#He used up all his death vacation days

[sculptorofcrimson]

The dildo of consequences rarely arrives lubed. 

Now not even in death can duty end…

Snowfields

Synopsis: A cold walk atop the mountain with Valdor.

Relations: Valdor x female Emperor shard

Warnings: Suicide attempt

This is relatively tame for what I write, and I wrote it in one sitting when I had roughly 20 minutes to spare. Ty for your time!

“Do you remember Ararat, my liege?”

No. No, she didn’t remember Ararat. She has never heard the name before. But she will. By the gods, she will. 

The air was cold. It rattled through her lungs when she tried to breathe. The white seemed to stretch forever, like malignant bones, the wind laid bare and rattling its screams. It would rise like a frosty howl around the two of them, wailing like a soldier who had lost a limb, weeping its cries for eternity. The cold bit at her, tore at her, the snow would have frozen mortal blood solid in mortal veins. Thunder grumbles in the distance. A crack of lightning splits the sky in half, purplish white against the ghoulish grey. 

His cloak was warm when he wrapped it around her. But his touch, without doubt, without even question, was unfathomably cold. Without even thinking of it, she had shrunk away.

Valdor’s grip had only tightened then. He fastened the clasp of the too-large cloak, the stench of incense and parchment wafting from the silk. A small smile, the emotionless movement perfected by a mind that could not actually smile, flashed briefly across his visage as he took her wrist, trapped it so effortlessly between his fingers and kissed the soft skin there.

“There was a Primarch once. A magnificent man. One that even I respected, in some regards.” Valdor led her, slowly and patiently, holding her up when she stumbled through the knee-high snow. The mountaintop seemed to rage against her. Well, too damn bad. She hated mountains, and she hated snow, and she was about to teach him a lesson out of spite. It was pure pettiness, but it was hers, it was one last plan she held to herself, one last wish she was certain was hers and not his, and if she was going to die, drowned limb by limb into the unseeing gold, she wished to at least pain him with it. 

How had it gone so wrong? How had angels of such glorious aurite turned into nightmares wrapped in gold and crimson? 

She yanked her arm away. Valdor let her go without struggle, simply rising back with a singular, elegant motion, as if he were a dancer performing a long-awaited waltz. When she stumbles over another snow-covered rock mere moments later, he was there, as if he had never left, one arm gently wrapped around her waist as he hauls her upright. This time, when she tries to pull away, his grip only tightens, as if he was defying the very storm itself.

“The snow reminds me of him. The Cataegis Primarch of the IVth legion. You watched us duel atop a mountain not so unlike this one, my liege, when the storm ended. It felt like the top of the world. We were in a deadlock when you appeared, your attention straying just for a moment to our fight. I snapped his wrist with a twisting motion, and slammed him into the ground hard enough to snap part of his spine. Your attention had departed by then, but it was enough. You still remember the frost, do you not?”

No. No. She didn’t. She couldn’t. Valdor’s hand, so gentle, so damnably gentle, placed itself under her chin. It stroked her hair, his gauntlets’ touch heavy yet tender, the jewels flashing dully through strands of hair that were quickly becoming darker, swallowed first by brown and then by black. He had not forbidden her to cut it. Out of spite, she had ordered him to cut it for her. 

It didn’t matter.

The strands had grown back, with an unrelenting zeal, glossy and luxurious and flowing like ink over water. She was innocent once, she was mortal, she lived among men and walked amongst mortals, and she will never be again. She will never live again, and that truth was simply so jagged, so broken, so horrifyingly caught between her chest and her throat that it was as if something broke a little further every time she took a breath. Valdor had only quietly polished, brushed and glossed over her hair, his movements methodical and calculated, even when silent tears rolled their way down her cheeks, her vision blurred by the salt and the water but just visible enough to see the flakes of gold swirling in her pupils. Still clear enough to see herself die.

She had felt Valdor’s fingers through her hair then, braiding it carefully in an intricate style she had never seen before, but one that tugged at familiar roots she had never felt before. 

Her hair. Some mewling, broken part of her(was it her dream or His? Was there a difference anymore?) instinctively felt like it should be darker. Longer. Wreathed with gold, and weighed down by a crown. But it was her hair. It was her hair, once upon a time, and she had lost it strand by strand, inch by inch, as the gold swam up through her vision and blocked out her eyes.

A rock clattered over the side of the mountain, followed by dull, distant thunder. It jolted her back to her mind, to her body, to the world that she did not rule over and should have never ruled. 

Numbly, she felt herself shake her head. Valdor only raised an eyebrow, and adjusted the clasp.

“I remember the rock, my master.” Valdor was saying. His voice rose and fell like a litany, carefully retracing steps the Emperor had once guided him through, when He was a king and gods walked the earth. She felt so small against him, so tired, so far from the invincible god-warrior he had once served, but that was alright, He had returned to him, and he would shepherd Him, guide Him, protect Him, through this life and through this death till the last. “Even the rocks felt cold. It was black, and it glistened like oil whenever the sun shone. There were storms every day of that campaign, as if the heavens themselves were against us, as if the gods had conspired to strike you down, but yet you gave us the order to march. And the wind. You told me that you heard it screaming. Malcador jokingly asked that if you should live again, you would choose to enact Ararat during the summer instead, if only out of sheer annoyance from the wind.” Valdor’s smile was nothing more than a reflex. There was no humor in it, nor human emotion. “Do you remember it then, my master?”

The wind. Had it screamed then, as it screams now? Had it screamed, beneath the weight of the betrayal, wailing with the sheer horror of what it had taken? Did it scream, singing a threnody with the thunder, as the skies growl and hail shudders from overcast clouds ahead? She shivers underneath her layers. The finest climate suits had been prepared, coupled with the Custodian cloak over her shoulders, but she felt cold, so unspeakably cold that it was nearly painful. 

Oh Throne. She was cold, so cold. 

“Constantin?” she rasps. Her voice was not her own. It was rusty from disuse, and cracked, and weak, but yet some part of it resonated, it echoed like the tongue of a god, speaking through the plaintive shell of a mortal, just enough to hiss like a shadowy undertone. It should have been more sonorous, it should have been softer, it should have been the voice of a conqueror, it should have been the voice of a girl snatched away from her home by an angel and transformed into a god. It should have been hers, but it was His instead. She licks her lips and tries again. “Constantin.”

“Yes, my lord?” he was at her side(was he always so close?), the memory jarringly left unfinished. The hand once gently guiding her and became more insistent as he knelt down until they were eye to eye. 

“I don’t remember the mountain.” she replied flatly. Her voice was weaker than a whisper. She didn’t care. She knew he’d hear it anyway. And if he didn’t, she no longer cared enough to ensure he did. She no longer believed she had the strength to stomach that voice any longer. 

The cliff looked dizzyingly as she peered over the edge. She wondered if even a Custodian could survive a fall at such a height. 

“I don’t remember the snow, Constantin.”

“That is alright, my liege.” He was so sweet, so sickeningly sweet, so unerringly gentle. It made her want to claw at him, to crack him, to see what could finally burrow under that invincible flesh and make him howl. It made her wonder how the Emperor broke him to make him the man he had become, how deeply He must have laid His tongs in the forge of flesh and fire. 

She wondered what his screams would sound like, if he could scream at all.

“Do not trouble yourself, my liege. Your form is still young.” Of course, he could afford to wait. He had waited for ten thousand years, and he would gladly wait for ten thousand more. In that broken, delusional mind of his, it was only just, after all. He’d speak litanies of loyalty, roaring them over the screams of her brethren, he’d speak praises so numerous that they’d drown out the sobs of her family. “Your memories will return, when given due time. I can tell you about them. The preliminaries, the campaigns, the plans you undertook.”

Of course. They’d have to return. They must return. They will return, and He will live again, born out of this mortal shell under Valdor’s guidance. Valdor simply could not be, must not be, could not accept, could not live in a world where his liege has fallen forever. 

The snow was no longer biting her. It seemed to have been cowed, laid low beneath the vengeful eye of its rightful master. Even the storm seems to have settled, briefly, at least for now. For the eye of the King, the Emperor, the god-sorceror. 

It was so cruel, the revelation, the realization that welled up in her when she gazed dully back at him with listless eyes. The revelation that came for her, and not for him, for he would be nothing if not for his delusion. How quickly she understood the truth beneath why she had called him here, why she had suddenly finally accepted his offer to visit the mountain, when she had been delaying it, dreading it, putting it off for weeks upon months. 

The edge. 

The end. (And not the death).

She wondered if even a Custodes could survive a fall from this height. She wondered if it mattered anymore. 

The plan had been formulating itself for weeks now, brewing like boiled flesh in a cyst, nursing itself, grieving its wounds, growing stronger, gaining weight. First she had refused to eat, then to bathe, then to move at all, all the dreary, listless days crushed into the same monotony as brass as she had sat still upon a throne she did not want and stared off into oblivion, as he occasionally knelt by her and asked for her commands while she numbly stared off in the distance, her eyes a thousand yards away. Her gaze had been lost in a time beyond time, beyond memory itself, and not even dreams could steal her away. 

First it had only been how she stopped even trying to hide from him. She simply let him follow her, on her aimless, little walks aboard the massive ship that had become her only location. Then it had been how her tongue had stalled and she no longer even greeted the serfs that occasionally came by to deliver her food she did not eat, water she did not want, utensils she did not use, how she simply stared ahead, as reactive as a corpse, about as conscious to the world as the dead. Valdor had cared after her then, when even her memory had failed her, when she lay still and sullen like ash, the weight of the world upon broken shoulders, silent, painful tears trickling a cheerless trail from her eyes to her duvet. How he had lifted her up and cradled her to him, asking which stories she wished to hear, which glories she wished him to recount. Which memories that were not hers but soon will be, tales he regaled her of His conquests, of His victories and His lessons, His mantras drilled into her bones as they have been drilled into his.

She had left the world, bit by bit, husk by husk, until she felt as if she weighed no more than one of His eagles’ feathers did, frailly clinging onto the world with a whisper and a dream. It was as if she was sinking into some calm, clear, colorless water and feeling the waves close in above her, but there was no sensation of drowning, no voiceless cry in the deep. Simply the noiseless struggle in her own dreams, as she prepared herself for the final breath before oblivion. 

(Did she have the strength? Did it matter any longer, when he could overpower her no matter the answer?)

It was so beautiful, up here, at the edge of the sky. She could hear the storm breathing in the clouds. It was close enough that she could close her eyes, and dream of Ararat, listening to Valdor’s words. An end. An end, just like the Thunder Warriors He(and she?) slaughtered so long ago. The final unraveling. She didn’t want to die, but was she truly living? An immortality without life, without passion, without even joy itself, was that truly living when she was little more than a corpse, kept alive through obsession?

If the Emperor had loved them, He would have never created them at all. What merciful god would create such grotesque angels? 

If the Four were merciful, they would have sought Valdor, as they sought the Primarchs. They would have whisked him away, upon winds of change, tainted him with their mark, made sure He would never accept him as a servant again. They would have saved him, corrupted him, broken him, taught him what it felt like to dream, before the golden light shone again, and His dream took over his. 

But he was a servant, not a master. He was not a leader. He knelt, instead of ruling, and the Emperor had sunk in His claws so deep even the Four could not pry it out. And so he was His, forevermore.

He died ten thousand years ago. And somewhere, inside that twisted, broken Palace that was a mind, His dog was still waiting loyally at the door, waiting for Him to return. 

He was kneeling beside her now. She had never even heard him move. With infinite reverence, he cups her features, admiring the black strands falling over his gauntlets, the golden eyes - so broken, so gorgeous, so His - staring back at him.

“It was the end of the Unification Wars, my liege. And the start of your rule. The Imperium was born that day, your coronation happened atop that bloodstained snowfield, when Malcador held up that laurel, and crowned you King. How could you forget how I, the first of your Custodes, knelt first and rose last, when the ceremony ended?” 

So careful. So gentle as not to hurt her.

“Tell me about them.” a small, cruel smile had found its way onto her face. She was no longer looking at him, instead smiling serenely, blankly staring out upon the sky. The mountain truly was beautiful. It was such a shame this was where she would die. She should have felt something then. A sense of guilt, perhaps. A moment of horror for what she had become, for taking advantage of something so deeply broken into him that it was written into his very bones. Obedience was carved into his blood, seared into his marrow. He would know no other way but to obey. 

“The Unification Wars?” Valdor asks, the question poised so effortlessly, head tilted like a loyal dog, perfectly prepared to obey his master’s every word. 

It would be almost easier, she thought, if he had been a crueller man. Easier to break him, easier to hate him, easier to gaze upon that perfect, immaculate features and wonder what if he had lost those duels. If he had been taught to be mortal, what his screams would’ve sounded like, what sounds of pain he might wheeze out when his perfect, immaculate dancer’s grace falters and he learns, he learns the price for immortality. 

He was never meant to love. 

Not for the first time, she wonders if he can feel pain. If she’ll even care, if it’ll even matter. For a creature who loved no one but his master, would it even be a sin?A sin, to teach him what it meant to fear? To taste the copper tang of terror, to twist the knife in him as he had twisted the knife in her. And to die, exalted, knowing she would have hurt him, knowing she brought down a demigod. 

You can’t reason with a mad dog. You can’t plead with someone who knows they’re right. You can’t gaze into the eyes of Constantin Valdor and expect to see reason back, when his master was right in front of him and alive, so sickeningly alive he would rather kill than forget Him again.

Would he even mourn this time? Did he even know what mourning felt like? She had an inkling that he did, however twisted it may be. Because, for him, the tale isn't over yet, the tale must not be over. His Emperor is not dead, it cannot be, he cannot be, in a world without the Emperor, it simply is not possible. Without Valdor, the Emperor could not lead His Custodes, but without Him, the Custodes could not live. 

“No.” she replies. “The mountain. Tell me of them.” The smile that stretched across her face felt nothing like her. It did not belong to this life. It was too old, too heavy, too sad and too cruel for a face that was once joyous and wide with mischief. She had an inkling of the words Valdor was about to say, the bitter, treacherous words she would weep to hear, and regret ever having forced him to speak. 

“The Thunder Warriors.” she murmured. She had closed her eyes again by then. The plan was formulating, inking itself together with the same mindlessness of crawling, squirming things beneath the earth. And she didn’t want to see what the ground would look like when she fell. She didn’t want to see what it felt like to die a second time. This was only a distraction, a charade, a pitiful illusion built by a mind almost broken. There was no one here but a madman, a broken girl, and the ghosts of the storm calling out its mournful rage overhead. 

“Tell me what became of them. Of that Primarch you spoke so highly of. And no lies.” she sighs, and the voice that whistles out of her is too old, too broken. She brushes his hand away. This time, he doesn’t even insist on remaining. “Tell me what happened on Ararat. I want to hear the truth from your lips.” 

If there had been anything left of her heart, she might have mourned for him. For what he had become, living not for himself but for another. Living His life for Him. And when He died, what could become of him? What could become of him except to endure? When he had slaughtered brothers, lovers, children upon the snowfields, betrayed loyalists and watched life fade from their eyes, all in the name of Him, what could be left of him if not to serve?

He served, and loyalty was its own reward. Loyalty, unyielding, unbreaking, even in death his duty would not end.

Valdor tilts his head like a confused dog. “What good will it do now?” 

She utters a dry, raspy laugh. It had no inflection within it, no actual human emotion. 

“I command you, Valdor.” she spoke. There was nothing behind it, nothing even when the command hurt him. It stirred nothing but a deep, dull ache and the brief knife of guilt, which was quickly surpassed by the lasting numbness that did not seem to leave her bones. “I command you to speak of them. On Ararat. What happened on Ararat?”

She turns from him, walking slowly, and without care. She needed to be on a ledge. Distantly, thunder shrieks, and the storm crashes down. Lightning briefly illuminates her features, skin half-tanned, black hair flowing and golden eyes peering through the brume, and in that radiant flare of lightning she looked positively divine, a half-god caught on earth, if not for the weary, haunted gaze of a hunted animal. Her shoulders were hunched, her movements withered, as if her bones could no longer support her weight. She walked without a singular care in the world, and Valdor trailed immediately afterwards. She knew to jump was no longer an option. Even the stormclouds seemed to mock her. It was foolish, so foolish, she knew. He could not let her die. He would move faster than she could even think, he could catch her, snatch her around her waist and carry her to a safe distance before she could even advance an inch towards the edge. 

She could not die here. He would not allow her to die.

And they both knew that.

Voicelessly, soundlessly, she gazes up upon the stormladen sky. Its grey dances across her golden irises, the stormwind playing with her hair. Thunder crashes, and she feels herself scream back, wordlessly, soundlessly, without even conscious thought. Dully, she knew she was raging, screaming, that her mind was seizing at the clouds and tearing at them, begging them to save her, but physically she made not even a single move. Her body was frozen, the snow pelting her shoulders, Valdor’s cloak swirling from the wind. She felt frozen, too. Her mind was no longer wreathed with such self-pity it once had, it was churning, clawing, raging like a caught rabbit in a trap, desperately wishing the ground would open up and swallow it whole, not as a kind of freedom, but as a final form of spite to the hunter.

Thunder crashes around the two of them. Neither of them move. The edge was close, so dizzyingly close that she could feel the wind gusting around her. Valdor was watching her closely, the same way a starved wolf may watch a weakened deer.

When Valdor finally speaks, unable to resist the bluntness of her command, his eyes were still distantly focused on the memories of Ararat. And his voice was passionlessly dull, carefully kept neutral and utterly without pity. 

“I slit his throat.” he confesses dully, flatly, without even a hint of inflection. “The Primarch. I slit his throat on Ararat, from ear to ear, then from ear to clavicle. I only stopped when I felt bone scraping against the edge of my knife.”

Surprisingly she laughed, and the sound was garbled, as grim and as dry as bones. “I suppose you killed him then?” she asked. One more step. One more step and she would be at the edge. He would not let her. He would move faster than the earth could drag her down anyways. But it did not matter. Slowly, incredulously, she could feel herself smiling. It was going to be alright. She could feel it in her bones, the static, the storm. Even the snow seemed to be on her side. For a moment, she felt like a god, standing at the top of the world, the conquered earth groveling beneath Him, knowing that even the elements would fall beneath His gaze. 

She could taste the ichor then, sweet and lifeless and pouring from the sky along with the snow, the charge in the sky and the thunder. The vengeance it held. The sheer rage, an echo of her own. She would rule them. She did not want to rule. She would rule, for one singular moment in her wretched life, she would rule, and she would hurt him, as he had hurt her. For the serfs he terrorized, for the Sisters he slaughtered, for the martyrs he first betrayed and then hung out to die. All in her name. All for her wishes. She no longer wished to wish. She no longer wished to reign. 

Let her abdicate the throne of skulls. Just once. Just once, she prayed. 

“No.” Valdor shook his head. He was already moving, one hand reaching out to grasp her arm and drag her back before she could approach the edge. “It would have been a kinder fate if he had died then. It would have been a kinder fate if-”

“-if you had granted him an honorable death.” she finished for him. She spoke softly, plaintively, as if this was a comfort. She had turned her face a little, just enough to see him, just enough to see his elegant features illuminated by the storm. To gaze upon him, one last time. The way he held himself, like a dancer, his lean features accentuated by the lightning as the thunderbolt carved the sky open and struck the ledge beside her. The way his auramite had shuddered from the lightning as he had, for the first time in her memory, stumbled, his gait not utterly perfect before the divine rage. The first word she had heard him say that was not perfectly calculated.

The lightning snaps the ledge like bone.

The surprised intake of breath she had uttered, a squeal that was nearly a gasp as the rock beneath her feet had caved in, and then crumbled as she had desperately hoped, the weathered stone no longer capable of supporting its own weight bending and breaking and shattering as the lightning arced through it, the smite separating the ledge like the same way Valdor had carved through that serf. That poor, poor serf who had slipped her a kiss upon her request. It was little more than a peck, that poor thing. And he hadn’t even been able to scream when Valdor separated his bones like paper. 

In a silent vow to him, in a wordless vow to them all, the corpses he laid so she could climb atop her throne, she promised she wouldn’t scream as she fell.

Grimly, lips drawn in a tight line, she only felt the distant thunder as she descended like a one-winged eagle, her face utterly expressionless, lightning briefly dancing sparks against her hair as if in reverence. 

Valdor’s cloak, still wrapped around her, its silk as crimson as spilled blood, unfurled around her as she fell.

