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really-fanny-longbottom · 3 months

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Only In My Dreams [Part Two]

Pairings: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You turned off your emotions so you could protect your heart but at what price?

Warnings: Angst, mentions of unrequited love/curse words/blood and death.

Words: 8.5k

Morning was here.

You left Emerie's house when the first rays of sunlight passed through the half-open bedroom window.

Your friends were still sound asleep when you pushed away their arms that tried to offer you some comfort during the night and got out of bed.

You had no intention in waiting for them to wake up and having to talk about what had happened just a few hours ago.

So you quickly changed your clothes and placed the backpack you had brought with you over your left shoulder.

You didn't bother looking back when you left the room.

The front door closed behind you, and you found yourself facing the sun that was almost reaching its usual place in the blue sky.

Sunrise has always been your favorite part of the day.

Not only for the view, but also for its meaning - every time the sun rises, a new day comes with it, a new day that seems like a new blank page giving you a new opportunity to do your best and let go of the past on the day that was left behind.

Besides, being a healer meant that your day always started early, so why not start it with the best view ever?

When you lived with your aunt Madja, you would go to the bridge over the Sidra and sit on the wall and when you moved to the House of the Wind you would go to your balcony and do the same.

You would close your eyes and tilt your head slightly upwards and immediately relax with the sunlight passing through your body and warming not only your skin but also your soul.

You don't know if it was because you're an empath but you've always felt a connection with the sun, as if you could feel its energy, it was as if the sun itself had emotions and was trying to communicate with you.

You loved how it made you feel.

But that was before.

Now, standing in the doorway of Emerie's house, as you looked at it, you didn't know what to do.

You stayed there for a few moments waiting for something to happen - for you to feel something.

But nothing came.

With a shrug of your shoulders, you turned your back on what used to be your greatest comfort and step by step you began to move away from it and the house.

As you walked, you didn't notice that the camp was starting to wake up, just as you didn't notice the sunlight fading away.

You winnowed as soon as you reached the edge of the camp.

Twenty minutes later, you were in Velaris about to arrive at your aunt's house to take a much-needed shower.

As you walked up the street, you didn't pay attention to any of the citizens who were opening their establishments and getting ready for a new day of work.

Some of them tried to get your attention to greet you just like they always did. You would look at them with your eyes full of color and wave greetings with a warm smile, sometimes you would even stop and talk to some of them.

But not anymore.

Now, you simply walked with an expression of indifference without removing your empty eyes from the path ahead.

You only stopped when an all too familiar voice filled the air around you - the voice of the last person you wanted to see right now. "Y/N."

You could already see your aunt's house from here, and you were so close to getting there.

Slowly, you turned around and faced the person who had stopped you from reaching your destination.

It was the wife of the patient you lost yesterday with one of their sons by her side, both wearing mourning clothes.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I saw you passing by, and I just wanted to thank you again for what you did for my husband yesterday." She told you with a weak voice, her eyes still red.

With a fake smile on your features, you ran a hand through your hair before telling her, "I was just doing my job. After all, that's what I'm paid for."

Surprised by your reaction, the female lost her words and after a few seconds to compose herself, she cleared her throat and said "Well, the funeral is this afternoon at three o'clock if you want to join us."

You laughed, and without a care in the world, you responded, "No, thank you. I have better things to do but have fun."

And with that, you turned your back on them and walked up the rest of the street before removing the small key from your backpack and entering your aunt's house.

The wife and son remained in their places, trying to understand what had just happened.

After placing your backpack on the sofa, you started heading to the stairs towards the bathroom, but before you could, an irritated voice stopped you in your tracks. "Where have you been?"

"Oh, for Cauldron's sake," you muttered and turned to find Madja with her arms crossed and an angry face.

"I was with the Valkyries. I spent the night at Emerie's." You told her with a tone of annoyance.

"I'm aware of that. The High Lord had the decency to send me a letter unlike you," Madja scolded before continuing, her voice turning softer. "He also told me what happened about Azriel."

When she opened her mouth to speak again, you raised a hand and stopped her from it, "Okay, auntie, it's too early for this. I'm going to take a shower and I'll see you at the clinic. Okay. Cool."

You used both hands to give the cool sign, but before you could step on the stairs, Madja called you again. "Wait."

"Ugh, you gotta be kidding me," you whispered low enough for her not to hear.

You saw your aunt grab a piece of parchment and hand it to you. "This arrived for you a few minutes ago."

When you unrolled it, you recognized Nesta's handwriting.

She was asking where you were.

Without hesitation, you crumpled the paper and threw it into the middle of the fireplace where it instantly began to burn.

"Anything else?"

When your aunt didn't speak, you accepted her silence as an answer and started climbing the stairs by jumping two steps at a time.

The bathroom door closed seconds later, and Madja, who didn't know what animal had bitten you to react like that, put a hand to her forehead before muttering to herself, "What was that?"

The clinic was very busy like almost every day but you never complained.

Unlike other people, you could happily say that you liked your work. Being a healer has always been a rewarding job.

There was nothing else you enjoyed as much as helping your patients. Heal them, make them feel safe, and heard. Make them feel important.

Your favorite days were the days you helped a new life enter this world. Seeing those beings so small and innocent was the best miracle of life.

But of course, like all jobs, yours also had a bad side.

Seeing your patients sick and knowing that in some cases there is nothing you can do to help, seeing them leave this life and the family they leave behind.

There were patients who had left such an impact on you that from time to time, they appeared in your dreams.

Sometimes, you felt guilty at their memory because you felt like you could have done more, but most of the time, their memories reminded you to do better for others.

But none of that mattered to you anymore. Now you simply limited yourself to doing your job so you could get paid.

You were finishing bandaging the knee of a boy who had tripped while running.

The boy had become a regular patient of yours, always finding a way to hurt himself, whether it is running or reading a book.

It was a simple wound that didn't require the use of your powers, so you cleaned, disinfected, and put a bandage on it.

Your right hand held his injured leg while the other tried to wrap the bandage, when you finished and lowered his leg, you noticed that he had a bruise in the exact place where your hand had been just seconds before.

With your focus on the wound, you hadn't even noticed the bruise. You went behind the counter and grabbed a bottle of ointment that you had made last weekend and handed it to the boy.

"Take this," you pointed to the bruise that had several shades of purple on his leg, "twice a day, one in the morning and one at night. If it starts to hurt, put some ice on it."

Following the movement of your hand, the boy saw the bruise for the first time with a confused face "Oh, I didn't even know I had that," he grabbed the bottle and with a toothless smile, he started heading towards the door but not without shouting first "Thank you Y/N! I'll see you next week."

"Whatever" you let out a sigh and walked towards your chair to take a break but before you could your aunt directed you to the next patient.

It was an old male who mixed up the plants in his garden and ended up using the wrong plant as a seasoning for his food.

He was slightly pale, nauseous, and had stomach pain.

"You mistake a poisonous plant for a seasoning plant?" You asked as you examined him, judgment written all over your face and voice.

"Yes, I know what it looks like," he explained between short breaths, "but it was an honest mistake."

"It was a stupid mistake." You answered him without hesitation.

You were too busy finishing your exam to notice Madja's shocked expression, who had stopped what she was doing at the sound of your words.

"Y/N!" She approached and scolded you. "You can't talk to patients like that."

"Why? It's true. It's not my fault he's an idiot." You told her with frightening indifference.

At your response, your aunt put her hands to her head with a whisper of "By the Mother," escaping between her lips.

She got closer to the patient and placed one hand on his arm before bringing the other to her chest and apologizing to him for your behavior.

The male, on the other hand, said, "It's okay, she happens to be right."

You scoffed "Of course I am," you turned to your aunt and with an air of irritation you asked her "Now, are you going to let me work or haven't you finished disturbing me yet?"

Shocked by your words, Madja didn't know how to react or what to say, so she limited herself to taking two steps back, giving you space to continue working.

She looked at you, trying to understand what was happening to you, because this type of behavior was not normal.

You had never spoken to her like that - you had never spoken to anyone like that.

You were sweet, attentive, and very polite. This was not the niece she knew.

She couldn't help but think that maybe this situation with Azriel and Elain was affecting more than you had let on.

Plus, she was well acquainted with how much your emotions could overwhelm you.

Choking sounds broke the trance she was in, and her mind refocused on what was in front of her.

You had started the healing process in the patient, and your hand hovered over his belly in order to try to eliminate the poison, but something was wrong.

Because the patient was now paler and bleeding from his mouth.

Madja saw you stop and look at her. "I think the poison is stronger than I thought." You kept looking at her, no doubt waiting for her to react, but when she didn't, you couldn't help the sarcastic comment that escaped you. "Are you waiting for him to die? Because my arms are starting to get numb."

That was enough to make her move and begin her own examination of the patient.

She frowned. Did you really just say that?

"Are you sure you gave me the correct name of the plant you used in your food?" You asked the patient while using a cloth to clean the blood, irritation in your voice.

He simply shook his head in confirmation.

"Maybe the plant you used was in contact with another. Are there any other poisonous plants in your garden?"

The male shook his head again, but this time in denial.

Your brain started working quickly trying to see all the possibilities and it was then that you turned to your aunt and found yourself saying "Maybe it's because he ate a long time ago and that allowed the poison to spread. I mean, who knows how long this idiot ingested a poisonous plant."

Madja didn't answer you and due to her silence, you removed your hands from the patient and met her gaze with your empty eyes and a bored expression in your features "Okay, so you got this right? I'm hungry, so I'm going to take a break." And with a look of disgust, you walked away.

The old female's heart was beating very fast. She couldn't believe what she had just witnessed.

Not just your words but also your actions.

Maybe she had seen wrong.

Maybe what she saw and made her freeze before you caught her attention hadn't happened.

Maybe she just imagined it.

Because it couldn't be.

Could it?

Several days passed, and you continued to act strangely since the day you returned from Illyria.

Madja was observing you now more than ever, and little by little, she began to assimilate all the differences that you now demonstrated, but the one that worried her the most until now?

The reason she made you work behind the counter taking care of patient charts so you wouldn't have to interact with them medically.

You weren't the niece she knew and loved so much, and she began to think that something else must have happened - something you weren't sharing with her.

And if Madja was honest with herself, you were starting to scare her.

Your behavior continued to become increasingly strange - how you interacted with patients, the way you spoke to her, your 'new clothes', and your nights out.

Not to mention what you had said to the family of the patient you lost a week ago.

Madja met them in the market when she went shopping for groceries, and when the widow told her what you had said them, she didn't want to believe that such insensitivity had come from you.

She thought about asking the Inner Circle if they knew anything but after meeting the High Lady on the street as she left her studio the other day, she informed Madja that it had been almost a week and a half since any of them had seen or spoken to you.

Feyre also explained that both she and the others sent several letters to you, and none returned with a response.

Not even Nesta knew where you were these days.

It was with this new information that Madja's heart began to tighten more and more with worry. Her sleep no longer came as it used to, and the feeling of calm that used to hover over her was gone.

Madja was well aware of your relationship with the older Archeron sister, that she was not just a best friend but a sister.

So why wouldn't you be talking to her? With none of them?

Rita's was full as always - full of life, light, and music.

People danced while others drank and gamble. Laughter, singing, and shouts of euphoria filled the air of the familiar bar.

This has always been one of your favorite places to spend time with your family, not to mention that Rita herself was a long-time friend.

Good memories were formed on the dance floor with Feyre and Nesta, on the karaoke stage with Mor, several shot battles with Cassian that often ended with the two of you on the floor and too many card games with Rhys and Azriel where you took all their money.

Whenever these memories surfaced, they warmed your heart and made you feel lucky to have these people by your side.

Now, you felt nothing besides an emptiness in your heart, but at least your heart was whole again, and that's what mattered.

You ordered your third drink of the night, and the moment you took the first sip, a deep voice was heard from behind you.

"Can I join you, my Lady?"

When you turned to find the owner of the mysterious voice, you couldn't hide the surprise on your face which you quickly replaced with a mischievous smile "Well, well, well, look what the wind brought."

Your colorless eyes meet golden ones that belong to a male with fiery hair and a smile that matches yours displayed on his lips.

You let your eyes roam the male in front of you as you analyzed him. He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top two buttons open, brown pants where his muscles were visible and black boots.

"Eris Vanserra," you held out your hand for him to shake. Instead, he grabbed it and placed a kiss on your knuckles.

"Lady Y/N," he greeted, his eyes always fixed on yours.

You let out a light chuckle as you ran your eyes over the male again as he took the seat next to you. "Well, you look delicious."

"I could say the same about you," he replied with a chuckle, and now it was his turn to look at your form.

You wore a simple black strapless dress that fit your curves perfectly with a slit in the skirt on your left thigh and a pair of silver high heels that matched your jewelry.

Eris ordered his drink, and after you hit each other's glasses with a small 'cheers', you asked him the question you wanted since your eyes had landed on him.

"You are far from home. Tell me, what brings you to Velaris?" You took a sip of your drink before continuing. "Does Rhysand even know you're here?"

Following your movements, Eris took a sip from his glass before putting it down and answering, "I'm here because of him, actually. I had a meeting with him and his Inner Circle a few hours ago."

"Oh, and I thought you had come here just to see me," you said as you signaled the bartender to refill your glass.

"That can be arranged," the Heir replied as he took another sip without ever taking his eyes off yours.

You cleared your throat after an unexpected heat warmed your cheeks. "I'm surprised he let you come here."

Eris chucked and turned around in his chair and faced you before resting one of his arms on the back of your chair. "I'm surprised I didn't see you at the meeting with the others. Did you lose the invitation?"

You let out a laugh as you tilted your head back slightly before meeting those golden eyes again. "Nope, I just didn't want to go. Those meetings bore me to death."

Eris's laughter rivaled yours and after losing yourself to the sound for a few seconds, you regained composure and found yourself saying to him "So if the meeting ended a few hours ago, what are you still doing here?"

The male stared at you for a few seconds and you noticed his smile weakened a little at your question but he was quick to hide it before answering you "Maybe I wanted to see you before I left."

"You mean you want to avoid Beron."

Shock crossed the male's features, and when he opened his mouth to respond, you were quick to raise a hand towards him and stop him. "I'm an empath. Reading people is kinda my thing, remember?"

"Right, sometimes I forget that," he picked up his glass again and turned it around a few times in his hand and this time he kept his eyes on the drink as he asked, "so, does that mean you've read me before?" "

"Yes."

"And what did you read?"

"That this whole act of you being a bad, terrible and heartless male is just that. An act."

His eyes finally meet yours, and you proceed. "That you care. That you love your mother and Lucien more than you let on. And that you love your court and can't wait to get it out of Beron's claws."

"Hm," Eris leaned against the counter, and with a look of indifference on his face, he told you, "That's...accurate."

A smile returned to your lips. Your skills never failed you, at least not when it came to reading people.

"Do you want to know what else I read?"

Eris gestured with his hand for you to continue, coming closer to the edge of your chair, you leaned slightly towards him before telling him "That you, Eris Vanserra," you placed a finger on his chest "you will be a better High Lord than that terrible male ever was."

Eris swallowed the lump in his throat as you picked up your glass again and raised it towards him, making the Heir follow your movement.

With a clink of glasses, you both drained your drinks, and a mischievous smile returned to your lips. "So, are you spending your night here?"

Eris laughed, and as he placed some money on the counter for the night's drinks, he matched your smile, and with amusement in his voice, he asked you, "Why? Is that an invitation?"

You added the same tone of amusement to your voice when you answered, "Maybe."

You thanked the Mother that your aunt was working the night shift at the clinic and would only return in the morning. Otherwise, this would be embarrassing - for her, at least.

You walked up the stairs towards your bedroom with the male behind you.

Upon entering your bedroom, Eris looked around, noticing that it was small but cozy.

A bed was placed in the corner with a wide window behind it, a bookshelf full of books on healing and romance novels was at the foot of the bed with an puff in front of it against the wall.

Some paintings decorated the walls, several faelights lit up the small bedroom, and a desk was on the wall opposite the bed with a mirror on its side.

What also didn't go unnoticed by Eris was the pile of parchments you had on your desk.

"What's all this?" He asked as he pointed to it.

Your eyes followed his finger, and you noticed that the pile was now higher than yesterday - 'Madja must have added the ones that arrived this morning', you thought.

They were letters from your friends. The ones they've been sending since you left Illyria and have been avoiding them.

Every day, new letters arrive. Letters that you didn't even bother opening, let alone reading, so you collected them on top of your desk. Why? You still didn't know.

There was a morning when a letter signed by Azriel was on the carpet at the entrance of your house - that one went right to the fireplace.

With a shrug, you simply said "Trash" and picked them all up and placed them in the trash can before leaning against your desk while Eris sat on your bed.

"You look different." The male's voice filled the bedroom.

"What do you mean?"

It was Eris's turn to shrug before continuing, "You seem more...free."

You chuckled, and as you ran a hand down your dress, you said, "I feel like that."

There was a moment of silence, and you watched the Heir as he looked at one of the paintings next to your bed.

Your eyes fell on his body again, and with a thought coming to your mind, a feline look and smile took over your face.

Noticing the way you were looking at him, Eris leaned on his forearms and shot you a bold smile. "What is that little head of yours thinking about?"

You laughed at his words, and as you approached him, you rested your hands on his thighs. "I have a question."

His smile grew even wider, and one of his eyebrows rose, and you took that gesture as your cue to continue.

Your hands moved to his chest as you straddled his hips, "I want to know if what everyone says is true."

He placed his hands on your thighs and, in a whisper, asked, "What is true?"

You leaned into his chest and as you brushed aside his hair with your hand, your lips hovered over his ear "That the Autumn males have fire in their veins and they also fuck like it."

Eris's body tensed beneath yours at your words, turning his smile into mischief, and the smell of arousal began to fill the small bedroom.

"It's true." Eris straightened up, taking you with him and pushed your hair behind your shoulders.

You intertwined your fingers in his fiery hair, and still in a low voice, you said, "I'm afraid I'm going to need proof," earning a few chuckles from him.

With a kiss on his neck and then another on his shoulder, you whispered, "Why don't you show me?"

Eris giggled, and with his hands now on your waist, he murmured, "As you wish, my Lady." Before connecting his lips with yours.

And so he did.

Several knocks on the front door woke you up the next morning.

You let out several curse words as you went down the stairs only in underwear while you tried to button the white shirt that you stole from the male who was still sleeping in your bed.

You only had time to button the last three buttons of the shirt before you reached the door and turned the handle to open it.

"Oh, for God's sake," you ran a hand over your face before crossing your arms and leaning against the door. "What are you doing here?"

The High Lord of the Night Court was at your doorstep dressed in his usual black suit with his hands in his pockets.

"Good morning to you too." Rhys said with a look of indifference at your choice of clothing to open the door.

"What are you doing here?" You asked the question again.

"You missed yesterday's meeting, and as you haven't answered any of our letters, I decided that perhaps it would be better to pay you a personal visit." He finished with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

You ran a hand through your hair again before giving him an irritated look. "And you decided to come..." You stretched back to see the clock on the living room table "at seven in the morning?"

"I went to the clinic, and you weren't there."

"Today is my day off."

He cleared his throat, ignoring the fact that your bra was showing, "Why didn't you go yesterday?"

"I've been busy." It was your only answer.

Rhys was about to speak again when someone's footsteps coming down the stairs reached both your ears.

"Do you have guests?"

"She does. And he's really annoyed that you made her get out of bed at this hour." Eris said as he stood right behind you in just his boxers.

One of his hands went to your shoulder and the other to the door. “Good morning, Rhysand.” He said with a smile.

"Eris." Rhysand replied with an expression of indifference, but you knew that deep down, he was surprised to see him with you.

Silence hung in the air as the two males looked at each other and you looked between them.

The High Lord broke the silence without taking his eyes of the Autumn Heir. "What is he doing here?"

With a shrug and an air of amusement, you replied, "Eris wanted to see Velaris."

A laugh sounded behind you, and you joined him, and when you noticed the frustrated look of the male in front of you, you couldn't help but ask, "You don't like the view?"

"I can't say I do." Rhysand answered with his eyes now meeting yours.

"Well, that's a shame. Maybe next time, think about letting me know you're coming before you show up at my door at seven in the morning." And with a fake smile dancing on your lips, you closed the door in his face.

Madja continued to look at you from moment to moment, trying to understand you as she has been doing in the last few days without success.

You were working at the counter, updating patient charts, and you seemed so normal. It seemed like everything was fine.

But Madja knew it was just an illusion.

The atmosphere between you was now stranger after her shift ended early, and she found you with a male on the living room couch a few days ago. Not just a male but the Heir of Autumn.

You laughed at the situation while she didn't think it was that funny. In fact, she thought it was shocking, considering this had never happened before.

Her worry grew with each passing day.

It was only when a letter from Rhysand arrived at the clinic that morning informing that you were to appear at the Townhouse for a meeting in the afternoon that the old female's heart relaxed for a moment.

The High Lord also took the time to explain in the letter that if you didn't show up this time, he himself would pick you up and carry you on his shoulder if necessary as this meeting was not optional.

When you finished reading, you huffed and muttered a small "I'd like to see you try" before crumpling up the piece of parchment and throwing it in the trash can.

You kept yourself busy at the clinic, and when the time for the meeting approached, you didn't bother finishing your work and going.

You simply continued doing your job and about twenty minutes later, when you returned to the counter, your eyes met violet ones.

The High Lord was now in front of you and with your biggest smile of innocence, you asked him "Are you here for an appointment? Or maybe you came to pick up some medicine?"

Rhysand faked a smile at your sarcastic comment - apparently you made a lot of those now.

"Where is your red-haired lover?"

You looked down, and started looking in your pants pockets and when you finished, you met his violet eyes again before saying "Not in here."

The male sighed loudly and in a deep but calm voice said to you "The meeting started twenty minutes ago."

"I know," you said without ever breaking eye contact.

"And can you explain to me why I had to come here?"

With a hand gesturing around the waiting room where multiple patients were, you replied "As you can see I've been very busy. A lot of people don't have the choice to spend the day sitting around doing nothing." You finished by resting your head on your hands, which were on top of the counter.

Rhys furrowed his eyebrows. Since when did you talk to someone like that?

At his confused look, you let out a dry laugh and, continued "I have no interest in going to the meeting, so I'm sorry you wasted your time in coming here, Rhysand."

"Rhysand?" He asked dumbfounded as he saw you walk away from the counter and grab the next patient's chart before making your way to where a old female was seated.

He wasted no time in following you "Since when do you call me by my full name?"

You were quick to mutter "Since you came here to be a pain in my ass" in response.

And this was enough of a reality check to make the male stop in his tracks. Rhys had received a letter from your aunt a few days ago informing him that you were different but he discard it since the events of that night were still recent.

But now that he allowed himself to really look at you - he saw all the signs. Not only in the way you were acting but also in your clothes.

You were always a warm and happy person and you reflected that in the clothes you wore with light and vivid colors.

Normally you always wore dresses or a skirt with a top as the days at the clinic required you to walk from one side to the other and that way you were more comfortable as you had explained once when Cassian commented that you always looked like a princess.

But now? Now it seemed like the princess had been replaced by an evil queen.

Leather pants covered your legs while a black strappy top was on your torso tucked into your pants and held up by a belt with silver details around your waist.

Black high heels, eyeliner on your eyes and red lipstick on your lips completed the outfit.

You looked like a completely different person.

'What the hell happened?' The question echoed through his mind before Rhys gently grabbed your arm and turned you around.

He decided at that moment that this could (and would) be talked about later, the important thing now was getting you to the meeting.

"Y/N, we have a meeting to attend. Let's go."

"I already told you that-"

Before you could finish, Rhys took the patient chart from your hands and handed it to a dark-haired healer that was passing by before crouching down and lifting you onto his shoulder with one hand still gripping your arm while the other reached around your legs to hold you.

"Rhysand! Are you kidding me?" You said and started swearing as you hit his back with your free hand.

On your way out, both of you passed by Madja and Rhys assured her that he would bring you back home in a few hours.

The old healer felt more at ease knowing that you would be safe with your friends and despite the worry that filled her heart, she couldn't help but let out a chuckle at the sight of you on the High Lord's shoulder.

Maybe this was exactly what you needed - a night out with your friends.

Hope replaced some of the worry that she had been carrying these last few days, that after tonight, you would come back happier.

You would come back as the Y/N she knew.

"Seriously, Rhysand? Are you going to carry me like this the whole way?" You asked with annoyance in your voice.

"Yes." A hint of embarrassment crossed the male's face at the use of his full name.

Several curses were muttered in a low voice as the eyes of the citizens of Velaris focused on you and the male who carried you, one of your arms still trapped in his hand.

Some citizens looked curious while others laughed, but they all whispered about the reason for such a view.

"Rhysand, people are looking." You mumble with a pat on his back.

"I know," were his words as he sent smiles and slight waves in the direction of his citizens, as if this were some kind of show - one he was enjoying too much for your taste.

Using his daemati powers, Rhysand sent a message to his family - a message warning them to prepare themselves.

"Well, this is a new view." You heard Cassian's voice when you and Rhys finally entered the Townhouse's living room.

Rhys stopped in front of the couches where his family sat, some of them with drinks in their hands, "Sorry it took so long. I had to walk."

A tap on Rhys' back sounded through the room followed by a small murmur of "Prick" coming from you.

"Hey" Rhys tried to scold you at the same time you said "Does my ass look good from back there?"

Rhys sighed loudly, earning a few chuckles from the people in front of him.

They had been talking about Rhys's warning before you arrived but they couldn't deny that your actions were funny despite the situation.

"Was this really necessary, Rhys?" Feyre asked with a small smile gracing her lips.

"Believe me, it was." Rhys began to gently place you on the ground before rising to his full height again and placing his hands in his pockets.

You turned to face the rest of your friends and managed to catch the surprise that crossed their eyes when they saw you in your new outfit.

"Hello." You greeted them with a slight nod.

"You're late, girl. Did you lose track of time?" Amren asked you while drinking from her glass of wine.

