me out, Peter?" You threw your head back around to look at him, and his heart visibly stopped. "No! No, no. I would never do that, ew." He choked out. You cocked your eyebrow at him, and his eyes widened. "Oh you know I didn't mean it like that, you're cute, Y/N." His face was about as red as the apple he was biting into. You laughed as you retreated into your bedroom.

When you were finished getting ready, you left your bedroom to find Peter still sitting at the table. "You're still here?" You asked, sitting back down next to him. "Well yea, I just didn't wanna leave without saying a real goodbye to you." He wasn't making eye contact, which only happened when he was nervous. "Oh, well you're not planning on dying today, right?" You asked, laughing slightly. He chuckled back. "Yea, no. Just feel weird leaving without seeing you again." You admired his face, and watched a flush up his neck.

"Peter, you like me, don't you?" You were joking, he should have known that, but his mind was obviously not registering the way you had spoken when he blurted out: "Is it that obvious??". You froze, processing the words that had just left his mouth.

Peter slapped his hands over his mouth, not realizing you had been messing with him. "Oh fuck." Was all he mumbled as he stood up from the table, grabbing his backpack.

"No, Peter, wait!" You said, standing as well. You reached for his hand, and he quickly pulled away from you, a traumatized expression plastered across his face. "I am so, so, incredibly sorry, Y/N." He spluttered as he pulled his shoes on. As soon as he had finished speaking, he was rushing out of your dorm, slamming the door behind him.

You sat back down at the table, for fear you would faint if you continued standing. Your face was burning, and you were having trouble breathing. "Oh my God..." you mumbled, nervously twisting your hair. Standing up again, you noticed Peter's lunchbox still sitting on the kitchen counter. That gave you an idea.

You had liked him for almost 3 years. Even in highschool, where he was continuously bullied, he always managed to put a smile on your face. He was a "loser", sure, but that never stopped you from hanging out with him. He was a great guy. You thought of the time you skipped school with him all because he wanted to teach you how to skateboard.

On that day, you had sworn he was going to kiss you. He held your body close to his, trying to keep the two of you balanced on his skateboard. You had felt his heart beating rapidly, and wondered if he was as flustered as you were.

But none of that mattered now, because your relationship with Peter could be ruined after his little slip-up.

You grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil, and began to furiously write. If speaking face-to-face with Peter would be too much for him, a letter would be the second best option.

Dear Peter,

Definitely didn't expect this morning to consist of you confessing your feelings to me, but that's alright, because I feel the same way. I have since we were 16.

I've tried for a while to deny it, but now that you've come clean, it's only fair for me to do the same. I love you, Peter. You are my favorite person, and I don't want this morning to change anything with us. If it does change, then I hope it's for the better, not the worse.

That's all, I don't want to scare you away.

Love,

Y/N

Your hands were shaking as you folded the letter in half and tucked it into Peter's lunchbox. Now all that was left was to get it to him.

You walked as fast as you could, not caring that people were yelling obscenities when you shoved past them. You had to get to Peter before his class started. Looking at your phone, you saw you had 5 minutes left. Shit.

You began to run, desperate to arrive in time. You threw the double doors to the building open, and ran in the direction of Peter's chemical analysis class. People were staring, because you definitely did not look like you were ready to divide cells in a lab.

You reached the classroom, and stopped to catch your breath. You took out your phone again. 2 minutes until the bell rang. You grinned as you pushed the door open slowly. Then you saw him.

He was sitting at a desk, staring at the board with glazed-over eyes. He was the most beautiful boy you had ever seen, and you giggled as you pictured a future with him. You walked over to him, taking deep breaths.

"Ahem..." You cleared your throat as you placed his lunch on his desk. Peter jumped, and went ghost white as he made eye contact with you. "Y/N, what are you-" He began. "Shut up. Don't say anything until you look in your lunchbox." You said as you turned on your heel and left. Peter was confused. Very confused.

As soon as you were out of the classroom, he ripped open his lunchbox, grabbing the sheet of paper you had left inside. He unfolded the letter with shaking hands, and read it carefully. His organs were in his throat. "I love you," He whispered to himself. "Oh my God."