Distantly, from somewhere beyond the mountaintop, thunder roared. 

~~~~

It was warm, when she finally awoke. She muttered something, tried to turn, and decided to burrow deeper against the warmth instead. There was a rumble, a purr-like sound, and the slow, drifting scent of incense as one titanic hand came up to rest against her hair. 

With careful reverence, it adjusted the master’s laurel. 

“Welcome back, by lord.” the voice purred. “You expressed quite the interest in the Cataegis Primarch.”

She groaned. Golden irises flickered back and forth, as if in distress, beneath her lids. Valdor’s other hand reached up to stroke through her hair, careful not to upset the laurel.  

“I had thought you would have recognized him, my lord. It was, after all, his grave that I showed you that night upon the mountain.”

He makes a long, slow chuckle, almost like amusement, if he had been capable of it. “I had expected you’ve greeted him already, my master. You were standing atop his bones.” 

Somewhere, distantly, thunder growled. And without even being conscious of it, she shivered, and tried to burrow closer to his warmth.  

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[gay-dorito-dust]

I have been binging your work!

I don't know if this breaks your trauma rule or not, but (with the guys of your choosing as long as Ratio is there) how would the guys react to losing reader (they haven't confessed feelings yet) during a mission and thinking they died. Then, the reader reappears a week later bandaged up, but alive. Maybe spouts their confession first? ˘͈ᵕ˘͈

I adore your writing. Thank you!

This is way too fucking long, so be warned. It’s like I rammed 4 mini stories in one but got lost at some point cuz I left this ask to collect dust. Also thanks for enjoying my writing it’s much appreciated. :) 🦦🐿️

Sunday:

The moment he got news that you’ve been assumed dead in the aftermath of a dangerous mission, he looses composure really quickly.

Loosing Robin was one thing but loosing you on top of that was the straw that broke the camels back.

He originally doesn’t believe that you were gone, he refuses to as he practically tears his office to shreds in a fit of anger and grief before forcing himself to regain composure and clean up after his outburst. He needed to in order to keep up the illusion that he was the levelheaded leader The Family needed in these moments of chaos and mistrust.

Even if he himself was breaking down internally alongside everyone else, hellbent on finding the culprit for your death and punishing them so severely that they’d beg for death. He’d avenge you in anyway he could, even if it meant sending out the bloodhound family on a wild goose chase that only ends in dead ends, he would get you justice no matter how it may come.

His heart had died alongside you that day.

So when a week passes and he finally has you back in his arms, all the while being carful with your wounds as his eyes searched you over in a way you weren’t use to.

‘You’re alive.’ He breathes out in relief as he then begins to laugh and rest his head against yours, breathing you in deeply as he relishes in this long awaited moment. ‘Of course you’re alive.’ He mutters.

‘Sunday,’ you began but Sunday was quite to cut you off.

‘Do you know how I felt thinking you were dead? Driving myself insane to prove that you were still alive anyway I could as not to bear the idea of walking through this life without the one person I love so dearly.’ Sunday takes a brief pauses in his monologue, feeling out of breath after having put everything out into the open before continuing. ‘I thought my heart had stopped beating that day and now I have you bad in my arms.’ Sunday then chuckles darkly as he gripped you tighter. ‘I’ll ensure that I’d never have to revisit that part of my life ever again.’

‘Sunday-‘

‘Shhh.’ Sunday cuts you off once more, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he holds you close to his chest, rubbing your back soothingly. ‘Just know that what I do after this, I do out of my love for you.’ He says against your forehead before pressing another kiss there for good measure.

Jing yuan:

Loss wasn’t new to Jing Yuan.

He has experienced it in multiple forms throughout his life, but that didn’t made the news of your death any less painful for the General.

While his mind might’ve made peace with the fact that you were gone, his heart however did not as he would find himself in the places that you often vacated to in moments of stress, or to just be left alone for a while with your thoughts. So to no longer see you in any of those hidden spots -waiting for him to find you like you usually did- only worsened the grief he felt in his heart as he sat himself down and allowed the memories to pass over him in waves.

You were both so happy together and felt a sense of fulfilment that could only be achieved when you were within the other’s presence; A feeling that was uniquely yours and yours alone that could never be replicated, ever. For no one could ever come close to replacing you, nor the companionship you and he had for each other that many assumed would blossom into something more; Jing Yuan also shared the same sentiments as they did, but just as he built the courage to push that boundary between the two of you, you were taken from him before he could utter a single word.

So when a week passes and Jing Yuan found your battered and beaten form in one of your secret spots, back resting against a tree with your eyes closed.

‘Y/n?’ He called out and your eyes opened upon hearing his voice and looking at him with a weak smile. ‘Hey General, miss me?’ You said as you struggled to get up to your feet, only to stumble forward and into Jing Yuan’s chest as his strong yet gentle hands hold you in place.

‘More than you could ever hope to know.’ Jing yuan said as he focused on how you felt beneath his hands, warm and alive.

‘I’m sorry I kept you waiting.’ You muttered against his chest as his warmth made you realised just how tired you were from everything you’ve experienced this last week alone. ‘I never meant to keep you waiting in fear that you’d forget about me if I don’t stay in your life long enough.’ You admit and Jing Yuan instinctively presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, holding you protectively.

‘I could never forget about you my beloved.’ Jing Yuan reassured you as he looked you deep into your eyes. ‘You’ve managed to carve your place within my heart and soul, so much that there isn’t a day where you aren’t all I think about, regardless of whether or not your by my side or far away.’ He finished by pressing a gentle kiss to the gauze on your cheek, chuckling upon seeing your cute attempts of burrowing your face into his chest.

‘How long have you’ve been waiting to say this.’ You asked, thankful that he was the one to admit his feelings first, as you would’ve had a hard time articulating your words as fluidly as he could.

‘For a very long time.’ Jing Yuan replied with a small smile as he then proceeded to lift you into his arms, cuasing you to squeal in surprise, as he made sure to be carful of your wounds and began walking to the nearest medics to make sure your wounds weren’t going to be trouble later on.

Aventurine:

He didn’t know what to think when you were pronounced dead, all Aventurine could feel in that moment was an overwhelming numbness that encased him entirely.

The only light left in his life had been snuffed out, plummeting him into utter and total darkness he had once been well acquainted with until you came along, giving him a reason to keep looking forward despite everything.

You were no longer here to hold onto his left hand before he could even think of hiding it behind his back out of habit, you were no longer here to be his reason, his comfort, his safe place. You were taken away from him unfairly and once again Aventurine found himself asking the same question he has been asking himself for a long time; why everyone was born into this life just to die.

So when a week passes and Aventurine finds himself sat on a bench somewhere, still not dealing well then than he was the week of your assumed passing, lost in his own thoughts when someone took a seat next to him. Aventurine was just about ready to tell them to go away, when he saw just who was sitting next to him; you.

‘I know, I look like shit but you don’t have to look at me like that.’ You spoke upon feeling his eyes gaze upon the gauze on your cheek, then towards the array of bandages that littered the rest of your body.

‘I thought you died.’ He hissed, emotion was heavy in his voice as his eyes became bleary with unshed tears as he felt his breathing become heavy with the reality that you were alive. He didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t in that moment as his mind raced. And it wasn’t until you reached out to grasp his left hand and intertwine your fingers together, squeezing, did everything finally became clear to him.

‘I thought I was too at one point but there was something that kept me from journeying over to the afterlife.’ You admit, looking over at him and smiling sweetly, wanting nothing then to calm his thoughts and reassure him that this wasn’t a dream.

‘And what was that?’ He laughs humourlessly as he stares back at you, wanting to hear what excuses you could come up with for faking being dead for a week. ‘Willpower? Determination?’

‘You Kakavasha.’ You replied straightforwardly and his breath hitched in his throat. You rarely used his actual name unless it was absolutely serious. ‘You were all I thought about as I pushed through my injuries.’ You told him as you continued. ‘Kakavasha is waiting for me was just about all I could think about for a week straight.’ You finished as though you didn’t just confess that he was your soul motivator in staying alive.

‘Really?’ Aventurine said softly, finding it impossible that he could possibly be your reason for anything. ‘Why?’

‘Yes really.’ You chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you rested your head against his shoulder. ‘As for why, it’s because I like you more then did let myself admit, but i just wanted you to know incase anything truly bad were to ever happen to me-‘

‘No.’ Aventurine cut you off suddenly, squeezing your hand as though he were afraid. ‘Nothing is going to happen to you, not now. not ever. I just got you back.’ He adds resting his head against your own in a desperate attempt of feeling more of your against him. ‘Just stay with me…please.’ He begs you in a whisper as he nuzzled further into you. ‘and don’t go anywhere I can’t follow. I don’t think I can bear the thought of loosing you again.’

You smiled softly as you just whispered back against the skin of his neck. ‘As long as you don’t go anywhere I can’t follow. I like my crush to be alive and close by even if he can be a pain in my ass sometimes.’

Aventurine chuckles, his heart becoming whole again as he made you cuddle into his side, kissing your head once more as you took this moment to familiarise yourselves with each other. ‘At least I’m a pleasurable pain in the ass.’ He teased and you pinch his side, causing him to flinch, but his smile remained and this time his smile was genuine.

His light has came home.

Ratio:

Fully believed that he’d see you when the mission ended, knowing just how talented and dedicated to the craft you were, and having faith that this would be a measly walk in a park for you.

Only to receive word that you were one of the many who were assumed dead when you weren’t found amongst the living nor the dead.

Veritas tries to remain as levelheaded and logical as possible during this time and continue life as normal. However found himself retracting from everyone else and going none contact, more so specifically with the people you were once associated with, and instead focused heavily on his studies and academics to an unhealthy extent.

A week passes and Veritas feels as though he’s seen a ghost the moment he saw you in his peripheral vision, bandaged and dressed in ripped clothing but still somehow finding it in you to smile.

‘You idiotic Buffon!’ He exclaims as he walks towards you.

‘Well that’s a nice way to greet someone you care about.’ You replied as you readied yourself for a massive rant about how stupid you were and so on, but instead you were held against his chest as he burrows his head into your neck.

‘I thought you died.’ He says in a whisper as he breathed you in. This went against all logic but in that rare moment Veritas didn’t care, you were alive but he still couldn’t let go of the fact that you didn’t tell anyone you were still alive. ‘Why didn’t you tell anyone that you were alive, send a signal, anything.’

You shrugged as you made yourself comfortable in his strong arms. ‘All communications were badly damaged or completely cut off.’ You told him. ‘I was on my own for a long while before finding my way back to you.’

‘Me?’ Veritas asked, pulling away from you. ‘Why not a medial facility for a proper treatment of your wounds? Have you hit your head so hard that common sense had been left on the back burner when making that decision?’

‘I wanted to see you first you dickhead!’ You exclaimed, shutting Veritas up rather quickly with your confession but you didn’t care. ‘is it so wrong of me to let the man I love know that I’m okay? So go ahead and call me an idiot all you like but that won’t change the fact that I felt more fear about not telling you how I truly feel then dying on some stupid mission.’ You finished your rant.

‘You’re insufferable.’ Veritas said after a moment of silence and you couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed at this that you didn’t notice that Veritas has began to close in the distance between the two of you.

You scoffed. ‘Oh sure call me insufferable as if you-‘ Veritas cuts you off by cupping your cheeks and planting a sweet short lived kiss against your lips before pulling away with a smirk.

‘Glad to know that the feelings are reciprocated.’ He says, taking enjoyment of rendering you speechless as he gently guided you to medical, and remaining by your side for the remainder of the day.

[haveihitanerve]

Dad How Do I but with Bruce Wayne.

Bruce who teaches life advice- showing kids how to tie a tie, how to tie their shoes, braid their hair, teaching young adults to do taxes, to surf, the best lawyers to hire when in trouble, how to avoid scams, he educates the less fortunate on the best places to get free food, where to go in Wayne Enterprises for a hot shower and some toiletries, how to eat at formal functions so the higher elite have one less thing to criticize them on. He teaches people how to do card tricks and make your niece laugh by pulling out a quarter from behind her ear, teaches moms how to rock their baby to sleep properly, teaches teens to do front flips and cartwheels and calculus, educates them on how to write job applications and two weeks notice letters. He teaches people to sew, to cook(alfred helps) to assemble an IKEA shelf, how to work a lawn mower, and all sorts of different things. And when his son dies… Bruce uses his account to share his grief, his story, shares everything about Jason, what a delight he was, how awesome he was, how much he loved to read and school… and then one day, he gets Batman to join a video. And the hero is stiff and everyone can see the exhaustion, the anger and sadness in his joints, his movements, radiating off him. But he sits down heavily into the chair Bruce Wayne had previously vacated… and begins to speak. He tells the story of Robin, his young child sidekick, who just like Jason Wayne, was murdered by the Joker. He tells everyone how his little boy tried to save Jason Todd, and how they both perished in the aftermath. He tells people about his grief, his anger, and why Batman is suddenly harsher and hurts more. “Because I hurt more.” he confesses quietly, and the people finally get to meet the man behind the mask (figuratively) and truly get to see who their hero really is. The account’s popularity skyrockets, and soon Batman is a lot more common to be seen, teaching people how to defend themselves and handle the Batarangs he knows they collect after he fights. Nightwing shows up too sometimes, teaching more elegant flips and tricks and they demonstrate their workout together, and a few months later, Batman shyly introduces his new Robin, same messy black hair as the one before, but slightly smaller, and theres something… more behind those lenses in his mask. But the kid is soon a fan favorite, making sarcastic comments and countering Nightwings witty remarks, and the people get to see a new side of Batman, get to watch as he rolls his eyes at them, as he uses them to teach people how to disguise themselves, ways to use clothes to stem blood, tie tourniquets. 

Then Red Hood returns. And a kid in Crime Alley catches him cursing at his jacket because a button fell off and he cant get it back on. “Um! Mr. Red Hood sir?” the kid pipes anxiously. Red Hood turns to him, angry, but the kid doesn't back down and just goes “You should watch ‘Mr. Wayne How Do I: Sewing’ it'll help.” and then he scampers off. And Jason is pissed and even more angry because of course while he was dead Bruce decides to become a father to everyone in Gotham. But he watches the video. And it helps. And… well, its one of the older videos. And Jason finds another old video. The one about… the one about his death. It shouldn't make his anger lessen, shouldn't make him cry, shouldn't bring him to Bruce’s doorstep where he reveals himself and they hug and cry and catch up and cry some more… but it does. 

Gothamites are a little surprised when their local Crime Lord appears on the channel, standing right next to Batman. Surprised, but pleased. Because Batman looks happy in a way he hasn't in a long time and well… Red Hood watched out for them too. And now their two protectors are working together.

[tpwk-formula1]

It Was Obvious - LN4

Lando Norris x Fewtrell Twin reader

Summary: Lando and Y/N Fewtrell have been seeing each other since just before the season started, what happens when they all go on vacation for summer break and are forced to continue and try to hide their relationship.

TW - NOT EDITED, lowkey mad cheesy, some fluff, talks of slight anxiety, secret relationship

WC 1200+

Y/N POV

"Lando, he's going to kill us if he catches you in here," I whisper to my boyfriend of 6 months, who is currently in my room pulling me in for another kiss.

"I'm willing to fight," Lando whispers again before kissing me again. It was a rushed make out session knowing we didn't have much time making me feel like I was back in year 10 hiding my boyfriend from my parents. But instead of my parents not knowing it's my twin brother who just so happens to be Lando's best friend.

"I love you," I whisper when he pulls away. I see the light blush crawl up his neck before settling on his cheek showing that regardless of how long we have been together we still get the giddy feelings.

"I love you too," he whispers back before slipping out of my room presumably going to his or Max's.

It's not even ten minutes later before another knock rings out through my room making me think Lando is coming back in already..

"Come in," I call out not moving from my bad. When the door opens to reveal Pietra I relax slightly knowing I don't have to worry about my twin coming in and finding out the truth had it been Lando.

"I wanna talk to you," P tells me softly making me sit up and start to feel some anxiety sink in, not knowing what she wants to talk about.

"Im not picking sides in the divorce," I joke softly making her laugh and shake her head.

"I'm not breaking up with your brother," P tells me softly making me laugh cause I knew damn well she wasn't trying to talk to me about that.

"So you and Lando?" She asks with a smirk on her face. I instantly feel all the air in the room leave making it increasingly more difficult to breathe.

"Hey, hey, hey, calm down! I'm not here to get anyone in trouble. I just wanna know more information," P tells me softly when she notices the panic starting to take over my body.

"Please don't tell anyone," I whisper out not knowing how to to trust anyone right now.

"I won't tell anyone. I think it's something you and Lando will need to do on your own time," she tells me with a smile making me relax a little bit more.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asks me with a smile. I nod my head with a smile knowing I haven't been able to talk about my relationship with anyone but my mom.

"We started dating in February shortly after Max dragged you and I to that stupid golf thing. We had been talking before that but after Lando got wasted and couldn't take care of himself I went back home with him and pretty much babysat him until he went to sleep. The next morning he woke up and he set up a really cute brunch where he asked me out," I tell her with a smile making her smile with me.

"How did you figure it out?" I ask making her laugh out loud.

"Girl I love you to death but you guys are terrible at sneaking around. We've been here for for two days and everytime I can't find you, Lando just so happens to be missing as well, so I decided to spy on yall. Well kind of, I just so happened to be coming out of the bathroom when he was leaving your room and I truly wouldn't have thought anything of it but I was already suspecting you guys," she tells me making me nod.

"I think Lando and I are gonna make Max to lunch and tell him. I'm tired of lying to him and hiding my relationship," I tell her making her nod and smile.

"I think it's about time 'cause that was almost 7 months ago," she laughs out. I laughed with her happy to know she was happy for me and supported my relationship.

We're nearing the end of our trip and I have decided it was time. Keegan was already making jokes about us being together and thankfully Max was brushing them off as a joke but I'm sure he's going to start realizing the truth.

"Hey Max, I was wondering if you wanted to go to lunch later?" I ask softly not wanting to give too much information and try to pass it off as twin bonding.

"Ya, we could go to that one restaurant you've been begging to since we arrived," Max says with a laugh.

"I saw it on TikTok and it looked amazing," I reply back showing my excitement.

I make sure to text Lando the plan and while I plan to tell Max just us I want Lando nearby incase he wants to talk to both of us.

We're halfway through our meal when I finally drop my fork and clear my throat.

"I have to tell you something," I tell him making him drop his fork and roll his eyes jokingly.

"I knew you didn't just want to hang out with me," he jokes making both of us laugh.

"Ya, um but you have to promise to hear me out before getting upset," I tell him suttering in stress a little making him focus on me completely.

"So, please don't be upset but, landoandiareseeingeachother," I breath out in one breath talking too fast for anyone to understand.

"Try again and breathe this time," Max says trying to stay calm at the situation.

"Lando and I are dating," I tell him refusing to look at him. When I meet his eyes I he is giving me the most disbelief look possible.

"Are you kidding me?" Max asks in pure disbelief making me grow increasingly more nervous.

"I promise he's a good one," I quickly come to defend my partner.

"You thought I didn't know?" Max rephrases his statement making it clear he already knows.

"You knew!" I announce being quite a bit louder than I had hoped.

"I've known since Miami. I mean that confirmed it but I definitely caught on before that," Max tells me slightly stunned that I didn't realize.

"I wanted you to tell me when you were ready. Besides its been funny watching you and Lando try to sneak around all this time," Max tells me laughing slightly.

"So you don't care?" I ask him trying to get clarification. He just shook his head no.

"What about P?" I asked just getting curious to the situation now.

"What about her?" Max asks, clearly confused now.

"She came into my room earlier in the trip and asked me about it," I tell him, giving him some more detail about the conversation.

"Oh, no I didn't tell anyone I knew. Meaning she also caught on to your guy's terrible sneaking," Max laughs before adding, "Hell, even Keegan caught on."

I just laughed at that before sending Lando a quick text to let him know he could come in if he wanted. When he met us at the table Max explained to both of us how he caught on and when he realized we both had feelings for each other, which had been long before we started talking.

"Hey but if you break her heart I will pay Verstappen to take you out," Max tells Lando as we are walking back to the beach house we rented for the week.

That just made Lando laugh before telling him he wouldn't dare hurt me.

It was nice being able to spend the last few days of break not having to hide my relationship.

[mellowwillowy]

𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐲

Yan! Lawyer Husband x GN Spouse Reader

—𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 - 𝑳𝑰𝒇𝑬 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕

CW: mafia related stuffs (ALL FOR READER...), disturbing ideations. NSFW

You were the subject of envy for everyone, the spouse of the infamous lawyer, Yulian de Alpheus, who possessed wealth, reputation, intelligence, and undying loyalty to you. To people, you were the beautiful dove living in the gilded cage he had given you, luxuries that fulfilled anyone's needs and wishes.

𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒈𝒆?

To him, the one who was truly locked in the cage was him. He was and would forever be locked in the gilded cage, forever drowned in his adoration toward you. If he had to live in a world where you did not exist, he would not hesitate to shoot himself to death and find you again.

--

"Dear, how about we go on a vacation this month?"

His words had you choked on your food. He immediately stood up and pat your back, a handkerchief that you embroidered for him handed to you as he handed you a glass of water, "Apology, did my question catch you off guard dear?"

You shook your head while you regained your composure, "It's just that I was surprised, you had been busy these days so how could you spare me your time for a silly vacation?"

Yulian chuckled as he patted your head, "True, and I plan to work even harder to finish all the mess they had shoved me to work on, I'm sure I could finish it right in time before our estimated vacation."

You frowned to yourself, your husband had always been a hard-working man. It was no surprise judging by the amount of assets he could own at such a fairly young age. While some of it was thanked to his father, you knew those would not remain had he not worked hard to keep and grow.

"Dear, I don't want you to over-exert yourself with this case just for a vacation. If you were worried about me then please pay no mind, I am content with everything but you stressing yourself."

Yulian sat back and started slicing the meat on his plate, "Dear, I did not marry you just to have you live in this house as a prisoner," the way he sliced things was of good etiquette but you knew. You knew how he always looks at the things he sliced as a subject of... low-life. "I want my beloved to live in happiness, a life where you get to have and own anything you want without a single worry," It's almost as though he wished he could use more force with the knife, "A life where you do not wish to end," Yulian used his fork to pick the sliced meat up to your lip, "A life where you wish you could live in for eternity."

You thought to yourself for a moment, drowning in thought before smiling at him, "Yes, a vacation this month sounds nice." You opened your mouth and ate the piece.

--

"What were you even thinking about to the point you tangle yourself into this mess?" Yulian furrowed his eyebrow, in his office was the leader of a renowned mafia group in the underground world and Yulian sat on the leathered chair with his hand wiping his white gun.

The ringleader's subordinates were clearly displeased with the way Yulian easily belittled the case and him but they knew better than to cause a mess.

"So? What do you need this time?"

Yulian stored the gun back in its respective place, locking the shelf with the key before handing the ringleader's subordinate a folder of files.

"I'll need you to fabricate everything I handed you. I've given you options of people for you to use as a scapegoat as well."

The ringleader took the folder and started reading the files in it, scanning the words that were typed on it.

"And I expect you to finish it all by this week. I'll be taking a vacation for myself by the end of the month so I'll finish the case in a few trials. I'd like you to find a way around the judge and jury as well. The more the better, understood?"

Yulian was an infamous lawyer. A lawyer who would validate any way to make his client proclaimed 'Not Guilty'. As much as he hated having to drag his name around the underground world, he had no choice but to work together with them. Why?

"Fine, I'll inform you everything this weekend." The ringleader left the room with his subordinates following behind him meekly. The moment they had walked out of his building and entered the car, one of them posed a question.

"Why did you let that shrimp belittle you, boss? It's not like he is the only lawyer we could have our hand with."

The ringleader did not look at his subordinate as he was still analyzing the content of the files. Even so, he was still attentive enough to answer them back, "Well, if you know exactly how strong my influence is, why do you think I allow him to boss over my men?"

The man gulped as his hand held the steering wheel tightly. Why would a measly bug be able to hold power over his boss?

"... He somehow got his hands into our mud. In simpler terms, he blackmailed me."

His right-hand man sighed, "Yulian is nothing but a coward, Kaspar. A coward."

What difference did it make to him? The fact that the two of them blackmailed people to survive while the ideations were biased to each side was nothing but hypocrisy.

"And yet he is the coward that dared to step into the underground world just to protect his spouse..." Kaspar winced at the word 'spouse', "he did all of that just for the love of his life. Is that supposed to be considered foolish or not...?"

The men fell silent until one of them proposed a question, "Then why not use his spouse against him?"

--

The basement that you did not know even existed. You knew there was a bunker down your house but you were never aware of the existence of the basement.

You were asleep so technically you couldn't have heard anything. No, the room was made to be soundproof, no one could hear what was going on in the room.

But you heard it anyway. You heard it faintly, the sounds of people screaming. It wasn't clear, almost below a whisper but it kept you awake. You looked to your side and found your husband absent from the bed again.

"Is he working again?"

You stood up and slipped your feet into the slippers before walking out of your shared bedroom. The hall was lit up by the warm white lights, the light that always comforts you no matter what. You walked toward his office which was located on the first floor, giving the grand door a knock before entering it.

"Dear?"

No one was inside the room. The room was laced with the smell of coffee, the only thing that he probably could love aside from you. You walked to his desk and read some of the files on it. The words on the paper were beyond your comprehension so you stopped reading it, glancing at the cup of coffee, you feel the cup with your hand. It's cold and full. Weird.

You took a look around his office, bookshelves on the side while a framed portrait of you and him hung on the other side.

He must have really loved this portrait, refusing to change it with a new one.

"Dear?"

You jumped at his voice, where did he come out from?

"Dear, where did you come from?"

"Ah, I was in the washroom. What brings you here? Did something wake you up?" Yulian asked you as he approached you while drying his hand with his handkerchief.

You took a closer look at it, it's not the same handkerchief you gave him. Weird. He had always been insistent on only using the handkerchief you embroidered for him.

"Dear?"

"Ah," you snapped out of your thought, "it's just that... I felt lonely. How long are you going to stay up again tonight dear?"

Yulian thought to himself as his eye shot toward the corner of the room, "Please, don't wait for me. I won't be finishing my work in any time so I hope you would use those time to retreat yourself to bed." Yulian pat your cheek before giving your cheek a peck, his emerald eyes had always drowned you in a ripple of the lovesick sea.

His hand snaked its way to your waist as he led you back to your shared bedroom, opening the door for you and urging you to lay on the comfortable white bed. He placed the blanket on top of you before sitting next to you, humming a lullaby while easing you down.

"My little Lily of the Valley is a curious soul hm? Your husband told you to sleep and you naughtily sneaked out of your room..." He playfully reprimanded you while you tried to drift yourself back to sleep. Hearing him teasing you like this was weird, but at least in a good way. What boosted his confidence?

"Someone like you should not wander around in the mercy of nighttime, even if it was in our own house," his hand caressed your hair while his eyes stared into your half-lidded ones, "my lily-of-the-valley should not wander around in the darkness anymore..."

Did you hear him right? Come to think of it, what woke you up earlier?

"Good night, my love."

--

"Good night, bastard."

A thud and the man who was tied to the chair plopped down, lifeless. The other men could only tremble in horror as they waited for their turn. Perhaps death would be the only slightest bit of virtue that he could offer, a mercy at his hands that was covered in bloodstains.

Just as he approached the other men, the alarm rang. Someone had entered his office. Yulian turned on the screen to the camera and saw you walking toward his desk, observing everything that was scattered on it.

He was glad that he didn't put anything 'suspicious' on it even if you wouldn't understand it. He didn't want to risk it.

Yulian went to the sink and washed his hands before motioning for someone to come out from the darkness. The members of the mafia walked out and waited for his order.

"Ah right, relay this message to your boss. Not only do these bastards will have to face the consequences of trying to touch my beloved, you guys too, will have to face it."

The men shuddered in fear as they thought of what he could do to them. The greatest mercy they could have would be that their boss would be the one who punished them and not the lawyer himself.

"Remember," Yulian walked toward them, hand taking out the handkerchief you embroidered for him, "I work for Kaspar so that this kind of thing won't happen. If this happens again, I'd personally make you guys crawl through the tunnels of prison for eternity."

His emerald orbs almost lit up into a burning fire as his jaw tightened in anger. He made his way toward the door before taking a look at the handkerchief.

He shouldn't use it for something so filthy.

He slid it back into his pocket and used another plain handkerchief instead.

--

"In short, he is the man who would not hesitate to kill his own children, his own blood and flesh, or his family just to save and love his beloved Lily of the Valley."

Kaspar sighed as he read the report. The scapegoats that he offered were his men who were on duty to protect his spouse.

"He is the man who had lived for eternity just to find and love his beloved again and again."

-- log end

Afternotes:

I didn't expect the fic to be this short (says the one who got lazy mid-way and cut half of the story...) anyway, I thought to myself, rather than let this rot in the draft, wouldn't it be better to post it even if it was only half completed without any proofread yet?

I'm really happy my first LIfE Project event features my favorite son, Yulian first! The next one might be Eleanor!

Complete Posts

[literaryavenger]

You Were My Sunshine

Summary: Once a year you disappear for a whole day. Nobody knows where you go or what you do, but the team has learned to let you have your privacy. This year though, Bucky's curiosity gets the better of him and he follows you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death. Grief. Some angst. Fluff. No mentions of Y/N.

Word Count: 3K

A/N: I realize this is a little heavy and you absolutely don't need to read it. This one's mostly for me, but I thought why not post it and let Bucky comfort other people, if you need it. As always, my inbox is always open if you want to even just chat. I hope someone likes this. Also, I promise the requests are coming, a little slowly but they're coming. I'm on vacation for two weeks so I'll spend the time writing, probably.

Masterlist

“Have a good day.” Steve calls after you as you pass the kitchen.

You stop in front of the door to smile at Steve and wave at the team as they all have breakfast together before you keep making your way to the elevator that will take you to the parking garage.

“So, we’re really just accepting this?” Bucky asks the team when the elevators close behind you and he’s sure you can’t hear him.

“Yes, Buck.” Steve says firmly.

“But-” Bucky’s protests are cut off by Tony.

“She’s entitled to her privacy.” He says firmly. “Just let it go, Frosty.”

Bucky ignores the nickname and looks around the team, searching for anyone that might have his back, but nobody else seems to be too invested in your day. Bucky gets up with a huff and makes his way to the training room, resigned that he has to let you be.

You’ve always been an open person, you’re always there for everybody that needs you and you’re not afraid to talk about anything with anybody.

Your life is an open book.

Which is precisely why it drives Bucky crazy that, once a year, you disappear for an entire day and nobody knows where you go or what you do.

You disable all your communication devices, the tracking in your car and you don’t use credit cards anywhere. 

It’s like you cease to exist for a day, leaving no trace that you were anywhere.

At least that’s how the team sees it. 

They’ve all tried to figure out where you go, but that’s the only subject that you never talk about and, every time anyone asks you about it, your answer is always the same:

Don’t worry about it.

After so many years, the whole team has decided to listen to you and stopped worrying about it. 

Everyone except Bucky.

It’s not like you’re that close with him, but he considers you his friend and he trusts you, so it irks him that you have this huge secret that nobody knows anything about.

Needless to say, he worries about it a lot.

That’s why right now he finds himself tip toeing down to the garage. He sees you get into your car and drive away and, without even thinking about it, he jumps on his bike and follows you.

He knows this is wrong, he knows he shouldn’t follow you, that you’re allowed to have your secrets. But he can’t help himself when it comes to you. You make him lose control, you make him go insane. 

He just needs you. to know.

So he follows you, as discreetly as only a trained assassin knows how. He follows you into the city and stops a few cars away when you park in front of a secondhand bookstore. Bucky knows that shop all too well, it’s one of his favorite places to visit when he’s in the city.

He waits until you disappear behind a shelf before going in, watching you as you browse the books. It looks to Bucky like you’re looking for a particular book, when you find it, he can see your face lighting up.

You turn the book to look at the back cover and Bucky can read the title very clearly. ‘Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince’, one of your favorite books. Bucky knows that because he’s talked about it with you for hours, along with all the other books of the series and the Lord of the Rings books, Bucky’s favorites.

You chat amicably with the older guy that owns the shop while you pay for your book and then leave, getting back into your car with Bucky still on your tail.

Next you go to a small bakery and buy a coffee and a cupcake. Thankfully for Bucky you’re too distracted by talking with the nice, old lady that owns the place to notice him buying his own coffee.

He follows you again as you cross the street to the park in front of the bakery and walk until you find a secluded spot. You sit down against a tree and continue peacefully reading your book under the summer sun while sipping your iced coffee.

Bucky sits on a bench nearby where he has a visual on you, but you can’t really see him unless you were really looking for him. But you’re so engrossed in reading that Bucky’s sure he could sit next to you and you wouldn’t even realize it.

He knows you get like that when you’re reading something that captures your attention, and the Harry Potter books always do, no matter how many times you’ve read them already.

Bucky always thought you looked so cute while reading. You make no attempt to hide your reactions and it amuses him. So he spends the next few hours just watching you read, watching your beautiful face shining in the sunlight as you frown and snort and laugh and pout as your eyes dart around the pages.

It’s actually relaxing, he thinks to himself. Is this what you do every year? Take a whole day just to read without the chaos of the Compound and nobody to bother you?

But why would you be so secretive about this? Reading for hours with a cup of coffee is something you’d done countless times in your room, on the roof, in the backyard of the Compound or even in the common room, never really bothered by the noise the team makes when you’re so into the words you’re reading.

So why do it in secret?

After a few hours, around lunch time, you finally come out of the book’s trance and gather your things before getting up.

Bucky frowns when you don’t get back into your car and follows you as you walk to a small family owned Italian restaurant that Bucky’s never been to but always wanted to try. He discreetly follows you in and takes a table in the back where you can’t see him.

He watches you interact with the owner, the waiter and even the cook comes out to talk to you. It’s clear that they all know you and it seems to Bucky like you’re pretty close to them even though he’s never even heard you mention this place before. When you’re done eating, Bucky sees you playfully fight with the owner that doesn’t want to let you pay so you leave a generous tip that amounts to more than your check is and the owner chuckles to himself when you wink as you walk out.

After lunch, which Bucky has to admit was pretty good, he follows you to a flower shop a couple of doors down and he’s surprised to see the owner greeting you like old friends. It looks like she was already anticipating your arrival, a bouquet of blue roses already on the counter and ready to go when you arrive. You chat with the older woman for a few minutes before paying and leaving the flower shop to go to your car.

It’s clear to Bucky by now that you obviously have a routine on your secret day, and everyone you see on this day knows it.

So why don’t the Avengers? 

You looked so comfortable with all the people you’ve met today, Bucky can’t help but think that maybe you don’t feel like you belong on the team.

You drive until you arrive at your destination and Bucky is both surprised and confused when you park in the parking lot of a cemetery, get out of your car and enter it.

He subtly follows you in, watching you walk past a few graves and it looks to him like you know your way around by how effortlessly you walk without needing to check the names, stopping at one almost at the end of the row you were in while Bucky keeps his distance, always making sure to stay out of sight.

He sees you take a deep breath before kneeling in front of the grave and putting down the bouquet of flowers in front of it.

“Hi, mom…” You wipe the dirt off the tombstone and tidy the flowers in front of it with what Bucky’s sure it’s a forced smile. “Happy birthday.”

You take out the cupcake you bought that Bucky now realizes you hadn’t eaten yet and he sees you put a small red birthday candle on it and light it, then you just look at it for a few seconds before you sigh and blow it out.

“So…” You say quietly, looking back at the tombstone and Bucky can see a tear falling down your cheek.

A piece of Bucky's heart breaks seeing you so vulnerable and hurting like this, but he stays put no matter how much he wants to be at your side right now.

Bucky stands there in complete silence, hearing everything you say, hanging on to every word. He hears you talk about everything that happened in the past year, he listens to you talk about missions and parties and holidays. He hears you talk about the whole team and his heart flutters a little when you mention his name too.

You talk for a while and, after he assumes you run out of new things to say, he sees you taking out the book you just bought today.

“So, this year we finally got to the half-blood prince.” You say with a small smile. “It’s our favorite, hadn’t read it in a while.”

Bucky sees you open it and go to the page you left the bookmark in.

“It took me longer than I thought to find your favorite quote, I have to admit.” You say with a small chuckle. “It’s like 400 pages in, don’t judge me.” 

Bucky chuckles quietly at your playfulness, even in this situation. He can’t help but find you adorable.

“It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more.” You read the quote before closing the book and looking back at the grave. “That’s what you told me when I was scared of the dark…” You say quietly with a smile.

“And that’s what you told me before you…” You trail off, not being able to finish your sentence as tears start streaming down your cheeks but Bucky has a pretty good idea where you were going.

That's what she told you before she died, so you wouldn't be scared.

He’s more than surprised that he didn’t know your mother died, and he’s pretty sure the rest of the team doesn’t know either.

Admittedly, families are a very touchy subject for the Avengers.

But Bucky’s even more surprised to see you breaking down, something you’ve never done before. You’re cheery, you’re bubbly, you’re everyone’s little ray of sunshine.

And it breaks Bucky’s heart to know you’ve been falling apart when you’re by yourself all these years.

“I’m sorry I only come here once a year, I just…” You start, so quietly that Bucky’s glad he has enhanced hearing otherwise he's sure he wouldn't be able to hear you. “I miss you so much and I can’t… I can’t bear this.”

He sees you running your fingers gently over the tombstone as you take a deep, shaky breath, but you can’t stop crying.

“I’m trying to be the person you loved…” You say after a moment of silence. “Your little ray of sunshine.” You chuckle softly through the tears.

It makes sense to Bucky now why you always try to be there for everyone else. It’s how you’ve always been, apparently. Always making sure no one feels alone because deep down you feel the most alone, and you don’t want anyone else to feel that way.

You are my sunshine

Bucky’s thoughts get interrupted when he hears you quietly starting to sing. 

My only sunshine

Bucky knows this song. It’s a lullaby that he’s heard you sing once before.

Clint’s family visited him at the Compound and you offered to watch his kids so he and his wife could have a date night.

You probably didn’t realize he heard you, you probably thought you were alone and it’s not like he was spying on you. He just happened to pass by when you were in Clint’s room, trying to get the three kids to sleep by singing to them.

You make me happy, when skies are gray 

You take a breath before continuing but your voice wavers a little. 

You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you

Bucky can see you’re having trouble getting the words out, your voice almost breaking.

Please don’t take… My sunshine… Away

Before you can even get the last word out, you break down completely, burying your face in your hands while sobbing.

Bucky feels his heart break as he takes in your pain. He wishes there was some clear and simple solution to making this all better for you, but there's always been so much he doesn't understand about complex emotions like these. 

Right now, as he's watching how broken you are, though, he knows that he doesn't even care about understanding. He just wants to comfort you, to try and make it better...

Bucky comes to rest beside you, he kneels down to your level and places his hand gently on your shoulder. “Hey…” He says quietly.

His presence startles you and you go into defense mode, taking his hand on your shoulder and bending it, then using your grip on his arm to push him face down on the ground.

Bucky didn’t expect you to react so quickly and aggressively which makes it easier for you to catch him off-guard and pin him down.

“Goddammit, Bucky!” You say after you finally recognize him and let him go, getting up and scrambling back to put some distance between you and him while breathing heavily.

For a moment, Bucky is a little stunned. It's rare that anyone is able to get the jump on him like that. But then he snaps back to reality. He lets you make your distance while getting back to his feet and stands a few feet away from you.

“Did you fucking follow me?!” Your sadness is quickly forgotten and replaced with anger.

“I…” Bucky doesn’t know what to say. He knows he’s in the wrong here and he has no defense for himself when he knowingly violated your privacy. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“You didn’t what?!” You snap at him. “You didn’t understand what the meaning of privacy is?!”

Bucky doesn’t know what to say, he’s never seen you this angry at anyone that’s not an enemy and surely never at him.

“I’m sorry, okay?” He says quickly. “I’m sorry, I was just curious, I didn’t think this would be it, I thought…”

“You thought what?” You say when he trails off, clearly pissed as you cross your arms in front of your chest.

“I thought maybe you were a supervillain…” He jokes weakly, trying to make you laugh. “Or a stripper.”

His last word gets a surprised laugh out of you as you, fortunately, understand he’s just joking before you actually punch him in the face.

Bucky lets out a sigh of relief as he sees you laugh and then takes a tentative step towards you.

“I really am sorry…” He says quietly, reaching out to put his hand on your shoulder. “I know it was wrong of me to follow you, and I didn’t plan on bothering you at all, which doesn’t make what I did better,” He quickly adds when he sees you’re about to say something.

“But when I saw you crying, I just… I couldn’t help myself.” He trails his hand down your arm to your hand and takes it in his. “You’re always there for everybody, I don’t think it’s fair that you don’t let anybody be there for you.”

You look at him for a long moment, processing his words. Of course you know he’s right, you don’t let anybody be there for you, but you also never really believed anyone cared enough to.

But looking at Bucky right now, it feels like he really does want to be there for you...

So you let him.

You look back down at the grave, your hand still in his as you intertwine your fingers together.

“She died when I was 14.” You say quietly. “I only had her, so I was on my own after that…”

Bucky listens quietly, his eyes on your face as he sees the tears starting to gather in your eyeline again.

“A few years later, Natasha and Clint found me during a mission. They saw me knock out a dude that cornered me in an alley and they were impressed…” You have a faint smile at the memory although it’s clear you’re about to cry again. “They offered me a place in the SHIELD Academy and, after that, I don’t know… I wasn’t alone anymore.”

You look back at Bucky to find him looking at you intently, his gaze intent and unwavering. 

“Doll…” He says quietly while cupping your face with his free hand as he sees you holding back tears. “It’s okay to be vulnerable in front of the people you care about. You taught me that.”

His gentle words, the way he softly strokes your cheek and the way he’s looking at you so lovingly, it’s all too much for you and can’t hold back your tears anymore.

With a broken sob, you bury your face in Bucky’s chest and hug him tightly, clinging to him while he wraps his arms around you and hugs you just as tight, kissing the top of your head before nuzzling his face against your hair.

In this moment, while holding you in his arms, Bucky realizes it’s not like you don’t feel like you belong with the Avengers.

This is just something you feel like you have to go through on your own because you’ve always had to.

And he’ll be damned if he lets you go through it alone ever again.

Drabble

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC: I wanna be like most girls ghosts.

or Danny: What should I do to make my mom happy?

or ~Danny deserves a little teenage rebellion as a treat~

Maddie: I just want this damned Phantom to stop pretending to be a hero! All ghosts are pure evil, who is he trying to deceive? Danny: Oh, really? And Danny took it personally.

It’s not Danny’s fault that he’s a good kid and wants to make his parents happy. But why would he have to be a monster to make them happy? Why must they hate him to be happy?

Danny’s obsession was going crazy.

Well, when your own parents call you a monster in the face, it hurts. Why do they always believe that only their opinion is the absolute truth? They have no idea how much worse things would be if at least some of the ghosts really behaved the way Maddie and Jack think they’re supposed to. If he really is evil by nature, is there any point in fighting his own fate? They want to see him as a villain, he will become one. He will. He just needs a little help and practice. And not bring it to the level when Clockwork has to clean up his mess. Poor guy is without a vacation for how long? Couple of millennia?

Johnny 13: Sup. Danny: F*ck off, Johnny, I’m not in the mood. Busy thinking about world domination. Get out of here or I’ll call Kitty. Johnny 13: What’s wrong? You’re usually so grouchy only towards the end of the week. Danny: Nothing. Just parents. Again. They are wonderful but I can’t help but feel sometimes that they, em… Johnny 13: Suck? Danny: Right…Damn. I’m a terrible son. Maybe something is wrong with me. Johnny 13: What? No, no, dude. You’re just growing up. And you’re a little late, usually teenagers go through that stage before they graduate. Well, you’ve probably been busy with other issues, so just missed it. Danny: I wonder whose fault it is. Aren’t there ghosts who enjoyed to ruin my life in the middle of school day?

Johnny 13: Oh, bother. Anyway, you’re entering a beautiful time of emancipation, where you’re going to shape your own view of life and, along the way, to get drunk on cheap alcohol at parties, maybe to go to jail and to become the greatest disappointment to your family..And then you will be ashamed to remember it for about the next ten years. Danny: Well, it looks like I’ve already done two out of three additional things. Great success. Johnny 13: When did you get drunk? Danny: I didn’t. Johnny 13: Oh. Want to fix that? Danny: What? No. What an idiot wants to add a headache to his problems? Johnny 13: Well, your loss, then I’ll go terrorize the bars of Gotham alone and no one can stop me. Let’s see what your boyfriend will say about it. ~~~~~ Danny: Bartender, another shot of Dead Man’s Fingers, please. Red Hood: Babe, haven’t you had enough? Danny: Have you ever felt that no matter how hard you try, no matter how many sacrifices you make, in their eyes you’ll always be nothing more than a monster? Nothing more than a mistake? Oh, Death doesn’t give people like me a break. Red Hood: …I’ll have what he’s having. *gives the bartender a sign to switch the rum shots to a batburger milkshake for them, and starts talking to Danny so that he doesn’t understand Hood's scams*