"No, I just didn't want to come." Was your response before grabbing the glass of whiskey that Cassian was passing to Rhys and sitting on the couch between Nesta and Elain.

Nesta turned towards you and said softly, "I've been trying to talk to you these last few days."

"I've been busy." You said without looking her in the eye.

Nesta furrowed her eyebrows at your behavior.

She had received Rhys's warning just like the others but she really thought things would be different with her.

That even though you were different with the others, you wouldn't be with her and that she would be the person to go through you, just like you did for her a year ago.

When you saw Nesta opening her mouth with the intention of speaking again, you were quick to cut her off "So are we going to start this meeting or not? Since I was dragged here like a sack of potatoes." You mumbled the last part.

The High Lord cleared his throat before beginning "I had a meeting with Eris the other day. Apparently Beron allied himself with the human queen Briallyn who in turn allied herself with Koschei."

"We need to know Beron's plans are with this new alliance and that's exactly what Eris is doing. I'm going to meet with him again in two days and that's where you come in, Y/N."

At the mention of your name, you looked at the male who was already looking at you. With a raise of your eyebrows, he continued "I need you to come with me to the meeting and read Eris. I need to know if he is being honest or not."

You chuckled "Why would he lie?"

"He has lied before." Azriel spoke for the first time since your arrival.

You looked at him with a cold look, and everyone else could have sworn that the temperature in the room dropped when your colorless eyes met his.

"So have you." You didn't hesitate to respond. You saw him flinch and stared at each other for a few more seconds before he looked away and you continued "So has everyone else in this room. Except Elain of course. Perfect, sweet and innocent Elain would never do that."

You looked at the female with a fake smile and it was at that moment that you realized what was in front of you.

Azriel and Elain sitting on different sofas far from each other without any kind of physical or visual contact.

As you exchanged glances between the two, a smile began to form on your lips at the realization.

Lifting a finger you gestured between the two of them before trying to express your curiosity "What's wrong with the love birds?"

When no one responded, it didn't take long for you to speak again. "Trouble in paradise? Oh, wait. I know. You finally remembered Lucien." You finished with a laugh.

You saw Azriel's jaw throbbing in frustration and as you were really enjoying this new view, you decided to continue.

You moved closer to Elain and placed your arm around her shoulders before telling her loud enough for everyone to hear, "In my opinion, you should choose Lucien. You know that rumor that Autumn males have fire in their veins and also fuck like it?"

You heard Rhysand swear in the background, giving you a new smile and encouraging you to continue. "Well, it's true. Eris proved that to me the other night." You finished with a wink in her direction.

"Y/N." Rhysand called you out with his High Lord voice.

"What? It's the truth," you laughed and started to get up to leave.

Upon seeing you get up, Feyre was quick to gently grab your wrist and turn you towards her, she held your hand with both of her hands and said calmly "Did you receive our letters?"

You looked at your joined hands before answering her "I did."

With a slight nod, she asked again "Did you read them?"

You looked at her and when you saw your friend's face, you let your guard down for a second and tried to read her emotions instinctively.

But then a movement in the corner of your eye caught your attention.

Azriel was filling his glass and in sight of the male, you remembered why you did what you did to protect yourself.

For that same reason, you moved away from her touch and with a cold voice you gave her the answer she didn't want to hear.

"No. In fact, I throw them away. With the exception of your letter, Azriel," you turned to the male who froze in his place with your voice addressing him, "I burned yours."

And with that you started to make your way to the front door with Rhysand behind you to take you home, just like he had told your aunt, leaving your friends shocked without knowing what to say about this new version of you.

Cassian followed you to the door and stopped you before you could open it. "You never came back to the House of Wind."

Upon meeting the General's eyes, after your interaction with Feyre, you realized for the first time that where affection and love for your friends used to be was now empty.

"I moved out. I'm living with my aunt again." A shrug accompanied your response.

"Why?" He asked you.

The truth is that you felt embarrassed.

Embarrassed about that night.

Embarrassed that you cried in front of your aunt and your friends.

Embarrassed that you fell in love with a male who had no interest in you.

Embarrassed that you let a male make you feel this way, that you gave him so much power over your emotions.

Embarrassed by how weak you felt.

But not anymore.

Now you feel nothing.

And that's exactly how you wanted it.

You didn't bother to answer him before turning your back on him and disappearing into the darkness of the night with Rhys by your side.

The office door opened softly letting the light of the faelights fill the hallway.

Feyre slipped inside before spotting her mate standing in front of the desk with a book that by the looks of it must be very old as he inspected the pages.

"What is that?" Feyre's voice echoed through the silent office, making her mate's violet eyes meet her light blue ones.

"It's a book about rare powers, it has several chapters about empaths. I borrowed it from Helion after Y/N came to the house." He explained with his eyes returning to the yellow pages.

Feyre laughed lightly as she recalled how her friend had arrived at the residence. "You mean when you had to carry her here?"

Rhys tried to laugh but a weak smile was all he could muster. The small gesture did not go unnoticed by the High Lady, nor did the concern on the male's face.

"You're worried about her, aren't you?"

With a long sigh, Rhys stood up to his full height and faced his wife, "Very. Something happened to her and we don't know what," as he crossed his arms over his chest, he leaned against the wall before continuing "She's different. She's insensitive and arrogant. That's not our Y/N."

The last sentence made Feyre's heart tighten a little - she felt it too. They all did and they all missed their friend.

"Did you notice the way she looked at Azriel?" Feyre asked, when she saw how you looked at the male, she thanked to the Mother that she wasn't the one on the receiving end of it "It was like she never felt anything for him, like she hated him. It was scary actually."

Rhys's eyes widened as the realization made its way through his mind. "Like she didn't feel..." he muttered softly and approached the book again.

Confused, the female approached the desk trying to figure out what Rhys had just realized, as he started flipping through the pages faster and faster.

Feyre was surprised the pages didn't tear considering how old they were and how quickly they were being flipped through.

"Rhys?"

The High Lord stopped at a page and after reading it and rereading it several times, Feyre heard his heart starting to race.

Very slowly, Rhys raised his head to meet his mate's eyes and with a low voice he finally revealed the reason for his reaction. "She turned them off."

"What?"

His heart started to beat even faster "Her emotions. She turned them off," Rhys ran a hand through his hair making it even more uneven, "Y/N turned off her emotions."

Shock began to course through the High Lady's body and she didn't hide it when she was invaded by it. "Is that possible?"

At her question, Rhys turned the book towards her and let her read the information he was still trying to process. Everything started to make sense.

"The way she talks, her clothes and the fact that she doesn't care about anything...all of this because-"

"Because she doesn't feel anything." Rhys finished for her.

As he opened his mouth to speak again, several knocks on the wooden office door interrupted him.

Clearing his voice, Rhys gave the order for the person behind the door to enter.

It was quite late, with most of their family having gone to their respective rooms a few hours ago, but the couple couldn't hide their surprise when the person knocking on the door turned out to be Nuala.

"Nuala? Is everything okay?" Feyre asked.

The half-wraith stepped forward and without revealing anything in her features, she replied "I'm not sure, High Lady. I came to inform you that Lady Madja is in the living room and has asked to speak to the Inner Circle immediately."

Even more confused than before, they both questioned why would Madja be here in the middle of the night.

Nuala continued "Lady Madja said it was urgent. It's about Y/N."

At the mention of your name, two sets of chills went down the couple's spines and Rhys was quick to give Nuala a new order "Wake everyone up."

The Inner Circle met in the living room with Madja among them.

Rhys proceeded to explain what he had discovered about you just moments ago.

The book now sat on the old healer's lap as she reread what her niece had done with tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

Madja knew something was wrong with you but she would never have guessed that this was the reason behind it.

"So, she doesn't feel anything?" Nesta asked.

If this matter had been about anyone else, she wouldn't have bothered to show her sadness but you weren't anyone else. You were her best friend. Her sister.

"Yes." Feyre said with a lump in her throat.

The room fell silent as everyone tried to process this new information.

In the corner of the sofa, Cassian blamed himself for not having noticed sooner and not having done anything to help; Elain kept looking around the room with the feeling she was being judged and Azriel was rethinking all the signs you had given him that he hadn't noticed.

"It's no one's fault," Rhys' voice caught their attention but his attention was only on Cassian, "We had no way of knowing this. Without that book we wouldn't even know this was possible."

The General hadn't even realized that his shields were down but his brother's words brought him comfort.

"What do we do?" Mor spoke for the first time since entering the room "How do we get her back?"

Hurt flashed across Rhys's face and before he could respond, Madja did it for him. "We can't," all eyes turned to her and for the first time since they had known the healer, they saw her cry.

"Y/N is the only one who can turn her emotions back on. It's up to her and only her," with new tears falling down her cheeks she concluded, "There's nothing we can do."

Feyre placed a hand on the old female's shoulder. "I'm so sorry Madja."

Madja let out a long sigh and before she could hesitate any further she said "That's not all. There's a reason I came here tonight."

"What do you mean?" Cassian asked.

"Y/N's personality isn't the only thing that has changed."

The room became tense and several breaths were held.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Amren asked and if Madja knew her better, she would have sworn she had just heard a hint of fear in Amren's voice.

"I've been trying to figure out why for several days but this..." she pointed to the book, "this explains everything."

With all eyes focused on her, the old healer begin to explain "A few days ago I put Y/N to treat a boy's knee. She grabbed one of his leg and when she put it down there was a bruise in the same place her hand was. Y/N assumed she just hadn't seen the bruise before but that was because the boy didn't have any. I was the one who sat that boy in the chair and the only thing he had was the wound on his knee and nothing else. I would have noticed the bruise if he had it."

"What are you trying to say, Madja?" Rhys asked, he could feel that with every word the old female spoke, everyone became more nervous.

"After the boy," Madja continued, "she attended to a male who had ingested a poisonous plant by mistake. When she used her magic to heal him, he started spitting blood from his mouth and became very pale. Y/N thought that the poison was stronger than she thought but when I came to help the male...I managed to cure him without any problems."

"Madja, what are-" Nesta tried to ask.

"I think...," Madja ran a hand through her black hair, "I think when Y/N turned off her emotions, I think it affected her powers too. When I saw her trying to heal that male, her powers weren't emitted by a white light like all healers."

Mor's voice shook as she asked "What was it?"

Madja stared at the blonde female before telling her "Darkness."

Several curse words passed through the room, increasing the tension that was already in the air.

"I think Y/N gave the boy that bruise and I think when she tried to take the poison out of the male...I think she ended up spreading it."

"Over the next few days, each time Y/N used her powers to heal the patients...they all got worse. Eventually, I had to put her to work behind the counter so she couldn't hurt anyone else."

This new revelation of your powers only made a bad situation even worse and much, much more dangerous.

It is already quite dangerous for a person not to be able to feel anything as this means that they cannot distinguish right from wrong just as they cannot understand when to stop but to have their powers changed?

Amren set down her glass of wine before speaking "If you think about it it makes sense," she began drawing all the attention to her "When Y/N turned off her emotions, she turned off everything that was a part of her, including her own person."

"What does this mean?" Nesta asked with fear on her face not only for what this could mean but also for you.

Azriel was the first to realize with Amren's words being the last piece of the puzzle he needed "Mother help us. Madja, you're not trying to say that Y/N is now a..."

The male couldn't find the strength to finish his sentence but it wasn't long before Cassian continued where he left.

"A what?" He asked, eyes bouncing between his brother and the healer. "She's a what?"

With a long sigh, Madja said "Y/N is no longer a healer."

No one was prepared for Madja's next words. They didn't know what to expect when she came to their house in the middle of the night but they never would have thought of this turn of events.

They would never have guessed that their friend's pain was so deep that it would cause this to happen.

"Y/N is a necromancer."

A/n: Thank you for reading!

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loveshotzz · 1 year

Text

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap ten/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs -

Baby, I’m Yours

summary: A sleepless night brings you back to where it all began.

wc: 8k

warnings: 18+ for the softest of smut.

author’s note: I know we still have the epilogue but I can’t believe we’re actually here at the end of their story. Thank you to all of you that spent your summer reading about Steve and his Tough Girl, this has been such a journey for me as a writer with a lot of challenges but I’m so thankful I did it. Truly writing about these two and talking about it with you guys was the highlight of my summer. From the bottom of my heart, thank you 🧡

🌇 <- chapter nine

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The Tune:

Beginning of August

Steve had been gone for a week and a half and it felt more like a lifetime to you, but it wasn’t for the lack of communication. If Steve wasn’t calling you he was texting you, sending you pictures of his lunch no matter how lame you told him it was. By day three you were sending him a picture of your own with a loud sigh and a roll of your eyes. His enthusiastic response of ‘That looks good baby!!’ had made you squirm in your seat with hot cheeks huffing the word “pathetic” to yourself, but that didn’t stop you from doing it again the next day.

It was FaceTime calls of Peach telling Steve to turn the camera around, always too busy looking at you and telling you how pretty you are to notice his was pointed towards a wall. Or the one time it was pointed at Eddie who sat in front of him making a suggestive ‘cumming’ face to tease him, the camera flipped immediately when he heard you giggle. Steve scolded his cackling friend with an ‘honestly, I hate you’ before taking you to another room, apologizing profusely with blush visible on his cheeks.

It was the small bits of time in between text messages and phone calls that made it drag. The quiet evenings without Bandit’s excited bark from the front yard, the low simmer that’s always in your gut from the possibility of running into him any time you come and go, is gone with the man and his dog. It’s just enough time for seeds of doubt to creep in. The newness, the anxiety of it all.

The bright red numbers on the clock above your stove read 2:13am - three days until Steve gets home and tonight you can’t sleep. Quietly thanking whatever gods there are for your day off tomorrow, well - today.

Your apartment smells like Clorox, lavender, and lemon. The wood floors sparkling just like your kitchen countertops. Cleaning everything you could touch has kept you busy, but it doesn’t make you any more tired than when you’d started. Your intrusive thoughts and daydreams are going a mile a minute:you didn’t get your usual good night call from him. The rational side of you knows that one missed phone call doesn’t mean anything, but the irrational side decided you don’t need to rest.

The full trash bag next to your front door taunts you, just like the promise you made Steve about taking it out late at night months ago. The fact that it’s the last thing left to do makes it that much harder to walk away from. Gnawing at the side of your cheek you decide not to, he’s not even home to catch you.

The moon’s blue glow illuminates your path while the skyline of the city sparkles below it. The tall buildings shimmer in a way that takes attention from the stars in the cloudless night sky. You can feel how the humidity hangs less thick in the air the more August rolls in. The thin material of your tank top does nothing against the light breeze that makes the bottom of your sleep shorts tickle the tops of your thighs. There’s a chill that didn’t exist before and it makes goosebumps dot across your skin.

Your slides scrape along the gravel from your refusal to fully pick your feet up, and it fights with the sounds of the late Friday night in the distance. You hum a made up tune as the streetlight buzzes above, lifting the lid you jump when you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

“I thought I told you not to take your trash out in the middle of the night, especially alone, tough girl.” Steve’s voice erupts everything that’s laid dormant inside of you for the past week. Butterflies start to flutter until they’re fighting against your rib cage to get out and your cheeks hurt from how hard you’re smiling before you’ve even turned around.

“Well,” You sigh, dropping your bag in the trash can, “the guy I was supposed to call if I needed anything ditched me for his out of state boyfriend.” Shrugging when you finally let yourself look at him, the view rivals the one that shines bright behind him.

His hair is messy in a way that isn’t purposeful this time, but he looks just as handsome as any other day. The stubble on his jaw is thicker, but not quite like the night he waited at your doorstep, and god, do you want to feel it against your skin. His big arms sit crossed over a broad chest that’s only covered in a gray tank top. The thick patch of hair always half way on display threatens to touch the base of his neck, the bottom of his silver chain disappearing inside of it.

His freckles are darker now, easier to find from all the sun he got while he was gone and you’re jealous of the hands that got to rub sunscreen on them, even if they were his own. The black basketball shorts on his legs stop in the middle of his thighs, it makes you bite at your lip.The greens and golds in his eyes light a match under your skin with the way he stares at you — like he couldn’t possibly look away even if he tried.

“My out of state boyfriend huh?” He grins, tightening his hold on his own bag before his Nike slide covered feet crunch against the gravel towards you. His eyes catch the dainty silver still hanging around your neck, the stone shining in the moonlight, and it makes his heart swell. Tossing his trash in after yours, he meets your gaze down the slope of his nose, arching a brow. “What does that make you then?”

He smells like bergamot and cedar, a lingering hint of the cigar he probably smoked in New York still clinging to his hair. The heat coming off his body makes your fingertips buzz, twitching with the need to reach out and just touch him.

“I dunno, what does that make me, Steve?” It comes out shy, a little above a whisper, a question just for him.

He hums, a low sound that vibrates from deep in his chest while his fingers come up to toy with the stone that dangles just above the dip of your breasts. The tips of them tickling rough against your soft skin.

“What do you want?” His confident demeanor falters when he asks just as quiet, all the miles and days without seeing each other are affecting him too. He doesn’t tell you that’s part of the reason he booked an early flight home on your day off.

“I want you.” You don’t hesitate when you say it, no pauses for even a second to think of what you want to say. Your hand comes up to wrap around his wrist, the muscles under your palm dance from your simple touch. He wonders if you can feel his pulse.

“You already have me.” He almost wants to laugh until he still sees the same shared doubt in your eyes. “Haven’t I made that obvious?”

He tugs at your necklace as a reminder, a smile breaking across your face because of it and all he wants to do is kiss you now. Especially when he drops the stone to grab your hand, and after taking just a few steps, you reach up to touch it again — a silent, constant reminder of his confession as you walk towards the wooden gates.

“Wait, why didn’t you tell me you were coming back early?” You pout a little, looking up at him when he stops you both at your backyard.

“I landed a few hours ago,” He chuckles, his hands finding your hips to pull you to his chest, in love with the way you stand on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck like it’s natural, like it’s second nature to want him close. “I was actually going to surprise you in the morning with breakfast after I picked up Bandit from Nance’s.”

“Oh yeah?” You grin at the thought of Steve showing up at your front door, that messy head of hair shoved into a baseball cap.

He nudges his nose against yours, the spearmint of his toothpaste fanning cool across your cheeks while your fingers curl into the soft hair at the base of his neck. Tilting your chin so your lips just barely touch, you silently beg him to close the gap.

“Yeah,” He breathes, hazel eyes clocking the way your lashes flutter against the top of your cheeks. He almost feels bad for teasing, especially when you give his hair a gentle, coaxing tug. “But someone wanted to risk their lives for the sake of taking out the trash. So, surprise, pretty girl, I’m home.”

His words make your breath catch, and you want to tell him he feels like home more than your real one ever did. Your heart thumps wildly in your chest when his top lip whispers against your still slightly pouted bottom one. You tug at his roots a little harder this time, needier, and you swear a whine tightens at the back of your throat threatening to come out if he doesn’t give you what you want. Please, kiss me.

“Well, good thing you were here to save me.” You giggle against his mouth, and it makes his hands squeeze at your sides a little tighter, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. The tip of your nose pushes against the rough stubble on his cheek, “Besides, I missed you, I wouldn’t have wanted to wait ‘til the morning.”

“God, honey. You have no idea how much I missed you.” His face crumples a little at the thought, almost like he forgot for a second you were right in front of him, but when you somehow pull yourself closer, he doesn’t waste anymore time.

The wood is rough when your back hits the gate at the same time his lips finally crash into yours. A week of longing comes out with a sigh. The metal hinges and lock clank loudly together while he steals the breath from your lungs. He coaxes your mouth open with a swipe from his impatient tongue, groaning when you grant him access. You taste just as sweet as he remembers, and he promises himself he’ll never go a day without it again — not if he can help it.

Your hands get greedy in his hair, bigger handfuls, harsher tugs while your body stays flush against his as he keeps you pinned to the door. It’s all tongue and teeth for a minute, both of you losing yourselves in it for longer than you should. It’s not until a car honks, signaling to any bikers around that it’s popping out of the alley, breaking you two apart.

Chest heaving and lips swollen, all you want is more.

He laughs to himself pressing his forehead against yours with the kind of smile that makes your knees weak. The tip of his nose touches yours; he’s all wild hair and love sick eyes. You don’t want to be without him tonight. Or ever.

“Come sleepover?”

The question comes out before you can stop it, before you can really register what that invitation might mean for both of you. His eyes widen before they search your face for any kind of regret, his tongue wetting his lips when he doesn’t find it. You twist strands of his honey hair between your fingers, nervously waiting for his response.

“We - we don’t have to do anything. I just wanna be with you.” You finally whisper, your nerves getting the best of you. He can’t believe you think he’d actually say no.

“Let me shower and get the airport off of me, and then I’d love nothing more than to spend the rest of the night with you baby.” He steals another kiss from your smiling lips, letting you take another one for yourself, groaning at the nip of your teeth on his bottom lip before he finally lets you go.

Opening the gate for you, he grabs your wrist pulling you back for one more, relishing in the giggle it earns him before he whispers that he’ll be back in fifteen minutes.

It feels like your heart is trying to escape through your chest as you try not to check the time on your phone. Strategically placed candles are the only light in your living room and kitchen, while a dimmed bedside lamp in your room gleams a dark orange with your wax melter. It feels like your apartment is glowing, but it does nothing to relax the nerves that course through your veins as you pace the small space of your room trying to shake them before his inevitable arrival.

Knock, knock, knock

They are quieter than his normal ones, but they make you jump just the same. You shake your hands out, taking a deep breath before you pad barefoot to your front door. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth to try and contain the smile that always grows the first time you lay your eyes on him and his lopsided grin.

“Hey baby.” He greets you in the kind of voice that makes the dough of your thighs press.

His damp hair is pushed back, from what looks like a few quick hands in the mirror. A simple white shirt replaces the tank top from before, fitting loosely across his shoulders, and a soft looking pair of gray cotton shorts cover the tops of his thighs this time. He’s wearing a tan pair of moccasin slippers on his feet that you’ve never seen, and for some reason his exposed ankles make the heat rise to your cheeks while the fresh scent of his pine body wash threatens to take over your senses.

“Hi handsome.” It’s dripping in sugar the way you say it, sweet off your tongue just for him as you open the door wider.

He thinks your apartment smells like peaches and the ocean when you close it behind him. It smells just like you and he feels surrounded by it, intoxicated with it, the way he always wants to be. You watch him take in your apartment like he missed it too, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth when he notices you just cleaned it. He bites back his remark when his eyes meet yours, he can’t bring himself to say it when you’re staring at him from under your lashes with your back pressed to the door all shy like that.

“Don’t be shy, honey,” he extends a big hand out for you to take with soft eyes, “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” copying your line from outside, he wiggles his fingers a little with a smile warmer than the glow of the candles that dance shadows across his sharp jaw and cheek bones, “I just wanna lay with you.”

You don’t hesitate to slip your palm into his, your heart racing when you watch his fingers wrap around you with ease. He pulls you into him, colliding in a mix of forest and the beach. He keeps a hold of your hand, cupping your cheek with his other one. The pad of his thumb traces over the heated skin, paying extra attention to the soft bag under your eye. You needed sleep.

“Just me and you, that’s all I want, okay?” He reassures you in a voice lower than a whisper. His heart swells when you nod with big glassy eyes, your hand coming to rest on the top of his so you can lean deeper into his touch.Steve’s hazel eyes look to yours, he tilts his head a little bit closer in a silent ask for permission, you push up on your tiptoes to meet him halfway.

He kisses you differently than how he did in the alley, differently than the Fourth of July and the baseball game. He’s gentle, like he’s taking his time with you because he actually has it now, like he’s sure of it. He doesn’t try to deepen it even when they move together like this is what they were always meant to be doing, not even when your top lip catches a little dirty with his bottom. He wants to remember this moment, commit it to memory so that he never forgets what this feels like with you. He kisses you like this until the need for oxygen becomes too much and your feet start to hurt from standing in place for too long.

“Let’s go lay down.” You whisper between bated breaths that mingle with his, your chests heave as he gives you the kind of toothy grin that makes the butterflies wake up again, nodding with a squeeze of your hand.

The hum of A/C and the sounds of your breathing are the only things that can be heard in the low light of your room. Steve’s body lays pressed on top of yours, making himself comfortable between your legs. His head rests on your sternum with a cheek against the soft curve of your tummy. His big hands hold tight to your sides, caging you in – it feels like he’s everywhere and you wouldn’t have it any other way. The weight of him relaxes you into the feathers of your pillows.

Your fingers keep themselves busy buried deep in the thickness of his hair. Still a little damp at the roots, you massage the part of his scalp you know was resting on the hard cushion of the airplane seat, earning you a deep groan that vibrates between your legs. He feels the way they try to close because of it, the sharp intake of breath that you try to hide.

He’d be lying if he said his own body wasn’t reacting being this close to you, especially when the pads of his thumbs caress under the swell of your breasts and there’s no wire of a bra to be found. His eyes roll back as the blunt ends of your nails start to scratch lightly near the nape of his neck, making his fingers squeeze you at the sensation. His face nuzzles deeper into the softness of your stomach, inhaling. You feel the prickle of his stubble through the thin material of your tank top and it makes you giggle.

Steve doesn’t know how he lasted as long as he did this past week without you.

He pushes the bottom of your tank top up and tries not to stare at the supple skin exposed to him before blowing a raspberry. It earns an even louder giggle, making your legs bend at the knees, trapping him in between your thighs.

“Steve!” You sound annoyed but the smile on your face gives you away when you go to cover your eyes with the back of your hand.

“What baby?” He smirks against your skin and feels the way it makes you squirm with a subtle roll of your hips, he’s not even sure you noticed that you did it.

“No…”Your voice trails off when he pushes your shirt up a little higher, his lips getting bolder, addicted to the way you heat up for him with every soft kiss, “No raspberries.” You finally manage, making him chuckle. But that doesn’t stop him continuing on his path.