Peter stuffed the letter into his pocket and shot up from his desk, and then he was darting out of the classroom with his things, needing to find you as soon as possible.

You were walking back to your dorm, smiling to yourself, when your racing thoughts were interrupted with a yell. "Y/N! Y/N!" You stopped instantly, and turned around to see Peter barreling towards you. You laughed as he engulfed you in his arms, kissing you all over your forehead.

"Couldn't wait until later, hm?" You giggled, looking up into his eyes. Peter smiled, and shrugged. "I could have, but I didn't want to." He said as he put his arm around your shoulder. AYou walked home together, fingers interlaced, and dreamed of your future together.

[ginnsbaker]

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (3/?)

Chapter summary: Wanda finds you again after months of estrangement.

Chapter word count: 5.5k

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader

Chapter Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Decided to post this early in celebration of Love & Death's final episode.

AO3 | Masterlist 

Next Chapter: Four

Taglist: @blackluthxr | @esposadejoyhuerta | @secretbackrooms | @justgotlizzied , @casquinhaa | @marvelwomen-simp | @sunsol-22 | @wandanatlov3r - let me know if I missed anyone

-

Three

At two in the morning, Wanda’s insomnia is at its worst.

Sleep doesn’t come despite doubling her usual dosage of sleeping pills, and she considers taking another, just so she can stop thinking about what Pietro said–about you moving on with someone new. Because despite her confidence in your love for her, her faith is waning with each passing day that you continue to leave her messages seen and her calls unanswered. 

She wonders how love–a resilient but tainted one–can survive in the dark. If it can survive at all. 

Wanda remembers reading somewhere on the internet that the human epidermis continually makes new cells every second, so that in just 30 days, one’s skin is entirely new. In months of being apart, it meant that there’s no longer an inch of her that has ever touched you. All that remains of her in you are memories. And what a fragile thing they are, when people are always forgetting. 

Wanda doesn’t want to be forgotten. Least of all by you.

She knows it’s within your rights to fall in love again, and she’s adamant for it to be with her. Her stubborn nature makes her cling to your wedding vow: that if you don’t end up with her, then you end up with no one. Maybe she’s delirious to still believe that you’d fulfill those promises, especially with how hard it is to reconcile those promises with dead silence.

Nevertheless, Wanda tries. She continues to send you mundane messages like a restaurant discovery or what she had for lunch, or a comment on the weather, telling you how nice it’d be to go outside for a walk. 

Tonight, she sends you a text about Sparky’s visit to the vet, hoping it provokes a reaction from you. It immediately gets read. Wanda’s breath hitches when she sees three dots appear right after her message. However, they soon disappear, leaving Wanda to stare at another unanswered text.

Tomorrow, then. And if not, the day after. Wanda won’t let you forget about her.

-

Agatha helps her with the finishing touches on her café, which happens to be unsold paintings donated by her colleagues from the gallery itself that Agatha manages. She’s informed Wanda that she’s considering early retirement to find something else to do, and when Wanda mentioned that she’s opening up a business, Agatha suggested she’d volunteer to help out on weekends in exchange for free coffee and dessert any day of the week. Wanda didn’t think twice to accept the proposal, and they shook on it.

“You have an eye for design, Wanda. You can make a career out of it once your cafe takes off and can hire someone to manage instead of doing it all by yourself.” Agatha says, dusting the final frame they hanged on the wall.

“Thanks. It’s just not me though. I had a lot of help from friends in NYU.” Wanda says, going behind the counter to make sure everything’s set for the big day, two days from now.

“Are you worried about the opening?” Agatha asks.

“A bit, yes.” Wanda admits with a sigh.

“Don’t be. Your pastries alone will keep this adorable thing afloat.” Agatha assures her, admiring the aforementioned pastries currently cooking in the oven.

Wanda smiles graciously, a little unsure if she’d take it as a compliment. With her former boss, it’s hard to tell sometimes. Agatha has the tendency to toe the line between maternal and condescending.