~~~~~

Johnny 13: Other people’s kids are growing up so fast. It seems like yesterday he didn’t know how to shoot ectoblast, and now.. Kitty: Stop trying to make me feel bad, we’re leaving. Johnny 13: But the boy needs our support, honey boo!

~~~~~

Danny: I'm fine. Really, I am. This isn’t the first time mom’s called me a monster. She often called me that when she was upset with my behavior in my childhood. Huh, it's even funny. Jason: There’s nothing funny about that. Danny: No, you don’t understand. Looking back, I was really a very active child and didn’t know when to stop. Not surprisingly that I often annoyed my parents. They’re very busy people, and Jazz couldn’t always keep an eye on me. And I was often afraid to go to sleep alone because there were shadows in the darkness of my room. Well, I used to think they were. But I pretended everything was okay to not distract parents from work. Jason: Hey, it’s not your fault. You were a child. Obviously, kiddo requires a lot of attention, they must have understood that. You are the second child in the family, right? Danny: Well, Jazz was different. I don’t know. Anyway, I thought if the monsters behind the curtain and under the bed were just like me, well, according to my mom, you know, then they wouldn’t want to hurt me. And since they look after me, they are friends. So I kinda greeted all the suspicious noises and howls. Huh, I was a strange kid. Jason: If you smile at someone in the dark alley right now that someone is more likely to wet themselves or faint. Danny: Rude! I’m not that scary. Admit that I’m adorable. Do it right now. Jason: Stunning, darling. But still carry a gun and a knife, please. My childhood taught me that what's hiding in the dark is worth beating up. Danny: Come on, what should I be afraid of? Death? Anyway, I want to try this shit. Like, the inevitable one. Being a bad boy, you know? Hood *raises eyebrows*. Danny: Oh damn it man, I'm talking about ghostliness. I want to try to be like most of dead ones. I want to unleash my side of the trickster and the villain. But only a little bit. I have to be supervised so that things don't go too far. Would you help me, honey?