“I promise I’ll be nice, m’sorry” He mumbles an apology against your skin, basking in the goosebumps it earns him.

He sits back on his knees, thumbs hooking into the bottom of your tank. His eyes meet yours from underneath his lashes and he wishes he could take a picture of the way you look right now.

“Is this okay?” He asks just to make sure, and the nod of your head with heavy lids is enough for him to press a wet kiss on your sternum before pulling the rest of the offending fabric off, throwing it somewhere on your floor.

Steve forgets how to breathe the moment his eyes land on you, soft curves just begging for his touch. He can’t help himself when he runs his palms up your sides making your nipples pebble when the pads of his thumbs meet the bottom swell of your breasts. You wonder if he can feel the wings under your rib cage.

“God - honey,” Steve’s words get lost on his tongue when you stare up at him with eyes blown out like his, it makes him run a hand down his face like he can’t believe you’re real. “I’m lucky to just be lookin’ at you.”

His praise makes a shy smile push up your cheeks, his own teeth shining in a grin because of it.

“I wanna look at you too.” You whine a little, reaching down between your legs to tug at the cotton of his shirt with a pout.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, bending back down to hover over you. His nose nudges against your cheek before his lips brush yours, smirking when you nod a little desperate against his mouth.

The kiss he gives you lingers, lighting a fire inside of you, the kind that burns at your fingertips, consuming you like it’s wild and it makes you realize it’s never going to be enough. You’re never going to get enough of the man who looks at you like you hung the stars in his sky, like you were the sun that broke through the rain clouds that followed him around.

His fingers curl at the hem of his shirt, and it feels like he’s moving in slow motion when he pulls it over his head, adding it to the already growing pile on the floor. His muscles twitch under your gaze, his own nerves finally catching up to him when he realizes just how long it’s been since he’s been with someone like this. Pink dusts his cheeks but he doesn’t look away, not when he sees the way your eyes glaze over at the sight. The dark thatch of hair in the middle of his chest looks soft to the touch from his late night shower and it makes your fingers twitch to touch him.

The silver of his chain gleams like yours in the moonlight that leaks through your curtains and it makes his skin look like it glows. You give in, running your fingertips through the thick happy trail that’s surrounded by another collection of freckles and moles that you feel the need to kiss and you catch the shudder that runs through him because of it.

“You’re so handsome, Steve.” It comes out a little breathless, and it makes the tips of his ears turn pink.

“Thank you, angel.” He tries to hide his bashfulness in a grin and a hand through his hair, bending back down to press a kiss to your collarbone so you don’t see his smile.

He starts a path up your neck, nipping at sensitive skin along the way to your lips, his own butterflies being spurred on by the whimper it earns him. He hovers over you searching your face for any indication to stop but he’s only met with the kind of look in your eyes that almost has him say it.

‘I love you’.

He tries to show you by slotting his lips against yours in a hot breath, like a key to its lock. The bed dips on either side of your head when he goes from his palms to his forearms, chest to chest he wonders if you can feel his heart beating just for you tonight.

The feeling of his skin against yours makes every inch of you feel like a livewire, both of you moaning into the kiss like you’ve waited too long for this. Tongues collide messily when he rolls his hips with a purpose. The pointed pressure on your bundle of nerves, has you keening into him. Your hands slide up his chest through the patch of hair you’d been dreaming about for months, before wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him even closer. Addicted to the way his hard muscles flex against your soft skin.

Box springs squeak when he lets go of all of his weight, it feels like he’s everywhere and it makes your head spin. Your fingers find their way back into the soft hair at the nape of his neck as you fight for dominance with his lips, trying to convey everything you’re feeling right now because words just won’t work.

Pushing your hips up to meet his in a slow grind, the thin material of his shorts does nothing to hide just how big he really is and it makes everything turn sloppy, teeth scraping together with silk between your fingers tugging at his roots a little mean. He smiles when he pulls away to catch his breath, keeping his forehead pressed to yours. His eyes are as black as the night outside that threatens to give away to the sun in just a few hours, they look at you like he can’t believe you’re real, memorizing every detail of your face like you might disappear if he blinks.

“So pretty.” He murmurs before littering kisses down your body, some sweet and some with a nip of his teeth.

His eyes meet yours in a silent question of ‘is this okay?’, long fingers curling around the elastic band. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth to hide your shy smile. You nod with a little too much excitement making him smirk before pressing a sweet kiss on the top of your hip, running his nose along the soft your tummy doing it again to the other side.

You hold your breath when he pulls them down your thighs, the tips of his fingers gliding down the sides of your legs as he goes, lips tugging up when you squirm a little because of it. A low groan vibrates from his chest when he realizes you aren’t wearing underwear, glistening with your arousal in the dim light. You’re so wet and all he’s done is kiss you.

“Baby, baby, baby.” He mutters awestruck by the sight.

A little embarrassed at your body’s reaction, his praise makes your legs try to snap shut but he stops you with a gentle hand on the inside of your knee, spreading them again.

“You’re beautiful, please don’t hide from me.” He begs, taking all of you in again. “So, so, so beautiful, honey.”

His fingers wrap around your ankle, pulling your leg up enough for his lips to kiss the soft skin right above the round bone, his nose skims up your calf to press another one, relishing in the giggle he gets as he keeps on his path to what he really wants. You squeal when he nips at the inside of your knee and you can feel his smirk against your goosebumps.

Once his kisses get to your thigh, he settles between your legs with his chest to the mattress. It’s hard to remember your own name when he looks up at you through his lashes like that. He hooks your knee over his broad shoulder, his lips dragging a little dirty across your heated skin. He can taste the watermelon that still lingers from his favorite lotion. You were going to be the death of him.

He meets your eyes when he gets high enough for your thigh and hip to connect. Close enough to smell how sweet you are worked up just for him.

“Can I taste you?” He skims his nose up the plush inside of your thigh when he asks, his eyelids growing heavy just basking in being close to you like this. You could say no, and this would be enough for him but the way you’re already dripping on your sheets makes him insatiable. “You want that?”

You want that?

He watches how your eyes glaze over at his question, the intensity of his gaze makes you want to hide, he was so handsome looking up at you like this. Too bashful to actually say yes, you nod again.

“Can you say it for me?” He squeezes your hip, the pad of his thumb rubbing circles to soothe your nerves like his own weren’t boiling under the surface of his confident demeanor like a volcano ready to explode.

What if he wasn’t good at this anymore?

“Y- yes, I want you to taste me, handsome you can do whatever you want to me.” The breathy giggle that bubbles passed your lips makes him grin lopsided just how you like, a smugness that wasn’t there before smoldering like a fire in his eyes.

“Yeah? Fuck - Honey, I dream about this.” He groans when he pulls himself closer, the tip of his nose running up your slick folds making you shudder, fingers already tangling in your sheets. “You want me to show you how much I missed you?”

He doesn’t tell you that he’s started to always miss you when you aren’t around.

He accepts your nod this time, your teeth threatening to make your bottom lip bleed when he settles your other leg over his shoulder too, nothing holding him back from you anymore. He takes all of you in with a greedy eyes, his pink tongue darling out to lick his lips when he sees just how much you want this too.

Nothing can prepare you for the first swipe of his flattened tongue between your slick folds, the tip of it catching your clit with just enough pressure for the grip on your sheets to tighten. The butterflies in your rib cage feel like they make their escape in the gasp you let out, his low hum of approval making your toes curl when he does it again.

“So fucking sweet baby, god of course you are.”

He doesn’t waste anymore time testing the waters, his self doubt gone with his self control when your hips roll up asking for more. Steve knows now he’ll never say no to you and he’s not shy with the way he buries his face in your pussy. His tongue laps up everything you give him, like he’s hungry with his nose pressed to your bundle of nerves with enough pressure to make your back arch.

“Ohmygod - Steve.” The moan you let out makes his cock twitch, your fingers reaching down to tangle themselves in his hair, shamelessly pulling him closer. You were better than his dreams.

Your thighs snap closed around his ears after he stops the greedy strokes of his tongue in the tightness of your entrance for his lips to wrap your clit. He sucks with the kind of force that makes your eyes hit the back of your head. His eyebrows marry together when he closes his eyes like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. One of hands leaves the dough of your thighs for his thick index finger to take his tongue's place, collecting the slick from between your folds before pushing one knuckle in.

It makes you gasp a little breathy as your hips push up for more, and he gives it to you, pushing two more knuckles in and you already feel so full. Your walls constrict, fluttering around his single digit like it’s a stretch and he wonders how you’re going to be able to take him. His own hips rut into the mattress in search of some kind of relief while he sets a steady pace between his mouth and his wrist that has you clenching like you’re about to unravel.

“You close baby? Wanna show me how good it feels?” His question comes out sloppy against your mound, all the color in his eyes is gone meeting yours from between your legs blown wide. When he adds a second finger, it slides in with ease making your eyes hit the back of your head, a low moan bubbling past your lips. Your toes curl with his fingers, jaw going slack with his name in your mouth like a prayer and he’s scared you’re going to make him cum in his pants again.

“Just like that, fuck - right there - Steve, Steve, Steeeeeve!” The fingers that are tangled in his hair tug rough, your thighs clamping down hard around his head while your body tries to squirm away to run from the intensity of it all, the stubble on his jaw rubbing you raw when he moves his head from side to side drinking in everything you give him.

His hand on your hip locks you in place while you come undone on his tongue and he swears you taste just like sugar when he buries his face in deeper till you whine, pushing on his forehead to stop, overstimulation winning. Heat floods your cheeks when you see the shine from your slick covering the bottom of his lopsided grin when he finally looks up at you.

“So pretty like this,” He mumbles, pressing a kiss to the inside of your shaking thigh.

You cover your face with your hands, the intensity of your first orgasm and the intimacy of it all overwhelms you, the tightness in your chest threatens to become unbearable. The three words sitting at the tip of your tongue beg to come out from between your lips.

Not yet.

He trails sticky kisses up your stomach, making sure to pay special attention to the swell of your breasts, pulling them both together in his big hands to give them equal treatment. Shining lips wrap around your sensitive nipples and it's enough for a new wave of arousal to blossom deep inside your belly, a subtle rock of your hips meeting his when he rolls one between his teeth. Insatiable, just like him.

“Steve,” His name comes out around a sigh, your fingers running up his freckled back before tangling themselves in his hair again, addicted to the softness of it.

“Mmm, tell me what you want.” He looks up at you from under thick lashes, lids heavy, and eyes glossy. He’s wrecked.

“You.” The answer is just as simple as it was outside, it's all you’ve ever wanted. You realize that now. The universe bringing you here to this moment with him. This was it.

“Baby,” he looks at you like he means it, like his whole heart is in your hands now and it has been since the day you moved in he just didn’t know it yet, “I’m yours.”

He moves back up your body, leaving wet kisses across sweat slicked skin making sure to suck at the sensitive spot he found just above your collarbone, smiling when you gasp. He’s not expecting to feel your lips against his jaw, bold and sure of themselves by the time they get to the corner of his mouth, dainty fingers pulling his chin down to collect your kiss.

Your lips move like you can finally relax, like you’re home now and he can feel your heartbeat against his chest. This didn’t feel like just sex.

Your hands run down his sides, grinning into his mouth when he chuckles as the tips of your fingers brush against his ribs, you keep that information locked away another time as you hook them in the elastic band of his shorts. His tongue licks a little dirty into your mouth when you start to pull them down his hips, helping you get them to his knees before kicking them off entirely. The length of him feels heavy against your stomach, and it makes you break away from the kiss but his lips stay attached to you.

Your cheek, your jaw, your neck, anywhere he can reach.

The view makes your breath hitch and get stuck in the back of your throat, walls fluttering around nothing when you see just how big he really is. He’s too busy trying to find new places to make you gasp and all you wanna do is look at him.

“Steve” his name comes out around the gasp he was trying so hard to get by sucking a little bruise behind your ear.

He hums against your skin with his eyes closed, drowning in you. Love drunk off of it. The slow sleepiness from the day creeping in as his body molds to the warmth of you.

“I wanna look at you, too.” Your request is quiet against the rough stubble that fades into his neck, and you feel his Adam’s apple bob against your lips.

“Yeah?” His voice is hoarse, nose nudging against your jaw when he brings his gaze back to yours, a smile pulls up the apples of his cheeks, crinkling small lines under his eyes.

“Yeah.” You don’t nod this time.

He holds your eyes in his, needing you to know there’s a double meaning in his words when he brings his palm to your cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing the high bone.

“Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”

The mattress bounces when Steve flops next to you on his back, the two of you barely fitting on your queen size with his broad shoulders and long legs. He catches the way your eyes grow big when you sit up on your knees and finally get to see all of him. He reaches out for you, sensing your hesitation at his size

“C’mere, baby, we’ll go slow.”

Heat blooms between your legs when you take his hand, your knees finding a home on either side of his hips. He’s thicker than you’d imagined all those nights with your fingers between your thighs. The big vein running up the length of him protrudes like it’s working overtime, while beads of pearly white smear against the rough patch of hair just below his belly button from his light pink tip. Wrapping his hand around the base, he gives himself a pump to relieve some of the ache from seeing you sitting on top of him like this. Soft curves on display in the moonlight, he can’t wait to see them when it breaks daylight.

“Fuck,” He sighs when you settle above him, “you look gorgeous.”

His words make your confidence peak, your hands finding themselves flat against his chest, the blunt ends of your nails drag through the hair there and you spot another cluster of freckles you hadn’t seen before, you wonder if he’ll let you find them all.

“Look who’s talkin’” You tease, making him laugh as you lean up to steal a kiss. The motion has the length of him slide easily between your slick folds, his tip catching your clit before popping out.

“Jesus Christ.” He sighs against your mouth that’s formed in a silent ‘o’, rolling his back up in search for more.

“Steve - you’re so - “ The last of your sentence is stolen by a gasp when you grind down to meet his thrust, the tip of him prodding your entrance before gliding up with just the right amount of pressure to make you both moan.

“I’m so what?” He asks a little smug, arms circling the curve of your waist to pull you closer, dragging you over the length of him again, it makes you shudder in his grasp.

He catches against where you beg for more of him, fluttering around the tip, your walls try to suck him in. A low growl rumbles from his chest when he tries to fit a little more. It’s your hips that roll, and it's just enough for him to push all the way in with a little resistance.

“Goddd,” You whine, feeling the fullest you’ve ever been, your walls stinging, desperately trying to accommodate his size. A low huff exhales through your nose when you sit up straight, letting your nails drag over the beauty marks that litter his stomach before finishing your sentence, “so big.”

“Yeah, but look at you takin’ it.” He groans with pinched brows, eyes transfixed on where he disappears inside of you. Arousal coating the thick thatch of hair that frames him, wetting his lips as he watches the way you grind your clit against it letting him fill you to the hilt. “So good for me baby, so beautiful, - fuck! - so gorgeous.”

His praise has you clenching around him, your mouth falling open when you feel him twitch because of it. His big hands find the tops of your thighs, the pads of his fingers leaving fires in their wake while making their way to your hips. He squeezes softly when he gets there, guiding your lazy thrusts before searching for your hands.

You watch him intertwine your fingers with curious eyes, his gaze transfixed on yours as he holds them at your sides, rolling his hips up to push even deeper.

“Oh god,” He does it again only this time if feels like there’s nowhere else for him to fit and it makes your eyes screw shut, “ohmyfuckinggod - Steeeve!”

“Right there? Yeah? Is that it?” He grunts trying to repeat it and your hands squeeze his in an iron grip. “Come on baby, I need to see you.”

It’s hard to open your eyes, the slow drag of his cock against your slick walls is almost overwhelming. Connected to him in a way that is going to change you forever. The pad of his thumb rubs soft on the top of your hand, bringing you back to him.

“You’re eyes are too pretty to be keepin’ them from me.” He smiles when you finally meet his gaze and it’s enough to punch the air out of your lungs.

“I love you.” The three words slip past your kiss bitten lips before you can even think long enough to stop them and it makes everything come to a standstill.

“What’d you just say?” Steve’s voice is quiet, something unrecognizable in his tone that makes all your nerves come back like they never left.

“I - I -“ the harsh sting of rejection is written all over your face and the feeling of you trying to untangle your hands snaps him back to reality. To you.

“Hey, hey, hey, no honey.” He doesn’t let you go, squeezing till his knuckles turn white “I just wanted to make sure I heard you right, because I’ve been wanting to say that to you since the fourth of July.”

You light up for him in a way he’s never seen before and he thinks this is the most beautiful you’ve ever been.

“Really?” You whisper a little shy, your own smile becoming uncontainable.

He lets your hands go to wrap his arms back around your waist, sitting up as he pulls you with him on his lap. Chest to chest with his back against your headboard, you’re even closer to him like this. The new position has him impossibly deep, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix making you keen pretty.

“Yeah, really.” He sighs, wishing he had gotten to say it first.

One arm keeps you close while the other wraps around your back, the warmth of his palm spreading wide across it. The stray hair that you missed more than you realized falls over his forehead and there’s nothing stopping you from pushing it back. Fingernails dragging through his soft hair, making his eyes close until he feels the slow drag of your hips spurring him on.

He doesn’t hesitate to pick up the pace, especially when your arms wrap around his neck and he feels your hardened nipples against chest. The new angle has his thrusts hitting the spot inside of you no one else has ever been able to find, the one you almost didn’t think existed. The tip of him catches it again and again.

The sound of your slick fills the quiet of your room, growing louder with every roll of your hips that connect with his. The light sheen of sweat that coats both of you has you sliding against his thighs, the cool air from the A/C doing nothing as the two of you get lost like this.

Your second orgasm builds at the same time your body starts to slump against his, your muscles screaming at you for a break.

“Getting close, huh?” He asks, with a forehead pressed to yours, lips teasing but never touching with each thrust.

All you can do is nod, your eyes not daring to leave his again. He wouldn’t let you even if you tried, a hazel forest turned night, you never wanted to leave the depths of them.

“So good for me, let go pretty baby, I got you. Let me do all the work.” He picks up his pace, pushing deeper in with every roll of his hips, feeling the way you squeeze around him while your body starts to shake, the high you’d been chasing threatening to take you.

Holding your gaze, the hand on your back slides up the dip of your spine, curling around the back of your neck. He closes the last bit of space, pulling you to his lips. It’s sloppy and sweet, neither one of you trying to deepen it, just enjoying the way you move together like it was supposed to be like this forever.

“Fuck- I love you so much it scares me.” Steve admits when he pulls away, his confession is the last straw that sends you over the edge. Tears stinging the corners of your eyes when you cum hard around him for the second time.

Your fingers tangle his hair, crashing your lips into his with tear stained cheeks and he can feel everything you put inside of it just for him. It’s enough to finally let himself unravel for the first time in years with a loud moan and his face buried in your neck.

It warms deep in your gut when he spills inside of you, his body trembling with the intensity of it all. Your thighs shake clinging to him, both of you too scared to let go in the irrational fear that you’ll just wake up from a really good dream. You can feel the wetness of his tears against your skin, your nails finding their way to his scalp. He hums against you when you kiss his temple, nuzzling deeper until you feel his lips against the underside of your jaw.

The two of you sit there like this in a mess of tangled limbs. Sweet kisses and even sweeter words all spoken just barely above a whisper until he’s soft enough to slide out on his own. He takes his time cleaning you up after with giant hands that treat you like glass.

It’s like muscle memory the way he pulls you to his chest under the covers, like this isn’t your first sleepover. The tip of his nose runs along the length of yours with shining eyes and an even brighter smile, kissing you softly with another whispered “you’re so beautiful”.

Streams of sunshine break through your blinds when the two of you finally settle in, buried deep in his arms surrounded by the lingering scent of pine and him, the sounds of his even breathing are enough for you to give into your heavy lids.

It’s only when you’re on the verge of dreams you’re sure will be filled with him that you hear it:

“I love you, tough girl.”

🌇 -> epilogue

beta’d by @chechelia & dividers by @chechelia

(thank you for everything cece ♥️ and a special thank you to @superblysubpar for betaing the first half of this series, i love you both dearly. & also @carolmunson for always talking to me about our boys, and helping me make this world a little bigger ♥️ ily)

#my writing #all i really want is you series #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington slowburn #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harringont series

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whateverloomis · 4 months

Text

🩸Red🩸 >> Poly!Ghost face x Killer!Reader || Scream 1996

Part 2 >> Part 3

About: While the Casey Becker and Steve Orth killings were taking place, a third kill happened as well... Billy Loomis and Stu Macher can't risk having someone else around that could ruin their goal of killing Sidney Prescott. What happens when all 3 killers get a little bit too close?

Warnings: Eventual SMUT, cheating, making out, smoking (weed,) reader is AFAB, reader is a killer, reader is short, reader is alt and has tattoos + piercings, Randy is a bitch (lol,) revised June'24

Reader: They/them pronouns that are highlighted in bold so it's easy to identify | AFAB

Word count: 2k

Narrator:

While the Casey Becker and Steve Orth killings were taking place, a third kill happened as well...

YN and Katherine had been friends since grade school and later on Casey joined, forming a tight 3 friend group. They'd go out together every weekend, sleep over and talk about their crushes.

When Casey started dating Steve she became distant from YN and Katherine which elicited some tension between the three. Everything felt fake. From conversations to hanging out.

As the months went by, Katherine started to distance herself from YN without any indication of anything happening between the two. It affected YN emotionally. The loneliness grew as the days went by and YN kept repeating conversation after conversation mentally to figure out what went wrong with Katherine. Then, she stopped communicating with YN completely.

One night YN went shopping alone to clear their head and walk around without the risk of encountering anyone from campus, since the students usually went to the town mall during the day.

They walked along one of the strips of the mall that lead to one of the courtyards where people would sit and relax while being under the clear night sky.

YN bought their favorite drink as a treat and walked along the sidewalk, looking for a nice spot to sit and enjoy their own company.

When YN finally found a spot, they heard a familiar laughter. It was Katherine. She walked out of a coffee shop that was near YN's chosen spot with Steve and kissed him, followed by a hug. YN gasped loud enough to catch Katherines attention. They made eye contact and Katherine gave YN the meanest look she could.

Something snapped in them that day. Not only Katherine completely discarded YN from her life, but she was betraying Casey, and on top of that Steve was being unfaithful to Casey, not to mention that he was the reason why the friend group got separated in the first place.

That's why YN went to Katherines house at night the next day. That's why YN hid behind the bushes next to her room with a red ghostface mask decorated with small horns to conceal their face. Why they called Katherine to serve as a distraction before bashing the bedroom window with a large stone and grabbed Katherine from behind, slicing her throat open and letting her bleed to death.

•

"YN? Helloooo" You heard Tatum practically scream at you. Finally snapping out of your thoughts, you shook your head and processed what she said.

"Casey and Steve too?" You asked, shock written all over your face. Tatum was slowly becoming your friend ever since she noticed you and your (ex) friends were parting. You were all in the cheerleading team and word got around pretty quick. By the day of the shocking news, you guys were officially friends. However, you didn't want to get attached, so there was still a good amount of distance when it came to trust from your part.

As the days went by, you became closer to her friend group as well, mainly because Randy kept conspiring about you being the main suspect of the group because you were the new one.

"All I'm saying is it's usually the least expected person! Plus, they dress in all black and, chains... tattoos, and scary stuff." Randy said and you scoffed, giving him an annoyed look. "I'm literally right here asshole. Plus, that has nothing to do with being a killer."

"Don't get me wrong, you're hot but c'mon YN!" - "Man fuck off! You're being a real dick head." Stu interrupted and you smiled at Randy sarcastically.

"Okay fine, i'll drop it... I've got my eye on you though." - "Randy, if you have a little crush on YN I don't think insulting them will get you anywhere." Billy interjected and everyone laughed except for the boy being called out.

"Shut up Billy! I don't have a crush it's ju-" - "Give it a rest already, YN is not the killer." Tatum said and scoffed.

Sidney seemed uncomfortable with the whole situation, always playing the victim card when other people were getting hurt too. More than her. Yeah, you might've been the cause of some of the damage but it was still annoying.

She shifted between Billy's legs uncomfortably and he gave her a subtle glare, exactly like you did before making eye contact with him. He averted your gaze quicker than you did his and you bit your lip in thought. He always seemed mysterious. The quiet type. Hot bad boy that swept anyone off their feet without even trying, but you knew best. You knew he wasn't innocent in this whole situation and you got the feeling that he knew you were part of it too. You and Billy thought alike, you were almost sure of it, but you had to get close to him. The last thing you needed was someone ratting you out to get away with possible murder.

•

Exiting out of the classroom, the day was finally over. You walked along the hallway to leave your books in your locker, but before getting there you spotted Billy opening his. You took a deep breath and put on your best smile before approaching him.

"Hey Billy!, have you seem Tatum?" You asked, sounding sweet as ever and he looked at you from head to toe. "Mm, I think she's still in class. Stu's supposed to meet me here with her s-" - "Nice boots shorty." Stu said, sticking his tongue out at you, interrupting Billy by placing his hands on his shoulders and giving him a squeeze that didn't go unnoticed by you.

You were wearing black platform knee high boots that barely did anything to help your height when it came to being next to Billy and Stu, but they were cute shoes nonetheless so that was a win.

"Yeah, thank's. Where's Tatum?" You asked Stu this time and he shrugged. "Mm I don't know man, she said Sidney needed a ride home so I think she left."

Of course she did. You guys weren't nearly as close as she was with Sidney, but she could've at least met you after class.

You rolled your eyes, trying to seem playful before answering; "Whatever, see you around losers."

Billy smirked at your little pet name and Stu just laughed annoyingly loud.

"You really think it was them man? I mean, look at that shorty with the cute personality-" - "It's an act, Stu. Can't you see?" The boys looked at you from head to toe at a distance, impossible to look away with that incredible body of yours. "We need to get closer, it's the only way." Billy said and Stu chuckled; "Or maybe you just want to tap that. I know I would." - "Can't you be serious for one second?! We can't risk someone exposing us just to get away with murder, ok?!" Billy whisper screamed while looking around to make sure nobody was too close to hear him. Even if Stu was right about Billy being undeniably attracted to you, he couldn't let that get in the way.