“That’s what I keep telling her.” Pietro, who Wanda didn’t notice entering the shop just now, chimes in. Her brother taps Agatha on the shoulder, making the older woman turn her head in an unnecessarily coquettish manner. Wanda lifts an eyebrow as she observes the two.

“I don’t believe we’ve met.” Pietro says, before running a hand through his hair and letting his textured, angular fringe fall dramatically back over his bleached eyebrows. “I’m Pietro, Wanda’s twin.”

“It’s nice to meet you, dear. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Agatha says evenly with a smile, turning around to face him fully.

Pietro stands unnecessarily closer to her and says, “Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.”

Wanda’s never heard Agatha giggle like a schoolgirl, and shoots him a murderous look. Her oblivious brother merely carries on staring at Agatha like he could see through her clothes. 

Squeezing into the narrow space between the two, she starts pushing her brother away from his prey. She can already sense him scheming, and she’s not going to let him potentially ward off the free help she’s gonna get on weekends.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Wanda hisses at him under her breath as soon as she’s positive Agatha’s no longer within earshot.

He raises his hands in front of him in defense. “I was being friendly.”

“No, you weren’t. You were literally eyefucking my ex-boss back there.”

Pietro shrugs. “Maybe she was eyefucking me.”

“I swear, you’re going to–”

“Excuse me?” Agatha interrupts, and they both whip their head towards her–Wanda with a stricken look, and Pietro with a cheshire grin. Agatha can’t help but think how they’re both very attractive.

She addresses Wanda first. “I’m sorry but I have to go. Call me if you need anything, sweetie.” 

“Thanks again, Agatha.” Wanda says.

And then she turns to Pietro and winks at him. “I’ll see you around, handsome.”

“Oh, you will.” Pietro answers in a sultry voice that has Wanda harshly digging her nails into his forearm.

He only reacts to the pain after Agatha stepped outside. “Ow! Let go of me!”

“She’s off limits you pig.” Wanda chastises, landing some weak strikes on his arm. 

“Fine!” Pietro throws his hands up in surrender.

Wanda lets him go with a triumphant smile. “What are you doing here anyway? I thought I’d see you on Monday.” she says.

“My friend invited me to this club tonight, and I want you to come with.” Pietro says. 

“I’m not really in the mood to party.”

“You really have changed since you’ve been married to Y/N.”

“Thanks.” Wanda says curtly, and it’s not even sarcastic. If there were changes about her that were of your influence, then they could only mean the good kind. Wanda has long ago learned that she likes herself best when she’s with you.

“Don’t you at least feel like celebrating this?” Pietro gestures at the tiny confines of the cafe. 

“My idea of celebration is just steaks and wine,” she replies, shrugging her shoulders. “Lots of wine.”

“Wands, you can’t keep punishing yourself. You deserve to have a good time once in a while.”

Wanda scoffs. “Punishing myself? Believe me, I haven’t started.”

“Wanda, come on,” Pietro pleads earnestly. “The thing is, I’m planning to bump into this real estate dude, and having my sister to make me look like a decent guy is going to help my chances in my investment pitch, okay?”

Wanda considers the new information. “Why didn’t you start with that in the first place?”

“Because I didn’t want to flat-out ask my heartbroken sister for help. Cause I know you’re… You’re half the person you used to be. You’re not whole, and here I am, needing your help when there’s nothing I can do to help you back.” 

It’s the most vulnerable she’s seen her brother, and it makes Wanda want to gather him in his arms and be children again. 

“Piet..”

Pietro assumes back a sturdy posture. “I’m sorry. I just need you. But if–”

“I’ll be there. Just text me where and what time you need me.” Wanda assures him. 

“I’ll owe you one, sis.”

“Try twenty.”

-

Pietro deserts her as soon as she serves her purpose, and he gets invited to the VIP floor of his prospective investor. Wanda doesn’t hold it against him, seeing how important this deal is to him. Besides, thirty minutes of blaring techno (it’s a crime to call it music, Wanda muses) and seizure-inducing lights are too much for Wanda to bear. She just happens to have four drinks in front of her (bought by different strangers), and there’s just no way she can let perfectly crafted Negronis go to waste. Really, she’s left with no choice but to stay and savor her prized cocktails. 