~~~~~2 hours later~~~~

~~~~~

Goons used to expect a lot of weirdness from working with the boss.

Sometimes Bruce Wayne would go into their base and yell at the Red Hood like he's one of his kids. Of course Wayne's well-known as 'Gotta adopt them all' but the guy must really suffer from insomnia to count the Red Hood into his brood of chicks several times. Sometimes the boss would fight Robin or Nightwing over differences in morals…or for biscuits. It varied from moment to moment. Sometimes the boss caught the local street children, fed them and taught them to steal correctly. And most of the foundlings stayed with them under their protection.

To make a long story short, Red Hood is not the typical crime lord that some of them had to deal with before. Which is a blessing. Thanks Lord for the health insurance. But still the crime lord. Which means he's still scary, and sometimes deadly.

Anyway, when the boss brought in a guy who looked more civilian than any civilian in the whole Gotham and said he was going to be their intern, they thought it was a joke at first. Despite the fact that Hood was not in the habit of joking while working.

The teenager was too well-mannered and sweet to come from Crime Alley. Phil thought the guy was gonna run when he saw the first murder, Jessica didn’t think the domestic boy wouldn’t chicken out at the sight of a fight. But arguing with a boss’s orders in their profession is like asking for a bullet in the head, so these conversations were taking place outside of their boss's sight. God, how can they teach him anything? What do you take from a boy who’s only good to do the coffee run? Fenton will fall if they’ll give him something heavier than 10 pounds. And then boss will yell at them because he treats the new guy like a princess on a pea. Well, at least that’s what they thought until the boss decided to give the new guy his own assignments:

~~~~~

Red Hood: So, what have you learned during your internship, my young Padawan? Danny: Well, it looks like I’m gonna suck at being a criminal mastermind. I think I may have to find myself some other profession. Red Hood: Come on, you just need a little more practice. Danny: Thank you but I don’t think that’s fit my obsession that good. Don't misunderstand me, I wanna be like most ghosts. But I was wrong to go to hit that goal only base on human stereotypes about my nature. Red Hood: What a pity. The newbies just learned not to flinch when you walk in. But, to be honest, I'm not gonna miss the adrenaline-boosting roller coaster of you at work. Danny: Oh, and I guess to hold on to the concept of humanity was really stupid too. I clearly no longer fit in and I’m finally ready to accept that. So, hopefully, if you get into trouble, you can rely on my ghostliness and call for help. I am the spirit of many talents and of my word. I can haunt your enemies or walk through the walls of Arkham Asylum. Whatever you need, I’ll be here. Red Hood: I’ll bear that in mind.

[runningupthatvecna]

get the peach(es)

bestfriend!eddie munson x reader

it's the day after chrissy got vecna'd and you and the gang decide to check up on eddie at rick's. he's still in so much distress that you can't help but selflessly stay with your best friend (who you've been harboring a crush on for quite some time) and keep him company. 6k words, not proofread.

cw: the good old friends to lovers trope, eddie is an anxious bean who just needs to be held (by you, ideally), mutual (and not so secret at all) pining, i wrote this with fem!reader in mind (she/her pronouns) but can also be read as gn i guess, fluff, hurt/comfort (for eddie), pet names, mentions of chrissy's death, there shall be kisses and a lot of softness. nothing too explicit but minors are still advised to LEAVE

a/n: totally not self indulgent, that scene of him being so terrified in 4x02 ripped me to shreds so this is my fix-it attempt, trying to still my need to hold him and scratch his head. disclaimer: this piece of writing is based on the ending of that episode, meaning all credits for the setting go to the respective writers. sources to the header images here, here and here. lovely divider by saradika. ok thank you so much for reading byeeee love y'all <3

–––––

The overwhelming need to befriend the satanic metalhead found you at that party at the Wheeler house. You had almost said no to Nancy when she invited you, knowing damn well how the night would end. Steve passed out with a girl on his lap, Robin silently pining after Vickie from some corner of the room while clinging onto the red plastic cup in her hand, Jonathan getting higher than a kite with his old school mates, the younger kids asking you every five minutes if you could give them a ride since you usually were the one staying sober.

Additionally this time, there would be Eddie Munson. This familiar stranger Dustin, Mike and Lucas had met and somehow befriended over the last months, due to them joining his DnD club. "He might come off as a bit intimidating ... but I promise he's super chill and easy going!", Mike had tried to convince his sister, poking the tip of her shoulder repeatedly with a bunch of pleases during lunch break in the editing room of the school's newspaper. Until she rolled her eyes theatrically and agreed to let the ambiguous stranger, which the whole town collectively perceived as not really fitting in (and who you both certainly knew under the not so chill reputation he carried around), attend the celebratory events at Casa Wheeler. Occasion: Karen, Ted and their youngest leaving the house for more than one day, off on vacation.

You'd always kinda stayed out of his ways, used to observe his antics back at school with a silent laugh and this .. intrigue poking at your guts. To you he always stood out, and if anyone asked you'd be hesitant to admit it, but his willingness to go against the flow and not conform to the acceptable standards set by society was honestly impressive. And besides, surely this whole mysterious drug dealer rockstar image must just be a fassade and deep down he's just a dork, right?

His eyes follow you through the living room, an echo of your name crossing his mind repeatedly after having pulled Dustin into a corner for a brief interrogation. He finds it endearing how quickly and almost bashfully you look away every time your curious gaze meets his. As you redirect your focus to the conversation you're becoming engaged in, there's a soft smile creeping onto your lips. Little did he know it would soon start to haunt him in his dreams at night.

"Anything specific you're looking for?"

God, his voice. The close proximity invites your nose to inhale a mix of fresh cigarette smoke, bergamot and sandalwood, allowing you to sense what can only be him standing behind you as you skim through the cabinets of the Wheeler kitchen. You turn your head for your eyes to confirm your assumption and what they find is the deepest brown of round baby cow eyes they've ever met, up so much closer now. The paring of his gaze and plush smile somehow manages to dissolve every little prejudice you've been involuntarily harboring about him. Eddie Munson, the town's freak. Prime reason for the existence of the satanic panic. Drugs. And then you realise that you should probably do the polite thing and give him an answer. "Yeah uh, I was just trying to find the peach syrup", holding his gaze with a small lopsided smile, lost in its warmth which you wouldn't have dared to expect from it, before facing away from him again. He snorts a little, "peach syrup?", pauses to bring a thumb to his upper lip, lightly scratching the skin above as if to wipe something away, before he removes it again and the dimples appear around the corners of his mouth, "that is oddly specific." His response spreads a smile over your face, and the next thing he says widens it, "looks like you have taste though."

You move one step to the side, about to investigate the insides of the next cabinet, the kitchen itself almost empty of people with only three others chatting away in the corner across the island. He follows, undoubtedly trying to stay close, and the heat from the fire he just ignited somewhere inside of you rises to your cheeks. "Thanks, I really like peaches. Especially in my drinks. It adds a little ... kick to my sobriety", you explain, Eddie now quirks an amused eyebrow paired with a lopsided smile at you, and as you get to the last cabinet it dawns on you (and also Eddie) that this household severely lacks peach syrup. An atrocity. Thanks Ted.

After he helped you rummage through the entirety of the kitchen without success but under a lot of small talk, the metalhead vanishes from the function for an hour or so. At least that's what your brain concludes when your vision fails to spot him among the people who are in attendance. Maybe he's selling out of Nancy's bedroom. Maybe he's puking up his insides in the bathroom because he had too much of that weird beer he's been downing all night. Maybe he's banging some random girl in the bathroom upstairs. Or summoning a demon. Or both. At the same time. You once again try focusing your attention back to the conversation you are involved in. Munson already feels so dear to you that the lack of his presence is starting to form an ache in your heart. It's tugging on those strings with how much you already want him near you. Yeah. You're gonna be in trouble with this one.

And then he stumbles into the room from the direction of the front door, an event you're totally unable (and unwilling) to miss. He doesn't look like he just puked, nor sold a whole lot of the stash since you notice it still bulging out the left ass pocket of his black jeans. Instead, as he pushes past the small groups of people socialising – and towards you – while you notice a red net of round fruits dangling from his right hand, and you start to think that his disheveled hair and that rosy tint on his cheeks might actually not be from shagging either. He meets your gaze again as he approaches you with a grin and your heart dares to swell at his attentive gesture (you think you might as well pass away on the spot).

"Have some, peach."

It's not syrup, but you'll take them anyway. And with your next drink, you swallow down not only that peachy sweetness on your tongue, but also whatever this tingly feeling in your chest is.

"Chchhrhch.."

Pause.

"Hey, uh– chrhchhr.."

Silence in your bedroom, the only thing illuminating the space is the moonlight softly falling through the window.

"Chrch– a-are you there?"

You stirr awake from dozing off in your bed, trying to piece together the information your senses are giving you.

Eyes gone dry, you have to blink a few times. Figure out which year it is and so on.

Confusion lies between the static crackle for a moment. That nap after your shift at the diner was necessary. God, you need to fucking quit.

"No I'm sure she'll pick right up, just– hey pleeease b-be awake, goddamn it!–"

Is it already past midnight?

You don't know and you can't tell, the clock on your nightstand still broken. What you do know though is that the familiar voice belongs to your friend Dustin and it's desperately trying to get ahold of you.

They must have found him.

"Dustin? I copy, where are you? What's going on?", you finally grab the device from the nightstand, fully awake and aware of your surroundings now.

You need to know. If he's okay.

There's that all too familiar instant tingle in your chest again, an ache that made itself familiar to you for the first time when he was introduced to you at the one and only Wheeler party several months ago. The dungeon master of Hawkins High's Hellfire club, the lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin and a super chill and easy going guy, to put it in Mike Wheeler's words.

What you didn't expect back then was your heart starting to develop that feeling, that tingle you'd always get to feel when you were in his presence, or like now, when his name is threatening to spill from your friend's lips on the other side of the connection at any moment.

"Aha! See? I told you she'd respond in no time."

You can practically feel Dustin's shit eating grin through the frequency, basking in being correct over Steve Harrington once again. It never gets old between these two.

"Oh my god", Steve's muffled voice is what you can make out vaguely from the off, he's probably palming his face.

"Dustin!", your voice disappears into the device, and your impatience grows with every passing second, hoping he gets the hint.

There's the sound of a door falling shut, leaves rustling under shoes, he must be outside now.

"Alright, okay yeah, so we found him at Rick's and he's really upset and he's been asking for you. I know it's late but can you meet us out here? And maybe, uh, stay with him?"

It's not even worth questioning. You're already wearing shoes. Your biggest hoodie in tow, you stumble into your kitchen with the intention to raid your own snack drawer. Pulling out Eddie's favourite, which you of course had stocked up on ever since hanging out with him at your place had become more of a weekly routine for the both of you.

Ten minutes, you told him. You'd be there in ten.

The drive feels like forever. The longest ten minutes of your life, you think.

You know the route like the back of your hand, having driven along the gravelly road leading from the last intersection before Hawkins' border to the outer world, to the serene woods surrounding Lover's Lake countless times. Eddie would take you here ever so often, for picnics, an occasional smoke after picking up a new delivery from Rick's, cloud or star gazing, listening to Metallica and Tears for Fears on Wayne's old walkman.

The gravel crunches underneath your white reeboks as they land on the ground. You close the door to your car as quietly as possible after you've taken out the bag and your hoodie.

Dustin and Steve are stood outside the boathouse, waving like madmen in the darkness once you come into their periphery.

The younger boy hugs you tightly.

"So glad you could make it", he gets out, the relief palpable through his voice as well as the grip he holds you in for a brief moment.

You look at them both after Steve presses you against him cordially, and breathe out through your nose, making your nostrils flare.

Dustin cracks open the case to you as he starts to ramble about the state in which they found your best friend, "well first he attacked Steve with a broken bottle, we had to put in great effort to convince him that we'd be on his side, and we came to the conclusion that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, basically."

What you want right now goes without saying. Everyone here knows how close you and Eddie are. As friends, of course. No one would think anything different.

Without wasting another second, the boys lead you inside where Max and Robin are knelt on the wooden floor. Heads turning towards the entrance of the room where you're now standing.

The sight of what's offered to your eyes, sitting opposite of them, breaks your heart.

You can see that he's slightly shivering, eyes glassy in the dim lit room. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips though once his brain grasps your presence, and he can't help anymore but let the water fall once his eyes lock with yours.

The pain that is swimming in those two deep warm brown oceans hits you like a dagger to the chest. Over the months of being friends with him you'd seen him various different states, none of them comparable to this.

"Peach", his shaky voice announces your arrival and the sound of your nickname spilling from his lips cracks through your bones. The bag that's slung around your shoulder drops onto the wood with a dull thud.

Wobbly legs carry him towards you with a gentle shove past Robin and Max. You're once again reminded of your best friend's sheer physical strength as he wraps his arms around you, instantly burying his face into the crook of your neck.

One arm of your own sneaks around his torso, pressing him against you as tightly as your own strength allows you, while your other hand comes up to bury itself underneath the mane and to end up scratching soothingly over the scalp above the nape of his neck.

Eddie lets out a muffled sob, sniffling into the collar of the sweatshirt you threw on in a haste. He doesn't really want anyone to see him like this, certainly not Steve Harrington, so he clutches onto you so tightly that he thinks you might just feel his heavy heart beating anxiously against your chest.

And you do. How could you not with the amount of world he means to you? Like an automatism your other hand rubs slow circles over his back. Comforting him in the best way you could. Not a conscious decision you make.

"Okay so, m'not meaning to ruin the party, in fact I'd love to stay for another round of doom talk, but I really should get home soon, guys", Robin scratches the back of her head after she gets up from her huddled position next to the wooden crate Eddie had been sitting on. Max joins in and agrees, mumbling something about having to move her mom from being passed out on the couch again into her bed.

"Yeah me too, actually. My dad's gonna be fucking pissed. We'll see you tomorrow, yeah?", Steve's voice echoes through the room and you can tell he's already shoved Dustin back outside, itching to drive the kid home.

As Eddie processes having to stay in hiding, added the possibility of everyone leaving without him, his grip on you tightens even more.

"It's okay, Eds", you speak softly, head slightly tilted so your cheek rests on the dark frizzy mop you could call his hair. The skin on his neck and scalp so warm underneath your fingertips as you keep scratching it, emphasizing your presence, "I'll stay."

A soft muffled whimper is what you get as a response, and the way he lets you see him in this state melts your insides to a puddle.

You just need him to be okay.

They wave their goodbyes behind your back, accompanied by mumbles of "see you in the morning", and you can't even bring yourself to turn your head around, fully focused on making the young man in your arms less terrified of the world. A world he was sure was now going to come for him with all its force – in deep conviction of him being responsible for Chrissy's misfortunate end.

The door falls shut and Eddie muffles a quiet thank you into the fabric of your sweatshirt. The skin on your neck is damp with his tears, wet eyelashes tickling every time he blinks.

"It's okay, Eds", you softly keep repeating your words to him while continuously rubbing over the denim of his signature Dio vest in a slow motion, when he feels the urgency to claim the truth into the collar of your sweater about what has happened, "I– I didn't do it, I swear."

As if you would need any convincing.

"Oh no of course you didn't, I know that", you're looking for a way to ease the distress this entire situation is causing him, his quivering voice adding to your desire to soothe him to inner peace, "can I make a suggestion?"

Eddie nods with another sniffle against your collarbone, the round wet tip of his nose brushing against the column of your throat lightly. To his ears, your voice sounds like silk right about now.

"How about we head over to the main house and get ourselves a little more comfortable? Since we're gonna be here for a little longer? My god you probably haven't slept or eaten at all, have you?"

You can feel him nod his head again with a hum this time, and you start to think that the tears might not just be pouring because he just witnessed someone suffer a gruesome death right in front of him, but also due to physical exhaustion.

It makes your heart ache even more, that tingle still present, even more so now. It hurts to see your best friend hurt.

He just needs to be okay. And in that heart of yours there's that little spark of hope that leads you to believe you could be the one helping him with that.

You'd really want that. Be all his to find comfort in, to hold close, to kiss stupid

Stop.

A sigh escapes your lungs at the thought. That tingle, that longing, it's selfish. It familiarly pools in your belly and slowly drips downwards. You push your brain aside. This is about soothing your best friend now.

"C'mon then", you utter softly, encouraging him with your hand to lift his head from where it leans against your shoulder.

For your heart it's almost too much to look at, the hurt still swimming in the glassy big brown irises, his waterline red and puffy. The soft smile returning to his lips causes the wet apples of his cheeks to push up slightly, reflecting the dim light coming from the one torch Robin left you, placed on one of the crates.

He really hadn't been able to close an eye for a single second since he he'd gotten up for school the day prior.

You smile back at him almost bashfully as you slowly create space between your bodies.

Eddie is grateful that it's you who grabs his ringed hand next.

He squeezes yours, hoping to get the message of this meaning something to him across.

And he closely trails behind you as you lead the way.

The house feels empty, like no one's really been here in months. You'd never been inside. The few times you'd accompanied Eddie grabbing stash you'd stayed in his van, waiting. But as far as you now can make out in the darkness, there's a couch with knitted blankets, a little TV with a whole stack of VHS almost rising as high as the screen itself, spilled and spluttered empty cans and papers and wrappings littered all around. Maybe this is why he never let you come inside with him. Keeping you out of this definitely not sterile mess. Along with keeping you out of the business.

In the middle of the living room, you let go of his hand and shuffle one step away from him. He's inside now. Safe. Job done. Doesn't need physical contact. You shouldn't, he's your friend. You feel like something between you would break if you'd go there.

Eddie thinks otherwise, regarding close proximity at least. He promptly follows you into what you believe to be the kitchen where you hope you might find a tea bag or two. He comes up behind you and encases you in his arms as you rummage through the cabinets (feels familiar, hm?), not at all ready to say goodbye to the warmth of your body pressed against his own just yet.

You giggle at the silliness of him putting weight on you just to make it harder for you to reach into the cabinets. It's endearing. And very Eddie.

Twenty minutes later and there's two mugs – cleaned to your best ability – with steaming hot liquid on the sixties wooden coffee table. Next to them a plate filled with the almost equally hot insides of a ravioli in tomato sauce can. Thank Rick for a still functioning microwave.

You drape the knitted blankets over both you and Eddie as you settle into the cushions. The only light existent coming from two lit candles on said coffee table. It wouldn't be too wise setting up the torch you think.

The side of Eddie's face glows in the orange yellow, his wide brown bambi eyes dried after the first grand storm, and there's this tug on the corner of his pink plush lips again. He exchanged his leather jacket for the freshly washed hoodie for comfort and a small part of you hopes he doesn't spill his dinner onto any of it.

You lean back into the backrest of the worn out couch and watch as he eats, a domestic thing you've done a thousand times already, yet you still find comfort in knowing that he's nourishing himself.

Or well, in this case, inhaling the raviolis.

"Thank you Peach", he moves to put the empty plate back on the coffee table and it makes the spoon chink and glide along the edge, "I really needed this."

His voice is a little hoarse, probably from the emotions of the hours behind him. Maybe he has indeed calmed down a little. His hand moves down to your thigh, squeezing.

You give him the most empathetic smile you can bring yourself to display, painfully aware of the blaze that is transpiring through your leggings and seeping into your bones, "it's no big deal, really. I mean it is– uh, being there for you, is."

And he can't bring himself to look up at you. Instead, he stares at the empty plate on that coffee table in front of him.

"And to me as well. It really helps that you're here."

He doesn't bother moving the calloused warmth of his hand from the soft warmth of your thigh. It lights your entire nervous system on fire. In a good way.

And that's when you begin to wonder if everything that has just happened and is still happening right now changes anything.

"I'm so glad it does", is all you're able to get out.

Eddie decides that it's time to lean into your side and wrap his arms around your torso once again, drop his head back to its favourite place with a soft content little hum.

He just needs physical comfort. Of course. Just that. Nothing more, nothing else.

The words are redundant but your mouth articulates them anyway, "try to get some sleep, yeah?"

His back already lifts and falls evenly. You place your hand on the back of his head that rests in the crook of your neck again, scratching through the curls lightly, searching to help him shut off even deeper.

–––––

The candles have gone out by the time your eyelids slowly open. It takes you a moment to recall the location you fell asleep in, and you hope that the nightly darkness the whole room is now filled with hasn't invited any stranger to take advantage of your unconsciousness.

There's a warm hand holding your face, the pad of a thumb tracing over the apple of your cheek softly. It makes its way from the bridge of your nose to the outer corner of your eye, and back. And forth. And back. And forth.

You must have moved to lie down on your back in your sleep, with Eddie's weight still on your body, legs entangled. It's not the first time you've slept like this, there had been movie nights that had ended similarly.

His hand caressing your cheek though, yeah that is new. There's something unspoken in the air this time around. Your stomach is doing flip flops when you realise that he is propped up on his elbow, just .. looking at you. With eyes that don't require light to hint at whatever it is he is trying to say, or maybe not trying at all.

"Eds, what are you doing?", you ask almost in a whisper followed by a lopsided smile, expecting an unserious answer, because he always tends to make a joke whenever he tries to avoid conversing about emotions regarding his heart.

His thumb stops its acrobatics on your cheek, comes to a halt.

"I'm–", he takes a deep breath before he continues, "I'm just so grateful it's you that's here right now."

Your hand comes up to cup his. Brush over his rough knuckles with a thumb of your own. Enjoying the warmth that is seeping from his palm into your skin.

"Yeah, I figured you were gonna be a little opposed to spending the night with Harrington", you laugh, an attempt to turn your nerves into humour.