•

You were stressed, annoyed and not having it with Tatum leaving with Sidney and not meeting you after class, so you decided to go to your usual smoke spot to exhale the stress away. Arriving at the colleges bleachers, you sat underneath them in a secluded corner and pulled out the pipe from your bag along with already ground weed and a lighter.

After preparing everything, you placed the tip of the pipe against your mouth and lit the substance, taking a deep inhale before exhaling slowly and closing your eyes, feeling the relaxing effects wash over your body.

...

Twenty minutes went by and you were already taking your third hit, needing to numb yourself a bit before walking to your dorm. While you breathed in the smoke, you heard footsteps behind you. Turning around you saw that it was Billy approaching. You got startled and the smoke went deeper into your lungs than it should've, instantly sending you into a coughing fit.

"Woah there! Didn't mean to scare you." He said, chuckling before sitting down in front of you. You coughed a few more times before catching your breath and looked at him, bursting into laughter. He couldn't help but smile at your state and lift an eyebrow.

"Is that shit that good?" Billy asked and you offered him some. "Find out for yourself." You said and he took a big hit, having a mini coughing fit himself before the effects took over.

•

A few more hits later and hours of talking to each other you were starting to take a liking to Billy. He was funny and sweet. His personality really blossomed with the effects of the weed and it was easy to let go with him. Inevitably, you guys started to talk about theories related to the murders and made fun of Randy for being a nerd when it came to horror movies, not to mention taking the rules so seriously.

"I mean, it's kinda stupid that if you're a virgin you can't get killed. That's like, some voodoo shit or something." You said, not making much sense.

"How did you even draw that conclusion?" Billy asked and smirked at your incoherent reasoning.

"I don't know! Like, it would make more sense if you kissed the killer or something and you instantly become a subject." You said, trying to make some sense of your words but you knew it didn't.

"You're not even thinking at this point." - "No, I'm not." You instantly answered and giggled, a rare occurrence for you. Billy couldn't help but find it cute and contradicting given your dark appearance.

"Hm, we're both suspects so... What if we kissed and end up being killers? Does that cancel it out or something?" Billy asked. He knew exactly what he was doing.

You paused for a moment, trying to make sense and figure out what he was implying. "Mm, I don't know, m-" - "You wanna find out?" He said suddenly, smirking.

Did he know you were responsible for one of the killings or was he just trying to make out because he was high and not thinking?

"Mm, tempting... But you have a girl, so." - "But you want to." He countered, sitting next to you, his face inches away from yours.

"I mean... Kinda..." You admitted, no filter whatsoever. Billy bit his bottom lip and scanned your face for any sign of rejection as he leaned in slowly. "Sid doesn't need to know..." He whispered and you felt him pull you in with his stare. Gosh, he was magnetic and you couldn't resist.

You decided to make a bold move and bit his bottom lip softly, eliciting a chuckle from his part.

Your lips touched and it was over. You moved in unison and played with Billy's tongue, brushing yours against his and softly moaned into his mouth. How did you even end up in that situation? It all happened so fast, but you couldn't pull away.

"You're a freaky one, huh?" He whispered and you laughed softly, standing up and straddling him. Billy immediately placed his hands on your hips and squeezed the flesh. You continued kissing and biting each other. Moaning and groaning quietly as you ground your hips against his crotch. Billy could've come right then and there with the sight of your tits bouncing while you moved against him.

You could've fucked him at that moment without a care, but before things could escalate, you heard footsteps.

Climbing off his lap and fixing yourselves, you moved far enough so it didn't seem like anything was happening.

Suddenly, Stu peaked under the bleachers and laughed; "I thought I smelled pot!"

You couldn't help but laugh along with him and offer some to the boy. That day got interesting real quick, and you couldn't deny that you loved every second of it.

#billy loomis smut #billy loomis x you #scream (1996)#billy loomis x reader #ghostface smut #ghostface x reader #ghostfacesmut #stu macher smut #stu macher x billy loomis #stu matcher x reader

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adventuringblind · 5 months

Text

Teach Me Part Two

Max Verstappen x Reader Part One

Genre: Hurt/Comfort with a speck of spice (technically speaking)

Summary: Max teacher his girl about subdrops and helps her through one of her own

Warnings: Softdom Max, mentions to a past toxic relationship, mentions of choking, subdrop, minor insecurity, Implied smut but nothing graphic, Lando is mentioned for like a paragraph because I can

Notes: For @nurse-sainz who has fueled my brainrot to an unhealthy amount

Side Note: My inbox is open and I crave attention... :)

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

Max had come to the conclusion early on that she would inevitably hit a subdrop at some point. As much as he would like to make it so she never has one, he knows it's going to happen eventually. It's - unfortunately - hard to predict and often random.

Crashing out of a subspace too fast, A used safeword, maybe even just too much stimulation. He's had partners be in that lovely place in their heads and fine only to fall from it without grace and send them into a panic.

“A subdrop? I don’t think I read about those-”

“It’s one of those things that they don’t talk about as much. Hitting a subspace is hard because you have to let go, right? A subdrop is when your mind is stuck between the two. It’s trying to take back control but can’t.” Max pauses the movie they hadn’t been paying attention to. This conversation takes precedence as far as he’s concerned.

She hums and rubs the side of her face against his arm like she’s a cat. “They sound scary. I’m not sure I want to have one of those.”

“Just remember that if you ever do, I’ll be right there with you, yes?”

“Yes.”

He smirks at her. The idea had already been planted in his head. “Yes, who?”

She grumbles. A furious shade of red making its way across her cheeks. The honorifics is a relatively recent thing. The effect it has on her has Max cooing; debating if he should ever let her out of his arms again.

“...Yes sir.”

“Good girl.”

~~~♡~~~

Choking had come up a few times in the past. They’d talked about it but not done anything with it. Not since she wasn’t sure. She’d even brought up how her ex (the bastard) had tried to choke her out before she managed to flip them over and bolt to Max’s own room.

He wasn’t going to push for that. Never something that could be triggering. They’d decided that his hand gently putting pressure on the back of her neck was enough. She liked that and Max liked that she was communicating.

But sometimes - even that can be enough to bring back memories. He’d been lucky so far to not have triggered anything. Max knows from experience that even movements that are too quick can have an adverse reaction.

It’s not late, the sun is barely setting over the Monaco sky. Though - he’s not paying attention to the time so it could also be rising. He’d never know the difference. He’s only focused on the mess of a female he has underneath him.

She’s not formed a coherent string of words since orgasm number three. Only able to squeak out his name alongside little whimpers. It’s safe to say Max is pussy drunk and can’t get enough of her. He’s not satisfied yet, and wants to see how far he can push.

Max isn’t sure which touch triggers it. He’s pressed up against her in most spots leaving it hard to decipher where he ends and she begins.

He only notices she’s slipped into that awful middle headspace when he pulls back for just a second, intent on picking his pace back up. The confused fear that settles over her expression makes him freeze, patiently assessing the situation.

Her teeth clatter together, the pain of something evident. The breathing pattern he’d been waiting to even out only gets worse. “Schat, can you take a big breath for me?” He settles the palm of his hand against her rapidly beating heart. His concern only grows when she doesn’t show any signs of hearing him.

She makes a defensive movement to cover her throat with her own hands, silently pleading with her eyes not to touch her in such a vulnerable location. It dawns on him, that in his own flurry of movements, it’s possible he brushed her neck and set off her emotions.

“I’m going to step away from you for a second so I’m not touching, okay?” Her eyes go wide with panic and he knows she’s probably struggling to comprehend. The sadness of her expression kills him as he detaches.

Tears prick her eyes the second contact breaks completely. She snatches hold of Max’s own wrist and in a last ditch effort to make him stay, tries to press his fingers around her airway. “Nonono, schat, I know you don’t want that.” When he’s able to hold her gently once more after having resituated, the sobs she’d been biting back finally escape. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe, I would never do something you didn’t want.”

Max doesn’t grimace when her nails press into his bare skin; when she’s clinging to him for stability. He holds her, hums, helps her to try and steady her breath.

“Mm’ sorry-”

“Shh, you’ve nothing to be sorry for. Rest now.”

~~~♡~~~

Max manages to coax her into sleeping. She’s cute like this, curled up against him with her ear pressed against his chest. He presumes the rhythmic sound of his thudding heart is helping calm her mind. He makes a mental note to invest in some kind of white noise for if (he knows it’ll be a when, but he’s choosing to be optimistic).

“Max?” Her eyes crack open, only to shut tight again when she yawns.

“Hello beautiful, how are you feeling?” He tosses his phone aside to give her his full attention.

“Better - I think. I’m not sure I liked that feeling.”

“I would be concerned if you did, schat.”

She stretches her limbs out and flops further over the top of him. “Thank you… I was scared I messed up and you were going to leave.” He has to take a deep breath and remember that anger at the man who put these crazy thoughts in her head is no longer able to come close. He made sure of that with a few cryptic messages glued together in newspaper words and Lando’s artistic assistance.

“You’ve bewitched me! Body and soul… or something-”

“Are you trying to quote Pride and Prejudice?”

“Is it working?” He’s blushing at his own lame attempt. Victoria would have his head for this later. Problems for future Max.

She giggles. “Not really - but I’ll give you a pass this time.”

Max gets her out of bed and into a bath. He makes a show of letting her pout to join her inside win out. He lost that battle before it even started, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“It’s nice… trusting someone like this.” She relaxes against him, the water now lukewarm and the bubbles having dissipated.

“You still trust me?” Oops - Max hadn’t meant to let his own insecurity about the ordeal leak out. Oh well…

She tilts her head in confusion. “Why would I not?”

“It happens sometimes after a drop like that. At least - I’ve heard it can. I figured I was lucky enough that it hadn’t.”

“I think you’re just good at this. Not like you were trying to hurt me.” She shrugs. “I trust you, Max. You have given me nothing but your undying love and support.”

“...Now look who’s being sappy!”

“At least mine is original.”

“Can you at least pretend that I’ve also given you some really good dick?”

“Fine! Nothing but your undying devotion to me and some really dick. Happy?”

Max sighs happily and drags her body as close to his as he can manage. “With you? Always.”

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soulessjourney · 5 months

Text

Let The World Burn - Chapter 1

Paring: Azriel x fem!Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: You're one in a million, Azriel had never encountered someone so different from himself, someone more powerful, even rivaling Rhysand in ability. When you appeared in the Night Court one evening, covered in dirt and dried blood, something about you seemed distinctly unique. It wasn't just the fire that scorched the ground beneath you or the red hue of your eyes burning into his skin. No, it was the shadows that swarmed around you, harmonizing with his own, drawing them closer to you.

Warnings: Violence, Language, Near character death, Talk of killing, Angst, Hurt and comfort, hurt no comfort, reader is an angry strong female reader, lots of miscommuication, fluff, More to be added

A/N: Buckle up, children. This fic is the epitome of enemies-to-lovers, lovers-to-enemies, and back again. The angst is intense, and the betrayals are oh so real.

All you could smell was your burning flesh and the smoke from the area around you. Above you, the dark sky seemed to smile down in a way that almost felt mocking. Drawing in a deep breath, your chest tightened, drowning out your senses. Uncertain of how you got here or even who you were, the last thing you remembered was falling backward, yet never hitting the ground, instead, you kept falling until eventually landing on the charred grass where you now lay.

A cool sensation ran over your arms, diverting your attention from the sky. Wincing, you lifted your arm, watching as wisps of smoke-like tendrils wrapped around you, gently caressing your burnt skin. They moved around your waist and through your hair, softly singing and speaking in hushed tones that your ringing ears couldn't discern.

Enchanted by their appearance, you marveled at their gentleness as they glided over the burns on your arms and face, seemingly attempting to kiss your wounds better. You noticed how they froze over your skin before shooting out as if to defend you. Turning your head, you let out a groan, catching a flash of red and blue. Rolling onto your knees, another groan escaped as you instinctively reached to hold your injured arm, your hair falling over your face as you glimpsed three figures through the strands, standing a few feet away, their eyes widening in shock at your appearance.

The wisps continued to wrap around you, darting out at them, a protective measure for your injured form. Your eyes darted between them before settling on a male figure without siphons, his violet eyes prominent in the darkness. Unable to discern their words over the ringing in your ears, you studied each figure. You moved towards another, taller and bulkier, his shoulder-length hair tied in a half ponytail. Despite his intimidating appearance, his eyes exuded a gentle kindness you had never witnessed before.

Finally, your gaze locked with hazel eyes, observing the third male figure. He stood before you, arms crossed, his face devoid of emotion, yet his shadows danced in synchronization with your own, almost as if communicating. The wisps whispered to you, though your mind remained blank as you studied him. Something within you stirred in recognition, yet fear caused your body to curl in on itself. Your vision obscured as the male with violet eyes knelt before you, extending his hand. Your gaze shifted upward, finally able to hear his voice.

"I'm not sure what happened to you, and usually, we wouldn't welcome trespassers like this, but your wounds are too serious to take you where we normally would," he said gently, causing your eyes to harden. Holding up his hands, he offered a reassuring smile. "What's your name?" he asked, watching you quietly.

You opened your mouth to respond, only for your mind to draw a blank. "I'm not sure," you replied, wincing at the raspiness of your voice, hating how weak it sounded. Yet, it didn't deter him from extending his hand once more. You stared at it, and he chuckled softly.

"If it eases your nerves, I'm Rhysand, and behind me are Cassian and Azriel. Now that we aren't strangers, why don't you come back with us? We can provide treatment and aid until you regain your memory or at least understand how you got here," he suggested gently. Your eyes flickered over his shoulder, meeting the hazel eyes again before Rhysand spoke up once more. "Please? My wife would kill me if she found out I left an injured female in the middle of the woods." You scrutinized him, attempting to catch him in a lie, but found none. Nodding gently, you placed your hand in his, feeling the cool tendrils wrap around you as the environment blurred and darkened.

---Azriel---

Azriel stood outside the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the floor. As the door opened and Cassian and Rhysand stepped out, he pushed away from the wall, raising a brow. "Mind explaining why you decided to make friends with some random person who tried burning down the forest?" he asked.

Rhysand sighed, glancing back at the closed door. "I tried probing her mind, Az. It's locked tight, and no amount of training could penetrate it, not with all the power it exerted to resist me. You saw those shadows that clung to her. Azriel, she's another shadow singer, and as far as I know, you're the only one alive with that ability," he explained in a hushed tone.

Azriel nodded, images of you flashing in his mind. He remembered the severity of your burns and the intensity of your gaze fixed on him, your eyes seeming to burn with actual fire. He had forgotten about the shadows that reached out to them, mirroring his own. "What do we do with her once she's better?" he inquired, turning his gaze toward the closed door. "We can't just let her go, especially now that she's seen the city."

Rhysand hummed in thought, but before he could respond, Cassian cleared his throat. "We can't release her back into the woods like some stray. She has no memory of who she is. But we're not imprisoning her either. We need to help her remember how she got here, and why there's no record of another shadow singer. I can keep an eye on her and make her feel welcome. If she feels like a prisoner, she won't cooperate," Cassian suggested, turning to Azriel. "You should do the same. Get to know her. Her reaction to seeing you indicates her body remembers you, so that could be crucial."

Azriel groaned before reluctantly agreeing with his brother. "Fine, I'll give it a shot. I have my own questions, especially about those shadows. But if she tries anything, don't expect me to be friendly. Her entrance wasn't exactly subtle, burning down half the forest," he remarked, casting a warning glance at Rhysand.

Rhysand nodded, knowing better than to argue with Azriel in situations like this. He couldn't help but notice Azriel's sudden interest in you, though. Clapping a hand on Cassian's shoulder, he nodded to Azriel before walking away.

Azriel watched them depart down the hall before turning back to the door. Opening it, his eyes widened as a pillow was flung at him, narrowly missing him and hitting the wall. Giving you a glare, he noted how you met his stare with equal intensity.

---Y/N---

You stare back at Azriel as he takes another step towards you, your hand instinctively reaching back to grab the pillow next to you. Your eyes follow every movement he makes, searching for any sign that his intentions aren’t friendly.

"Throwing a pillow at me won’t do much," he says, raising a brow at you.

Scoffing, you turn your head away from him. "No, but it would distract you long enough to give me a head start," you mumble. The shadows that wrap themselves around you slide away, halting just before Azriel. Your eyes watch them as they wait for his own to greet them.

"It’s funny, you would think they know each other. In the forest, it was like they were communicating with each other," you say softly.

Azriel hums in response as he settles into the chair next to your bed. "What do you know about your shadows? You must know something; the way they interact with you is a telling sign that you’ve had them your entire life," he says, leaning back into the chair. He watches your body language, waiting for a telling sign that you're lying, but there is nothing. Instead, he receives a shrug from you.

"I’m not sure. When I woke up, in agonizing pain, might I add, they were there. They were all over me, and it was as if they were trying to cool the burns. Other than that, they’re a complete mystery to me. They don’t even really say much besides that I’m safe," you explain, leaning back against the headboard. "Why are you guys helping me? I know it’s not because I was half dead in the middle of the woods," you mumble, playing with the blanket on your lap.

Azriel leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he narrows his eyes at you. "Rhysand says he wants to find out how you’re a shadow singer; from what we knew, I was the only one. Cassian refuses to just release you into the wild again, and he wants to help you, which is typical given that’s just how he is. Meanwhile, me? I don’t trust you. You may not remember what about me you know, but your body does, and every time I’m near you, you have the natural reaction to pull away from me," he says. To prove his point, he shifts to sit on the bed, and your body tenses as you instinctively move away. "I’ll find out what you know about me. Rhysand may not be able to tell, but I know how to get the information I need, and you’re no exception," he grumbles.

You open your mouth to retort, but he stands and walks towards the door before freezing. "If you’re pretending, drop the act; it’ll make killing you in the future that much easier," he says, his eyes piercing into you. With that, he leaves the room, leaving you to your own thoughts.

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laurentidal · 28 days

Text

Shadows We Cast

Sequel to Shining Mother.

Representative Erin Singer walked into the office of someone far above her station for the second time in a week. It had been three days since her meeting with Senator Coronet, but her mind still burned with the light from the Mother's eyes.

Now, she entered the personal office of Shaded Valley CEO, Georgann Mercer. Ms. Mercer was one of Erin's largest donors and the lead voice pushing for developing the Red Stone Mesa. It was Georgann who had filed the request to remove the protection on the land, claiming it was a perfect place for a gated community. Of course, Erin now knew the truth about Red Stone Mesa.

"Erin," Georgann said, not looking up from her papers. "My associates tell me you've withdrawn your proposal for the mesa. I'm hoping there an explanation." She looked up and noticed for the first time that Erin wasn't alone. "Who is this?"

"I believe the appropriate address for her is 'Congresswoman Singer,'" the stranger said, making no attempt to hide her contempt. "You may address me as Mother Dusk."

Georgann frowned as the pair stood on the opposite side of the desk.

"After the amount of money I spent on her campaign, I'll call her Bozo if it pleases me."

"Does it?" Dusk asked. "Does the name Bozo please you? Do you have a clown fetish? Shall we paint her face white and dye her hair green?"

Georgann sputtered slightly, completely unprepared for the conversation to take such a dramatic turn.

"Suddenly silent. Perhaps mimes then?"

"I will not be spoken to in this way," the CEO shouted, finding her voice. "This is my office!"

"Erin," Dusk said softly, ignoring Georgann. "Did this poor excuse for a mime tell you why she wanted Red Mesa so much?"

"No, Mother."

"Well as the sun enlightens the sky, let us be enlightened. Speak, clown."

As the words left her mouth, a ray of light shone through the window, hitting Georgann in the face and dazing her slightly. Dusk's words seemed to come from the light itself and the CEO found herself sputtering an answer before she even realized it.

"There's gold there!" she shouted. "All the locals talk of it. Great seams of gold and I can be the first to mine it."

"Ah so it's gold you're after." Dusk pulled up the hem of her long skirt and revealed bare feet decorated with an ornate golden cuff. "Like this?"

Georgann fell silent again, eyes fixed on the shining metal and its inset jewels. And the painted toes.

"There have always been women like you," Mother Dusk said as Georgann stared hungrily at her feet. "Women and men, of course. Those who seek to exploit our world for their own gain. Gold is the metal of the sun: its power and its glory reflected in the Earth. Long have your kind sought it for themselves. But you cannot cage the sun, and you cannot have our gold."

Georgann's mind felt cool, like a long day drawn to its sleepy end. She hadn't realized she'd begun to salivate.

"As the sun approaches the horizon, the shadows lengthen. Some would believe that they are His absence, but they are yet another of his creations. He casts the shadows, after all, and we serve all his aspects. This is mine."

The woman's knees gave way and she dropped to the floor in front of Mother Dusk's perfect golden toes. Mother Dusk lifted them ever so slightly, and Georgann recognized the invitation. She held the foot in her hand, then slid the toe into her mouth.

"Moonchild Erin," Mother Dusk said. "Go lock the door so we're not interrupted."

"Yes, Mother."

"How do my toes taste, Bozo?"

Georgann could only moan as her tongue swirled around them.

"As He casts his shadows upon the land, I cast one upon your mind. You will ever be in darkness without me. Only I can bring you the light and the heat that you used to know. Your passions are extinguished. Your desires are all cold."

Mother Dusk pulled her foot away and Georgann desperately tried to scramble after it.

"You have been claimed by the Dusk. Say it, clown."

"I have been claimed by the Dusk."

"Good. Now remove those clothes and show me how dark your desires are. Then perhaps I will allow you to experience the heat. But that all depends on your performance. Oh and let's stay in character, shall we. Mimes are silent."

Continue the story in Palace of the Sun.

#tidal story #serial recruitment #feet #fem dom #fem sub #brainwashing #hypno fantasy #hypno toy #hypnok1nk #hypnosis #hypnosub #hypnotic #mind conditioning

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wonder-mei · 7 months

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Letting Life Lead (MK1 Bi-han)

Author's note; reminder this is not lore accurate to the Mortal Kombat universe. I write because they're hot. I also do not have a beta reader or I read my fanfic from top to bottom to see any errors. I'm lazy okay.

Being the oldest son of the grandmaster of Lin Kuei has a lot of responsibility to be done for the expectations from the others has on Bi-han. He learns everything he needs to know; war strategies, martial arts, mastering his cryomancer and having good communications with other clans.

Bi-han has achieved all of them but there is one expectation he has not; having a family. He never thought about being married nor even having children of his own. His younger brother, Kuai Liang can do that for the lineage. But his father told his sons everyone has the opportunity to have families. Bi-han told his father it is unnecessary for him because he never talks to any women or has any interest in them. So his father arranged him with another clan nearby.

Of course an age as old as him will get arranged with someone much younger. Bi-han stares at the clan sitting in the dining area having bonds together. His future wife's face was hidden with a silk covering her face.

“There’s my son,Bi-han. Come. Sit in front of your future wife” his father calls him with his hand gesturing to an empty chair in front of her. He saw she took a quick glance at him. Bi-han sits in the chair in silence. His father does every talk, and he won’t admit he’s feeling nervous with this arrangement.

They all eat when the food is served. Her parents praised the food and his father gladly took the compliments. She still eats with the silk on her face. His eyes then saw she’s wearing red lipstick underneath. The feast took around one hour to end with the dessert.

“Why don’t you take her walking around?”

Bi-han looks at his father and huffs. He stands up leaving the room not waiting for her at all. It’s too foreign to him;having someone.

Her mother told her to follow Bi-han and she did. Her soft and timid footstep follows Bi-han behind to the backyard. It was the spring season. The magnolia trees in Lin Kuei clan delicate petals unfurl in the gentle spring breeze, the air is suffused with a sweet fragrance, enchanting the senses and bringing everyone into a serene state.

She just follows him wherever he leads him but then her footstep stops. Bi-han turns around to see her staring at a swing under the biggest magnolia tree in the area. He walks towards her, her gaze flickered towards Bi-han getting near to her but she shyly looks back on the swing.

The unexpected gentleness of his gesture made her in disbelief, leaving her momentarily stunned. Bi-han sweeps the leaves and flowers on the swing for her. Her eyes finally looked at him. Her eyes sent him into tranquillity.He was left speechless by her eyes, full of admiration and tenderness, reflecting the depth of her feelings without ever saying a word.

She sits on the swing and brings her legs back and forth swaying in the air as she pleas. Her hair dances with the wind and her dress flutters beautifully. Bi-han watches her with admiration but then he stops her swinging.

Her eyes looked at him directly again, sending him another wave of electric. His hand touches the silk that has been covering her face. Bi-han looks for any sign of protest or discomfort but she shows none, her eyes showing willingness instead.

As the silk fell from her face. The beauty only from her eyes expands more. She is a deity that fell from the sky for him. A gift from the elder gods for him. Each magnolia patel twirls around them both as they gaze on each other. Bi-han shakingly takes a beautiful golden hairpin with pink flowers from her pocket. She sees it and bows down letting him wear it on her.

His hands cannot stop shaking from the nervousness he’s having. He’s afraid he would pull her hair too much or pierce the hairpin into her skull but she patiently awaits him. His fingers caress her scalp gently, not ruining her hair. Bi-han places the hairpin in her hair. She raises her head up facing back to him,the hairpin suits her features so perfectly. He returns her smile and holds her hand leading back to where their families are.

The two clans smile widely seeing them holding hands with smiles carved on their faces. The hairpin he gave to her is the answer they all pray for, she accepts the marriage. For once in Bi-han’s life, the universe is leading him to somewhere he never expected. And for now on, he let life lead him which he knows will be perfect as it is already perfect right now.

----

A/N: Got this idea from a Turkish drama scene on tiktok so i was inspired by it. If you have any request,do tell. I don't have anymore ideas to write or it will take me awhile to post. Please request for me to expand my writing skills and boredom.