At least two men–and one woman–have taken up the courage to approach her by the bar, and Wanda only has to show them the ring she still wears on her left hand for them to leave her alone with a polite apology. 

On her own (and despite you being unaware of it) she wants the world to know she’s still yours.

Heaving a deep sigh, Wanda finishes her drink. One down, three to go. She’s already swimming in a pleasant buzz, and when her eyes drift to the center of the dance floor, she sees the last person she thought of seeing tonight.

It’s true what they say about experiencing everything around you slowing down to a stop when your life flashes through your eyes. It’s closest to how she’d describe seeing you in the flesh after a long stretch of only seeing you in her dreams. For a split second, she thinks she might be mistaken, but it’s definitely you when you start doing that dorky mannequin move that never fails to send her into fits of laughter. And that’s exactly what Wanda does; she half-laughs and half-sobs into her drink as you stiffly move your limbs, wearing a blissful smile of your own. 

You seem…okay. Happy, even. Against her will, a deep sense of insecurity settles heavily on her chest. 

And then, as if on cue, a blonde girl mirrors your dance moves, stepping into your space too close for Wanda’s liking. She looks much younger than you and Wanda are, and she recognizes the captivated look on her face. It’s the same look Wanda is giving you right now, the same look you used to give her everyday for more than ten years. Wanda helplessly watches you take her hand and spin her around goofily. And when the girl stops and loses her balance, she leans on your side for support. You let her, putting an arm around her shoulder as both of you continue to laugh at the silliness of it all.

Wanda feels her heart fall and crash into pieces. And the guilt of falling apart at seeing you happy like you deserve to be, comes to her in rolling waves.

She downs the rest of her drink–all three of them–and then weaves through the crowded club, bumping against sweaty bodies to find her way out.  

-

Wanda ends up waiting for you from across the street. She wraps her jacket tighter around her body and fights off the cold by blowing her breath into her hands and rubbing them together. It does little to keep her warm, but she’s too enthralled to see your face again to care. She couldn’t simply walk away and wait for another opportunity like this to come. 

Eventually–after nearly two hours of waiting–you come out of the building. You’re not accompanied by anyone, and you’re peering down at your phone. In the distance, she can clearly see how unfocused your movements are, which makes her wonder why you’re all by yourself.

She’s about to cross the empty street, when you unexpectedly look up and Wanda’s eyes lock with yours.

Her eyes glisten at the sight of you: somber eyes and flushed cheeks and the beginnings of a dazed smile at the corner of your lips. You were always a doe when there’s alcohol in your system, and Wanda could take advantage of that.

She could. But she won’t, even as you seem transfixed as she is.

Wanda tests the waters by taking a small step in your direction. You don’t move an inch from where you’re standing, but Wanda still holds her breath with each step. She keeps her eyes trained on your figure in case this is a hallucination–in case this is all just a result of standing for hours in the cold. But you gaze back at her, equally awestruck, and she thinks perhaps you’re also figuring out the same thing: if all of this is real. 

Wanda takes another careful step while you shift your weight, working out the best way to keep your balance. And then another, until you’re within reach and she can hear your shallow breaths, can smell your scent mixed with your favorite perfume, can see your baby hairs sticking to your forehead. Until she can look into those eyes that always held kindness she doesn’t deserve. 

Until finally, she’s standing right in front of you.

It’s been too long, the words keep repeating itself in her head.   

Without thinking, Wanda stretches out her arm to cup your face, but–despite your semi-drunken state–you backpedal on instinct. Dispirited, she drops her hand to her side and chews on her lower lip to stop it from trembling. You must have sensed her dismay, because you force a smile, before her name falls from your lips.

“Wanda.”

There's no doubt that you can break her if you want to just by saying her name. 

“Y/N,” she whispers your name back, greedily drinking you in an openly brazen manner. 