Eddie snorts a little, "yeah right, it's almost like you know me", he grins and pushes himself even closer to your face than he already is. It doesn't necessarily help in extinguishing the fire that's consuming you whole at this point.

"It's almost like we're best friends and I know what you think of him because every time Dustin or literally anyone else mentions his name around you, you're not necessarily secretive about it."

"Hey, my own worldview is not my fault, it's just– ... he just kinda seems like a douche of the highest order."

"He's quite alright, Eds. Try giving him a chance, I think he'd look great as Coffin's tambourinist."

He snorts again and you feel his breath on the column of your neck next when he dips his head down, nose pressing against the soft skin, his small giggle being swallowed by the collar of your sweatshirt.

Your favourite sound. Ever. Followed by the relieved moan Eddie lets out at the way your other hand is softly rubbing over his shoulder blade. The vibration against your neck makes you twitch as much as being pinned into the couch cushions by his body allows you.

It's soothing as much for you as it is for him.

When he lifts his head, the soft gaze he eyes you with is enough to let the goosebumps erupt. Even in the darkness of the room you can still make out those round buttons that could melt the entire north pole.

"Thank you, Peach, really. I'd be goin' mental right now and probably tryin' to counter that by smoking an equally mental amount of the stash I've been hiding here."

Your heart aches.

"I'm just glad I can be that kind of comfort to you, Eds. You don't have to go through whatever the fuck this is alone."

"I know I'm never gonna be alone as long as you are there."

You almost cry yourself now, his words making your hand travel from his own to his cheek, almost passing out from the way his eyes bore into your own once again.

Eddie isn't sure what it is that is making him feel lightheaded right now. The whole rollercoaster of events of the past hours. Or your words of affirmation. Or mayhaps it is your cute soft hand with that little ring on your thumb which is gently swiping over his damp skin.

That cute soft hand he'd been imagining countless times at night, silently yearning for your eyes to look at him differently, to finally see him in a different light the next time you'd hang out.

Probably a combination of just everything.

You reciprocate his soft half-lidded gaze, hand moving from his cheek to tuck some of his hair behind his left ear, revealing that delicate silver hoop earring you'd gifted to him for his birthday, after having talked your ear off about getting his ear pierced for literal months.

He'd insisted you join him for the appointment, "another metal moment for the books", as Eddie had called it, the need to have his hand held during the stab comically urgent in the way his voice sounded when he called you that day. And in the pace in which he picked you up.

"I'm here no matter what", you respond to his sentiment, that hand that brushed his hair away resting on the side of his neck while leaning the weight of your head into his palm that is still attached to your cheek.

Eddie's confidence reaches a new all time high with the admission of your unconditional support being stirred into the cocktail of hormones and emotions that's been circulating in his bloodstream for a generous amount of time now.

Because then he goes on by saying impossible things.

Impossible things with a slightly less platonic undertone.

"You're so fucking sweet, has anyone ever told you?"

You smile as you shake your head, heat rising to your cheeks once again and you're sure he won't be able to see just how flustered he's getting you (joke's on you he does).

You're also sure he's out of his mind for saying that. Now.

"A shame, honestly. You should scold your best friend for not telling you sooner. Tell him what a fucking idiot he is."

Eddie earns another giggle from you. Music to his ears. Better than Metallica. Okay maybe not but .. pretty fucking close.

"I'll let him know next time I see him", you say with a grin, playing along with pleasure, and you ask yourself why it is only now that you realise just how fucking close his face is to yours.

There is a moment of silence in which Eddie hesitates articulating whatever is seemingly bugging his mind.

"Do you, uh, still like him?"

If you lifted your head just a little your noses would be touching. A silly and utmost redundant question, and yet, Eddie dreads your answer. If the circumstances were different, less dystopian and tragic, you'd seriously wonder what would spark the doubt in your friendship in him, but considering that everyone else would be going to pour their judgement over him, you understand.

Every word exchanged between the two of you at this hour is soaked in mutual infatuation, something the idiots in both of you are slowly starting to fathom as well.

"Of course I do, he's everything to me."

As you say it, you can't help the grin which reappears reliably each time you finish verbalizing your thoughts. It's contagious, you notice.

"And do you think – just hypothetically of course", it's only then he breaks eye contact to clear his throat, "of course", you interrupt him still smiling and cocking an eyebrow at him, "d'ya think it would be okay for this best friend to, uh, maybe...", Eddie pauses, internally watching the ship containing his confidence set sail slowly and ultimately letting the irrational thoughts win for tonight, "would you let him..."

Eddie generally wasn't someone who lacked confidence. It showed in the way he boisterously wandered the halls of Hawkins High, the way his demeanor never changed, his mask never faltered no matter who was around. Except for you. You who he had always granted a look underneath the impulsive, extroverted surface.

"Eds", you try everything in your power to stay calm even though everything inside of you is screaming right now and you're certain you can feel your pulse in your earlobes.

"Would it be just insane of that best friend to kiss you right now?"

You want to squeal and kick your feet, pull him into your face, pinch your own forearm, pass away, leave the house and never return, and stay right where you are forever, buried underneath your favourite metalhead, the parts where your bodies are touching practically on fire, cosy and content.

Instead, the most fond smile spreads over your lips as you try to contain your internal overwhelm.

It's still dark, the only light source being the full moon outside. Eddie's so hopeful of your reciprocation and even more terrified of ruining his entire life at the same time, those deep doe eyes at this point pretty much resemble the shape of the space rock orbiting earth. Rejection from you, his pretty Peach and the Bonnie to his Clyde, would be unbearable.

"I think so," you almost whisper, the hand that's been rubbing over Eddie's back coming up to lightly trace one of his eyebrows with your index finger because you just can't seem to not touch him in some way, "but you should know that I love his insanity."

Your small giggle is being silenced by a soft and cautious kiss from Eddie Munson. Like he doesn't want to break you. Or he's afraid you'll snap out of a haze, slap him and leave if he starts kissing you like he really wants to.

And then it's you who goes for it, you feel at home, right where you belong, you don't think you've ever felt this good. The hand on his jaw tugs him closer softly, pressing your lips to his with a bit more urgency.

It gives him all the confirmation he could possibly need.

That tingle, it grows and fills up your chest and shoots through your entire being, goosebumps and all. Eddie moans and breathes against your lips, tongue dancing over the thin skin, asking for permission.

His ringed hand digs deeper and slowly moves to the nape of your neck, intending to hold you in place, afraid you could slip away from him if he didn't. This blossoming thing between you could slip away from him. If he didn't.

It's so soft, the way his lips touch yours, and before you know it they move to your cheek, to your jaw, down your neck before Eddie comes up again, smiling from ear to ear, to gently bump his nose against the tip of yours and his lips return home with a soft and deep hum escaping from his lungs into your mouth.

Relief floods his veins along with whatever it is you're doing to him. The ability to shut out the insanity of the past hours is what he so desperately wants to cling to for as long as you allow him, even if the dawn will remind him of the horrid reality he's involuntarily become subject to live through now.

"You're making things so much better, Peach, you're so sweet, so fucking cute, so fucking good for me, do you even know for how long I've been dreaming of this?"

Eddie greedily pulls your face into his again, not even giving you a chance to reply and not nearly getting enough of your affection it seems with how fervently his tongue searches for yours.

A gentle collision of skin.

The soft whimpers you let out only spur him on. You not backing away from him, staying with him, letting him be this close to you?

You, the only constant source of consolation Eddie's ever really had.

Life changing.

Soft touches follow soft touches, your thumb traces his jaw repeatedly.

"You don't–", kiss, "for how long–", kiss, "I've been dreaming–", kiss, "of you as well", you breathe against him and Eddie thinks he might be about to resort to sniffling into your collar again with the amount of relief he is experiencing.

You'd let him.

"Yeah?", he presses his nose into your cheek with his eyes closed, smiling from ear to ear, relaxing his entire body into yours as you let him slide inbetween your legs.

"Yeah, you know how much of a sucker I am for peaches", you grin, another peck to his cheek, his jaw, his neck, your hips slowly finding a rhythm against his own.

Eddie groans at your allusion with a wide grin on his face (and the feeling of your warmth against his dick), before pressing his lips against yours again lovingly, "me too baby, me too."

–––

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[barcaatthemoon]

your father's daughter || alexia putellas x teen!reader ||

alexia tries to give you space after the passing of your father, but it eventually becomes too much.

Your father's passing was something that you had desperately wanted to keep away from the team. It wasn't that you didn't trust them enough to let them. In fact, that was far from the truth, you knew that they cared so much. They cared and worried, and you felt guilty that while your father was dying, he had worried about you. And so, you had tried to keep your father's death a secret for as long as you could.

The day that word spread around, you knew instantly. Your mother had let you keep going to practice like normal, but about a week later, she had informed the club that you'd be missing a day for his service. Everybody was looking at you cautiously, and it wasn't until Alexia approached you that they all finally seemed to look away.

"Are you okay?" Alexia asked softly. She didn't try to move in and hug you, not like everybody had at your mother's house. You didn't like it, all these strangers suddenly offering you kindness that you weren't used to. Alexia seemed to understand that, and while you wanted to run to you, you felt a need to prove to your father that you were strong enough to keep going without him.

"I'm fine," you told her. You were careful not to come off as rude or snappy. Alexia didn't believe you, but she didn't push you too hard. You shrank back into yourself a bit, trying not to draw any more attention to yourself.

This continued for every practice for a while. Alexia knew enough about what you were going through to keep the other girls away from you. Everybody had always joked that you were just a younger version of Alexia, right down to your mannerisms and preferences. They counted on Alexia knowing you best, and if she determined that you wanted space, then they let you have it.

"This is terrible, I hate it," Mapi whined as she watched you sit at the very front of the bus. This was the third week in a row that you hadn't been sitting back with everyone else. Normally, Mapi could rope you into having a bit of fun with her and causing chaos, but not lately. If it wasn't for Ingrid keeping her back, Mapi would have marched right up and just sat with you.

"Give her time, she's hurting," Ingrid reminded Mapi. At this, Mapi scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "What?"

"If she's hurting, then we need to help her. Enough of this staying back bullshit! I'm going up there." Ingrid could only watch as Mapi stomped her way up the bus aisle to where you were sitting. She flopped right into the spot next to you and offered a small smile when you finally looked over. "It's boring without you back there."

"I like sitting here, it's quiet," you mumbled. This was the first time that Mapi felt like she had been able to get close to you in weeks. You looked unwell, and she felt guilty for listening to Alexia. "Wait a minute, didn't you used to say that I was boring?"

"That's different, at least when you're back there, I can pick on you a little. Alexia doesn't give good banter, she just ignores me and then gets mean," Mapi sighed. You rolled your eyes at how dramatic she was being, but you loved it. You shoved at Mapi's shoulder, knowing that she'd crash back into you a couple seconds later.

Alexia walked past the two of you, and had contemplated scolding Mapi for bothering you when she heard you laugh. It was the first time in a long time that Alexia had heard that. She glanced around the bus, and it seemed like everyone else had noticed as well. The front of the bus was vacated, allowing just you and Mapi to goof off until the bus arrived.

After that day, it looked like you were getting better. Alexia had even been fooled by the show you were putting on for a while. But then you slipped up. The sad glanced into the crowd where your father used to sit weren't missed by the older woman, who had done that quite a bit too her first season. Although, she hadn't ever gotten to see her father watch her play at the level both of you were at now.

"Hola Pequena." Alexia dropped down and pressed a kiss to your cheek. It was an away game that your mother had skipped out on for one of your younger siblings. Normally, they didn't come to games that were too far away, not that you minded. It had always been this way, and where your family wasn't, Alexia's was. You had become like Alexia's little sister, often used as a weapon by both Alexia and Alba aimed at the other.

"How are you more sweaty than I am? I played longer than you," you grumbled as you wiped your cheek. At this, she wrapped you up in a big hug, which you fought and scrambled to get away from. "Gross!"

"Come over here, I want to talk to you," Alexia said as she started to drag you away. Alba and Eli both seemed to know what this was about because neither of them tried to help you. In fact, nobody on your team did, they all just turned away from the two of you. "I know it's been a few months, but I wanted to check on you again. You said you were fine before, but I think we both know that's not true."

"I'm fine, I am," you insisted. Alexia scoffed at that, completely seeing through you. "Why doesn't anybody believe me? I'm fine, I'm fine, I am fine!"

"How many times are you going to look me in the eye and lie to me?" Alexia's question made your blood run cold. You hated how easily she saw through you. All you wanted was to be fine, and you had been trying so hard to trick yourself into thinking that you were. Without another word, you broke down and threw yourself into Alexia's arms as you sobbed.

She held you while you got everything out, or at least until you exhausted yourself. Most of the girls were already on the bus when the two of you got back to it, so you found yourself with the empty seat next to Alexia. You clung to her, but nobody said anything. Maybe they could also see that you had begun to make some honest progress with your grief, that you realized support systems were meant to help you, not that they were just crutches. Everybody needed support sometimes, and there was no shame in admitting it.

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (16/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece •female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, sex content, dirty talk, smut, the angst, murder, character death, miscarriage and the trauma associated with it, panic attack, mafia stuff, brutal violence, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn’t let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father’s mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra’s husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin’s brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She was pregnant.

Although, according to all moral and social norms, she should have been crying in despair, she was happy: touching her belly with her hand, she felt nothing but love for this little being that was slowly growing inside her.

The fruit of their warm, deep, sincere affection.

The knowledge that she was not alone helped her when it was time for her to meet the staff for whom she was to be responsible from now on. Aemond insisted on being with her, fearing for some reason for her and the baby, she, however, knew that this was something she had to do alone.

Their stares when she walked into the VIP room in which she had ordered the meeting told her everything – grown men and women who looked as if they had seen far too much in their lives watched her in disbelief.

She knew they thought with disapproval that she was just a little girl, a whore who had been given this place as a gift by their boss that she wouldn't know what to do with, pestering them with her stupid bullshit.

She sat down in one of the empty armchairs, a few people lit cigarettes and grunted, other than that, complete silence all around her.

"I know what you're thinking and you're right. The fact that I have taken over these premises is a form of security for me. In true, not only for me, but also for you. Aemond will stop the flow of drugs through these and two other places that used to belong to my father. I have no intention of changing managers or leadership, quite the contrary – I want to talk to you about what you need. I want this to be a clean, legitimate business that is profitable. No drastic changes." She said, looking at them expectantly, feeling her heart pounding like crazy.

A few people twisted in their seats, others looked at each other.

Silence.

Obviously they didn't trust her.

"Think whatever you want about me. It doesn't matter. Know, however, that my stepfather no longer threatens you, and Aemond will still protect this place. All I ask for is loyalty. If there is a problem with something, come to me with it, not to my uncle, or he will be furious. Now get back to work, I want to stay with the manager." She said calmly.

All but one man who could easily be her father got up from their seats and walked out, leaving them alone.

"This is not a toy you can just pick up and have." He said finally, firing up the lighter, leaning over the flame with his cigarette.

"I don't see it as a toy. We can all gain something if we accept each other. Would you rather keep wallowing in this shit and selling ecstasy to young kids? Don't you have children of your own?" She asked coolly, and the man snorted under his breath, the corner of his mouth twitching in a smirk.

"I do. Three. Two sons and a daughter. Each of them works here. The sons as security guards and the daughter behind the bar." He said dryly and she swallowed hard, feeling the cold sweat on her back.

Fuck.

Had she just insulted him?

"You let your own kids do drugs? Do you want them to be arrested with you if the police come by here, as part of family integration?" She asked, and he sighed heavily, taking a loud drag on his cigarette.

"I didn't say that." He replied, letting the smoke out through his mouth.

"And I don't want that either. Help me protect you." She insisted, and he looked at her finally, as if he had made up his mind.

"You're just like your father."

She exhaled loudly, in an involuntary reflex she'd been holding back for the last few hours touching her lower abdomen as soon as the car door closed behind her.

"And how was it? Everything okay?" Her uncle asked, immediately grasping her hand in his, looking at her expectantly, tense.

"They are difficult people. Difficult, but tired. They don't want problems. They get used to it." She said quietly, exhausted and sleepy.

She looked at him, a worry in his eyes but also a tenderness from which she felt warm in her heart.

"Take me home."

The road to the sea was getting terribly long, perhaps because once in a while she felt an unpleasant twinge in her stomach, indicative of what was about to happen.

"– no – no, stop the car, stop the car –" She muttered, and he immediately pulled over to the side of the road – she only managed to open the door before she vomited on the grass, panting heavily.

"– oh, baby – why don't you lie down in the back seat? – you'll be more comfortable –" She heard his voice, his broad hand stroking her back.

Ever since they'd found out they were going to be parents he'd been so tender, so good, so sweet.

Exactly like he had been back then.

"– okay –" She mumbled and swallowed hard, wiping her mouth with her handkerchief. She unbuckled her seatbelt, climbed out and opened the door in the back, laying down on both passenger seats, closing her eyes.

"– sleep, little one – I'll drive slowly – we're not in any hurry –" He said, looking at her in the rear view mirror, and she nodded.

She flinched when she felt the car finally stop – she heard someone open the door, the fresh air and his familiar hands enveloped her, lifting her up, and she clung to him like a small child. He carried her into the house, to a room that belonged to him, where they had set up their makeshift bedroom for the time of renovation.

She felt him lay her gently on the bed, taking his place beside her a moment later, embracing her from behind.

"– you're tiring your mummy terribly –" He whispered, stroking her belly with lazy, calm motions of his hand. "– you need to let her rest –"

She smiled, allowing herself to fall asleep again, this time in his embrace. Her uncle often addressed their child as if the baby could already understand him – he was making a connection this way, realising that he was really going to become a father.

He was involved in everything about preparing for the arrival of their child into the world – they decided to dedicate the room she slept in that summer holiday to their future offspring and repainted it together, sticking cute glow-in-the-dark stickers on the walls in the shape of various planets and stars.

With some things, they had to wait because they didn't know if the baby was going to be a boy or a girl.

"It cost me a lot of money, but I made it. I have written permission from the Archbishop. Rhaenys, we can marry." He said to her one morning, holding a piece of paper in front of him that was to change their lives.

A dispensation for a church wedding.

"We need witnesses." She muttered, gripping his hand in hers. Her uncle nodded, as if he knew she'd said it.

"I know, Helaena agreed. I didn't want to decide about another person for you." He said, and she smiled, feeling grateful.

He became more open, more affectionate, always thinking of her and her needs too.

She knew who she wanted by her side.

"I know I'm asking a lot and that I'm not entitled to it. I know your father will be furious if you say yes, but… you have always been close to my heart. You didn't judge me. I wish I had you with me on this day." She mouthed in a breaking voice, standing alone in the bathroom with her phone pressed to her ear, wiping her face wet with tears.

She heard Baela swallow hard, shocked by her words.

For a long moment, they were both silent.

"– I – God – I've always felt you were in pain – only now I know why and I'm sorry you've been alone with this for so long – I don't want you to not have your bridesmaid on your wedding day – just tell me when and where –" She muttered and she burst out into a quiet sob, feeling relieved.

"– forgive me – forgive me for being such a disgusting person –" She choked out, whooping, feeling that she had finally described herself truly.

She had fucked her own uncle and was going to have a baby with him.

She was sick.

Baela drew in a loud breath.

"– stop – if he was your own birth brother, it would be much, much worse – on the positive side, he's actually only half your uncle –" She said, and for some reason she burst out laughing.

God.

"– right – it's a good thing I didn't choose Jace –" She mumbled, and Baela snorted.

"– exactly – let's stick to that –" She said.

"– it would be funny if the police burst into the church and arrested us –" She sneered, fiddling with the soft towel hanging on the rack, imagining commandos with guns ordering them to fall to the ground.

"– for what? – for drug dealing or for incest? –" Baela scoffed, and she giggled under her breath.

"– for everything – the list of crimes is long –" She said with a smile, for some reason feeling lighter.

It was the first time she had ever talked to someone about it completely honestly.

She shuddered when she heard a loud knock on the door.

"Rhaenys? Are you all right?" She heard his concerned voice.

Ever since he had found her in the bath then, he had been afraid if she stayed in the bathroom too long.

"Yes. I'm talking to Baela. She agreed." She called out to him.

"That's great." He said with sincere relief, as if he was afraid she would suffer another disappointment and rejection from her family.

They hadn't planned to invite any guests to the event, have a dinner together or anything of the sort – they knew that most of their family felt there was nothing to celebrate, and for them, as it wasn't a state wedding, it only had symbolic significance.

Helaena helped her choose the right dress – she wanted to look special that day, because even though their nuptials were going to be bittersweet, she was, in the eyes of God, going to be his wife.

"– oh – look – this one is lovely –" Helaena hummed, taking from the rack a long, white gown with a cut-out back and lace at the neckline and the ends of the delicate, long sleeves.

"– you're right – it would match the flowers in my hair –" She said, in her perfect image of herself that day wishing she had daisies woven into her curls.

Helaena dropped her off in the car at a shop near their house and they said their goodbyes – she needed nothing so much as a walk and some fresh air, however, she wanted to cook them dinner too, knowing that her fiancé would be back late.

Since he had started telling her about his affairs, what he needed to do and where he needed to go, she felt calmer and his absence no longer frightened her so much.

Besides, he wasn't leaving her alone anymore, she thought, touching her stomach happily, looking curiously at the shelves full of different kinds of pasta, searching for the perfect one for spaghetti.

She shuddered, having the feeling that someone had rubbed against her by accident, but then she felt that person holding something against her back.

"Be quiet and leave the shop slowly." She heard a cold, unfamiliar voice behind her and froze, feeling her heart leap up into her throat, a cold sweat on her back.

She looked to the side, wondering if she should scream, if anyone would help her, not knowing if this man held a gun or a knife against her body.

"Don't try anything or I'll butcher you like a pig." He said, as if he was reading her mind, and she swallowed hard, feeling burning tears of terror under her eyelids, her body involuntarily began to tremble.

She simply moved towards the exit, and the man she was afraid to look at put his arm around her like he was her boyfriend, clamping his hand firmly on her waist to make sure she didn't try to escape.

As soon as they left she sprang up to throw herself into a run, but the man grabbed her waist and clamped his hand over her mouth – she bit him with a loud squeal, but he only hissed, not letting her go, hiding behind the wall of the shop, two other men got out of the car.