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat #bi han x reader #sub zero x reader #sub zero #bi han mk

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eijirousbestie · 1 year

Text

“I want you.”

requested pt 2 of “I’m done talkin”

________________________________________

Talking wasn’t always easy. Sometimes it straight up drains the life out of a person. And you could understand that. You could understand him. Could understand that when life gets to be too much, he’d need the time away to sort things out.

It was only a matter of time before he felt comfortable enough to even be in the same room after what had happened. So he makes his way to the one place he can think.

The rooftop is wide and about ten stories up. The perfect view to overlook the city. The perfect view to think. The area is littered with thriving plant life and budding flowers alike. The rooftop garden is home to the Botany Club at the university but also open to the community.

He’s not crazy about flowers but he doesn’t necessarily hate them either. After all, this is the only place on campus where he could get some much needed peace and quiet. The library was suffocating, the dining hall was a mess and the dorms were a definite no.

You were there. It was Monday. You always got back to the dorms early on Mondays. So he made sure to be gone before you came back. It confuses him really, why he’s so avoidant with you. It’s not like he holds any resentment towards you, there’s just so much going on.

He passes a few of the hydrangea tables with slow steps. His fingers glide on each tabletop he passes, making sure not to bump a flower pot with his fingers. Tiger lilies, chrysanthemums, zinnias and asters rest at each of their designated tables. Some fresh greens hang from thin rope in reach of the four corners of the roof’s open walls.

The billowy wafts of the flora ease his nerves like a superpower. He stops in front of a pot smaller than the rest. The tag resting just before the plant reads “Canna Lily.” The petals a highly saturated red. They almost look fake they’re so bright.

He gets lost in his thoughts, staring idly at the flora. His hands ball up into fists at his sides. Why is thinking about you so hard? Things between you both were always so easy. At least that’s what he’d like to think. He knows he shouldn’t have blown up at you the way he did. There was no rhyme or reason for it. And it feels like such a shit excuse to say he did it because he was “under pressure.”

His fists tighten the more he thinks about everything. Why he’s stressed in the first place has nothing to do with you. He shouldn’t have let his own emotions drag you into it. The last bit of sun peaks through faded clouds that resemble stretched cotton. Soft pinks and oranges tone the sky as the large star begins its slow descent to night.

He lets go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. The issue lies within himself and he knows that. He knows he should be man enough to own his mistakes and rectify all that he’s broken. He turns his head, no longer looking at the small flower, but over his shoulder at the person who had just stepped onto the rooftop.

Pausing at the door, you look at the figure in front of you. The man you hadn’t seen in nearly three weeks. The feeling is sudden and visceral as your heart feels as if it’s dropped into your stomach.

His eyes are hardened and yet so, so sorrowful. Like he’s trying to mask as much as he can. Without a single word, he tears his gaze from you and walks to the edge of the rooftop, propping and crossing his arms on the railing. His left foot crosses his right at the ankle as he puts his weight on the cement railing, gazing out at the view of the city.

The perfect view to think.

The perfect view to talk.

He doesn’t have to look to know you’ve followed close behind, position the same as his but you’ve put yourself at a wider distance. He can see the intentional space between you both in his peripheral. A displeased grunt rumbles from deep within his chest.

“Why’re you so damn far.” It’s more of a statement than a question. He clasps his hands together, still resting on the railing, hanging loosely from the wrist onto the other side.

“Wanna give you space.”

Your voice burns in his ears. A sound he’s missed although he’ll never admit it. Soft and yet so unsure. As if you’re not even convinced the words you say are the words you mean. He’d waited so long to hear from you. But not like this. Not with this dejected tone.

He swallows the budding lump in his throat and takes a deep breath before exhaling. If there’s anything he’s taken from his time with you, it’s the newfound habit of self-soothing. Calming his nerves so he can express himself properly. He hadn’t done it before and that’s what got him in this mess. So he’s sure as hell gonna do it now.

“I don’t want space.” He clenches his jaw tightly, a vein just under his jaw twitching with strain.

“Then what do you want?” What does he want?

“I want you.” A beat passes. “Us,” he corrects. He props his elbows up and cups his face in his hands and slowly slides them down over his eyes, nose, and lips before they’re gripping onto the railing for dear life. “The shit I said before—shit—I shouldn’t’ve took it out on ya. Had nothin’ to do with you and shoulda stayed that way.”

He clears his throat as he’s met with your silence. It only fuels him to express more. “I wasn’t lying to you though. About not being good at expressin’ my emotions and shit. M’ not good at it… but I’m tryin’. And I think as long as I’ve got you in my corner I’ll keep tryin’. So,” he takes another deep breath, “I guess what I’m sayin’ is… m’sorry.”

A long, lingering silence envelopes the two of you with an unmistakable chill. He finds the will to turn his head to look at you only to find that you’re already looking at him with a gaze so intense it leaves him confused. Are you mad? Upset? Both?

Well, that is until he sees a stray tear slip from the corner of your eye. His eyes zero in on it and he feels something in his resolve break. It’s the first time he’s ever seen you cry (if you can call one tear crying). He’s seen you pissed, agitated and annoyed but never this.

You wipe the rogue tear away and look back at the fading sky as night begins to fall.

“I miss us too Katsuki.”

________________________________________

fin.

#they made up #idk why I added flowers lol #bakugou katsuki #mha headcanons #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fic

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thisismeracing · 1 year

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King of my heart | MS47 | part. 09

Social media version

Pairing: hamilton!reader (she/her) x mick schumacher

Warnings: curse words, mentions of food and alcohol, fluff, not proofread etc etc. Minors DNI!

word count: 3.3k

part. 08 | series masterlist | part 10 | taglist

Summary: Mick Schumacher rode a lousy wave for quite some time, so when the sky gets cleaner and the sun brighter he just knows something terrible may be in store for him. Whereas y/n was just so magnetic, and the possibilities of life with her seemed better than anything his mind could ever create, that’s why, for the first time in forever, he throws cautious carelessly through the window, hoping to get to the finish line before it catches up on him.

A/n: Just like Mick is doing on this gif y'all may need to put some seatbelts on for this chapter...just saying.

After some days away to tend to the Paris Fashion Week, one of these days with her brother, who had to leave early for media duties with Mercedes, Y/n was back to the travel schedule, now going to China.

“Look who decided to show up,” Charles joked when Y/n stepped into the room, walking closer to their table where Lewis, Mick, Carlos, and some other pilots were just chatting after dinner.

“You’re just jealous she has style and was at a fashion week,” Pierre pokes, and Y/n can’t help but laugh.

“You’re talking as if our work wasn’t as exciting,” Charles grumbles.

“You mean going vroom vroom in circles? The greatest adventure in the world!” The youngest Hamilton pokes fun at the monégasque.

“Still, you’re here almost every race cheering as if it was your national team,” Charles raises his brows and smirks at Yn, who in return rolls her eyes playfully.

“Fair enough. Maybe you have a point.”

It was a series of hugs, kisses, and some more quirky remarks before Yn finally greeted everyone and sat down between Mick and Lando.

“Have you eaten?” the blonde asks after she settles, and Y/n gives him a soft smile that goes unnoticed by everyone but her brother.

“I had dinner and took a good nap. The flight was just exhausting.” She explained, grabbing the attention of Charles and now Carlos, who were bickering about something Y/n could not catch.

“Speaking about flight and work, can you tell your friends the launch date of your new shoe collection? I promise I won’t tell the media, but Isa is on my line asking about it all the time. You should see,” Carlos starts a new subject, and Y/n smiles brightly. She never really met Isa, so it was cute that her friend's girlfriend knew about her and her brand and was excited to get herself a pair of shoes.

Soon the waiter was bringing dessert, and before Lewis could suggest she ask for a plate of their vegan cake, Mick pushed his between them in a silent offer.

“You’re the best, Mouse,” she whispered before bringing her chair closer.

The table was the usual chaos of laughter and loud voices talking about anything and everything, but Mick and Y/n were too busy with the intimacy of sharing a treat and a spoon. Schumacher was surprised by the way she seemed unbothered, passing him the silver spoon after licking it. He was even more surprised by the fact that once again, he found something so mundane to be sexy just because it was Yn.

“You saw the new songs I added to our playlist?” she asked, voice low. It was their conversation, their own private bubble after a week without communicating considerably.

“I was listening to it while training, I gotta confess that some of those Taylor Swift bridges worked better than I thought they would with lifting and cardio,” there’s an edge to his voice and he’s speaking all of it with a funny smile on his face, lips curved slightly, dimples showing, brows almost furrowed.

“I think you’re kinda Taylor coded…” she shares out loud, and this time his furrowed brows indicated more confusion than humor.

“Is that a good thing?”

“It’s a huge red flag for me,” she answers, and although he knows it was a joke, Mick can’t help but notice the way there may be a subtle truth to her statement when her eyes dart to the plate instead of keeping the stare at his blue ones. When the German is about to question why, someone calls Y/n asking if she’s going to the party, and their bubble is abruptly gone.

It’s only a matter of minutes before everyone is done with dessert and Ubering to the party. Lewis, Y/n, and Pierre shared a car that, for some reason, took forever to get to the club. So when the group got inside, there was already a line of shots laid down for the other guys. Y/n took the seconds before they noticed their presence to observe Schumacher, how his white button-down hugged his torso perfectly, how it gave a sultry draw to his back, and how the first few buttons were messily open as if he got hot when they arrived. She watched his blonde hair glow under the neon lights and his shoulders relax.

“You guys started the shots without us??? The disrespect, honestly,” Gasly complains, and it’s not even a minute before Y/n finds herself doing double shots with her brother and friend to catch up on the others.

Her body is already sizzling and light, but there’s not much time to consider when a known song starts blasting in the club, and Y/n sees herself on the dance floor with a certain monegásque and his best friend. She waves to her brother to join, and the rest follow along. They jump, drink, laugh and attempt the worst dance moves ever seen until Ferrari by James Hype starts playing.

“Wait! That’s not fair! There’s no club music with Mercedes!!!” Y/n screams over the music, and Charles double in laughter. “Lew, you gotta write a song about Mercedes!”

“He drives a Ferrari too every once in a while, you know,” Carlos tries to reason, and Y/n rolls her eyes with fake disgust ripping off a wheeze from Mick.

Their eyes met for a split second, and it felt natural when Y/n’s body started gravitating toward Mick, especially when she spotted a girl attempting to approach him. She tried to tell herself he was her friend, so she just wanted to be near him, not interrupt or make herself known she was close with the other guys too, after all, she had just danced half of the alcohol in her body with Charles. Admitting, if she saw a girl get close to Leclerc, the odds are high Y/n would not be around. She would give him space. But still, she felt like walking the small distance to Mick, and although she was the one who got beside him, he was the one who grabbed her hand and laced their fingers. Yn’s stomach did a somersault fluttering in a weird and new sensation, and Mick must have seen the tsunami of thoughts somehow because he looked down at her with a small smile on his pink lips, and for some reason, she knew not to worry about anything.

They danced to more songs before Y/n and Pierre dragged some of the guys out of the dance floor and into the bar to order new drinks and another round of shots. Her hands are free of Mick’s for a second, though their bodies still stand close. It’s a chaotic mess of almost spilled vodkas, empty cups, and faces, but it’s just a couple of minutes before they are back on the dance floor, jumping up and down and bending their bodies in laughter about the slight turn of air around.

Life feels brighter, the world lighter, especially because Yn has some of her friends and her brother, who are as happy as her, around, and happiness usually works like that. It sips from others into you, and when you finally stop to take a look, your heart feels warm. Right now, so does her body.

This time, when her cup is empty, and her feet start to feel tired, Yn only drags Mick off the dance floor. The rest of their friends are still dancing or making rounds around the club to talk with old friends. It feels good when their fingers are linked again, and this time Mick’s closer, trying to shield her from some of the wildest partygoers.

Just as the blonde sat at one of the stools to order, Yn put her frame between his open legs, leaning on him for a bit of balance and rest from her heels.

“You ok?” he asked before placing a hand on her waist to keep her secure.

“Absolutely!” Yn beams, turning to the barman. “Two Moscow Mules extra cold, please,” and then she’s looking at Mick again.

His eyes scan her face, and his free hand carefully pushes one lonely curl behind her ear. The second her lips part to tell him something, his hands still hovering over her face, Lando is behind them with a disposable camera moving his arms aggressively for them to pose. Yn just turns her body to the Britsh and plasters a huge smile that grows bigger when Mick’s chin rested on her shoulder, his hands tightening around her. Yn could almost feel him smiling too. The flash goes almost unnoticed with all the neon lights, but her nose still scrunches a bit with the extra glow.

Lando says something else, and although neither one understood a word, they still posed when the camera faced them again. Now their friend is included in the rustic project-of-selfie the way people would do before the frontal camera or mobile display existed.

“Love you twooooo,” he says before disappearing to register more moments, and Yn is sure of it when she sees the camera light going on again just a few meters ahead.

Yn turned to Mick again, a grin still on her flushed face, eyes staring directly at him. He watched her curious gaze on him. The way her expressions would slightly change every time her eyes landed on a feature he assumed she never noticed. Yn traced his chin, and Mick couldn’t help but smile, which drew her attention to his dimples. She traced them too. He thought she was a work of art, but he was the one being studied as one.

When her lips found his jaw like she did every time she tried to kiss him, standing on her tiptoes, Mick brought her closer just the way he liked. He knew it was probably the alcohol lowering all their inhibitions, he felt half of his mind fighting, but at some point, the German gave up trying to lie to himself or contain his caring actions. And so he kissed her naked shoulder and rested his head there while the whole club seemed to go around their own business. Yn’s hand carded through his mop of blonde hair, and Mick sighed because the way her nails scratched his scalp felt magic.

“You look stunning today,” he tipped his head a bit so his mouth was closer to her ear. They were so close he didn’t even need to scream to be heard over the music, and he was sure she got his words correctly when he saw the goosebumps on her black skin.

“You look way too good too. So much it should be illegal.” She quips, and Mick's fingers squeeze her waist, making Y/n jump slightly and giggle.

Y/n withdraws some centimeters, their faces only inches apart now, their bodies still touching. She takes the time to analyze his face one more time as if she would never get tired of doing so, his flushed cheeks, his pink lips, and the way his blue eyes seemed a bit droopy because of the drunkenness all appeared extraordinary to her. Yn studied everything with gusto again, and this time when their skin met, Mick involuntarily closed his eyes. It was as if he wanted to direct all his senses to that spot, to memorize the way she caressed his face, because now, he realized, she wasn’t examining him anymore; she was giving him affection. And so the blonde took everything she gave. The scratch of her nails, the point of her finger on some spots, the softness of her palm with his jaw. It was only seconds after he opened his eyes again and found hers on his chin, he could almost see the gears running on her head, and then her fingers traced the contour of his lips.

Schumacher wanted nothing more than to grab her neck and bring her closer. To kill the gap that separates their mouths and bodies. He wanted to taste the strawberry lipgloss he saw her reapply. He wanted to know how the combination of it with her lime drink was going to taste. He wanted so many things with Yn that it was starting to physically pain him. The way she stared at him, smiled to him, and not simply at him, talked with him, and made him feel alive was just too much.

Mick wanted her as more than his friend. And so he gave up the war against himself and finally accepted his fate: he was attracted to Yn. His heart somersaulted when he thought that maybe, just maybe, she felt the same.

Mick closed the gap between their bodies and dipped his head to kiss her neck, preventing them from going to anything more compromising or that maybe they would regret afterward. He had no idea if the timing was right if Lewis was watching, if someone was talking, if Y/n really wanted it, or if she had just drunk too much.

“Let’s try not to do it while drunk, ok, Schatz?” he mumbled, kissing her shoulder again and, this time, bringing the sleeve of her black shirt up to cover a bit of her skin.

“Is that a German equivalent to babe?” she questioned, and his drunk mind was confused for a bit before he chuckled.

“Something like that,” he withdraws to take a long gulp of his drink before dropping his eyes to her again.

“Can you keep calling me that from now on?” Yn asked, and he was able to hear it solemnly because he was staring at her lips. It was almost like a whisper as if she was afraid to admit it or ashamed of him denying her.

Y/n wanted Mick to call her babe.

She wanted the guy she met a couple of months ago, her friend, to call her like a partner would call their significant other.

He grabbed his drink again and took another long gulp. Heck, not kissing Yn was going to be harder than he presumed.

“I can do whatever you want me to, babe.” It was his time to almost whisper, and she smiled. A big happy smile. His body nearly slipped to the ground like a puddle.

“Will you stay with me tonight?”

“Of course, Schatz,”

Y/n rested her head on his chest and enjoyed the feeling of his fingers playing with her curls, the way every once in a while they would travel to her neck and shoulders, and how his other hand would keep her secure and close to him. The lights in the club kept glowing neon around them, the music was still louder, and people were chatting and drinking, but Yn felt as satisfied as ever only watching everything from her spot with Mick.

“We ran out of ginger juice, restock is on its way, but I could only get one for now,” the barman profusely apologizes, and Yn just smiles without much care before declaring it was no big deal.

“Do you mind sharing?” she asks Mick once he is up and ready to follow her to the dance floor. To anyone looking from the outside, he looked like the puppy boyfriend happily following his girl.

“If you don’t, then I don’t.”

“Smart answer,” she quips before lacing their fingers, and they start the track to the packed dance floor.

They find part of their group again, and it’s a couple of songs before some of them are ready to sit for a bit. Most are high on alcohol, laughing and smiling at anything and everything. Mick drops someone drinks while they’re walking to their secluded space, and after apologizing profusely he’s laughing hysterically with Pierre and Yn.

Now, sitting at the foam seats, one arm across the back of the seat supporting Yn’s head, Mick starts an excited conversation with Charles and Esteban. Yn drags her body closer to his, draping her legs over his lap and sipping her drink while watching the lights flicker over the dance floor down the stairs. Eventually, her attention goes to the button of his white button down, and then her eyes found his golden chain playing with it for a second before Pierre mentions a new topic, and she dives in with them chatting nonstop.

It's hours and many drinks later before both of them start getting sleepy, and bid their goodbyes to half of the group that decided to stay. Yn cannot find Lewis to tell him she’s leaving, so when she and Mick walk outside to wait for their Uber, Mick snaps a picture of them to send the older Hamilton a message telling him they’re on their way to the hotel. Now when it comes to coming and going, some things got a bit easier since people discovered Yn was a Hamilton which means she would stay at the same hotels without the fear of being discovered.

“What did he say?” she asks after getting inside the car.

Mick turns his screen to her, and Yn frowns, “I think that’s not the messaging app, Mouse.”

The blonde stared at his screen searching for answers, “Fuck, I posted on Instagram,” he drunkenly cursed before Yn burst into laughter.

“Here, give it to me,” she extends her hand, and he hands her the phone before dropping his head at the seat rest and closing his eyes.

“Sorry,” he mumbles again, and she just pecks his cheeks before deleting the picture from Instagram and sending a text full of drunk typos to Lewis.

“It’s ok. I think now he got the message.”

The drive to their hotel is fast, and the Uber driver is nice enough to stop at the back entrance, though chances were low of any fan standing there in the middle of the night. The pair walked hand in hand to the elevator and, in seconds, into Mick’s room. He switched the lights on and Yn made her way to the bathroom. He dozed off and woke up to Yn wearing one of his shirts and speaking about him showering. The German agreed with everything, although his mind did not process every sentence. Mick made his way to the bathroom and tripped on Yn’s clothes on the ground only to catch himself on the marble counter.

He did everything from core memory, undressed, brushed his teeth, and got into the shower. When he emerged from the bathroom, Yn was sound asleep on his bed. He smiled, and his drunk mind still thought about how cold she would be with only a shirt, so he dropped the covers on top of her body and took one from the wardrobe for him.

Mick remembers lying on the couch in his room. He remembers watching Yn for a second and then finally falling asleep. That’s why he’s confused when he feels a weight on his chest.

“If you’re not coming to bed, then I’m sleeping on the couch with you,” she states, and Mick chuckles. “I feel like an asshole, Mouse. If you’re not coming, then I’m going to my room. I won’t let you sleep on the couch in your own room,” he can feel the touch of sleep in her voice, her body cold against his.

There’s not much for him to do, not much thinking. His sleepy mind is foggy, and it gives too much space to his wishes, and right at that moment, his biggest wish was just to hold Yn and get some sleep, so he stands up with her, and they get comfortable on the bed.

Her body against his feels like a natural fit again, and he holds her close before both doze off. Now, after the whole day sharing small items, they shared the biggest one, and not because of the size of the bed, but because of the size of their trust in one another, the size of the courage they had to be vulnerable, and especially the size of the warm feeling engulfing their intertwined bodies.

I hope you guys like it 💜 make sure to like and reblog, and feel free to let me know your thoughts on this chapter (and the whole series) in the comments or my inbox. feedback is highly appreciated and makes me more excited about writing and posting 🥹. thanks for all the love on the past chapters!!! *mwah*

taglist: @sachaa-ff @ferrariloverr

#black!reader #f1 imagine #hamilton!reader #f1 imagines #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher x reader #black!reader f1 #mick schumacher x you #mick schumacher x black!reader #mick schumacher one shot #komh #ms47

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pinkandgoldensoul · 1 year

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Already Home || Chapter 6 - First Time

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If this is your first time here on this blog, please check the Disclaimers here.

pairing: max verstappen x female!reader genre: friends to lovers, kind of slow burn, angst, fluff and comfort !tw!: swearing, online hate towards reader, insecurities, angst, a tiny suggestive moment other notes: fake instagram things? Loosely based on Japanese GP 2022 word count: 12.3k (feel free to use dividers to split the chapter into chunks! this time they might be needed lol) Sending a lot of love to everyone reblogging, liking and commenting ♥ Hope you enjoy the final chapter!

As rapid steps, cameras, mechanics and chaos surrounded you, silence had enveloped the conversation you had tried to initiate with Daniel. His eyes closely followed Max’s dark silhouette getting further and further away from where the two of you stood, he squeezed them, but in vain, as the Dutchman got out of sight. It didn’t make sense. Max had asked him to hold you back; he had insisted, and Daniel had seen fierce certainty and renewed confidence in him. Could a little discussion with the communication manager throw to the wind all the resolution he had been able to instill in him? «So… Do you need anything?» Your words awoke him from the bamboozled state he had fallen into and made his focus shift onto you. «Uhm, no, I’m good.» he rushed. «Just missed you, I feel like we haven’t seen in a while.» «We last saw each other the morning after the party in Monaco, Dan.» you laughed, embarrassed. «Right. The kinky-party thing.» he nodded at the memory. An uncomfortable silence urged you to get out of the situation as soon as possible, but some McLaren staff got between the two of you at the perfect moment; patting Daniel’s shoulders, they dragged him away from you, in delight for the team’s performance. Watching from a distance, you waved at Daniel, who flashed you with a warm smile. Although his presence had been gone by now, the discomfort didn’t disappear. The uneasiness of the situation, the mechanic interaction that had just occurred, Daniel looking behind you for no reason made you involuntarily turn as well, to check what was there to see: crowd, movement, and Red Bull staff working around Sergio’s car and inside the garage. An immediate nostalgia crawled up your chest, pervasive, spreading like a stain of paint inside a liquid, slowly covering every corner with color, thickness and weight. That deep navy blue, even darker under Singapore’s night sky, pierced through your soul, as Max appeared in your thoughts without notice. You badly needed to confront him, but didn’t know how: was there a way to tackle the topic without unraveling your feelings and putting your heart out, ready for him to stab? There wasn’t any, right? Your phone dinged. As sudden as a sparkle turning into a flame, you were pulled back to the present moment and you took the phone in your hand while mindlessly moving small and slow steps towards the podium, eyes glued to the screen. The mob was just a couple of meters ahead and you could hear the shouts, the cries of happiness and the Mexican anthem being played, all ricocheting onto your oversized Ferrari rain jacket, without touching you. Yet, despite the rain having stopped, you drowned inside the red, unable to think, to talk, to react to the flow of messages, texts, dms and comments popping on the screen, chasing each other, forcing your mouth agape so that they could reach your throat and lungs to clutch them. Small drops of champagne sprayed the air; you didn’t belong that joy, every face was foreign, the upbeat atmosphere roused an uncomfortable sense of anxiety. Humidity, alcohol and angst sticked to your hair, to your mind, hard to wash away despite the scraping. You walked away unnoticed, prey of confusion.

# Max threw himself onto the bed. He had turned down the silent offer of celebrating his teammate’s win; silent, because nobody in the team had dared get close expecting to find him in a good mood after such a race. After such a couple of days. The entire weekend had been a nightmare. Enjoying the calm of his room, he closed his eyes and breathed in, deeply. Upset? Yes. A lot. Was it helpful to be? No. Next weekend, he said to himself. Next weekend will be better. You must move forward. No time for mourning over past mistakes. No focus to spare to it. No energy to do it anyway. Kelly’s words bothered him; he could feel the hate being thrown at him by her supporters and his old, lawful bunch of haters. Nothing better to ask for in such an idyllic media spot. Acting like adults, huh? Taking advantage of the major shitstorm the entire team and him were in so that she could come clean without even trying? Really? Pointing the finger against him and portraying him as the heartless and unloving boyfriend was the only way to announce the breakup? Max didn’t believe she’d stoop so low. For those words he had given up the resolution to go speak to you, maybe even confessing – but no, of course, his assistant had to bring that happy news and the reminder of the endless interviews awaiting him.

Max propped up onto his elbows and rubbed his eyes, then sat. Quickly grabbed the phone from the nightstand.

Too impatient to wait her reply, he adventured in his direct messages and found an awful lot of relationship experts criticizing him for anything, way more than usual; but what really caught his full attention, was your name popping up in some of the texts’ previews. Somehow, Max had never expected you to be targeted as harshly as people would do with him; maybe it was a hope, a conviction born from obliviousness. Disturbed by it, he checked the text he sent. Kelly had read it. No reply, yet. To a degree, Max didn’t expect to act any different. The feelings he had been nurturing for years had been withering by then, and Max couldn’t help but wonder when he had started watering the plant of the relationship he had with you to the point he didn’t even care about Kelly as much as he used to.