“H-Hi…”

“You… uh,” you fumble with your sentence, trying to come up with something to say, before settling on what you really just wanted to know. “What are you doing here?” 

Wanda actually considers lying, until she remembers that it’s what destroyed everything in the first place. 

“I was at the same bar and I saw you. I thought about going home, but I couldn’t leave knowing you were just there.” she says.

“Oh,” is all you manage to reply as you assess how you feel about your ex-wife waiting for you outside and possibly catching a cold in the process. Inclined to blame it on the alcohol later, you don’t think you hate the idea that she stood there for hours just to talk to you. It’s so disparate from the time when you two were together, and you were often the one to wait. 

But the truth is, it mostly just hurts. After all this time, it’s the same wound that just refuses to heal. Only now there’s more guilt on your part for ignoring her for months even though you know you shouldn’t feel bad for trying to move on the way you have to. 

“It’s good to see you.” Wanda says after a beat. “I’ve missed y–”

Suddenly, your head is filled with images going down on a stranger at the gym. You shake your head harshly in a feeble attempt to shake off the memory. 

Wanda is quick to assume that you don’t want to hear any semblance of how much she aches for you. 

“I don’t feel–” 

You feel violently sick, but you fail to say that out loud because the next second, you hear Wanda shriek in shock and you find yourself bent over your stomach, emptying its contents next to her stilettos. Wanda hovers above you as she gently pulls back your hair on one hand and rubs soothing circles on your back with the other. 

Your throat burns and you grimace as you stagger back on your feet. 

“Wanda, I’m so–” 

“Shhh… you need to sober up,” Wanda explains softly. You don’t know you’ve been leaning onto her for support until you saw her left hand wrapped tightly around your arm. 

Her left hand, that is anything but bare. 

“Why are you still wearing it?” The question abruptly falls out of your mouth, losing the ability to filter the thoughts that you would rather stay in your head if you weren’t in such an inebriated state. 

Wanda tenses up at the question, surprised that you still noticed. 

“You know why.” she mumbles, struggling to keep you upright. She doesn’t say more, just silently directs you to the pavement where you both sit next to each other.

“Your hair. It’s too brown.” you speak in a slow drawl, still having enough cognitive function to change the topic. Wanda grimaces at the comment, despising her new hairdo more than usual. 

For a while you and Wanda just sit there, basking in awkward silence. 

“I need to call an Uber but my phone is dead.” you whisper into your knees, talking to no one in particular. You look and sound so small, so far from when you were dancing earlier. Wanda tries not to think that maybe she’s the reason for it. She worries at her lip, contemplating if she should call a ride for you. But with your current state, she’d be on the edge all night wondering if you got home safe. And knowing you probably won’t update her, she’s probably going to lose her mind over it.

Rising to her feet, Wanda makes a decision and offers a hand for you to take. 

“Hey. I’ve got an idea.” 

-

Wanda watches you dip a fry into a plain sundae and pop it into your mouth. Her cheeks redden a little when you moan in appreciation, eyes closed as if you were sampling a gourmet dish. She’d never understand your weird taste for putting together two of the things that should never be put together.

“Feel better?” she asks, disinterestedly picking at her nuggets. 

“Much.” you say, licking your thumb with gusto. At this point, Wanda makes the right decision to look away before her thoughts become anything but innocent. You’re starting to recover from your intoxication, and she’s careful not to make you feel the slightest discomfort.

“How’s Sparky?” you ask all of a sudden, remembering Wanda’s text the other night about a visit to the vet. 

Wanda takes a sip of her coffee, then says, “Something about a low platelet count. They just prescribed him some meds. He’s doing better, I think.”

“That’s good to hear.” you say. 

Both of you fall back into another period of quiet.

Wanda’s head is sifting through the many topics that she had mentally filed in advance for this moment, but all she wants is to ask about you and your dance partner. The way she fell into you and the way you caught her with ease wasn’t at all friendly. The girl was obviously smitten, and Wanda can’t blame her. She can’t blame anyone but herself.

She peeks at you through her lashes, taking in your solemn expression as you suck on the plastic spoon.