One of them, a blond man with a beard and blue eyes had a scars on his left cheek.

"– come on, what the fuck are you waiting for – faster –" Tyland Lannister growled, and the man who was clearly his bodyguard forced her to bow her head and forcibly shoved her into the back seat, closing the door behind her.

She burst out crying, curling up as Tyland sat down next to her and the two men took their seats in front, driving away with a squeal of tyres.

"– shut the fuck up – be a good girl and no harm will come to you – I need to clear up a few things with your uncle –" He said lightly – only when she looked at him did she notice that he held in his hand a gun pointed towards her.

She pressed her body against the car door, looking at him with big eyes and shook her head.

"– please – please let me out, I'm pregnant – I –" She mumbled out and squealed, leaning forward, feeling a sudden, penetrating pain in her lower abdomen, and then another and another.

She began to pant loudly in terror, and wailed as Tyland slapped the back of her head with an open palm.

"– stop pretending – I told you to fucking calm down, I won't do anything to you – I won't –" He muttered and fell silent, looking with her at the drop of blood that ran down her thigh from under her dress.

She covered her mouth with her hands and screamed loudly, falling into sheer hysteria, the man in front cursed, telling her to shut up, and Tyland just stared at her, his mouth wide open.

"– stop –" He muttered. "– fuck, God, stop, stop, stop –"

"– here? – boss, we're in the middle of a country road –"

"– STOP, I SAID –"

The car stopped at the side of the road with a screech of tyres in a way that made her hit her head on the seat in front of her – Tyland opened the door, grabbed her ankle and dragged her out of the car like an animal, leaving her on the grass, then got back inside.

The car drove off.

She just breathed, whooping with tears, looking at the grass around her and the tree trunks, feeling a horrible warm stickiness between her thighs, twitching all over, not having the strength or the will to get up.

After a while some other car stopped beside her, the people inside screamed in terror and got out, a woman who could have been her mother ran up to her and covered her mouth with her hand.

"Good God, I think they raped her."

No, she thought.

They took something much more precious from me.

She heard his loud, frightened breath as she lay in the hospital bed, the policemen standing beside her grunted at the sight of him.

"Are you her family?" Asked one of them.

"Y-yes, I'm her uncle. Good God, what happened?" He mumbled in a breaking voice.

"Your niece was found by a woman on a country road, thrown out of some car. She immediately informed us, suspecting that a rape had taken place, however, the cause of the bleeding was a sudden stress-induced miscarriage. The victim does not speak and does not want to say who did this to her. Could you please…"

The man did not finish as she heard him burst into a loud, mournful sob, felt the touch of his hands on her body, his face pressed into her hair, his broken, heavy breath.

Her eyebrows arched in pain, a single, lonely tear ran down her face.

Daemon had warned her.

The hours, the voices, the smells merged into one for her – she heard her uncle's voice, her mother's voice, she smelled their scent and touch, she heard their weeping and despair, but she herself felt like she was dreaming awake, feeling and experiencing nothing.

She felt herself awake when she heard another familiar voice.

"Did she say something?"

"No. She's silent. There's no contact with her. She's in shock." Her mother muttered, and Daemon embraced her, looking her straight in the eyes.

She felt something – she felt her heart hit harder in her chest, her eyebrows arched in misery, her breath caught in her throat.

"– baby – baby, please, say something to me –" She heard her uncle's whisper and only after a moment did she realise that he had been lying next to her on the bed all this time, that he had been stroking her head, that he had been looking at her, that he had been crying like a little baby.

"– get out for a while – leave us alone –" Daemon said – her uncle opened his mouth, furious, but she spoke up before he could say anything.

"– I want to talk to my dad –"

Everyone around her fell silent – Rhaenyra walked over to her brother and took his hand, explaining to him in a whisper that they would be back soon, that she was no longer in danger, that everything would be all right.

She felt herself quivering all over when Daemon took the chair and sat down beside her bed exactly as he had done then, after she had tried to take her own life.

She looked at him, into his bright, piercing eyes, and thought that this was what he was trying to protect her from.

"I wanted this child, dad. Very, very much." She muttered and closed her eyes, feeling the blissful emptiness she had surrounded herself with begin to crack, the pain that pierced her body, her heart so strong that she sobbed.

"I know." He replied.

"Is the baby…is the baby still inside me?" She choked out with difficulty, whooping with her own tears, feeling like she couldn't catch her breath.

"No. I'm very sorry, but no. It was too early, the baby was not yet formed. Nothing could be done." He said and she clamped her hands on her lower abdomen, thinking she felt like ripping out her uterus and other entrails because they were useless.

She was full and suddenly empty again.

She felt her father's hand on her arm, his fingers strong, his embrace giving her a sense of security.

"I have abandoned you. I chose my own pride. I knew he would want to take revenge on him. If I had given you my protection, it would never have happened. Forgive me." He said, and she closed her eyes, thinking that she wanted to become nothingness and disappear.

Despite Daemon continuing to speak to her, she fell into a state of half-sleep again, unable to think about it – her mind was repressing everything that had happened and waiting, although she didn't know what for.

What was she actually waiting for?

For her baby, she thought.

Little girl or little boy will be born in a few months.

No, she realised.

Not any more.

Tears ran down her face, but no sound came out of her mouth.

She saw him – her uncle stood in the doorway of her hospital room drenched in tears, trembling like a small child, just like she had been when she came into his room then, terrified of the darkness.

Darkness surrounded him, and he was frightened.

She didn't want him to be afraid.

He cried out loudly when she reached out her hand to him – she realised it was already dark around him when his body snuggled against hers, when he embraced her and kissed her cheek, when his face snuggled into her skin.

They lay, just breathing, holding hands – there was something comforting about that – in his silence. The fact that he knew there were no words of comfort, of justification, of absolution for them.

What did exist, however, were their bodies, warm and familiar, clinging to each other to find shelter.

She fell asleep, wrapped in his scent.

"I know you think this is my fault. That you will never forgive me." She heard his voice as if from a distance – she blinked, surprised to see that it was already daylight all around her, that her uncle was sitting beside her in a chair, looking at his hands.

Days flew by between her fingers.

How long had it been since that incident?

Since when had she been empty?

She pressed her lips together, feeling nothing but rage.

"I want Tyland Lannister." She hissed in a cold, shaking voice, and he looked at her in shock.

They stared at each other for a moment – his lower lip twitched when he suddenly realised what had happened, something in his gaze that had always frightened her, but now pleased her.

Aemond

Emptiness.

It seemed to him that he had simply gone through all the phases of grief – from despair, through denial, to a state of complete indifference.

His child, whom he had so desperately wanted, was no longer there.

He thought it would help to give the baby a funeral, even though they had nothing to bury – that's why they put the glowing stickers they had stuck on the walls of the room that was to belong to their child in a small box and buried it under a tree in the garden of their house.

She wanted the thing that would remind her of their loss to be close by, so that she could look at it every morning from her window.

It was an ordeal they lived through together, and although they suffered, they found relief in each other's arms.

She let him take her for the first time two weeks after it happened.

Lying in front of him in his embrace, she took his hand in hers and slowly guided it down under the material of her panties – she surprised him with this, because he was convinced that the vision of him touching her like this would be something disgusting to her – she, however, was wet.

He couldn't hide how much he missed her, and after a moment they were both naked from the waist down, fucking each other like animals with loud smacks of their hips, wanting nothing more than to feel fulfilled and relieved – the release he felt when he finally came inside her was like a revelation, her body hot and sweaty in his embrace, her little cunt pulsing on his erection, sucking his seed.

I'll give you another baby, he thought tenderly, kissing her long neck, not saying it out loud though, not wanting her to think he had already reconciled himself to their loss.

I will give you another baby, and then another and another.

We will be a big, happy family.

If he could say that anything good had come out of this awfully sad situation, it was that their families had begun to talk to each other again – Otto and Daemon couldn't forgive the murder of their grandchild, and Alicent, Rhaenyra, Jace and Baela had watched over his niece in his absence, looking after her.

Even Aegon asked him for a meeting, which was strange and downright comical. His brother put a hand on his shoulder and looked at him in a way from which he felt a squeeze in his throat.

"We're going to catch that son of a bitch."

The only person who was afraid to meet them was Helaena, blaming herself for what had happened despite the fact that neither he nor his Rhaenys resented her.

"She said she wanted to go shopping. Your house and the beach was across the street. I-I had the security guards go and take her dress to your house. She wanted to take a walk, she insisted. I…"

"Stop. You are not the one who did this to her. No one is blaming you." He said calmly, staring dully ahead, sitting in his car, feeling that his heart, his skin, his body, his breath were cold.

I want Tyland Lannister.

He licked his lower lip when he spotted his silhouette in the distance, coming out of one of the clubs surrounded by a few of his thugs, surely for protection.

Jason helped his brother move to another city, hoping they would never find him.

But he was wrong.

"I have to go." He said and hung up, starting the engine, dialing another number.

He never thought that he'd talk to him of his own free will.

And yet.

"He just left."

He followed him for a few streets, driving a few cars behind him, feeling strangely calm and patient – he had the impression that there were no more tears he could cry or screams he could shout.

His persona had come full circle, becoming again exactly who he had been before she had called him that evening for the first time in eight years.

He smiled, seeing that they had realised that someone was following them, trying to change direction suddenly – as he had predicted, they had fallen straight into their trap, and hundreds of loud gunshots rang out around the corner.

He pulled over to the side of the road and stepped out of the car, watching as Daemon's men slaughtered Tyland's men one by one, surprised by the manhunt from both sides, unprepared for such a sudden, merciless attack.

"– please –" Tyland mumbled, crawling on the ground at Daemon's feet – his sister's husband held a baseball bat in his hand, all dirty from his blood.

He thought with amusement that Lannister's face looked like a squashed tomato.

Together with Daemon, he dragged him, moaning and crying, to the boot of his car, locking him in there, and together they set off without exchanging a word.

By the time they reached the house by the sea there was only an hour left until dawn – Tyland had passed out in the boot from a lack of oxygen, and a strong kick to the liver revived him, making him draw in air loudly and cough, spitting up blood.

"– no – no, no, no, no, please, no –" He whined as they began dragging him along the ground towards the door, leaving a trail of his blood on the ground behind them.

When they walked into the house they threw him to his knees in front of her – his Rhaenys looked at his hunched, pathetic figure sitting in front of him on the couch in a white dress he was seeing for the first time, a knife in her hand.

Was this supposed to be her wedding gown?

I have taken away your purity and innocence, he thought with pain, looking at her with adoration.

Kora was no longer there.

Only Persephone was left.

His Queen of the Hades.

He longed to lie down at her feet and simply abide.

"– I lost someting because of you –" She said and raised herself up, touching her lower abdomen. "– my baby didn't even manage to take their first breath –"

He closed his eyes, feeling the squeeze in his throat, the pain he felt in his heart unbearable.

"– I didn't know – I didn't know, I'm sorry, I didn't know –" Tyland mumbled, because of how swollen his face was his words were indistinct and difficult to understand.

Standing over him, in her white dress, with a knife in her hand and with her beautiful hair loose, she looked like a ghost.

Like Death.

"– you threw me out of the car like an animal – you left me to die and drove away –" She whispered, tears one after another rolling down her beautiful, tired, pale face.

She had waited so long for this.

For relief.

For justice.

But no more.

"– please – please –" He begged, and she took a step towards him and knelt before him, looking straight into his eyes.

"– let me, Rhaenys –" He muttered, not wanting her to burden herself with this, to dream nightmares like him, to suffer like him because of what she had done.

"– no – I want to feel the life drain out of him – as it did out of me, then –" She said, and the knife she held in her hand stabbed into his side like butter.

Tyland wailed, grabbing the hilt, but Daemon held him down, preventing him from moving – he saw her slide the blade out, a huge bloodstain spilling down his shirt, dripping down his leg straight onto the foil-lined floor.

"That's enough. I'll take care of the rest. Take a bath and burn everything." Daemon instructed, laying Tyland's barely alive body on the ground, his breathing shallow until his eyes went blank.

His soul had left his body.

"Come." He said to her, taking the knife from her palm, placing it on the floor. He nodded at Daemon and grabbed her hand, leading her upstairs to the bathroom where the bathtub was.

Her entire dress and hands were in blood.

"Come here, little one. Come, let's wash it all off. It's okay, honey." He whispered, hugging her close, sinking his hands into her soft, smooth curls, and she reciprocated the embrace, sighing, closing her eyes as if relieved.

"Thank you."

Again she lay in the bath red with blood, again she was pale, however this time he felt that the life was not escaping from her, but returning to her – with each passing minute her cheeks flushed, her eyes wide as if her mind had returned to reality.

"Is he dead?" She muttered, and he swallowed hard, washing away with his hands any trace of what they had done from her beautiful, innocent body.

"He's no longer here. He's disappeared. He was just a monster from the wardrobe, nothing more, my love." He said quietly and she sighed, her hand touching his face.

"Do you still love me?" She asked in a trembling voice, and he looked at her, shocked.

"You are the love of my life. You need to rest. You are very tired. You haven't slept well in a long time. You're daydreaming." He replied, taking an unruly strand of hair from her face, her gaze warm and tender, meant only for him.

"Are you not disgusted with me? I've done something monstrous. I think I killed someone." She whispered, her eyes full of tears.

"– shhh –" He hushed her, pressing his forehead against hers, stroking her hair as if she were a small child. "– I forbid you to say such things – it will be our secret – mine, yours and your dad's – only we will know about it –"

"– about the monster from the wardrobe? –" She mumbled, and he nodded.

"– yes –"

Rhaenys

"– I'm scared, mummy – can I have my little lamp lit today too? –" Aemma muttered, but before she could answer her anything, she heard a voice from the bed above them, belonging to Visenya.

"– no, I can't sleep then –" Her older sister hissed, looking down at them, the bright curls she had inherited from her father in disarray.

"– I'm afraid of the monster from the television – the one from the horror movie that Aegon was watching –" Her daugther said in a breaking voice, and she furrowed her brow, shaking her head.

"– I told you this is not a film for small children –" She said sternly, and Aemma lowered her gaze on the verge of crying.

Vinseya groaned in frustration and climbed down the ladder, lying down under the duvet next to her little sister.

"– move along, coward – I'll kill any monster that disturbs my sleep –" Her daughter muttered, and she smiled and stood up, turning off the lamp.

"– good night –" She hummed and left, closing the door behind her.

She sighed, seeing the light on in his office, and moved lazily in that direction, finding him bent over documents. He glanced at her, then at the silhouette of her naked body hidden only beneath a soft silk bathrobe, and licked his lower lip with his tongue.

"– I'll come soon – give me a moment longer –"

"– talk to Aegon tomorrow – he mustn't let Aemma watch horror movies with himself because she is afraid afterwards – she's too little –" She said.

He shook his head, signing a few things.

"– I'll try, but you know him – he'll find a thousand excuses and explanations –" He grunted, and she laughed under her breath.

"– he resembles your brother –" She said amused, leaning her hip against the doorframe, and he snorted under his breath, the corner of his mouth lifted upwards.

"– indeed –" He said and looked up at her, his gaze again escaping down to her breasts and then even lower.

"Come here. Sit on the desk." He said, leaning back in his chair, and she obeyed his command with a smile, walking closer with a lazy step.

He stood up as soon as her buttocks touched the tabletop, spreading her thighs apart, making her have to reach back with her hand to catch her balance.

"– ah –" She gasped as his fingertips sank into her fleshy, warm womanhood, collecting her sticky wetness.

"– since when are you in this state? – hm? –" He hummed, pushing her closer to him with an impatient tug of his hand on her ass, the other digging warningly into her delicate skin, trailing it around her swollen clit.

"– since this morning – since I saw you come out wet and naked from the bathroom in our bedroom – I've needed you, and you haven't touched me –" She mewled regretfully, feeling her walls clench greedily around nothing, craving him inside her.

What he heard was enough for all his foreplay, and with her help he quickly undid the belt of his trousers, his breath heavy and hitched.

"– after all, I fucked you last night – I had to drive Aegon and Visenya to training – you could have joined me in the shower –" He exhaled, impatiently releasing his long, hard erection from his boxers.

She sighed and tilted her head back as, without even waiting for her response, he directed the head of his cock against her slit, opening her wide on his fat length, filling her with himself with one, lazy thrust.

"– uncle – o-oh, fuck, uncle, yes, yes, yes –" She cried out, resting her hands behind her back, letting the material of her bathrobe slide off her shoulders, revealing her breasts full of milk, bouncing each time his hips pounded against her buttocks.

"– God, be quiet – shhh, be good or I won't let you come – is that what you want? –" He breathed out and she bit her bottom lip with her teeth, looking up at him pleadingly, something in her gaze from which he began to slam into her like mad, himself struggling to restrain himself not to moan.

"– that's what I thought – you come to me – ah – begging with those big eyes for my cock – and then you can't even fucking behave –" He growled and sighed, feeling her struggling to stifle a sob of pleasure when another thrust against that same sweet spot made her fall apart in front of him, panting heavily along with him, the next few loud, sticky slaps of their bodies were enough for him to cum with a sigh of relief.

They knew each other's bodies all too well by now and, with amusement, found more and more that they had trouble holding back from coming too early.

It was just too pleasant.

"– I'm pregnant –" She whispered, and he blinked and looked at her, as if he needed a moment to start thinking soberly after such intense fulfilment.

"– what? – but –" He exhaled.

"– I'm sure – I went to the doctor today –"

"– you lied to me –" He said with irritation in his voice.

"– Criston drove me there – I told you I would go shopping with him and we did after the appointment – no lies –" She said with a smile, touching her belly affectionately.

Her husband sighed, placing his hand on hers, the expression on his face calm and gentle again.

"– it's the sixth – what a big family indeed –" He hummed, and she laughed, nodding her head.

"– yes, my love – another child to drive to training –" She said amused, and he kissed her forehead with tenderness, from which a pleasant warmth spread over her heart.

"– don't sit here too long –" She sighed, jumping off his desk as soon as he slid out of her.

"– I won't –"

On her way to their bedroom, she walked into their youngest child's room and smiled, covering her little son more tightly with the duvet. Aemon's leg immediately pushed the bedclothes off him with his mutter of displeasure, so she gave up and left him alone.

She froze, spotting a silhouette in the corner of the room, thinking it was a man, with bright eyes, blonde hair and a beard, but was relieved when, after a moment, she noticed that it was the only shadow cast by the wardrobe standing nearby.

When she walked into their bedroom, she immediately turned on the lamp by their bed and waited patiently for him to return.

She knew she wouldn't fall asleep anyway.

When she was alone in bed, she saw his face and her hands sticky with blood.

When she heard her uncle's footsteps, when his warm body finally lay down beside her and his lips placed a soft, sticky kiss on her neck, she turned off the light, his whisper next to her ear like the calm hum of the wind.

"– now I will let you moan as much as you wish –"

"– Aegon – don't let her swim out into the deep water – Daeron, Visenya keep an eye on her, after all you can see she can't swim well yet –" He shouted to their children the next day, lying in front of her on a towel on the beach, little Aemon, sitting next to them, was building a sandcastle, the hot sun burning their skin.

"– okay, Dad! –" She heard Daeron voice behind her, lying on her stomach in her black one-piece bathing suit with her back cut out, reading a book, her husband's doctoral thesis on an excavation he had run with her in one of the cities the year before.

"– what do you think? – it's the last time for corrections – I've read it hundreds of times and it already makes me want to vomit when I look at it –" He said disapprovingly, turning his gaze towards the sea again.

"– it's the best doctoral thesis I've ever read – really –" She said softly, turning the page, amazed at how effortlessly her husband wrote.

"– look, mummy – it's a fortress, and here's the moat – and there's a dragon on top –" Mumbled Aemon, forcing the Mighty Vhagar figurine that had once belonged to his father onto the top of the tower.

"– beautiful, darling – it looks like the real thing –" She said with warm approval, and Aemon smiled broadly, satisfied, busying himself with creating a bridge over the moat from sticks.

"– Aemma, don't swim so far away – how many times do I have to tell you? –" Her uncle called out, raising himself angrily on his elbow, and she sighed heavily, throwing him a look full of pity.

"– she has swimming sleeves that are full of air that will float her even if she stops moving her arms and legs – she won't drown –" She said, and her husband sighed heavily, looking anxiously towards their children playing in the water.

"– I prefer to be sure –" He muttered.

She looked at him tenderly for a moment, feeling nothing but warmth in her heart.

He was such a good father.

Such a good husband.

She knew that one day they would have to explain to their children why they only had a church wedding and were not married before the state.

But not yet.

"So let's make sure. We should swim with them." She said, extending her hand to him, and he looked at her, apparently recalling their conversation in his car then, many years ago, when he had described his fantasy to her.

He licked his lips with his tongue and grinned in a way she loved.

"Come."

______

Author's note: The child that Rhaenys lost was Viserys: I decided that this story, because it is so dark, could not end differently, and the decisions of the characters had to lead to tragedy sooner or later. Something dies in Rhaenys, but thanks to this she can finally fully join her husband in their Hades, crossing the border of innocence and naivety, maturing in a kind of cruel way. However, the rest of their children, who appeared in the original series, are born. After losing Viserys (in this version they did not know that it would be a boy), they decided that they wanted to have as many children as God would give them, since he took one away from them (in their eyes one too many). Visenya and Aegon will definitely become mafia bosses in the future, just like their father, lol. Their children have the same characters and looks like in the original series, which you can see here.

[pedgito]

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐘 — one: beginnings | Joel Miller x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

chapter summary | You're dead weight, a burden on Joel's shoulders after the death of his daughter and the collapse of the world. But, if there's one person to challenge him, it was you.

author's note | this spurred from jo (@undercoverpena) and i, a conversation over kinks and wanting to explore them in separate chapters but somehow create a cohesive story and here we are. she spun for me and gave me a collection of beautiful kinks to try out. this is going to be BIG one for me, so if you plan on staying along for this ride, i love you so much.

chapter warnings | 18+, early outbreak, age gap (early 20s, mid 30s), canon character de*th, canon typical violence, m*rder tw, morally grey!joel with trust issues, tommy is buffer, use of weapons, weapon training, unjust decision making, reader is such a nuisance to joel, sex as a distraction, joel is so emotionally stunted he can't help it, awkward aftercare

word count —6k

SERIES MASTERLIST, PLAYLIST, AO3

You’ve never seen so much blood.