# You rushed inside the hotel, in desperate need of sleep and loneliness. Speeding through the hall, though, you were promptly beckoned by the receptionist, who showed up holding an envelope in his hand. «Miss, this is for you.» he handed it to you. «Who’s sending it?» you asked, rather confused. «Uhm, is it not written onto the envelope?» «No…» you said, checking several times. You hadn’t revealed your hotel address to anyone; who would send you a letter anyway? You really had no real friends outside the F1 circus. Plus, an anonymous sender? He made absolutely no sense to you. Maybe the name was written inside the letter… But why hiding it? Could it come from some freak? Could it be… hate, from someone? Perhaps threats? As your fingers tried to sense the words inked inside the paper, a feeling of repulse caught you. Still, you couldn’t get rid of the envelope. The receptionist awkwardly smiled and left you standing alone right before the lift area.

Shutting the door behind you, you scrutinized the envelope once more, lingering onto the calligraphy: it wasn’t embellished, and it was clear whoever wrote had put effort in making it legible. It seemed shaky. Or was it your hands trembling? An unexplainable nervousness rushed through your veins: for sure, you were curious, but dread filled your mind with doubts. You were too scared to read things you weren’t ready to face, you felt too weak, and reckoned you had read enough for the day, as your eyelids longed for sleep. With hurry, you stuffed the letter inside the suitcase; you would deal with it after landing in Japan, putting current events aside and approaching it with a clearer mind. Stripping your clothes off in tiredness, you kept your oversized Ferrari shirt on and laid on the bed, in hope it would shooed all the bad omens, like a dreamcatcher.

It didn’t. You failed to close eye, and you weren’t even surprised. Twisting in the sheets, pulling the cover tighter to your skin, feeling every inch of it caressing your body with its coldness, you spent the night in half-sleep, vigil of unknown dangers and anxieties, thoughts piercing the ceiling with their sharpness. Your fingers tightly gripped the comforter, desperate, because you felt the usual headache coming through the layer of sleepiness. Your eyes fluctuated between an alert state and tiredness pressing the skin down. You checked the phone: 4:57. Awake; you were still awake. It seemed like time passed by painstakingly slow and fast at once. A thud distracted you: did you hear that or was it just a noise you had imagined? First some shuffling, then steady thuds following each other; and suddenly, light. You opened your eyes.

Awake; now you were awake. Had you managed to finally fall asleep for a couple of hours after an entire night? Better later than never. Sun beams cutting through your irises, hands immediately ran to cover them. «Oops, my bad.» Those whispered words stirred your heart with a gentle touch, and the figure shielding you from the unwanted brightness caused you to smile. And then to scream in fear right afterwards. «What are you doing in here!?» Waiting for his answer, you stretched a bit, tiredness marked onto your eyes. «Good morning to you too.» he said laughing. «Well, I think it’s afternoon.» Massaging the forehead, you looked up at him: as a flash, a thought lightened your mind. «The flight.» you sighed, gravity crushing your body towards the mattress. «Yep. I was scared you had left without me, but I’m glad to see I was wrong.» He stepped away, leaving you at the mercy of the sun, causing a few protesting moans. «What time is it?» you asked, rubbing sleepiness off your face. «It is… 1.14.» Max said, looking down at the wristwatch. You jumped into a sitting position. «Did we miss it?!» «It’s not a big deal, y/n. Next one is in one hour and a half, we’re good.» he paused. «But getting out of bed would be a nice start.» Max then added, jokingly. Still, you didn’t even try to move: you knew your arms and legs were against it, and you interpreted the lack of impulse reaching muscles as an unconscious invitation to enjoy the bed’s warmth a little bit more. «Hello? Y/n?» Eyes shut, Max’s voice was a weak call. But soon fingers brushing against your skin and tickling your belly caught you bursting in laughter, your body twitching and nesting into a ball. «No, no, no! Please, Max, stop!» you pleaded, unable to hold laughter. «Need you to stand on your feet, I don’t trust your sleepy ass.» «Okay, okay, I will, but get off of me!» Max silently obliged and laughed as you muttered a “Thank you”. His smile faltered as he followed your hectic movements, fingers tousling your hair, frantically trying to check once again whether your suitcase was good to go and which clothes would be the most comfortable for the six hours of flight. The bright red of your shirt immediately caught Max’s attention: he knew you had watched the race from Ferrari’s garage, and he was annoyingly aware as to why you hadn’t had any other choice. «You slept with that shirt?» Suitcase in your hands, you turned around and saw Max leaning against the wall, arms crossed. «Yes, uhm… I was tired, yesterday.» His unreadable expression awoke a sparkle of awkwardness in you: a tension you should’ve immediately sensed, as it was the first time you two were talking after… The kiss. «Hope you won’t wear it for the flight.» he said, breaking the contact from the wall and getting closer. «Need help with the luggage?» His body towering you didn’t make you at ease. No, better to rephrase it: the comfort you wanted to seek in it was pressing you so deeply you had to stop yourself from refuging in his chest; so you stumbled backwards, dragging the suitcases with you. «No, thanks, I’ve already packed.» you squealed, falling sat onto the bed. «Okay.» Finding his own presence completely unnecessary, Max slowly walked towards the door, throwing a little smile to you. «I’ll wait for you in the hall.» As the lock clicked, you sighed and fell flat onto the comforter. You felt drained already, both by the awkwardness of the conversation and the sleepless night.

You stared outside the window. A flight had never seemed you so long. You’d been having an upset stomach for around fourty minutes and the only thing you were able to do was keeping swallowing, breathing harshly with shut eyelids, praying it would magically go away. Clearly, that didn’t work out. Max had noticed you had gone quiet: he would casually glance at you, one earphone in, scrolling down your phone – maybe watching tiktoks? He had no idea, but you seemed focused, in a way – as he was exchanging a few words either with GP, Christian or his manager Raymond Vermeulen. He knew you were trying to isolate yourself because sitting with such people made you feel an outsider or an unwanted guest, especially after the latest events, but at the same time people from the team had got accustomed to your presence and, since Max liked having you on board, they had never told you off as they did in Singapore. That had been the first time, and Max had made it really clear for it to be the only one.

Getting off the plane, the ground felt like a swamp under your feet, an instable puddle to your waving head. «I’m so hungry!» Max said, getting a laugh from the entire group. «I mean, it’s almost 7 p.m., how about we drop things at the hotel and then we have dinner somewhere fancy?» someone from the team suggested. «I vote that!» Max pointed. «And who’s doing the unpacking?» Raymond asked. «C’mon, mate, you have two more days to do that!» Sergio suddenly jumped into the conversation. The voices cut off as you entered one of the black vans awaiting all of you. You sure felt nauseous, and cramps assaulted your stomach at the same time. Could it be your period? You quickly checked the tracking app on your phone since you didn’t trust your memory but, well, it just confirmed it couldn’t be it. You’d had just a tiny snack throughout the flight… How could it mess you up that much? «Let’s go!» Max said as he got in the van, upbeat, breaking your trail of thought.

The door was closed. Is it? You checked it. Yes, it was shut. Turning around, you bumped into the suitcase. You stretched your arms out to prevent its fall, almost losing balance. Throwing a quick glance to the windows, you noticed a huge building across the street, right opposite to the hotel, and you could almost see people filling each apartment as small bees inside a beehive. Could they see you? Was it dangerous to leave the blinds open? It was getting dark regardless, so it was only a good idea to shut them off… Keys. Where did you put them? Onto the bedside table. Okay. Okay? Not really.

WHAT A BITCH

Did you bring with you the medicine from Monaco? Maybe you had something for the-

she’s not worthy tbh

No, you forgot them at home.

Such a loser

The thermometer. The one that would know everything about you. You had forgot it too.

Ngl, she looks stupid

You gagged. Before you could realize it, you found yourself running to the bathroom and kneeling in front of the toilet.

Whore.

Poorly trying to tie your hair, you gripped the toilet seat waiting for the pit in your stomach to bring out all your anxiety.

homewrecker… remember Kelly is better than you’ll ever be

Nothing but spit came out of your mouth.

fr who the fuck is this chick

You tried to rest your head onto the back of your hand; all the comments you had read during the flight had been spiraling and twirling in your mind relentlessly, playing all over again, to the point you couldn’t even- «Y/n?» A knock.

Hope she doesn’t believe max could ever be in love with someone like her

Instead of an answer or, rather, the incoherent and frustrated scream you wanted to let out, your head was drawn back down, as you threw up. «Y/n?» Max didn’t like to abuse having the key to your hotel room as well; you knew and had never complained about it, after all. Standing before the door, not receiving a reply, he reluctantly unlocked it with his pass and slightly opened it, willing to ask for permission first. The gagging noises he heard coming from inside were enough to kill any hesitation. «Hey, are you alright?!» Max moved slow steps at first, not really sure he had heard right. Then he saw you bent over the toilet; and he sprinted over, lowered down and was about to hold your hair for you, but you smooth it out with your fingers as you sensed the wave had passed. «What’s wrong, is it something you ate?» he immediately asked, trying to figure out the problem. «No, don’t think so.» you whispered, eyes closed. A few seconds of shared silence followed. «Is it over?» Max asked with a low tone, rubbing your back a little. You carefully nodded. «Let’s get cleaned up, then.» He tried to guide your movements, opened the tap for you, kept a hand lingering on your side just to feel you near, since your expression was so distant and emotionless. He wanted to do something for you, but you were acting as he wasn’t there, as you weren’t there. «I came to ask if you wanted to join us for dinner.» he bitterly smiled, still facing the mirror. «I’m sorry, Max… It seems like I can’t get over being ill.» you said, dropping eyes to the sink. «It’s okay, it’s not your fault. It just… sucks.» Hands resting onto your arms, Max unconsciously rubbed your skin with his thumb. He wanted to spend time with you. And you could never be present. «I know.» you whispered. And he couldn’t always stay by your side because of his schedule. Max felt you slipping away from his grasp and turned his head to watch you sit down onto your bed, scooting towards the head board, crunching your legs a little. «I can save you some food for later? We can eat it together once I get back-» «Thanks, Max, but I think I’m going to rest a little.» No. «Uhm, okay then.» Max ran out of words. He got out, slowly shut the door behind him. No. The sheer distance separating you was a wrong to the moments you had shared and lived. Max couldn’t bear it: there was no way you both could go over the intimacy, over kissing each other, without addressing the elephant in the room. No words, no thoughts, no discussion, no feelings. He needed to talk it all out in order to clear his mind, understand things with you, and do it together, see you unveiling your piece of heart, guiding him through an unexpected path. Instead, nothing.

Tuesday was a lazy day. You had woken up over the sheets, like Max had left you. Still confused, you grabbed your phone, abandoned on the covers since the night before.

Max, two hours prior. You sighed, your arm falling back onto the pillow, next to your face. He’d sent you a picture of an empty seat in front of him, probably coming from the newly built hospitality. Still caught staring at the photo, you were taken aback as the screen turned darker and the phone started ringing in your hand. Charles was… facetiming you? «Hello?» you said, immediately embarrassed about your voice coming out hoarse. «Y/n! Hi!» he chirped. «Are you… are you still in bed?» «Uhm, yeah…» you cleared your throat, trying to get into a sitting position. «I think I’m still ill. Don’t feel good.» «Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.» Charles’ brows followed his words. «Do you still have a cold?» «No, I feel sick. Not much of an appetite.» you sadly smiled. «I… I see.» You saw the Monegasque briefly disappearing from the screen, as some indistinct chatter filled your room. Before you could make out a “Let me say hi to her!” in the background, Carlos bright face was already greeting you on the screen. «Hola, y/n!» «Hello, Carlos.» you chuckled. «What happened to the royal couple?» «Uh?» your eyelashes batted in confusion. «You and Max. I saw him down the paddock, all alone… Did something happen between you two?» «Carlos, she’s ill.» Charles argued, laughing at the blunt curiosity of his teammate. «Is it true?» the Spaniard surprised eyes piercing the screen. You simply nodded. «Hope it isn’t a crappy excuse to stay away from him.» «And away from us.» Charles jumped in. «I’m still waiting for the hot chocolate I won last time.» «Guys…» you passed a hand onto your face, deeply inhaling. «I’ll do everything to get better as soon as possible, ‘cause I don’t like being ill myself. It isn’t because I want to avoid people, you know.» «Of course we know, y/n, we were just messing with you.» Charles quickly said with a quieter tone, willing to reassure you. «So… the royal couple is doing good?» Carlos tried once again. «Why do you keep calling us like that?» you asked, exasperated but amused at the same time by his silliness. «Because you’re the most famous couple out there at the moment, paparazzi seem to love you together as much as you love each other.» «Carlos, I think that’s enough damage for today.» Charles gently pushed him out of the way, still laughing. «Sorry, y/n, I’ll text you later!» «Thanks for calling!» you said, your voice cracking. He simply smiled as he lowered the phone, muttered a small “Bye” and closed the call. You were left with sudden emptiness. The thought of Max still lingered around your mind, danced intertwined with a bittersweet taste.

Sluggish, you had decided to get advantage of the restaurant service offered by the hotel for lunch, since it was too late to have breakfast anyway; you had told yourself you had to put a bit of effort, trying to fight the nausea and having a meal after long hours of nothing. As you searched in advance for some handkerchiefs into the unpacked suitcase, an envelope resurfaced from the bottom: it was the letter you had been given back in Singapore. The one you were so scared to open. Carlos’ words about journalists still writing articles about you and publishing old pictures nobody had been interested in so far made you even more nervous than you already were. Maybe more stressed out about it than the necessary. However, the lack of sender stopped you from tearing the paper off and read the content. Who would do that? You checked the clock: it was way too early for lunch. Sitting down the edge of the bed, you turned around the envelope, then opened it with a sharp, determined gesture. You were quite shocked to see it was handwritten; more so, after you started making sense of the first words.

Dear Y/n, I don’t know if you’ll ever receive this letter, but in case you do, don’t answer back: this is the reason why there’s no sender - and of course, so that you wouldn’t throw the letter in the trash can. Please don’t reply, as I don’t want your mother to know I’m writing to you. She’s ill, she’s been dealing with burnout for a while and had to quit her job because of it. She had never told you, but this is why we had to sell the house, since my pay wasn’t enough for the two of us and, clearly, we couldn’t afford having a daughter. When you heard us saying you were a mistake, we meant it was a mistake having given birth to someone we couldn’t take care of. You deserved more and I think leaving you was the right choice, since you’ve found people who manage to do a better job at maintaining you than your mother and I ever could. Never thought I’d see you on the news, though… By the way, this is how I discovered your hotel address; may it be right. Just try to stay out of troubles, okay? I don’t know if you’re still working and are economically independent, but I hope so, because relying too much on wealthy people makes you vulnerable. You aren’t trying to get into this guy’s entourage just for money, are you? Since you left, your mother has been getting better. We’ve also done a small trip to Italy to help her relax and recover as well. She may be able to get back to work soon. You see, I think parting ways was the best decision for all of us. We’re all benefiting from staying away from each other and, ultimately, I believe things should stay as they are. Good luck,

Your father

Breathless, your eyes traced the last two words over and over again, almost consuming the paper with the staring. Your lungs burned in need of oxygen; gasping, tears gently made their appearance, willing to cross your cheeks and wet the letter. Your heart sunk deep into the chest, torn between contrasting emotions, unsure whether to swell in fury or shrink in sadness. The hand which held the letter lost strength and rested on your lap, uncapable of sustaining the weight of disappointment, rage, inner turmoil and desperation. A part of you was stuck wondering what could have possibly provoked your mother’s burnout, but the louder voice you heard screaming and screeching inside didn’t make sense of your father’s words. The best decision for all? Was it what they both thought? Were they really that much better off without you? To the point your mother had improved her health? To the point he was bold enough to say it was a win-win situation, something everybody was gaining benefit from? The unnecessary hint about your unclear intentions with Max had your nausea to peek through: how could he think so lowly of you, how could he even feel good suggesting you how to lead your life after he had deliberately decided to have nothing to do with it? The mere fact he had wrote a ridiculous letter got you standing up and pacing in frustration inside the room, sobbing, hands tugging your hair. It didn’t make sense. They had said they wanted to fully disappear from your life, without leaving a trace; such an unwelcomed, unfortunate and senseless act confused you and put you through a pain even bigger than the one you were already experiencing because of the entire situation. The abandonment was suddenly covered by a coat of insincere fraud you’d never be able to scratch away. Halting the hurry, your legs crumbled and you sat down the bed, once again. At the thought of having lunch as you had intended to do, your stomach clenched tight, shut, refusing to oblige. Tears would’ve only made your meal salty and bitter.

«And… Stop! Good job, Max, we’re done!» Thank God, he immediately thought, releasing the breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. The umpteenth content of the week had been recorded and was ready to be thrown to the lions’ crowd, so that they could chew on it until next race, endlessly ruminating and always hungry for more. How hateful. To be honest, he didn’t know how he had been able to cope with it for so many years; for sure, the activities weren’t as demanding back at the time, nor he was a soon-to-be two-times World Champion. The number of activities had been piling up and increasing so sharply that not even being devoted to winning could completely eclipse it. Well, not really something he was able to fix anyway. The contract spoke clear. «I need a drink.» Max said getting up, earning a laughter from the crew. «I’m serious.» he insisted, searching for someone’s eyes to get his point across. His manager scratched the back of his own neck, aware there wasn’t a chance to get away without confronting with Max’s request. «Tomorrow we have the press conference… I don’t want you to be shit-faced, clear?» «Who’s getting shit-faced?» Pierre’s thick accent was immediately followed his amused tone, tailgated by Yuki and his laugh. «Do you guys want to have a drink?» Max caught the opportunity to have the Alpha Tauri drivers on board so that it would be harder to stop three people from loosen up a bit, after a day wholly dedicated to PR events and activities. «Oh, good idea! Yuki can drive us around, right?» Pierre accepted with enthusiasm. With a smug smirk blooming onto the lips, Max turned again toward his manager. «Checkmate.» «Remember about tomorrow’s schedule…» Raymond sighed, helpless. «Like I could ever forget!» Max sneered.

The three of them had crossed Suzuka’s evening lights under the clouded streets and had reached a karaoke building with room service as well. Before they knew it, they had ordered and ate a decent amount of sushi and filled the small room with awful singing, at least from Pierre and Yuki’s side. Of course, Max had categorically refused to join, despite the protests from the two teammates. Dim lights, fingers wrapped around the drink, legs manspreaded onto the small couch, Max felt his mind slipping away and travelling to distant memories. Closing his eyes, your features appeared before him, softly dancing in the clouds of his mind, getting closer with a vaporous grace. Your scent, the heat of your palpitating skin, the blinding sweetness of your smile intoxicated him as he took another sip of his drink, willing to keep hallucinating such a fantasized presence. As some sort of summoning, a spell, he felt skin touching his lap; looking over, a hand was resting on it, feather-like. It was you, he was convinced; he longed for that contact, he cherished that string connecting the both of you in such hectic days. The warmth of the fingers seemingly rubbing over his lap felt like cradling; Max swallowed hard and tilted his head back, taking in that piece of heaven alcohol was offering him. Feeding the forbidden, the sudden touch provoked and unraveled inappropriate and unrealistic hopes: as a tantalizing movie was beginning to play in his mind, Max almost gasped when it got interrupted by a voice. «Bro, he’s gone!» Laughter pulled Max’s head into its natural position, bringing him back to reality after getting lost in the dream of you. He quickly realized Pierre was sitting way too close to him… and that the hand moving onto his leg was the Frenchman trying to awake him from the trance. «You okay, mate?» It was no soulmate connection. «Y-yeah, just tired.» Pierre raised a knowing brow, reading into Max’s dilatated pupils and slightly reddened cheeks a reaction which spoke for itself. «I think it’s time to go back to the hotel.» Yuki said, checking the time onto his phone. «Yeah, we already had fun.» Pierre replied, keeping eye contact with Max as he got up the leather couch. Thinking he would’ve spent even a more amazing night if only you wouldn’t have been locked in your room because of sickness, Max downed at once what was left of the drink. He checked once again his phone, searching for a reply to the text he had sent you amid the photoshoot.

For a split second, the impulse of running to you and finally satiate his wants crossed his mind, but Yuki and Pierre’s silhouettes exiting the karaoke room urged him to do the same without an afterthought.

# The comforter was full of crumbs. Laid down, you had spent the day staring at the ceiling, at the walls, at the long curtain draping the room. You’d had no energy to do much else. After a while, finally feeling a bit hungry, you had eaten some crackers painstakingly slow, not totally sure whether your body would accept them. Surprisingly, it did; and you had fallen asleep with the plastic wrapper still in your hand, until you woke up as the sun was radiating the last beams. Bored and tired, you took your phone from the nightstand. Surprised to see a text from Charles, you quickly opened the chat.

You sadly smiled to yourself.

You froze. The dried tears on your skin awoke and called for new, fresh, hot ones to run again down your face. You had seen them arguing, but Charles had reassured you, saying it was part of being a couple. You had bought into his words and the dream love you had believed to be true broke like shattered crystal, in pieces.

You smiled through watery eyes. In a matter of seconds, Charles had been able to flip you open as a book, read your uneasiness with the media situation and cure it with vulnerability, trust, support. All things your father and your mother hadn’t managed to do in years. You hid your face before your wrists, weeping and sobbing like a kid, amazed by the amount of love you’ve been receiving after leaving what you had always called “family”.

You didn’t even wait for him to text back; you simply let it fall on the bed, as your body did, and got close to the pillow, crushing it with the weight of disappointment in your parents, inadequacy for friendships you didn’t feel like deserving and the desire of a simple, undercover relationship with the person you missed the most as you laid down the bed, cold and lonely.

«And keep looking out the window… Perfect!» Max gazed at the dark clouds covering the city, while considering the weather conditions he would find during the weekend. It wasn’t going to be an easy race. «Okay, Max, now we have to head back to the hotel.» Raymond said, looking down his phone, checking the planner. Max, still staring out the window, furrowed his brows with a couple of seconds of delay. «Didn’t you tell me we had another PR activity right after?» he asked, doubting his own memory. Raymond hesitated a bit. «Yes, Max, we do have a PR thing in there.» «Thing? Is it that bad you don’t even want to tell me?» Max joked, taking off the jacket he had worn for the photo shoot. «No, it shouldn’t be anything too odd.» the manager replied, eyes still down to the screen. «So? What is it?» the driver insisted. «You’ll see when we get there.» Raymond forced a smile.

Max was clueless. He kept throwing glances at his manager, who stood tensed alongside him, and wondered what on earth could make him so nervous at the mere thought. Reaching the landing, Max saw some Red Bull stuff talking and joking in front of the door of one of team’s rooms, bringing in lighting and cameras. Max was clueless, utterly clueless, as he crossed the threshold, seeing Kelly chatting with people from the communication management. He abruptly stopped, clearly expecting anything but her. At the point, Kelly noticed his presence, turned around and politely put on a practiced smile, approaching him. Beyond confused, Max searched for his manager’s eyes. «Raymond, what is this?» The man couldn’t help but stutter, prompting Alice Hedworth to give some explanation. «Kelly contacted us and told she was sorry for the problems her Instagram story involuntarily caused and kindly offered to help putting an end to the… controversy of the breakup creating some “redeeming” content, so to speak.» Alice answered. «I had already booked the tickets for Suzuka, so I thought it would’ve been a good idea to get the most out of them and mend a difficult media situation for all of you, and especially for y/n.» Kelly jumped in. «By the way, I hope she hasn’t taken the comments too bad.» she went on, addressing Max with those words and presenting them with a pained expression. The entire room going silent, everyone waited his reaction filled with tension and anticipation, hanging off his lips. «Okay. What do I have to do?» he said, indifferent. «Uhm, first let’s get you changed, Max…» Raymond exchanged a surprised look with Alice, both surprised by the lack of protests or rebuke, after witnessing his reaction only a week earlier to your “ban” from the paddock.

Exiting the lift back from lunch, you had been taken aback to see such a movement and noise coming from the floor plan; specifically, you noticed a door being flung open by someone from the Red Bull team, entering the room next to it in search of some equipment and immediately turning back inside. Moved by curiosity, you slowly made your way to the doorstep and peeked in. You stood still. Turned your back to the door, got closer to the stairway. You moved in slow, syncopated steps, then picking up the pace a bit, you sped down the stairs, reached the floor below and even made it to the other lower landing, but then fell crouched, gripping the handrail with all your might, twirling down. You hid the silent screams with the palm of your hand, uncapable of holding your tears back. Everything, you had withstood anything: being separated by Max, not being able to spend time with him as you laid sick onto your bed, reading any type of torturing comment about you, cursing a letter you would’ve preferred not to be sent and playing miserable reruns of how your family wrecked and ripped. You had tolerated it all. All, but seeing Kelly nestling against Max and hugging him after they had broken up.