Are you dating her? 

Have you already slept together?

Has she been replaced?

Instead, Wanda says, “He misses you though”, because she couldn’t risk saying the wrong thing. 

“I miss him too.” you say, and Wanda detects a hint of softness in your tone for the first time tonight.

It’s pathetic how she’s internally begging for you to say the same thing about her. 

(How she’s envious of her own dog for it.)

“You should see him some time.” Wanda says, and at the skeptical look in your eye, she adds, “I don’t mean you visit him at my place. I can bring him to you. Maybe he can stay at yours for a weekend.” 

You nod like you understand what she’s trying to do– what information she’s trying to get out of you. She expects you to dismiss the idea, but you surprise her by saying, “That can be arranged.”

“Great! We’ll–”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Right.”

The stillness and lack of words return for the third time. Not that Wanda is counting. But it doesn’t last as long as the other two, when you surprise her again by offering her what’s left of your sundae. “Want some?”

Wanda smiles at the gesture and scoops some with her own spoon. She misses the little things, like sharing food and killing time in a place as mundane as Mcdonald’s. 

“Are you still using your old number?” Wanda asks, a subtle tremor in her voice. 

You wince, aware of what she’s actually asking. You let it slip that your old number is active when you asked about Sparky. 

“Not as much as my current one.”

“Oh, that explains it.”

Something about her reply rubs you off the wrong way.

“Explain what?”

Wanda is taken aback by your snippy tone. She used to be able to read you so easily, and now she can’t pinpoint exactly what set you off. 

“What I mean is,” Wanda starts as gently as she could. “I’ve been trying to reach you for months. And you weren’t entertaining any of my attempts to communicate.”

“Well. Imagine that.”

“Did I say something wrong?” Wanda asks, voice thick with unshed tears. “Whatever it is, I’m sorry.”

You heave a sigh, and Wanda frowns at that. In such a short time, she’s managed to exasperate you without even trying. 

You pause to gather your thoughts, and then regard her with an apologetic look.

“Sorry…For being a bitch to you, not for avoiding you.” you say.

Wanda wipes a single tear that has escaped her eye with a finger. “You did say goodbye. I’m just too delusional to accept it.”

“You’re not.”

Wanda lets out a hollow chuckle in response.

“I’m delusional for thinking that I can erase you if I pretend long enough you don’t exist.” you say.

She knows it’s what you’ve been doing, but it still hurts for you to lay it out in the open.

“Did it work?” she asks, picking at the skin around her nail until it bleeds.

“No,” you answer truthfully. You don’t elaborate on it and give her the satisfaction of knowing that you’re still miserable without her. 

For Wanda, those two letters give her first, real taste of hope since the night you confronted her about Vision. She knows better than to jump at the earliest sign that things may start turning around, but she couldn’t help herself from speaking the words that are most important for you to hear.

“I love you,” she feels every syllable of them in her tongue, and she cries further when you shake your head.

“We can think we’re in love, when we’re really just in pain.” you say to her with a mournful smile. 

“I don’t believe that. Sometimes they go together, because it’s just how it is. Love’s supposed to hurt.”

“I don’t want to talk about this with you. This is something we have to resolve individually, exclusive of each other.”

A look of resignation registers on Wanda’s face. It’s the most meaningful conversation you’ve had since separating, and she’ll willingly let go of the things you don’t want to discuss any further.

“What happens now?” she asks, placing the decision in your hands once again.

“I don’t know,” you say more with your shoulders than anything else. You steer the topic away from Wanda’s persevering feelings for you, and continue with, “I just want to enjoy this meal with… a friend.”

Wanda’s breath hitches at the apparent rejection. 

“You want us to be friends?”

“Honestly, I don’t know yet.”

“Friends....” Wanda trails off. It’s better than nothing, right? Being friends again is a good start. Friends fall in love all the time, don't they?

“I can do ‘friends’.” she says with newfound determination.

“I need to think about it.” you say because in spite of everything, you’re never one to make promises you can’t keep.