His shirt was soaked to his neck, expression blank and void as Tommy rounded the truck to open the door—it wasn’t the same one you’ve seen pull into their driveway for years now. It was new, unfamiliar. Joel’s weighed down, his arms straining as he heaves whatever he’s holding up in his arms, finally coming from around the door and into view. Her curls fell first, body limp in Joel’s arm as he held her close–it was Sarah. Little Sarah who you would babysit in high school for extra cash when the Miller brothers had to work a few extra jobs to pay the bills, little Sarah who always had the biggest smile on her face. Not so little anymore, years gone and passed as you graduated and went off to work some dead-end job to stay afloat in hopes that you could attempt to pay a college tuition.

But, that all seemed futile now. 

It was late September when the world ended—Joel’s birthday, you’d know that from the fact Sarah had mentioned it to you that morning as she checked the mail that Joel had forgotten from the day before. A normal day for you, for everyone else. But, for Sarah and many others, it was their last.

The neighborhood was quiet now, the hoard of freshly turned infected heading for the inner city and toward the noise, like one singular hivemind following a predetermined path. 

And your parents—they weren’t even here. They had left for vacation a week prior, spending the next two weeks out of the country, celebrating their anniversary far away from responsibility and the barrage of news from all over the world. But, they would come back to nothing. You couldn’t stay, you couldn’t wait around—it would get you killed; starvation, lack of resources, it would only get you so far. 

The infection was worldwide, incurable—it was the last thing you heard before the satellite on your television cut out, snuffing out any last bit of hope you had left.

In the midst of Joel’s mindless walk to the front door of his home, Tommy glances over his shoulder to survey, likely for more infected. But, he spots you.

His eyes squint slightly, like he’s seeing a vision of you. They widen as he realizes you’re real, you here—you were shaking, arms crossed over your chest and your fingers digging into your biceps as you hid by the shadow of your door.

Tommy knows that look, your eyes go wide but soften as he approaches. 

You can’t say you’ve held a conversation longer than five minutes with either of them, even after living next to them most of your life, but his hands are held up as he approaches and carefully, almost as if you were going to scurry away like a feral cat.

“You alright, honey?” His voice is quiet, a hushed whisper as he comes closer and stops a few inches, peering inside of your house and finding it empty, “Are they—did they—”

He looks over at you wearily and your fingers dig into your skin, peering over his shoulder and staring at the open door, Joel no longer in sight, “They left on a trip and I—I don’t,” You sigh through your nose, closing your eyes to blink away the stinging tears, “They’re dead either way, aren’t they?”

He doesn’t answer, but his hand reaches around to rub at your back and you fall into him easily.

“Sarah–” Tommy tenses up, pulling away slowly to look at you as you peer up at him, noticing the near permanent frown on your face, your expression unchanging as you attempt to process and fail—it wasn’t fair, none of it made sense, “is she dead?”

The sound of something fragile falling and breaking in Joel’s house startles you both, sending you both apart and rushing toward the house without thinking. The idea of being alone now was more fearful than anything else—no survival instinct, no plan or method to stay alive. You’d be dead by next nightfall if you stuck around though, that much you knew.

The sight sends your heart into your stomach. Joel was hunched over Sarah’s lifeless body, his arms sticky with blood—some of it dried and some of it not. There were a few broken picture frames on the floor at Sarah’s feet and you felt your breath catching in your throat, watching as Joel brushed her hair from her face and cried, silently.

“Joel,” Tommy begins, slow and careful, “we’ve gotta figure out a plan.”

“We’re buryin’ her first,” Joel tells him, “not leavin’ her like this.”

Tommy nods in understanding, looking over at you briefly.

“Listen, Joel…”

“She ain’t our problem, Tommy.” He bites harshly, resting Sarah down gently as he rose from his knees, “Kid’s got her own family.”

“Joel,” Tommy stresses, motioning toward you subtly—Joel looks reluctantly and he can see the fear, practically smelling it on you—it’s the last thing he needs right now, “they’re gone—can’t leave her here.”

“We can.”

“We won’t.”

You take a few careful steps back, quiet and timid, away from the brothers.

“Jesus, Joel,” Tommy moves in, blocking his brother’s face from view as you lingered near the open front door, staring out toward the street as you couldn’t bare the sight of Sarah’s body laying a few feet to your right, “she used to babysit Sarah—helped you out in a pinch a hundred times. I understand this—”

“This is my daughter—”

“She’s my niece too, goddammit—don’t try and spin this, Joel.” Tommy rocks on his heels, hands hugging his hips as his shoulders stretch out, broad and wide, “We bury her, we get our shit and we go–I’m not losing you, too. I will drag your ass out of here if I have to.”

There’s a sliver of Joel’s face that comes into view as he peers over Tommy’s shoulder at you, eyes dragging over you carefully before he returns to Tommy, “She’s ain’t worth the trouble.”

He’s completely tossing aside the fact that you were an adult, young but still—you sigh shakily, “I can carry my own weight, you know?”

He’s stoic, a long stretch of silence as Tommy stares him down, lingering and waiting for Joel to come to his senses, but even when he does—it’s forced.

“Then start loading the truck,” Joel tells you, “anything—food, water—”

“Yeah, I got it.” You respond in a pinched tone, trying to stifle your own emotions.

Joel doesn’t argue further, picking up Sarah with a sudden gentleness that returns at the sight of his daughter while Tommy disappears to the attached garage and you linger for a brief moment as Joel admires her, knowing that this was all he had. Knowing that eventually even this memory would fade over time.

His guard softens as he looks at her and you find that was the right time to speak more candidly.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” You tell him, your voice quiet as you approach and he looks at you briefly, acknowledging with a nod as you move beyond him and toward the kitchen, “she’s a sweet kid.”

His voice breaks but barely wavers, a subtle sign of emotion that he was suppressing deep down.

“She was.”

His departure after that is quiet, meeting Tommy at the backdoor as he reentered from the garage with the shovels and blanket in hand, a sorrowful look on his face that furrowed his brow.

They both worked silently in the backyard while you loaded up what you could. Their house was mostly scarce, knowing Joel was probably creeping up on a shopping day that would never come. There’s a few canned goods you manage to scavenge along with a decently untouched pack of water bottles and while you couldn’t brave the other houses in fear that something else might be lingering, you gather what you can from your own. 

By the time you’re closing up the truck bed they’re both walking toward you, a gun tucked away in both of their waistbands and a rifle in Joel’s free hand—his arms were cleaner, albeit still dirty.

He’d changed, rid himself of the bloody clothes and brushed past you silently, his eyes dark and empty. 

Tommy stops at your feet, offering up a knife sheathed in a leather casing that you could attach to your jeans, “Ain’t got another gun, but it’s somethin’.”

You nod slightly and take it from his grip, “Thank you,” You tell him, turning to find Joel waiting with the door open, expecting that you would climb into the middle as there was nowhere for you to go, unless the truck bed seemed like the better option—it didn’t.

It was blind trust, putting your life in the hands of both brothers. 

But, you had no choice. All that mattered was living.

—

And for Joel, the cost didn’t matter.

It’s jarring, frightening. His emotions are like a light switch—when on, he’s calm and able to hold small talk, but even that was forced and uneasy. But, when your supply dwindles down after a week or so of driving and camping in the deep brush of forest, you find what the light switch is like when it’s off.

It was a stranger, a helpless guy alone and clearly on the verge of death. All of you were on edge, the dwindling September heat still lingered into October and you had blew through your last bottle of water the night before, sweat dampening your clothes as you sifted through the aisles of the convenience store that was bare bones and empty by now but you were hoping, praying—but then you hear it and to Joel, it was prey. 

He yanks your knife from where it’s secured at your waist, so quick you barely even feel the tug as he carefully steps around the corner toward the counter, finding an older gentleman with feeble hands and energy that was dying out by the second. He was starving, dehydrated. But, so were you. And so was Joel.

“Joel, don’t.” You speak from behind him, “There’s another store in town. It’s bigger.”

“Hand it over,” Joel demands, the knife tucked away in his right hand behind his back as he held out his left, beckoning with his fingers as the man stared on, bottom lip trembling in fear as he squeezed at the plastic bottle, “now.”

There’s a moment of hesitation where the man begins to speak, shaking his head, but Joel is on him before he gets the chance, shoving the knife through the center of his throat—quick, quiet, efficient. You sigh deeply, knowing it was already coming. Joel wipes the blood away on the now dead man’s pants and snatches up the water bottle before he’s shoving it into your chest and sliding the knife back into the holster.

“You killed him,” Joel looks at you torsely, eyes half-lidded as he waits for you to continue, “you—you didn’t have to kill him, Joel.”

“You’re welcome,” He answers with finality, “Tommy’s waiting’, let’s go.”

You glance at the dead body with a grimace, the weight of it pulling down as the man slumped to the floor and his blood pooled closer and closer toward you. You step back quickly and follow after Joel who’s already ringing the bells on the door above the entrance.

“That was quick—no trouble?” Tommy asks when you return to the truck, climbing over Joel’s lap as he refuses to move, digging your knee into his thigh out of annoyance.

He takes it in stride, though. Doesn’t even react.

“No,” You lie easily, “Last one, though.”

You’ve learned to not speak on it—Joel’s quick tendencies for anger and bruteness. Hell, most of the time you could just ignore it, like now. Arguing never worked, Joel didn’t care enough.

Besides, you were just a waste of resources. Joel said it so often that it echoed in the back of your mind every time he slashed, stabbed, or gutted someone for something you needed, or wanted.

It started in small glimpses, you or Tommy could say a word, make a noise, and Joel’s brow would pinch together and the scowl on his face would deepen. 

And Tommy was objectively selfless, which bothered Joel more than it should—but given how things were, it made sense. Good karma wasn’t going to do anything for your conscience in a world that was based on self-preservation. In Joel’s mind, it was kill or be killed. And he always killed first. He learned not to take chances, hold out on good faith. It didn’t exist anymore.

And he didn’t just attack on his own behalf—he’s done it for you on a few occasions. You’ve never killed an infected, Joel always got the first hit in. Your knife would be at the ready, shaky in your grip and he would look over at you with dismay, knowing that if you did manage to have a shot you would ultimately miss. So, instead of coaching, he yanks the knife from your grip and plunges it into the skull of the infected. 

He hides his tendencies from Tommy well for a while—you always sensed Joel’s underlying itch for conflict after Sarah’s ultimate death and the few weeks you spend together on the road. You didn’t stay anywhere longer than a couple days, different cities throughout Texas as you made your way upstate. Utah, Boston, Pittsburg. Anywhere but here.

The early mornings in the forest after an uncomfortable sleeping arrangement—no rain meant sleeping in the bed of the truck or setting up camp in the one tent you had to share. But, when it did, the three of you would be forced to hunker down inside the four feet of truck cabin with nowhere to angle yourself but one of the brothers. Joel almost always shrugged you away, so by default, Tommy was the one you always chose. He didn’t seem to mind, thankfully.

Regardless, early mornings usually meant that Tommy would take his time teaching you a few things while Joel slept heavy in the truck, the low rumble of his snore heard as you both paused and Tommy readjusted the position of the knife in your grip.

“If you’re gonna hold it the way you gotta keep the dull side close to your arm,” He tightens your fist around the handle, “that way you ain’t accidentally cutting yourself with your own blade.”

You nod, squeezing down on your grip until it feels comfortable and Tommy leads your hand back toward you before guiding it through and back towards him slowly, “Always aim for the head on infected—right to the brain, kills ‘em instantly.”

You already knew that, but the reiterating is a nice reminder. 

Everything had a weakness.

“People,” Tommy starts hesitantly, “I mean, they’re livin’ and breathin’—if you let them close enough anywhere is gonna hurt them, but try to aim for the neck or the face.”

The stark image of Joel forcing the knife through the center of the man’s throat is heavy on your mind and Tommy pats on your arm as you lower it, but your eyes focus on his waist.

“Can you teach me how to shoot?”

Tommy looks at you wearily—not because he doesn’t trust you, but there’s something there.

“What happens if one of you is in trouble?” You ask him, pressing on the issue. “And I’m the only one who can do anything? I don’t even know how to shoot a gun. I’m not asking for everything, just enough to know. Tommy, come on.”

Tommy sighs, scratching at his slightly grown-out facial hair. It wasn’t nearly as thick as Joel’s, but it was clear you had all been deprived of basic hygiene over the last several weeks.

“Alright,” He relents, but holds up a finger at you, “Just the basics, for now.”

“I mean, Joel’s planning to drop me off at the nearest QZ anyways,” You joke, shoving your knife into the casing at your waist as Tommy pulls the gun out of where it’s tucked into the back of his jeans, “might as well learn as much as I can before then.”

“He won’t,” Tommy assures you, “we’re not abandoning you like that.”

You didn’t agree, but you push the words back down and take the gun that Tommy is offering as he comes to your side, arms coming around your back and around you. He’s positioning your fingers alongside his own and speaking over your shoulder and neither of you hear the car door that opens over your shoulder.

Within seconds the gun is being yanked from your grip and into Joel’s, his fingers dangling through the loop of the trigger and his eyes locked on his brother, “You lost your damn mind?”

Tommy snatches the gun back from his brother, tucking it away into his waistband.

“She’s got just as much reason to learn,” Tommy argues, “—I don’t see you makin’ an effort to teach her anything.”

“It’s not my problem,” Joel says dismissively, “we’re better off just doing the work ourselves. Kid can’t even kill an infected, she’s not gonna save your ass in a gunfight, either.”

The frustration in you boils, simmering over the edge as you push through both of them and toward the truck, closing the door with a slam as their angered voices muffle into the cabin of the truck.

“She’s not our problem, Tommy,” Joel tells him, “the sooner you realize that the better.”

“That why you plan on droppin’ her off on the doorstep of the first QZ we stumble into?”

There’s a long beat of silence before Joel speaks, “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to,” Tommy answers, his voice laced with smugness that even you could hear, “she’s already got it set in her mind that you will and you know what—don’t blame her, either.”

Eventually, the argument settles. It’s abrupt and both of them sandwich next to you in silence as Tommy follows the path back to the road, his fingers drumming quietly against the steering wheel. But, you can feel the charge of Joel’s frustration as his fingers twist around each other. You tune it out eventually, the silence drowned out by the low hum of a cassette tape that was playing a song you had heard a thousand times by now.

You knew your own weakness was hope and it was dwindling every day.

-

By Denver, you’re all irritable. Eleven hours cramped in a truck on days of very little sleep and small scraps of meals you’ve made stretch for weeks. All the tension, arguing, and frustrations comes to a head when you stumble upon an abandoned cabin on the outskirts of town, close to the mountains and secluded. It was perfect. 

There was a large, brushy forest to hunt and it was right beside a stream. You knew it was better than nothing and that the three of you could make it work for a time—the only problem, it was already occupied.

“Stay in the truck,” Joel orders to you, cocking his gun in his lap before he’s stuffing it back into his jeans and nodding at Tommy to follow. You almost expect him to argue, but he doesn’t. He follows, like a dutiful little brother as they both stalk toward the cabin calmly.

It was one car, clearly hot-wired and stolen alongside its broken windows.

It was clear that whoever was in the cabin wasn’t the original owners either, spotting the pile of dead infected burned to a crisp beside a stack of logs that you assumed were to keep the fire burning inside the house, watching as the black smoke creeped out of the chimney.

The minutes that pass feel like an hour and you begin to wander if they both decided to keep going, abandon you and try their chances down the stretch of highway without you.

You scoot into the driver’s seat and open the door, stepping out carefully as they muddy ground causes you to slip until you regain traction and as you close the door you hear it—a loud crash, a scuffle, and then Tommy’s voice alongside Joel’s.

You run in without thinking, crashing through the slightly open door to find them both with their arms around the neck of two other men, the strangers your eyes set on are already fading. They claw, scramble for air but they’re losing. Joel slams the butt of his gun into the back of the head of the guy he’s holding before they’re both twisting at their necks in unison, the signifying crack louder than the bodies as they hit the ground.

It isn’t shocking as it should be, having seen so many people on the other end of Joel’s violence—but for Tommy, the guilt of you having to witness that is immediate.

“Kiddo, I’m sorry,” He approaches, his hands out in front of him—he was approaching you the same way he had on outbreak day, timid and careful, “you shouldn’t have had to see that.”

You glance at Joel briefly who’s gun drops to the floor behind him as he heaves the dead man up in his arms and drags him out the back door of the cabin, there’s a subtle shake to his head at Tommy’s words that makes your ears ring, drowning out his profuse apologies.

“It’s us or them, right?”

It cuts off his line of speech and his eyebrows raise slightly, “What?”

“Us or them—I’m always going to choose us, for as long as that is. Joel would too.”

Suddenly he realizes that his justifying is naut as Joel rounds the corner and continues to drag the other body out before he’s joining you both in silence as he rubs his hands against his jacket.

“Alright, uh—I want you both to settle in here, try and make it more homey for the time being. I’m gonna drive into town and see what supplies I can scavenge, should be back by nightfall.”

“I’ll come with you,” Joel adds, but Tommy stops him.

“No,” He tells his brother, a quick shake of his head, “stay here with her, get another fire going.”

And for once, Joel listens to his younger brother. His tongue is poking at his cheek as he looks away with a begrudging annoyance as he stalks toward the fireplace.

“Keep an eye on him,” Tommy whispers to you, “alright?”

You nod and smile at the gentle squeeze to your bicep that Tommy offers as he departs.

When he’s gone, the silence is deafening. Joel’s gun was still on the floor, somehow forgotten by the man who never let anything slip past him, always on guard, always ready to attack.

His back is turned when you pick up the gun, the deafening click making his head turn on a swivel.

-

He’s on you in seconds, standing from his crouched position but you were quicker, stuffing the gun behind your back with a faint smile, taking a few steps away.

“Give it to me,” Joel commands, palm extended in waiting.

“Not like you to leave stuff layin’ around,” you comment jestingly, “I think I’ll keep it for a bit.”

He stalks, heavy footsteps against the hardwood floor as you retreat further and further until you’ve ultimately cornered yourself and Joel lunges for it behind your back but you take the opportunity to sweep under his arm and slip from his grip, dangling the gun from the grip of it with two fingers.

“What? You don’t trust me with it?” you taunt, “Think I’m gonna shoot you, don’t you?”

“I’m not askin’ again,” He charges and despite your quick reflex his hand is on your wrist first, the other coming around your neck as he presses you against the back of an old, dusty couch. It creaks under your weight and sends a cloud of dust up with the movement, “drop it.”

“Say it to my face,” you retort behind a strangled tone, feeling the heavy pressure of his thick fingers around your throat, tilting your chin up at his face where he towers over you, “say it and I’ll go—you won’t see me again, hear from me. I won’t be your responsibility anymore.”

Joel shakes your wrist and squeezes and the gun drops, clattering against the floor but he doesn’t let go, not yet.

“You’ll die out there.”

You squint your eyes in disbelief, a soft laugh bubbling from your chest.

“Yeah, I’ve heard you repeat that to Tommy a million times over the last few months.”

You pull at his grip but find that it only tightens, your fingers clawing at the hand around your throat, his fingers tucked under your jaw as it pulls your chin up and up, nearly touching his chest with how close he is to you now, your feet scrambling slightly underneath your for proper footing as you leaned against the couch. 

You speak again, hoping to crawl under his skin and make him uneasy, bothered.

“What? Sudden change of heart?” you ask, “Suddenly I’m worth protecting? Tommy would love to know about the handful of men you’ve killed in my honor, you know?”

Joel’s face twitches at that, his eyes dragging toward the gun on the floor—that was your window.

You force your knees up and into his stomach, shoving him away as he stumbles but the feeling of his arm coming around your abdomen has you squirming, turning and hitting him with weak, balled up fists that didn’t amount to half the strength he encompassed. It was barely a struggle for him.

Eventually you give up, waiting and waiting for him to let you go. His gaze is heavy, almost curious in the way he watches you go through the stages of resistance to acceptance and then finally giving up before your eyes are peering up at him, pressed against him at every point of contact, the cold metal of his belt buckle digging into your stomach.

“You’re stuck with me and I’m sorry,” you tell him out of desperation, “I just want to learn and you could teach—”

It takes you a second to process when his lips press against yours, a biting kiss that is forceful and startling, gasping into his mouth at the action but your body reacts instinctively, arms wrapping around his neck and hands fisting into his hair, the subtle essence of salt and pepper that was only noticeable this close. Joel groans softly, the first true and honest sound that has come from him all evening.

“Irritating,” Joel speaks against your lips, mumbled as he leads you, bumping your legs against the arm of the couch before you’re both tumbling over, “—do you ever fuckin’ shut up?”

He’s coined you vexatious in his own mind, not realizing how impossible he was to be around either—stubborn, impossible. An unmoving force of rigidness, but here he was—pliable to the fingers that slip under his shirt as he settles between your open legs, his own pulling at the button of your jeans.

You don’t need words, knowing that you both have communicated off eye contact at a level that was never spoken about but just worked. It clicked and when he pushed, you gave into the blow.

Silently you work alongside his own hands, pushing your jeans down and off. You kick them to the floor, working at your underwear while he undoes his own jeans, feeling like you were both working against the clock with your heart hammering in your chest. He was eager, impatient—still Joel, but it was a new look. It was the dynamic that, for you, felt like the missing piece.

Weeks of constant bickering and side-eyed glances all boiling down to one break in his mulish personality, this was the resolve.

The warm touch of his palm against your upper thighs pull your attention to him and he breathes out harshly through his nostrils, his jeans shoved down his thighs and his free hand palming himself over his underwear, squeezing at your skin as he offers only one word in acknowledgement. A question.

“Yeah?”

You nod shakily, answering with a soft, “Yes.”

-

There is no build-up, no gentle touching that leads to soft caresses as Joel presses himself inside of you. His hand is gripping the arm of the couch above your head as he grips himself at the base of his cock before he’s pushing in with one solid jerk of his hips, a hurried and desperate movement to bury himself inside of you. Your fingers pull at the hair by his nape and he grunts, head pulling back as he snapped his hips back and pushed into you again, sharp and angered. His jaw was tense, the subtle peek of teeth bared behind his lips

It’s a harsh disjunction; a man you would watch from your window on weekends as he spent mornings chasing Sarah out in the lawn—softer, happier. Her protector.