«Which one do you prefer? In this one your smile shows up a bit more, right?» «Uhm, they seem all alike.» «Please, help me choose one!» «Post the one you like the most, I don’t care.» Kelly raised her head to follow Max’s movements across the room with an annoyed expression. «You should care about this post, Max.» «That’s right. I care about the things you promised you would write in that post, not about the picture.» he pointed out, as he sat onto a small armchair. Kelly sighed and for a couple of minutes the only sound they both could hear was the typing onto the phone. «Done. Are you happy now?» she said, sitting on the bed, facing him. «You should be the one who’s happy, since you nicely created this PR stunt.» «This isn’t a stunt, Max, I really feel sorry for all the damage my story did.» «Well, then cheer! You saved us, congratulations.» he spitted out with sarcasm. «Max, can you please stop being so passive-aggressive?» Kelly snapped likewise. «Sorry.» Max whispered, clearing his throat, looking away. «These… these social media activities are killing me, I can’t put up with them anymore.» «I see.» They stayed silence for while, both lost in thought. «It’s strange I haven’t seen y/n yet, she’s always around you. Where did you hide her?» Kelly laughed. «She’s been sick the last couple days and I’ve been dragged around for media content like a plastic bag. Haven’t seen her since we landed.» Max’s tone didn’t leave space for replies: at a loss of words, Kelly found herself uncapable of being ironic any further about you, noticing how serious, drained and frustrated the situation made him. «I’m sorry, I didn’t know.» she replied, put together. «And like, really, I decided to come here to better the whole thing. I didn’t mean to cause drama in the first place.» «That’s too late, Kelly.» Max said, sinking deep back onto the armchair. «Hope she didn’t dig too much into the comments and everything they wrote…» Kelly sighed, looking out of the window, a hand brushing her arm. Suddenly struck by the meaning of those words, breached for the first time by the world surrounding him, Max set his eyes down on her profile. He hadn’t worried about it, so far. He hadn’t had time to waste on reading other people’s useless and unrequested opinions; he knew the media way too well, he had no need to assess the type of bullshit people would put out. He was used to brushing it off, just get over them easily; however, the thought you could not be as strong, not used to it, not accustomed to such an insisting exposure, didn’t even cross his mind once. And so it was only natural it would storm with force and rain down on him like a cold shower, looming over him all at the same time. Your unreadable face on the plane, your thumb casually scrolling hate; your silence. Max enriched the picture with new dark tones he had just discovered, not really sure to like them. He followed Kelly’s eyes, scrutinizing the foggy sky, in search of inner peace.

You stumbled as you kept walking downstairs, hand raised to hide your mouth and hold your tears. You couldn’t believe it. He had chosen her. After everything that happened between the two of them, between the two of you, he still chose her. How could you blame him? How could you blame her? But it wasn’t them choosing one another, was it? Maybe it was… you being rejected again? You halted your escape once again, unable to run away as you had intended. That couldn’t be the end of it all. No, that couldn’t be. You panicked at the thought: where would you go? Whose life would you ruin next? Which new guilt would you have to bear? In a sudden and scattered motion, you sprinted towards the hall, exiting the hotel in search of air, sighing and sobbing uncontrollably. Your ears rang, they rang, you were dizzy; the sound of pain stunned you, your cries were deaf hits echoing through the empty case of an indifferent world. A new ring added on top of it: your phone, a faded notification penetrating your bubble of sadness.

You cried harder. Hand sweeping tears away from your cheeks, you try to type a reply.

You could see them. You could see all the pictures taken while you entered the paddock, walking miserably, unable to stand and get your shit together, entering Ferrari’s hospitality. Despite being upset by what you had just witnessed, you were able to tell it wasn’t a good idea.

Charles didn’t think much of it. He simply imagined you wanted him to pick you up and walk together back to the paddock; after all, it was your first time in Suzuka, so maybe you were scared to get lost. But then he saw you standing a ten of meters away from the hotel entrance, and he sensed right away something was off. He heard a loud sob, making you crunch forward, as you started walking towards him. Every step you took closer to him, Charles’ heart sank deeper and deeper into his chest. He immediately met your wandering hands, trying to soothe their frantic despair, and gripped them tight as your face pointed to the ground, unconsciously drawing your entire weight towards the same direction. He called your name, either to express his regret, encourage you or ask what was wrong, but you didn’t even pay attention to him; you seemed deaf to any call. Charles, painfully reminded of the last time he had pick you up in a similar condition, gently guided you towards the pavement, heading to the nearby hotel the entire Ferrari stuff stayed at.

As soon as the door was unlocked, you blindly dived into the room, letting the flow of tears provoke sighs, without restraints, hands covering your eyes in shame. Charles stood speechless, tracing with his eyes the outline of your back, which was facing him. «Y/n…» he murmured. Seeing how you failed to acknowledge him, he moved a step forward and got closer. «Y/n, come on.» Charles said again, softly touching your shoulder with his fingertips. You turned and he pulled you into a hug, trying not to squeeze you too much. «Is it because you still feel sick?» he asked. You whined in denial, uncapable of articulating a proper answer. «Then it’s Max.» he concluded, more speaking to himself than making a question. Charles pulled you out of the embrace, hands firm onto your shoulders; he wanted to catch some sort of reaction from you, with little result. «Is it… Did you talk about the kiss and he said something bad? You know he can be a bit awkward, you don’t need to stress over it…» «He still loves Kelly.» you said through the tears. «He still loves her.» Voice broken from crying, you covered your face with both hands. «Why do you think that?» he asked, in disbelief. «I saw them, Charles…» you swiped your cheek with the back of the hand. «I saw them hugging, they were smiling… They seemed so happy to be together.» Charles frowned in sorrow hearing your voice crack. «A-after… after all the things that happened, after all the cruelty people have thrown at me… The way Kelly treated me last time we saw and Max not even talking to me…» And the letter. «I… I’ve been in so much pain.» Not louder than a whisper, your words pushed Charles’ fingers to gently lift upwards your afflicted face. «Y/n, look at me, please.» he demanded with a soft resolution. Still sobbing, you obliged and saw him sadly smile. «I knew it wasn’t easy for you.» he whispered, drying a tear with his thumb. «And I know that in this moment is difficult to think clearly, but what if things aren’t as you imagine them to be? You don’t know what the hug was for. Maybe they have decided to stay friends, considering the situation with Kelly’s daughter…» You snorted, interrupting his talk. «Who decide to stay friends with their exes and then starts to hang out with them right after a breakup?» you asked, sarcastic. «Charlotte and I do.» You stared at him, deadpanned, pained once again by his brutal confession. «Y/n, I know it’s hard to believe, especially since you and Max haven’t talked about it, but I’m one hundred percent sure he likes you over Kelly, and I’m not the only one thinking this.» You didn’t reply, but tried to nod, skin still stained with crying. «If you feel bad about it, if you want things to be clear between the two of you, go tell him. Ask him about Kelly, tell him you liked or hated the kiss, be jealous or choose to be understanding, but please have a conversation with him. Either as friends or as a couple, you need to communicate. He should’ve heard the things you told me now and seen you cry.» You pressed your lips together trying to stop yourself from weeping loudly: his words made you feel stupid, coward. What if Charles had never sent you a text? What would you have done? You suddenly realized how deeply you needed to be open and honest with Max, to be close and vulnerable, so that he could heal you as he always did. «Talk to him.» Charles added, resolute. «Please, promise you will talk to him.» You sniffed, slowly smiling at his insistence. «Say something!» he then laughed, finally relieved to see a sparkle of light on your face. «I don’t deserve a friend like you.» you said with unstable voice, hugging him. Charles couldn’t stop a smile. «You’re a good friend as well, y/n.» he replied. «Especially when you offer me one of your divine drinks.» You broke the hug, with a confused expression. «You are really striving for that hot chocolate, aren’t you?» «Of course I am. That’s the only think I’ve been caring about since we made the bet.» Your laughter echoed inside the room.

You felt lucky and blessed by such a precious friendship; but your mind kept comparing Charles’ embrace and reassuring manners with the heavenlike, cradling and calming effect Max had on you and that you terribly missed.

«And so you were able to find a solution?» Daniel asked. «Yes, I mean, we hope it will work.» Max said, putting his phone back in his pocket. «Does y/n know?» «No, I’ve just texted her so that we can talk.» Daniel nodded, full of thoughts. «Right… I assume the mission you entrusted me with last Sunday miserably failed.» Max, who had almost completely forgotten about his unexplained request, looked at Daniel with eyes wide open. «Fuck, I forgot to warn you.» «No worries, I saw you walking away. But… Will she be at the garage this week?» «They told me to wait because they need to check whether the post is calming waters, but I wanted to talk to her as soon as possible.» «Haven’t you done it yet?» the Aussie asked. «Nope, busy with social content all the fucking week.» «Did you meet at all?» Daniel raised his brows, bewildered. «No, this is why I’m waiting for her to reply.» And your timing proved itself perfect, as a notification sound followed his words.

Before Max could react and type a reply, his screen went dark and showed the name of his manager. «What’s up? No, no plans after free practice. What do you mean? Another one?! Didn’t we meet them already? Fuck’s sake… Okay. Right. Bye.» Daniel raised his brows again, implicitly asking Max to explain the situation. «I have to attend a dinner with a sponsor out of town.» he brushed his eyes with his hands. «Fuck.» he exhaled.

«Of course!» Max murmured full of frustration, as he read your text.

Charles dried with a towel his sweating forehead. He was frustrated. Watching over his side, he saw the reason: Max had snatched the pole position away from him for one tenth, and he was now taking off his helmet next to him. Let down for the incredibly small gap separating him from the best result, he couldn’t take his eyes off the Red Bull driver. There was a rush, a concern in his demeanor, something that Charles read between the lines of his body language. He chose to get closer to him and congratulate him with a handshake and a wink, before trying to initiate the conversation with the words on the tip of the tongue. Taken aback, though, Charles listened to Max addressing him right as he approached him. «Had fun with y/n? this morning» the Dutch asked, collecting his gloves in a hurry. «Uh?» «She told me you two had a bet.» Max went on, removing his earphones. «Oh, yeah. Well, the bet was between me and Carlos, but y/n was involved, and she was responsible for my prize.» At those words, Max’s piercing irises fixed upon Charles, with a cold, emotionless stare. He clearly didn’t appreciate your name and a prize mentioned in the same sentence – at least, in someone else’s mouth. You were the best prize life could’ve ever offer him and wasn’t willing to share. After a few seconds of awkward silence, they both started walking down the pitlane. «Anyway, did you talk to her by any chance?» the Monegasque asked, almost chasing Max who was proceeding briskly. «Why are you asking?» Charles wetted his lips, unsure about how to put it right, before speaking up. «I… I really think you guys should talk.» Max stopped in his track and consequently forced Charles to do the same. «And what should we talk about, exactly?» the Red Bull driver asked, half amused and half shocked. «I don’t know… but I’m sure y/n does.» he confidently said, nodding to himself. «Uhm, okay…?» In visible confusion, Max was about to dig deeper into the piece of advice, but they both got called out by some journalists, willing to immortalize the moment with thousands of pictures.

Loitered by interviews, Max tiredly walked up in front of your hotel room, finding it already unlocked: you had agreed on meeting after qualifying and, since there wasn’t a way to predict when that would be, you had promised to leave the door open. As he pushed the it to get in, he was about to greet you calling your name, before he saw you curled up onto the mattress, eyes shut. Max closed the gap with stealthy steps and stared at you, peaceful drifted away. Almost unconsciously, he removed a strand of hair away from your forehead, with a feather-like motion, in order not to wake you up. After hectic days and lack of communication, Max smiled at the thought of silence being the cure: he only needed to have you in sight in order to feel calm, relieved, secure. He laid down next to you onto the bed and carefully engulfed you in a cuddling embrace, enjoying your undisturbed, slow and steady breaths. Max scrolled his phone for a bit, softly rubbing your skin with a thumb; then, suddenly, he felt your body turning onto his, your head now resting over his chest and trapping him down the mattress, with you. Struck by the innocent sweetness of the gesture, his heart smiled of unexpected joy and so did his lips, which left a kiss on your head. And under invitation of the descending sun and the relaxation of the moment, Max fell asleep, hugging you close.

Awakening was slow. You struggled to keep your eyes open, too tangled up into sleeps’ spirals, willing to spend some more minutes in delight. Then a thought hit you. You had to meet Max. As an involuntary reflex, you searched for your phone: Sunday, 9:46 AM. 2 unread messages from him.

Walking towards the door, you stepped onto a piece of paper, producing a shuffling noise: it was your father’s letter. You stood still, then quickly picked it up and stuffed it down inside your pocket.

Deep in thought, you strolled towards the paddock with a lump in your throat: you weren't sure what Max had in store to tell you, but you knew you would probably have to say something as well. As Charles' insisted plead repeatedly played in your head, you wondered what you needed to address first: the kiss you both, deliberately or not, decided to ignore and bury under the rug? The brutality of the comments you had received because of the rumors and how deeply it had affected you, to the point you got sick? Or was it better to denounce the re-found trust and love between him and Kelly, which you had witnessed, asking for an explanation? And what about his silence in the past couple days? You had been silent as well, but what if it was his way to subside the kiss? Did it mean nothing to him? Did you mean nothing to him? A shaken breath, you kept walking. Entering the paddock, you expected some paparazzi to follow you as they had done only a week earlier, but nobody was there to chase you: the focus seemed to be shifted upon the race, for once.

Max's face lit up as he saw you coming towards the hospitality, hands inside your jacket's pockets. Without hesitation, he came towards you and welcomed you with a hug, oblivious to any unwanted attention by journalists and team stuff passing nearby; he had missed having you around way too much to care. You snuggled up into the embrace, finding a crumb of relief from your worries within his safe arms. «Let’s go inside.»

He guided you towards his room at the hospitality, so that you could have some privacy while everybody moved feverishly. It was a small, minimalistic space, barely characterized; the humidity of Suzuka forced you to take off your jacket, as you looked around. You didn't have much to fixate your stare upon, so you quickly made eye contact with Max, who was waiting for you to acknowledge him with a vague smile. You tried to match him, but you couldn’t hide the bit of shyness you felt. «What did you want to tell me?» you went straight to the point. «You don’t even ask me to delete the pictures I took of you?» Max teased. You simply rolled your eyes, now your smile being on full display. «No, because I’m curious to listen to what you have to say. I mean, it seemed pretty important.» «Right.» he said. «It is important. But it might be something that you already know…» Your raised brows invited him to finally explain. «I met Kelly, on Thursday.» Time stopped, after these words. Your heart screamed, absolutely reluctant to hear the rest: the beginning preluded to a devastating finale, and your feelings wouldn’t tolerate it. Still, you didn’t interrupt, you didn’t move. You didn’t even blink. «She came here to mend the hate towards the both of us that she involuntarily fueled with her instagram story. So we took some pictures in which we look perfectly at ease and then she posted them, writing that she didn’t mean to shade us and that she dissociate from all the hate.» You almost gaped at him, the tables suddenly turning: as he showed you the pictures, a wave of relief erased part of the worries and pain you had felt, which had proved to be unjustified. «And how could this work?» you asked after staring at the phone for a while. «It’s working because she completely denied the narrative of me being a cheater and now people are starting to feel bad about the two of us being accused and assailed by media.» «A bit too late…» you whispered, diverting gaze. «Better late than never, though.» Max got closer to you and took you by surprise as his hands touched your upper arms. «I should’ve helped you coping with all the comments and the media attention. I didn’t realize it would be overwhelming for you. I’m sorry.» Eyes closed, you shook your head lightly. «It’s not your fault.» «And it certainly isn’t yours, y/n.» Without thinking too much, you got closer and rested your cheek against his chest. Max took the opportunity to wrap your sides, cradling with matching breaths and heartbeats, enjoying the little bubble of re-found proximity.

All the words you had planned to say disappeared in a second: despite not having answered some of the questions crossing your mind, nuzzled against him you felt no need to be told much else. No overthinking could ruin the moment. Caught up in your own world, you both didn’t pay attention to the background laughter and chatter of the hospitality, let alone of steps approaching the room. «Max, we have the- Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt!» The communication manager, Alice, entered the room and backed off right away, tittering. Red cheeks giving away your embarrassment, you looked up to Max, who boldly challenged her with his stare. «Oh, here you are! I wanted to talk to you. Y/n can watch the race from the garage, right?» «Uhm, I didn’t… I haven’t thought about it.» Alice answered. «But the post with Kelly is doing great. We’re fine now.» Max insisted. «I didn’t come here to discuss this.» she sighed. «And I would go for a more cautious approach, but I guess the real core of the rumors is centered around the cost cap, not on the two of you…» «Awesome. I’m coming to the meeting, give me two seconds.» Max said, smiling to her and then over to you. As Alice got away from the doorstep, the atmosphere became more intimate once again. «See you later, then.» you said, a bit dazed. «You can come to the garage a bit earlier, to catch up, you know.» he hesitantly murmured. «Of course!» you squeaked. Both grinning at each other like two idiots, you decided to flee away before the situation would get too awkward; and in doing so, totally lost in hustle, you forgot your jacket in Max’s room. He was too caught up in his thoughts too, and he only noticed it once he came back from the meeting Alice had reminded him of, just before having some lunch together with Daniel. As soon as his eyes fell upon the jacket, he silently laughed to himself, taking a picture of it and sending you a text.

Amused, he picked the jacket up from the bed, in order to place it on his chair instead, but while doing so a piece of paper fell to the ground. Max, naturally curious, took it in his hands, turning it around and scrutinizing it: opening the folders a couple of times, he realized it was a letter. Tempted, he swallowed hard, partly confused by the address, partly aroused by the will to know more. He tried to shrug it off, heading over the exit of the hospitality and walking with the paper hid in his pocket.

«What if… it’s from a secret admirer?» Max rolled his eyes, annoyed by Daniel’s inquiries. «What? Don’t you think she could have one?» «I don’t think this is the case, I’d expect some cheesy stuff like “to my muse” or shit like that.» Max said. «Isn’t there some “your admirer”? A name? Some clues?» Daniel prompted. «Nope, there’s only her address. Hope it’s not some creep or… threats.» At the thought, Max froze. You would tell him if it was something that serious, right? «There’s only one way to know.» «No, Dan, I’m not reading it. I don’t want to invade her privacy-» Daniel immediately took the letter and unfolded it, then put it before Max’s eyes. «You’re welcome.» Max couldn’t help but read, and was left thrown off right away by the weirdly affectionate “Dear y/n” – who would call you like that? – only to open his eyes wide rapidly going through the following lines; he then jumped to the bottom of the page, in need of confirmation, and marked the signature in his retina. Your father. «Is it a love declaration?» Max pictured you reading the letter, feeling disappointed, distraught: why did he decide to reach out to say that type of things? «… Is there anything worse than a love declaration?» His heart dropped: you had kept the pain of those words to yourself for at least a week. Why didn’t you talk to him about it? Why didn’t you confide to him? «Max… Hello?» Daniel shook his hand in front of his face. And then he remembered how unavailable he had been due to all the social media activities and events he had attended throughout the week, and of course, you being sick. «You really don’t blink.» Dan said, almost in admiration. Did you tell it to anybody? Maybe… to Charles? «Yes, 911? My friend isn’t blinking. I need help.» Was it the reason the Monegasque had been weird after qualifying and asked him to talk to you? Did he know? Did you trust Charles more than him? «Hand me the paper at least, so that I can share the PTSD with you.» Or maybe you had simply chosen to keep it silent, pretending the letter had never been sent. But if so, why didn’t you throw it away? «I have to go.» Max left without sparing a glance to Daniel, who simply followed with his eyes, in shock, the silhouette leaving him alone.

You walked towards the paddock as rain started to rain quite hard. Knowing the racetrack would be soaked didn’t put you at ease: Max could bring the championship home, but he needed a clean race – which didn’t seem likely, under your small umbrella. The pitlane already brimmed of life: with small and quick steps you moved through the journalists and engineers to reach the Red Bull garage. As soon as you approached the back of the box, utterly lost and disoriented, Max appeared out of nowhere and pulled you inside his preparation room in a blink. His fire suit down to the waist, he seemed to be already sweating despite the race not having begun yet. Max secured his hands onto the side of your arms, trying to keep you close, hoping you wouldn’t avoid the topic he wanted to tackle. «So… how’s the hostage doing?» you broke the ice, jokingly. Max lowered his gaze, turned his head to a little armchair and quickly grabbed the jacket which was over it. But before handing it to you, he slowly took the letter out of its pocket, staring deep into your eyes. His pained expression told you more than he could explain. You weren’t even mad at him reading it; sadness hovered over you, and it was your time to lower gaze. The mechanics working on the car only a couple of meters away was the perfect background for the two of you silently exchanging pain, closing eyes, searching for each other’s hands with unconsciously mirrored movements and merging in a hug, as you always did, putting boundaries aside and caring about nothing else but one another. After a piece of eternity, you ended up forehead against forehead, a bridge for your thoughts. Eyes still shut, Max was the first one to talk. «I don’t care about what he says, and neither should you.» he said, above a whisper. «I’ll be your family, y/n. You can lean on me, and I promise I’ll keep you safe and loved.» A lonely tear fell down your cheek. «You’ve been my only family since the beginning, Max.» His thumb immediately ran to swipe the liquid sadness away from your skin, bringing your faces closer and closer. «And I’ll still be. I’m not leaving you.» Your hearts, your eyes, your bodies, your breaths became one, as Max spoke once again. «I love you.» Your lips met, soft: it wasn’t a rushed kiss, but a chaste one, the lingering seal of his promise. Almost waking up from a deep sleep, you batted your eyelashes multiple times, trying to see clearer into the blue of his irises. In his arms, you magically realized blood couldn’t tie you tighter to anyone more than love could. Everything, anything you’d ever needed and craved stood before you. Words were missing to your racing thoughts; you desperately tried to reply, to put into a coherent sentence the mix of affection and emotion pouring in your heart, but didn’t manage. Instead, someone knocked onto the door of the room, calling for Max. The bubble plopped away, and the pressure, the expectations, the thrill for the race weighed down on you. Before Max could lower the knob, both your hands gripping his wrist and halting him, you shyly left a peck on his lips. «Good luck, Max.» you whispered. He grinned, fueled by a newly experienced happiness, and he carried you out of the room with him, holding hands, ready to face anything.

The rain falling incessant over the track echoed in your ears like a buzz. The delay in the start procedure only made you more nervous that you would already have been, bringing you almost to biting your nails. You tried not to directly look at Max, hoping he wouldn’t get affected by your stressed-out appearance; you only watched him from the monitors hung up the wall of the garage, casually showing at times things happening just a few meters away, and prayed for time to put an end to your restless waiting.

He crossed the line. Your eyes flicked to the second and the third positions, now showed onto the screen, monitoring the gap. You had spent the last fourty minutes mentally counting and checking what Max needed to do in order to be champion, and everything was in Charles and Checo’s hands. The cameras flied to capture the corners of truth: a move, only one single move in the entire race, would award the championship. And it came: you heard movement in the bleachers, echoing through your headphones, and saw the bright red Ferrari car going wide, letting Sergio’s Red Bull pass through. A realization setting in, the screams inside the garage, the mechanics running towards the pitlane to cheer Max, to greet their two-times champion of the world. You ran outside the box, still dazed. Little drops of rain pierced their way into your skin, hair and clothes: Japan was giving you its warmest goodbye with a clouded sky and a threatening thunderstorm. Such a lovely end to your week. You felt a joy impossible to put into words: the sun was shining beneath your skin, it made you glow and smile, it was warming your heart despite the cold air brushing your hair. Max was your sun. You saw it sparkling in his eyes, framed by the helmet, when he got out of the car. His stare a beam radiating colors, happiness, life to such a grey day.

The screams were definitely making Max deaf, but your discreet silence stood out to him way more than the cheers; your flushed cheeks, your eyes squeezed to leave space for a breath-taking smile drew him to you, they untangled him quickly from the pats and the hugs of the team. Getting closer to you, he removed the helmet and the balaclava; without thinking twice, you wrapped your arms around his neck to hug him in excitement. He didn’t react, he let you be the unleashed one. He didn’t match your uncontrolled energy, but as you backed off to stare at him, he took the chance to steal your lips with a deep, passionate, genuine kiss, while some of the mechanics whistled at the scene. Feeling yourself being lift a bit by his embrace, you curled your mouth up into a grin, drunk in bliss and love, as your hands still cupped Max’s face. Broken the kiss, your giggles were soon matched with his, the both of you indifferent to the world around you. As Max still held you close, you bit your lower lip in delight. «I love you too, Max.» You didn’t know the sun could burn brighter than it would regularly do, but he proved you otherwise: there was a light, a sparkle, a fire of undying awe inside his irises that no rain could ever extinguish. Your moment got interrupted by Charles patting Max’s shoulder, to congratulate his win – well, double win, considering both the race and the championship. In trance for what had just happened, it took a few seconds for you to realize Sebastian was moving his arm from afar trying to get noticed by you. «Seb, you did amazing! P6! And what a battle!» you said, as you got closer to him. «You both did amazing too.» Sebastian added with a smirk, quickly glancing at Max. «I’m so happy for the both of you.» Filled with gratitude, you couldn’t help but hugging him as a thanks.

After the podium celebrations, you saw Max running towards you, unexpectedly picking you up and making you twirl under the thin rain, laughing like two kids. When he finally put you down, he kissed your temple with a smile plastered onto his lips. «Ready to go home and celebrate?» he asked you. «I’m already home.» you replied, playing with the hem of his collar. After a few seconds of silence, Max sweetly looked back into your eyes. «You’re right. We’re already home.»

_____________________________________________________________

I'd like to say a lot of things, but this chapter is already lenghty, so I'll try to keep it short. Thanks, from the very bottom of my heart, to all the people who supported (also silently) this story. I truly hope you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing it. I know there are a lot of mistakes - due to distraction while revising, mainly - and I'll fix them eventually, so thanks again for going past those and showing appreciation regardless. As usual, thanks to whoever leaves a note of feedback ♥ ✧ ˚ · . Wish you a good day . · ˚✧

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nothoughtsonlytrance · 5 months

Text

DNP: DEFINE DANCING

This takes place during a Modern College AU. Dan has had feelings for Phil for a while but has been too nervous to tell him. Now that he's been dragged to a college party (against his own will), he gets his one chance to tell Phil how he feels. But will he carry through? Maybe a lesson in ballroom dancing will tell. Also, here are Dan and Phil's outfits!

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Dan sighed and leaned against the railing of the balcony as he took another sip of his beer. Looking up at the star-studded sky, his mind raced with varying thoughts about the previous day, but they always circled back to one person:

Philip Michael Lester.