Wanda nods meekly. You stare at each other for a few moments, having reached an impasse, before Wanda remembers a major detail in her life she hasn’t shared with you over a text. 

“I have news. I’m opening a café in Queens on Monday. It’s, uh, where most of the alimony went.” 

Your face considerably brightens, as if the past several minutes didn’t happen at all. Wanda falls in love with you just a little harder at your organic reaction to her accomplishment.

“That’s amazing, Wanda. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” she says and blushes at the way you look so proud of her. 

“Wanda Maximoff, Cafe Owner.” you state her new title wistfully. “You make the best coffee though, so I’m not surprised by that…”

Wanda is no longer listening as a sense of déjà vu creeps underneath her skin, recalling how you had said something similar when she accepted a teaching position at Westview Institute.

Wanda Maximoff, Professor.

And when she got that job at the gallery.

Wanda Maximoff, Art Curator.

And after sharing your first kiss as wife and wife.

Wanda Maximoff, my wife.

Wanda comes to, just before you’re done speaking.

“…Is there anything you can’t do?” you say, good-naturedly.

Love you properly. Wanda broods over her regrets. 

She gathers all her verve, only to come up with a paper-thin smile. “You forget I’m a terrible dancer.”

You laugh. “Oh, yeah, that.”

“And I’m also terrible at self-control because,” Wanda admits before she loses the courage for what she’s about to say next. “Because I want to invite you to come to my opening.”

The laughter dies in your throat but the corner of your lips stay upturned.

“I haven’t even gotten my head around ‘friends’ yet.” you remind her softly. “But… I’ll make sure to drop by.”

Wanda exhales in relief. At least she knows when she’ll get to see you again.

“Now, about that Uber?” you say.

“I got it.”

-

Today’s forecast promised clear, blue skies–and yet, the feeling of dread wouldn’t leave Wanda.

She’s never been a fan of boats (and all sorts of transportation for bodies of water), but she couldn’t come up with any other meeting spot where she wouldn’t accidentally run into you. It’s ironic because for weeks, she’s scoured the places you’d normally be for a chance encounter.

Not this time. 

Not when she’s with this person.

Wanda boarded the ferry from Astoria, and it made a quick stop in Roosevelt where Vision was waiting to board the same vessel.

“Thanks for meeting me.” he says as he approaches Wanda who’s standing in the rear viewing deck. The amount of people onboard and the noises of the drafty wind should give them both enough privacy. Wanda doesn’t look up to acknowledge him. She merely continues to observe how the water churns and foams as the ferry picks up speed to leave its dock.

“Threatening to put Y/N in jail if I don’t, didn’t exactly leave me a choice.” Wanda says after a long time. 

“You didn’t leave me a choice either. It’s the only way you’d see me,” he argues, and not for the first time, Wanda sees him for what he really is; a mere school boy whom she dragged into her bed, and indirectly scarred for life. “Plus, you know I wouldn’t do that to her. Not because she doesn’t deserve it, but because I made a promise to you.”

Wanda finally forces herself to look at him. His appearance isn’t that of a healthy person. His gaunt cheeks clearly signifies how much weight he’s lost. There’s an ugly scar that runs from the left side of where his hairline starts, all the way down to his nape. And because of the wound, his previously vibrant blonde is all gone, leaving a dull, sandy color of a shaved head.

“What do you want, Vision?” Wanda whispers, feeling more sorry for him than anything. 

“You.” Vision states obviously. “I know you’re no longer married.”

“I told you it’s over,” Wanda says mutely. “Back when I was still married. Nothing has changed.”

“When this thing between us started, you knew the worst that could happen. You took the risk. That can’t be for nothing.” Vision’s impassioned plea makes her want to throw up. Wanda wants to deny each of his points, but she’d only be fooling herself. 

She did know that there’s a chance you’d discover the affair on your own, and yet she did it anyway. And that’s something she’ll never forgive herself for.

Wanda studies Vision for a moment. She can’t fathom how she ever made the mistake of using him to fill a gap that she couldn’t put a name to–a gap that is deeper and larger in the aftermath of her extramarital affair. 