Ever since that one history lecture a month ago, Dan couldn’t keep his mind off of Phil. Dan remembered the scenario like it was yesterday. The lecture had just begun when Phil had bolted through the door, completely out of breath, and apologizing to the professor for being late. Phil made his way over and took a seat next to Dan, not knowing that Dan’s own heart was beating like a kick drum.

As the lecture progressed, Dan couldn’t help but steal glances at Phil, captivated by his every movement as he took in the professor's words, admiring the way his ginger hair fell against his forehead and the way his cerulean eyes lit up in interest. When the class finally ended, Dan, with bated breath, gathered his courage and struck up a conversation with Phil. The two seemed to get along pretty easily, yet Dan still couldn’t look Phil in the face without blushing madly.

With each passing day, Dan found himself looking forward to seeing Phil in class, their various conversations becoming the highlight of his day. The more they spent time together, the more Dan began to realize that what started as a simple infatuation for Phil had blossomed into more than a crush. It was deeper. A love that he never expected to find in his life. Even more, Dan was struggling to accept himself as a closeted gay man. He remembered being bullied for most of his childhood for that same reason. Thankfully over the years, things had changed, and society had become more accepting of the LGBTQ+ community, but Dan continued to keep this secret locked inside his heart. His parents knew he was gay, but very few people outside of his family knew that big secret. And now that he had an actual crush on Phil, his mind raced with a thousand “what ifs,” each one pulling him in a different direction. But deep down, as hard as it was to swallow, the truth was that he knew he couldn’t keep his feelings for Phil hidden forever. The thought of never knowing if Phil felt the same way for him was a burden too heavy to bear.

His thoughts were then interrupted as he saw Phil walk towards the balcony with a small margarita in his hands. Dan’s palms began to sweat, and his heartbeat quickened. Oh god, oh god, oh god! Okay, stay calm! He thought to himself. Just don’t draw any attention to yourself, and everything will be fine. Dan continued to distract himself with another sip of beer, looking up at the stars above. Hopefully, he prayed, Phil would just leave and he wouldn’t have to worry about his increasing heart rate.

“Stars look nice tonight, don’t they?”

Startled, Dan did a spit-take like it was straight out of a cartoon and let out a series of coughs. He put a hand to his chest to gather his bearings and took a deep breath. Unbeknownst to him, Phil turned his head towards him. “Woah, you okay?” He asked, giggling. “Must’ve gone down the wrong way, huh?”

Oh, god, he noticed! Dan thought, his internal voice filled with straight-up anxiety. He wanted to run away, he WANTED to. But he knew that if he stayed silent, Phil was gonna think he was being rude, and he certainly didn’t want to be that way in front of his crush. Dan knew he had no other choice. He had to talk to him.

Dan looked up and gulped as he saw Phil standing before him, wearing a loose red silk shirt that had some cleavage showing a bit of chest hair, and black dress pants. DAMN, he’s hot. Dan thought. Phil gazed at Dan with an inquisitive look on his face, waiting for a response. “U-uh yeah, I’m fine.” He chuckled nervously as he adjusted the collar of his jacket. “I guess I was caught off guard, is all.” Phil laughed as he took another sip of his margarita. “Yeah, sorry about that.” He apologized. “I just saw you on the balcony and wanted to talk with you. I didn’t even know you were gonna be here.”

Dan sighed. “I really didn’t want to, to be honest. My friends kinda made me go. Said I needed more, ‘social interaction.’” He said with finger quotes. Phil laughed. “Yeah, being social isn’t the easiest thing. I have trouble talking to others too. Thankfully, I’m a lot better at it than I was a few years ago. I literally had such bad phone anxiety that I had to get my mom to call the hairdressers to set up an appointment for me because I couldn’t do it myself. It was THAT bad!” The two men laughed at Phil’s statement. “I’m glad we have something in common then.” Dan stated, taking one last sip of his beer before throwing it in a small recycling bin.

A few seconds of awkward silence stood before them. C’mon, make some small talk! Dan’s inner voice encouraged. He cleared his throat and spoke up. “So, how’s the semester been so far?” “It’s been fine,” Phil replied. “Other than the massive amount of homework. But I guess that’s what you get as a linguistics major.” He chuckled. “You’re not alone on that.” Added Dan. “Law school has had me up to my neck in homework. It’s literal hell if you ask me!”

As the music from inside the party room faded in the distance, the two college students continued to converse, talking about life at home, their favorite hobbies, and anything that came to mind. Slowly, Dan saw himself falling more and more in love with Phil. It took every fiber in his body not to grab Phil by the front of his shirt and kiss him passionately. He knew that if he did that, Phil would think he was coming on too strong. Or maybe he didn’t have the same feelings for him. It would only end up embarrassing Dan more.

As Dan looked again at the sky, Phil stared at him with glimmering cerulean eyes, smiling with contempt and infatuation for the man who stood before him. He placed his margarita on a nearby table and held out his hand towards Dan.

youtube

“Care to dance?”

Dan’s eyes widened, and he jerked his head towards Phil, who continued to hold out his hand as he walked towards the center of the balcony, smiling warmly at Dan. Dan felt like his heart skipped two beats. He couldn’t believe it; no, this wasn’t real. His own crush, whom he had only known for a month, was asking him to dance! Not only that but he had never been asked to dance with anyone before in his life. The same “what if” scenarios began to plague his mind.

He wanted to; his heart was telling him “YES,” but his mind held him back, and he continued to grip the balcony ledge tightly, so much so that his knuckles began turning white. Phil chuckled as he noticed Dan’s nervous expression. “Well, what do you say?”

“I-I, um…” Dan stuttered as he nervously adjusted his jacket. “A-are you sure?”

Phil smiled sincerely. “Dan, I wouldn’t be standing in the middle of a balcony with my hand out if I didn’t.”

Slowly and trepidatiously, Dan made his way to the center of the balcony. His hand shook violently as he reached out to accept Phil’s hand. Dan let out a silent gasp. Phil’s hands were soft and warm, unlike his own, which were probably dripping with sweat. Hopefully, Phil wouldn’t notice.

All of a sudden, Phil caught Dan off guard and pulled him in, placing a hand on his hip while holding his other hand up. “Don’t worry, it’s just a simple waltz.” He reassured Dan in a soft voice that sent shivers down Dan’s spine. Phil squeezed Dan’s hand tightly and pulled him closer. Dan’s face turned bright red, and he swore Phil could hear his heartbeat pounding inside his chest. “Hey, relax your shoulders. You’re tense. Just take a deep breath, and I’ll lead you.”

Dan swallowed the lump gathering in his throat as Phil led him in a waltz around the balcony. As the duo began to move together, Phil’s gentle guidance became a lifeline for Dan, easing his nerves with each step. There were a few times when Dan stumbled a bit, but Phil patiently encouraged him, his hands firm yet gentle to the touch as he led Dan through the waltz.

With each turn, Dan felt himself become more and more relaxed in the rhythm of the dance. All those fears and worries that ran through his mind before suddenly faded away. As they twirled around underneath the glow of the moonlight, Dan felt his heart swell with a new feeling of joy and confidence. At that moment, he realized it wasn’t about being perfect, but about the connection he shared with Phil. The movement of their bodies in sync with the music spoke volumes without them having to utter a single word. Phil laughed as he gazed at Dan’s brown eyes, making the younger man blush.

As the music drew to a close, Phil chuckled. Dan lifted an eyebrow in confusion. “What-whoah!” Phil caught Dan by surprise and dipped him. Dan shut his eyes and nearly fell to the ground, but Phil placed a firm hand around his waist, keeping him in place. Dan slowly opened his eyes, and his face turned as red as Phil’s shirt when he saw that Phil’s face was mere inches from his own. Dan’s forehead dripped with sweat, making his hair more curlier than it already was.

Phil laughed and winked. “Haha, caught you off guard, didn’t I? Works every time.”

Dan gulped.

Phil leaned back up and loosened his grip on Dan. Dan stepped back and breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, what did you think?” Phil asked. “Uh, i-it was…great,” Dan replied, though it really was AMAZING, but he couldn’t tell Phil that. “Where did you learn to dance like that?”

“My mum enrolled me in ballroom dancing lessons when I was in secondary school. Looks like they paid off.” Phil chuckled.

“Yeah, well, thanks for teaching me then. I never thought I’d actually get the hang of it.” Dan replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, which he wasn’t sure was sweating due to the intense dancing they just did or his own nerves. At this point, he didn't really care anymore.

A few moments of silence stood between the two. The duo shifted their weight awkwardly from foot to foot, unsure of what to say next. Thankfully, Dan’s phone buzzed in his back pocket. He pulled it out to see it was a text from PJ.

PJ: Hey, me and Chris are gonna head back for the rest of the night. Care to join us?

Dan sighed. Maybe this time, it was too late to tell Phil. He looked back up at the ginger-haired man. “Well, uh, I should probably get going. My friends said they were gonna head back to the dorms for the night.” He made his way towards the doors that led to the main party room. “And again,” he paused. “Thanks for the dance. I had a lot of fun.”

The two men exchanged sincere smiles. “You’re welcome.” Phil replied gladly.

Dan turned around and was about to step inside. “So, yeah, good night then…”

“Dan, wait!”

“Huh?” Dan spun around to see Phil standing in front of him, grabbing his hand. Phil spoke breathlessly. “One last thing before you leave. I wanna send you home with this.”

“With what-mmph!”

Before Dan could form any words, Phil stepped forwards and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Dan’s heart skipped a beat or maybe it stopped altogether.

Phil Lester, the man he admired for so long, was kissing him.

Dan’s mind raced, trying to process the suddenness of Phil’s gesture, but all he could focus on was the warmth of Phil’s lips against his own, and the softness of Phil’s touch as he cupped his hand around Dan’s cheek. Dan closed his eyes, fully embracing the kiss, wrapping his arms around Phil's neck.

After a few seconds, the two pulled away for air. Dan’s cheeks flushed a bright pink and Phil’s lips curled into a dazed smile. “Woah…” Dan breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. “W-why did you….”

“I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at me Dan.” Phil admitted, his fingers tangled in the latter’s curly hair. “And I want to let you know I feel the same way. I love you. And I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.” His voice was barely audible over the pounding of Dan’s heart.

Dan’s smile widened as he reached up to clasp Phil’s hand that was resting against his cheek. Tears brimmed the surface of his eyes. "I’m SO glad you did.” He murmured before leaning in to embrace Phil’s lips in a kiss of his own, this time more passionately. As the two stood there, covered in the warmth of each other's embrace, a smile crept across Dan’s lips.

He already knew the response to PJ’s text.

Thanks for reading this! Fun fact-the background song I made for the kiss scene was inspired by the song "I'm with you" from the video game Sonic Frontiers! (I'm a big Sonic fan lol) I also made a slight reference to the song "Hearts on Fire" from the Rocky IV movie by using the first four notes from the chorus. Hope you guys like it!

-nothoughtsonlytrance

#Youtube #dnp #daniel howell #dan howell #dan and phil fanfiction #college au #ballroom dancing #phan #phandom #phil lester #original music #define dancing #fanfiction

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anniebear-92 · 1 year

Text

Afterlife

Prologue

Summary: An early death for the aspiring number one hero left a bitter taste in Bakugo Katsuki’s mouth. At the ripe age of 20, he was taken from the world and he was clearly not ready to go. After a long time of refusing to cross over to promised peace, his personal Reaper offers him one deal and one deal only to return to the land of the living. However they really did not play fair… Haphephobia is the fear of being touched by others, When your quirk cannot distinguish the living from the dead, you tend to develop a fear of contact. You are an ex Pro-hero who has recently rented a home from a couple who lost their son a few years back. You can feel someone residing in the home, someone with a bad attitude and only 12 months left to fulfill his end of the deal before he is forced to cross.. to the Afterlife.

Warnings: Dark themes, cursing, Haphephobia (the reader has a fear of touching overs), Quirk allows her to see dead people. Cursing, talks of death, violence and life threatening injuries. Later parts may contain NSFW but will be noted.

Pain. Excruciating, unwavering pain.

That was all he felt from the top of the head to the tips of the toes. This was the last feeling he could remember before… Nothing. As suddenly as the pain came, it was gone, though the sounds of sirens and screams remained.

Surveying his surroundings, a flash of green lightning overtook his attention. His long time, green clad rival fell from the sky with a resounding thud, shaking the nearby ground.

"What the hell are you doing here Deku? I have this!" The man snapped without delay.

The green haired man didn't look at him or really acknowledge him at all, rising anger filled the ash blonde.

"Kaa…chan?"

The stunned hero finally choked out, tears pricking the corners of his emerald colored eyes.

"Why the hell are you crying now you damn idiot? We have villains to ki…"

Interrupted by a gut wrenching scream that tore through the air like sharp blades. Deku screamed, his leaking eyes landing on something behind the man.

Finally turning and following Deku's gaze, his gut dropped. There in a pile of rubble, lay... himself.

Katsuki Bakugo, current number seven, pro hero Dynamite. His words failed him for one of the first times in his life, his chest heaving as his childhood friend rushed to his still body. Deku gingerly picked up his upper half and lay it in his own lap. As per usual Deku was muttering over and over the same word "No." His widened gaze on the fallen man.

Dull vermillion eyes stared back up at him that were almost always narrowed, were now relaxed. "Please no!" Izuku whined as Katsuki himself hyperventilated.

"This is a dream right? A fucking joke?" He chuckled dryly, his chest siezing once again when Deku raised his hand slowly to his ear. Pressing his communicator his voice croaked out through sobs.

"This is Pro hero Deku…. I… need immediate medical assistance to my location. Pro Hero Dynamite… has fallen."

The words sliced Katsuki's chest, his fingers now gripping the fabric of his torn hero costume. No! This is not real! He wasn't even number one yet! At only 20 years old, he had just graduated UA only a few years ago! How was he….dead?

A strip of red brought him out of his stupor, eyes now landing on the tall muscular frame of… his best friend.

"Kats?" The man whispered, his eyes widened in disbelief.

"Please tell me this is a dream shitty hair! Or one of you and the other idiot's stupid pranks!" He screamed at the shocked man, tears now misting up his similar colored eyes.

"I am sorry to say this is no joke Bakugo Katsuki."

A calm voice broke through the crying screams of his friends, turning to find a woman he had never laid eyes on in his life.

She was on the shorter side, slender frame with beautiful, caramel colored skin. Her dark almond colored eyes were soft, watching him with a soft reassuring smile lay on her full lips.

"Who the fuck are you?" The ash blonde snapped, watching her smile simply widen.

"I have been called many things over the years…You may call me Nyx."

He crossed his arms, eyeing the woman. "That didn't answer my question, who the hell are you?"

She simply motioned with her hand, indicating for him to follow behind.

While she sauntered away, his eyes returned his former classmates.

Kirishima now cradled his body with deep racking sobs, rocking slowly as Deku spoke urgently on the phone. With a deep sigh, he turned to reluctantly follow the woman around the corner.

Once he had rounded the corner he found himself no longer on the street, frozen where he stood. His surroundings now resembled the living room of his childhood home. Glancing around in confusion at the familiar surroundings.

His mother was in the kitchen humming away while she cleaned a dish, his father reading the paper at the island in the same area.

"Hag? Old man?" He called for their attention, however once again no reaction.

"They won't respond unfortunately, they cannot see, nor hear you."

The woman's voice catching his attention once again. She now sat on the couch, one leg propped up over the other. "Why the fuck are we here?" He snarled, anger rising once again quickly.

"I thought this would be a more… comfortable enviroment for our conversation than a destroyed street." He rolled his eyes as she pat the seat beside her with long, manicured fingers. He stomped before her, opting to cross his arms instead over his chest rather than sitting.

"Just tell me who the fuck you are and why I saw myself with those nerds."

Her smile faltered just the slightest, but maintained her professional demeanor. She flicked a piece of dust from her pantsuit covered knee, "Well Sir, because you died."

He raised a brow, sneer crossing his lips. "If this is some kind of joke or villain's quirk, release it now because it's not fucking funny."

She frowned now, her full lips pursing slightly at his brash attitude. "I assure you Mr. Bakugo, that I would not be here unless you were well and truly dead. You died in battle with a villain I'm afraid… I never fully introduced myself, so for that I apologize."

She stood now, offering her hand. "I am Nyx, your personal reaper assigned to take you to the afterlife."

He snorted, slapping her hand away. "Bullshit and I'm the King of Dragons." She smirked, placing her hands at her lower back now.

"Maybe in a past life."

Commotion caught his attention behind them, hearing his mothers excited voice now. "Oh Izuku! Ejirou! How are you?"

His eyes widened, turning to see his mother holding open the front door. Deku and Kirishima stood in the frame, the green boy as fidgety as ever. The darkness behind them through the threshold indicated it was now well into night time. Just how much time has passed already?

"Mrs. Bakugo." Kirishima started, his mothers hand raising to pause him "Oh honey, you've been over here a thousand times! Call me Mitsuki! Speaking of my brat, is he not with you?"

Katsuki blinked, they weren't about to… were they? Kirishima cleared his throat and tried again with a sad smile, "Mrs. Bakugo, could we… maybe sit with your husband?"

Her smile faltered, taking note they were still in full hero attire mixed with somber faces. Nodding, she hurriedly ushered them to the kitchen.

"We can… go somewhere else if you do not want to hear this." Nyx spoke softly as if to a child who had dropped his ice cream. He glared at her when his mother's scream tore through the air, chilling every drop of blood in his body. Anxiety spiked as he felt the urge to rush to her, tell her he was there. He was NOT dead.

His mother and he always had such a strained relationship. After he had graduated and stepped into adulthood their relationship had gotten a lot better. They had kept in touch when he moved into his own place and started rising in the ranks.

"I am truly sorry Bakugo, your family will be alright. You can pass on to paradise knowing that they will be just fine."

He snorted, "Fine? Do you not hear my mother wailing in there? I'm not dead! I'm not going anywhere! I will be the number one hero yet!" He crossed his arms once again, Nyx letting a sigh pass her lips. She straightened her jacket and met his angered expression with a passive one of her own. “I'll give you some time to yourself. When you are ready, I will return."

He rolled his eyes, "Fuck off already. I'm not dying today, tomorrow or ever!"

Nyx gave a small bow, a lot of newly passed souls acted similarly. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance, these were very common. Seems Bakugo was deep in the first two options. She exited the residence, fully expecting to return to a soon to be changed man, ready to pass.

Boy how wrong she was.

Three years… Three. Long. Fucking years later.

She has had to deal with this ONE soul, her longest mission yet. The previous one had lasted all of six months before he finally agreed to passing on. But NO! Not this stubborn as fuck ash blonde. She had tried almost every trick in the reaper's guide, showing him his funeral, some of his past and even a future where had he lived. Hell! She had even tried bribing him!

Nothing. Worked. To this day he had told her to fuck off more times than not, go bother someone else. He was damn sure he was going to come back to life any second, or will wake from this nightmare if he held out long enough.

After they had entered his childhood home, he had not been able to leave. He was able to walk the property line, but it was as if there was an invisible barrier keeping him here. He had tried using his quirk on it to let him pass, but he could no longer use the explosions that had always been available since he was four years old.

Being stuck here, he had bore witness to his parent's grief of losing their only child so young. His former classmates, acquaintances and even his teachers had all made appearances at some point to offer their condolences.

Deku and Shitty hair were the frequent flyers, checking in on his parents the most. Their visits had slowly became less frequent when time passed. He had kept up with the news of the world through their visits and the broadcasts his parents watched nightly.

Endeavor had retired a few months after his death, blaming himself for not being there for his protégé's death. Izuku was steadily climbing the ranks and currently sat at number 3. Kirishima had taken a few month break to recover from his closest friend's death. There had been many coverages, specials and interviews about his death. It was quite funny how people seem to care more when you're dead then alive.

At current he stood in the middle of a bare living room, watching his parents carry out box after box of their belongings from the home. He had overheard their conversation a couple months prior how they couldn't live here any longer, the memories of their son were just too much to handle any longer. Learning of his death had really taken a daily toll on them until they decided it was time to let it all go. They had purchased a smaller home across town, still debating on what to do with the one he currently stood in.

"Bakugo."

The annoying as shit voice cut through the silence, drawing his presence. "What the fuck do you want Grim?"

She openly pouted at the nickname he had given her from the first few days. "It's time to go home… Look at your family, they're moving on. It's your turn."

He snorted, reaching down in attempts of lifting a box that sat at his feet. His hands slipping easily through the box as he sighed.

"Get bent."

"At this point I really wish I could." She grumbled in response.

He watched as his parents removed the last of the boxes, now making their final rounds. His mother stood just inside the doorframe to his childhood bedroom, holding herself with her fingers clutching the necklace at her throat.

The necklace held a small silver, grenade shaped charm that had been gifted from Kirishima a few months after he passed. He managed to hold onto one of Bakugo's bracers and had the small charm made from the metal for her, she had worn it every day since. Tears danced in her weary eyes, giving one last glance over her son's empty room.

"Good Bye… Katsuki."

He heard her whisper, the words making his chest tight. He reached out, trying to catch her hand and assure he was there. Again, his hand slipping through as she turned to leave. Mitsuki had become so quiet since he passed, it just wasn't right!

He should be here! Able to scream with her, struggle from her hugs and become who he was supposed to be!

"Oi, Grim." He called, returning to the living room.

The woman in question hummed in response as she leaned against the far wall.

"What the fuck do I need to do?" She smiled, Is he finally ready? "You just need to come with me, I'll take you home. You will feel no discomfort I assure you."

He crossed his arms with a grunt. "No Dipshit, how do I come back to life? What do I need to do?"

She huffed, too good to be true. "Bakugo, I've told your stubborn ass several times. You're dead. End of story!"

Her professionalism had gone out the door after month eight, only able to take so many insults and harsh words before it was time to take different measures.

Mirroring his stance, she indicating she meant business.

"Bullshit, you can work some magic shit. You're a reaper!"

Letting her head fall back, she groaned loudly in frustration. She was so taking a long vacation after dealing with this one. "Make me a deal or some shit."

She let her gaze return to the man, Did he finally hit bargaining? "This isn't Supernatural Bakugo, You're not a Winchester making deals to return. Things like that don't happen here in the real world."

He slammed his fist to the wall, "I can't accept this shit! I'm supposed to be saving people! Climbing the ranks and become number one! How the fuck am I supposed to surpass All Might if I'm dead? I've already wasted three years!"

Back to anger, he seems to live in that one. They have had this argument countless times and it never changed. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, he had his pride and she had hers. Her boss had offered to switch her out with someone else, but No! This was her case! She was going to complete it dammit!

"Fine Katsuki Bakugo. Three years I have tried to convince you to cross over. I have had it! I'll make you a deal if you want one. ONE deal… The only one I'll ever make, as it goes against many regulations, take it… or leave it."

She now stood to her full height, arms crossed as his smirk grew.

"Now we're talking."

"I'll give you this chance, this one single chance. If you can do it… I'll let you return to life. You'll be free to live your natural life until your time returns once again."

He nodded along in impatience, hands quivering in excitement even if his face remained stoic as ever.

"The deal is…. You must find someone to love you and love them in return."

His shoulders dropped along with his expression, "What in the Disney shit is this?" He snapped, earning a devious smile from her.

"I will give you three years to do so. If you can… I'll grant your return. If you can't…" She waived her hand, indicating his gaze to follow. He did, the far door filling up with ethereal sparkling light as he had seen many times during her attempts. "You will cross over… No complaints."

He blinked for a moment when they then lowered into slits "If I refuse?" She shrugs, "Then you stay here until you're ready and I'll keep bothering you each and every day until then. Dead as a doornail."

Groaning, he mulled this for a minute while eying her face for any hint of deception. "That's the only deal you can offer? Make some extra love me, and I'm back to hero status?" Nodding she picked at a loose paint chip on the wall with a fingernail. "And love them in return. I promise on my honor as a reaper, I will return you to life should you complete this."

His nose wrinkled in disgust, "How the hell am I supposed to make some extra fall in love with me? Love them too? Fuck that. "No."

She cocked a brow "No?"

He nodded in determination as her lips spread in a mischevious smile. "Fine."

Striding to the middle of the floor she sat down, crossing her legs.

"The fuck you doing?" He questioned, turning slowly to not find the woman on the floor but the one person who annoyed him most in his life.

"Becoming your worst nightmare." The now sitting Izuku spoke giving his brightest smile.

Thirty days. Thirty whole days of constant annoying ass antics from the reaper is all it took. She had taken to showing up as the green nerd, mumbling constantly, singing and even just calling him "Kaachan" over and over for him to finally snap. He had tried to stick it out, ignore her while she sang show tunes or poked him over and over. She had pulled out every trick in the book like an annoying little sister until he had finally given in.

"ALL FUCKING RIGHT I'LL TAKE THE DEAL!" The reaper formed as Izuku paused, holding her hand in the mid poke. She let the image melt off her skin, tilting her head. "You want the deal?"

He nodded, glaring her down viciously. "Yes! Now fuck off!" She lowered her hand before backing up a bit. Holding it out she offered him to shake.

"Shake on it, you'll have three years to find someone to love you and love in return."

He enveloped her small hand with his own, shaking it roughly. "What now?" He grunted and she smiled. "Now, I'll return exactly three years from now to check in. If you have found your person before then I'll return sooner, or if you decide to go home finally you can call for me too."

She began walking towards the front door as she always did when she left. Wrapping her fingers around the handle turning back with a smile. "Good luck."

Exiting the house she was gone.

He quickly found the limits of said deal. Though she had made the offer, she had not released his hold on the house. He still found himself stuck at the border of the property line, screaming at passerby's even if he still could not be seen or heard.

She sure did not play fair, giving him this deal that she knew he would fail.

He tried every single day for months to catch someone's attention. Anyone really, he didn't care at this point. Not one fucking person acknowledged him, indicated at all they could hear him. As his hope diminished, he found himself slowly staying inside for longer periods of time. Losing hours of time he simply couldn't recall.

Soon it was days, weeks and then when he was at his lowest… he fell into a deep slumber.

#bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugou #midoriya izuku #kirishima ejirou

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