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am for doing this to you. I’m the worst thing to happen to you and Y/N. I’m sorry for this,” Wanda allows herself to lightly trace the wound on his head as a gesture of sympathy. “Don’t blame her, please. I put her through unimaginable pain for her to have done this.”

Wanda allows him to remove her hand from his face and clasps them in his. It’s the one last thing she can do for him.

“You’re so beautiful.” Vision murmurs, trying to keep his emotions at bay. “I don’t mind having my skull smashed a thousand times if it means I could have you all over again.”

Wanda gasps and promptly backs away, effectively freeing her hand from Vision’s hold.

“Don’t say that. You could’ve died!” 

Vision smirks and Wanda sees a flash of arrogance he held when he was still her student.

“It’s not so different from what you’re doing to me right now.” he says, and Wanda resists the urge to purse her lips.

“You don’t want me, Vision. You’re young and you have so much to offer–”

“–so much potential, so much capable of great things. Yes, Wanda, I know because you made me see it. You believed in me when no one else would. You saved me from being… worthless.” Vision slides down to the deck, leaning against the railing. He groans in pain, massaging his temples, as if rubbing it hard enough would make all of his problems go away.

Wanda crouches beside him, and then says, “I didn’t save you. I used you. And for that, I’m sorry.”

Vision keeps his eyes closed in an effort to avoid the tears threatening to spill. “Are you… are you back together?”

“No.”

A flicker of hope flashes in his eyes. It glows brighter than the sun as he asks, “Did you ever love me?”

Wanda dares to meet his gaze, and there’s no hesitation in the way she says, “No.”

Vision swallows hard and firms his jaw; a showcase of blind resolution that Wanda doesn’t know how to extinguish. 

“I don’t believe you.”

Wanda says nothing. She merely stands up and puts more distance between them.

“You don’t fuck someone like you’ve fucked me and not have feelings.” Vision insists, clinging to the memories of intimately knowing the woman in front of him.

It’s then that Wanda loses her patience.

“You’re a kid,” Wanda snaps, her fingers tightening around the metal rod she’s holding onto. “People lie all the time: with their words, their actions, their bodies. You’re naive to assume you know anything just because you had the best fuck of your life.”

Vision is drawing heavy breaths the second she’s done speaking, as if the weight of Wanda’s words were enough to sink him to the bottom of the sea, desperate for air. Wanda, on the other hand, is equally shocked and simultaneously disgusted at her cruelty towards someone who’s begging for love–begging like she is for yours. What she did to you warranted a punishment that’s ten times greater than he had gotten, and yet you never spoke ill of her, never tried to hurt her as sharply as she did Vision. 

Vision–this charming, brilliant, handsome young man who didn’t do anything wrong but succumbed to his boyish desires. Who she just maimed with her words. 

The ferry arrives in Long Island. People start gathering their belongings before they head towards the exit. Wanda glances at her wristwatch. She’s late for her first staff session with Agatha. 

“Vis,” Wanda croaks. “I wish I could give you what you want, but I can’t. I just can’t, okay? She’s everything to me.”

Vision is quiet, gazing at the sea with a faraway expression.

“It’s more than presumptuous of me to ask you this, but I’m going to ask anyway: forgive Y/N. Please don’t come after her for what happened. I’ll… I’ll pay for the damages.”

Vision lets out a humorless laugh, and then, without looking at her, says, “Just go, Ms. Maximoff.”

-

Monday

It’s nine-thirty in the evening, and Wanda ushers out the last of the customers to grace her opening day. 

You didn’t show up.

“Thank you so much, please come again!” she brightly exclaims with just a hint of tiredness from being all over the place for hours. It wasn’t a blockbuster where the lines would reach the next block, but it didn’t fall flat either. Her pastries were all sold out, and she hadn’t expected the need to place orders to her suppliers so soon.

For all that, as she flips the door sign from ‘Hi, We’re Open’ to ‘Sorry, We’re Closed’, the rush of today’s triumphs also leaves her. 

And then she sits alone in one of the barstools facing the window and patiently waits.

The gap widens some more.