With reluctance, he’s become your own. Whether he would admit it aloud or not, he knows. But, it isn’t the same—you were extra baggage, a burden, but one he felt chained too. And more importantly, distraction.

You could see his humanity slipping week by week, a dull shell of himself most days. He won’t even look at you now, his eyes squeezed shut as he thrusts into you, your eyes dragging from his face to his cock, your hand traveling down to fist at his shirt, dragging it up his stomach. 

The dark, coarse hair at the base of his cock traveled up his stomach, across his thighs. Big, strong thighs that held your legs apart and the thickness of him ached, stretched you open after months of unintentional celibacy forcing you to grip him tight, wincing with every continuous snap of his hips, feeling a hand come around to cup the back of your head, cradling it as his forehead drops and presses against your own, blocking your line of sight and forcing your eyes closed. Just feel, he’s trying to convey. Don’t think.

And it works, lingering thoughts fading away as pleasure bleeds in. His top lip grazing against the round part of your nose, his hot breath fanning over your mouth as he huffs and you moan against him, a soft and broken noise that only forces his grip to tighten against the back of your head and the other hand at your thigh, finger digging into the flesh so harshly that the ache would linger for days.

You feel the crest creeping up on you but it isn’t enough, slipping your fingers between your body silently, but the fingers around your wrist startle you, dragging you back to the surface and opening your eyes to his, his expression earnest but stoic.

“Don’t,” He shakes his head, “—just close your eyes, I got it.”

You can’t find the energy inside to argue, feeling the hand cradling your head circle around to the crown of your scalp, fingers digging into the hair and pulling taut, forcing your head back and then he’s touching you, two thick fingers circling your clit in time with his harsh, hurried thrusts.

You do close your eyes, feeling the soft tuft of his hair against the side of your face as buries himself there, his movements jerkier as his fingers work quickly, squeezing around him as your fingers dig into his forearm, hips working against his fingers instinctively to search out more and more until you’re tipping over the cliff and free-falling, coming with a soft gasp as he pulls away suddenly, fisting his cock tightly as he came over your stomach, hastily shoving your shirt out of the way as he grunts quietly, his face pinched and completely unreadable when you do finally find the energy to look at him, eyes dragging toward the ceiling as you breathe and try to process what the fuck just happened.

There’s a distant rip of fabric somewhere to the right of you and far away, noticing that Joel’s already redressed when he approaches and wipes gently at the mess of cum dressed across your stomach, shoving your jeans back into your hand in the same movement. 

You look at him oddly, shuffling the jeans and underwear in your grip as you rise, eyes following as he moved around, started building the fire Tommy had told him about a half hour ago and is so glaringly ignoring what had transpired just now—you move quickly, redressing to avoid the judgment if he looked back and you were still staring.

And you notice the itch, the unavoidable twitch in his shoulders as he can’t settle with his movements, occupying himself to keep running on the clear adrenaline high he was on—he’d killed a man and immediately directed his frustration at you and used it as a means to stall, distract, satiate that monster dwelling inside him that always came out around you.

“So, can I leave now?” You ask him, his eyes peeking over his shoulder as he shoved a new pile of wood into the fireplace, “Are we finished?”

“You’re not leaving,” Joel tells you—you weren’t moving, weren’t planning to, but you wanted to see where the conversation would go, whether Joel would admit that he cared more than he let on, his emotions so stunted since Sarah that they came out in bouts of violence and rage, “I’d never hear the end of it.”

You offer a smug chuckle in response, “So, I was right. You don’t want me around.”

Joel turns on his knee, allowing you to see the remnants of flush in his cheeks, his messy hair and his response that rips a hole straight through your chest, “I’m stuck with you because Tommy wants you around.”

It wasn’t a direct answer, but you could read into it enough.

You glance over the back of the couch, wondering if the gun was still laying on the floor where Joel had squeezed it out of your grip, but the click to your right has you turning in an instant, staring down the barrel of Joel’s gun.

“You got a lot to learn,” Your glare is less than impressed as it lands on him, petulant and annoyed, “Don’t ever touch my gun again, alright?”

“Oh,” you respond airily, an impish smile creeping onto your face as you tilted your head slightly, “so—you fucked me as punishment or because of some silly little fantasy you've always had of fucking your neighbors daughter?”

And to your surprise, Joel's response is less angered.

“You could do with a little punishment,” He rises on his knees, pocketing the gun back in his jeans, and smirking at your dumb-founded expression, “—couldn’t you?”

Joel approaches closer, motioning with his fingers for you to stand and without thinking, you follow. His subtle smirk grows wider and he’s reaching for the forgotten knife on the floor, having fallen off your pants in the midst of your hurried undressing.

“I ain’t here to teach—I’m keepin’ us alive. The sooner you learn to shut up and follow, the better,” He reaches for your hand, placing the knife into your open palm, “and you kissed back, so that look on your face, that regret—”

“Who said there was regret?”

Joel’s eyes stick to you, meeting yours fiercely for a moment as you take the knife from him and reattach it to the loop on your jeans. His tongue licks at his bottom lip briefly, watching the subtle grin spread across your face.

Your words were a challenge. 

And for you, that meant game on. 

-

dividers creds: @/saradika-graphics

[guardarecheluna]

Wishing you were here tonight is like holding on. (CEO!H)

Words; 11.6K (look at me gooooo!)

Warnings: Fluff city, angst, parent death, smut (oral; fem rec. praise, penetrating sex.)

Summary: Harry has a brand-new employee at Pleasing. An employee that he fell in love with the minute he saw her, that he constantly had to hide his emotions from, because, well, he was the boss.

A/N: My first CEO!Harry one shot!! Eeeek I’m so excited for you to read this one, I’ve worked really hard on it, and I’ve always wanted to write about CEO Harry. I love him already; I hope you do too! If you read, please let me know what your favourite part was or talk to me here. I’m always open for conversations <3 (ALSO! This is my first time writing any smut, so be kind please) Take care and go easy on yourself this week. Elle x

March 2018

Harry is a good boss. Really, he is. He always stands up for his staff members, approving vacation days without much trouble and brought in pastries to the creative meetings.

He would maybe even be described as a happy, joyfull person, kind and engaged in what his staff was creating and how they were doing. And he was, but it was mostly a façade.

And it wasn’t that he didn’t feel joy around his colleagues, or that he was faking it to gain something else – Harry was just miserable in his personal life.

You would think it is impossible to be sad and to feel hopeless when you have a multi-million-pound company at the ripe age of 34, the cars, the women, the parties and all the vacation days he could ever want. But Harry wasn’t that shallow, he never had been. He wanted connection. Craved and yearned for a soulful connection with someone else. A lover, a soulmate to be his own, and not just a one-night stand or a drunken philosophical debate with whoever was available.

Harry sat in his penthouse suite, in the lounge. The penthouse was eerily quiet, apart from a few raindrops smattering against the glass of the windows. The sky looked as dreary and sad as he felt on the inside, his chest tightening and a furrow between his brows as the thought about her. There wasn’t a her yet, but when Harry sat there on his sofa, tie loose around his neck and clammy hands resting on his thighs, he couldn’t help but imagine her there with him.

He wasn’t going to cry though, have a breakdown or feel sorry for himself; it didn’t do him any good, even if it was all he needed right now. He almost called his mom, ready to confess his loneliness, his longing, empty, fragile heart, in hopes that his mothers love could glue at least a few pieces back together.

There was no use, though. He could feel himself falling deeper and deeper into the feeling of loneliness, his head leaning back over the arm of the couch.

A sudden phonecall woke him up from this circle of evil he found himself in. It was Niall, his COO, and best friend, the co-founder of Pleasing. Harry took a deep breath, readying himself for answering Niall’s phone call. It was past 8pm on Wednesday, if anything he wanted to go have a drink at a shitty bar somewhere and drag on about his ex-girlfriend. Harry couldn’t have that tonight.

Harry pressed answer and put on his façade, like he always did when there was possible business to oversee. “Hey, Niall.” Harry said, putting on his calmest, most stable voice. “Heeeeey there H! Sorry to bother you at this hour, I may have done something stupid, but I want you to hear me out before you get pissed, you hear me?” Niall enthused over the phone. Harry sighed, falling back on the sofa with the phone to his ear. This could be anything, it could be that he sold his part of the company to the devil himself or that someone put roses instead of tulips at the entrance of the building. “What did you do, Niall?” Harry let out, already feeling defeated with how his evening was going. His hand over his forehead, bracing himself for what was about to come out of Niall’s mouth. “It could be worse, Styles, I’ve done worse than this. So, you know how we were going over the applications for the new senior creative for cosmetics and design earlier?” Niall led on. “Yes.” Harry replied shortly. “Well, a very interesting application just got through a few hours late and I’ve already called her and set up an interview for tomorrow afternoon. Her resume looks incredible, she’s just leaving her post at Rare beauty and has previously worked as a creative at Milk makeup. She does marketing, press, design and has so many other skills, I just couldn’t put down her application without giving her a chance. If she’s anything like what’s mentioned in her resume she’ll-“Niall rambled on, Harry interrupting him, annoyance filling his head, although Niall didn’t deserve the blow of it. “Niall. We have a full day of interviews tomorrow, and you just booked another one until late. We don’t have time for this, I’m sure someone we’re interviewing can do all those tasks just as well.” Harry just wasn’t feeling it, at all. He didn’t care if Niall had just found the rarest gem in the industry, his workday was over at 5 and not a minute later. With how much brainpower has gone to his depressed mood and anxiety, he couldn’t bear the thought of staying until at least 6:30 on a Thursday. “Harry, I don’t know what to tell you, but I have a feeling about this one. I can stay and do the interview on my own if it bothers you that much. I just want us to give her a chance.” The line got quiet. Niall knew he had messed up not checking with Harry first, but his gut was telling him that this girl might be right for Pleasing. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Niall.” Harry plainly said and hung up the phone. Harry threw his phone on the couch, not wanting to even think about how drained he’ll be tomorrow as he went for his evening shower.

The next day dragged on, Harry keeping a big smile on his face for every new applicant that came through the door. There were a few possible hires, definitely, but with the final interview coming up, Harry felt the day wash over him as he waved goodbye to the one applicant they had just finished interviewing.

Their floor was pretty much empty now, just a few staff members hanging around and talking about their day. Harry needed a coffee to be able to finish strong, he didn’t want to leave Niall to do the final interview himself, even if all he wanted right now was to get a takeout and then get straight home. “Do you want anything?” Harry mumbled to Niall as he rose from his seat beside him, making an exit for the door of his office. There was still a few minutes remaining until the last applicant was supposed to be interviewed. Niall didn’t look up as he just said, “No thanks, mate.” And continued reading through the next applicant’s personal letter and information.

Harry walked out into the hall, hearing cheerful laughter down by the offices as he made his way through. His eyes zeroed in on the end of the hallway, the coffee machine calling out his name. “Hi, Sorry, can I just ask you something?” A sweet, nervous sounding voice came from behind him. Harry turned around and was met with what was probably the most stunning woman he had ever laid his eyes on. His breath caught in his throat, cheeks already flushing just by looking at her. She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Harry realized he had been quiet for a few seconds to long and kicked himself back into gear. “Of course, what can I help you with?” He got out, flashing his sweet smile at her. He got a chance to study her features, her outfit. Her full lips as she smiled, eyes bright and curious as she looked right at him. He felt like he had won the lottery, just by looking at her, his chest was on fire. She was wearing a fun, colourful outfit that was still business casual, a few cartoonish looking enamel pins on her blazer pocket. Creative she was. “I’m sorry to be a bother, I think the receptionist has already left. I have an interview for the senior creative position here and I’m just lost looking for Horan and Styles offices. Do you know where I can find them?” She smiled at him, a hopeful, kind look in her eyes as she awaited his answer. Harry immediately felt disappointment, if she was looking for work at Pleasing, he couldn’t even think about looking at her the way he was right now. Harry reached his hand out. “I’m the Styles you’re looking for, it’s nice to meet you…” He looked at her with a questioning look, not yet having heard her name. “Oh! This couldn’t be more perfect! It’s Y/N Y/L/N.” She bubbled with joy, reaching for his hand and shaking it. “It’s really good to meet you Y/N, you can call me Harry, everyone here does.” He smiled at her; he really couldn’t help it at this point.

“I was going to get some coffee before our meeting, we still have…13 minutes. Do you want anything?” Harry continued, looking down at his wristwatch to catch the time. Her shoulders slumped in relief, maybe partly relaxing because of his kind demeanour and kind offering. “I-yes, coffee sounds like it’s exactly what I need right now. Thank you, Harry.” She said lightly, with a giggle in her voice. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever heard such a beautiful sound in all his life, and she had managed to worm her way into his heart and make an impression bigger than the other 5 applicants had made combined. They walked together to the coffee machine, small talking about visions and dreams for the company and why she sent in her resume to work for them. And Harry, Harry was in trouble.

---

Harry was light on his feet as he stepped into the lift at Pleasing HQ this morning, because he was in love. His whole life had transformed in just a matter of months, no longer feeling the lonely, bitter thoughts taking over him at night. He was in his own world of pink rose petals falling from the sky, rosy cheeks and laughter echoing in his head. He felt like he way going crazy, and maybe he was. Y/N had obviously gotten the position as a senior creative. After she left her interview, Harry was just obsessed with her. With what she saw for the company’s future, her laugh and kindness, her witty humour.

Y/N had been working for pleasing now for the last three months, taking it all in stride and charming the whole office with her tactics and energy; Harry had never seen anyone so passionate about their job, so caring about the people around her. She was the perfect puzzle piece.

There was just one issue.

Y/N had no idea about any of this. Or, maybe she could’ve guessed. Niall had to tell him how obviously in love he was with her, and that he had to get his ducks in a line or there would be issues. Dating a co-worker, especially as a boss was frowned upon, however not forbidden.

Harry just couldn’t stop thinking about her, ever. And they were friends, really good friends. Having lunch together, always getting stuck in conversation at their after-work gatherings, and Harry always did an extra round by the offices in the afternoon just to have an excuse to talk to her. Maybe she saw right through him, but he’s not sure he minded it. He was desperate to be a part of her world at this point, just to have a little piece of her, even if he couldn’t have her in the way he so desperately craved. This was going to have to be enough. It was like Harry had accepted his fate of this unrequited love, but he couldn’t really complain as long as she was still in his life. He didn’t feel sad about it anymore, it wasn’t that heartache he had felt previously, he had accepted that he had found his person, but that he was never going to have her. It was alright, he decided.

Y/N was doing a big pitch today, her first one. She had ben scrambling around for the first three months trying to learn everything about the company, the values, the staff and the consumers to really get an idea of what they were wanting to put out. She had worked hard, stayed some late nights to finish a mood-board or sketch a new design for something.

And Y/N was excited. Nervous for sure, but mostly excited to show everyone her interpretation of what Pleasing could become.

Harry spotted her in their conference room as he entered the floor. A smile on his lips immediately after seeing her setting up some snacks for everyone and trying to get the projector to work. He knocked on the slightly open door. “Morning, there! You need help with anything before we kick off?” Harry offered as he leaned against the doorframe. Y/N hastily turned around from the table she was standing on, trying to fix the cord to the projector that was not doing it’s best work today. She jumped down, straightening out her clothes and sighed. “I think most of it is all set, I just can’t seem to pull down the screen for the projector though, and you seem like a tall enough lad.” Y/N jokingly said to him, eyes scrunching and her little crow’s feet by her eyes showing. Harry loved every detail of her. “Course, love.” Harry replied as he walked over to the front of the room and pulled down the screen, easy as pie. “Thank you, H.” She said, now focused on her laptop screen, and fingers picking nervously at her lips. “You’re going to do incredible; I know it. Don’t have to be nervous, it’s just the staff and you know all of them.” Harry said, catching her nervousness as he’d known her for years. “Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m a little nervous, but everyone here is so nice, I have trouble believing I’ll be roasted by any of you.” She answered. He noticed that she never replied to his compliment about her being incredible. Sweet girl, Harry thought, she’s too nice and too sceptical of her own ability, she’s absolutely incredible at what she’s doing. Just as he was about to repeat himself, affirming his trust in her, the other staff started to trickle into the room. Harry hadn’t even put away his coat since he got here, he just went straight to Y/N. “Oh shit, give me a minute, yeah? I’m just going to put away my things, I’ll be right back.” Harry excused himself from the room, but not before hearing, “Hurry up, bossman, you’ve got to minutes to business-time!” Y/N shouted after him, earning a giggle from the people in the room. Harry just smiled to himself as he shook his head in adoration before walking over to his office.

She did so good. Of course she did. She had nothing to be nervous about, and she charmed the whole office with her visions and imagination of future products. She had put fourth an idea about more homegoods, candles, pyjamas and blankets. She had even went so far as to research materials, resellers for those materials and always making sure to stay true to the company’s values according to fair trade and labour rights. Her presentation was also funny, It barely felt like a meeting, she was just so naturally comedic, and Harry absolutely adored her. He sat way in the back, leaning back on his chair and twiddled with his shirtsleeve, looking like a lovesick puppy. Her every move and her every word entrancing him and pulling him deeper and deeper into her trenches. Although, he’d happily go down.

Just as Y/N finished, everyone cheered and clapped for her, everyone was proper impressed by her ideas and research, and couldn’t wait to get started with things. Harry stayed in the back, listening to everyone talk and share their ideas, budgets, raw material ideas and colourswatches. Harry was so proud of her. Everyone slowly left the room, congratulating Y/N on her impressive work, giving her hugs and encouraging words. Harry was the last one there. He was wearing a big, dimply smile as he walked up to her. “You have no idea what you just started, did you hear everyone? You’re fucking amazing, Y/N I don’t even know what to say. I’m so, so impressed.” Harry said, the smile never leaving his lips. If he didn’t know better he’d congratulate her with all the kisses she’d want. Y/N was blushing, her cheeks turning rosy as she looked up at him. “Thank you, Harry. I’m so relieved everyone liked it and that you’ve been here to support me, I really couldn’t have done any of this if you weren’t there so I could ask all those stupid questions.” She replied, humble as always. Harry got stuck in her eyes, just nodding to her. “Celebratory lunch? On me?” Harry followed up with, the blush never leaving her cheeks. “I’d like that.”

---

Another 4 months had passed, and Harry fell just fell deeper and deeper into the sticky sweet lovecloud he was constantly in. It was dreary and dark out, the middle of November as Harry made his way into the office, preparing for their regular staff meeting, when he noticed Y/N was nowhere to be found. A pang of worry beat through his chest. Had she called in sick? Maybe she got in an accident on the way here? Harry felt his heart beating out of his chest in worry for his favourite girl; and just like that his phone went off. It was her.

He’s never answered his phone so quickly in his life. “Hey, there, I was beginning to wonder where you were.” Harry said immediately with a smile teasing on his lips, waiting to hear her voice. The line was quiet on the other end, he could hear her breathing and some rustling of something in the background. “Love? You there? Are you alright?” He said, softening his voice for her, the worry back in his chest as he stepped aside from a few other co workers and into his office, closing the door. “Harry…I’m sorry to call so late in the workday, I-i just don’t know what to do, i-.” He heard her crying over the phone, clearly upset, her breathing irregular and voice shaky. “Shhh, it’s okay love, take a deep breath for me, yeah? Tell me what’s happening, are you alright?” Harry was pacing in his office, wanting to demand her to tell her what was wrong, but he kept his voice gentle for her. He felt his pocket for his car keys in case he had to come get her. He would do anything. “It’s my dad, my dad has- he passed away in the night, and th-they don’t know what happened, I just I ca-can’t come in today so, so I was just…can I-I work from home today, is that o-okay?” Harry’s chest was aching as he listened to her tearful voice. Silly girl, working from home when something like this happened. He couldn’t allow it, and all he could think about was seeing her, wrapping her up in his arms to shield her from the pain she was experiencing. “Listen to me, Y/N, everything is going to be alright. I’m so sorry about your loss, I am so, so sorry. You’re not working today, or tomorrow, you’re going to take the week off and go see your family, do you understand?” He tried to be as gentle and clear as possible so her foggy brain could understand his words. “Do you have someone there with you?” Harry continued, biting his nails in worry for the sweet girl he had fallen so hard for. Harry already knew her answer, her family lived a plane ride away and she was pretty new in London, not yet having made a steady base of friends to look after her. She didn’t protest when he said she wasn’t going to work this week. “No-no. I’ve already booked a flight home, but it isn’t until the weeken-nd.” She stuttered through her tears. “Can I come see you? I just want to make sure you’re alright.” He said immediately, taking any chance he could to care for her. “It’s, it’s okay, Harry. You’re busy, and i-I’m a mess anyways. Thank you for l-letting me out of work tho-though, I’ll make it up to y-you.” She said, but he knew her better than this by now. He knew she’d never ask for help, even if it was from a friend, and just the fact that she called him instead of her closest boss, or Niall for that matter, made his cheeks warm, they were friends first, he decided then.

“Don’t worry a second about work right now, I’m never too busy for you, you know that. I’m going to excuse myself from the meeting and I’ll be at yours in 30 minutes, alright?” He said gently, her heavy breathing on the other side. “It’s going to be okay, doll, I’ve got you.” Harry continued as he grabbed his coat from the hanger and fished his keys out of his pocket, not letting go of his phone for a single second. “Thank you, H.” She just said, as they hung up and Harry was sprinting through the office building to get to the meeting he was supposed to attend minutes ago. He peeked his head through the glass door. “Sorry everyone, Niall can I borrow you for just a second? Important.” Their staff was all very kind and gentle people, Niall excused himself as small talk was rolling around in the meeting area. The staff not wanting to intrude on their conversation. “Y/N’s father has passed away, and she needs a friend right now, she’s all alone and her family lives a plane ride away. I just got a call from her, and she needs someone, will you be handling the meetings for today?” Harry said as he buttoned his coat up, barely looking at Niall, cause all he could think about was her, her, her. Niall put on a knowing smile, but not without feeling his chest tighten for one of his favourite colleagues. “Of course, mate, that’s so shit to hear. Be gentle with her and give her a hug from all of us, yeah?” Niall said, looking for eye contact with Harry. They weren’t a super big company, they were around 20 people and everyone knew each other well, including Y/N. Niall thought he’d tell them she wouldn’t be in for the rest of the week. “I will be, good luck, I’ll phone you tonight.” Harry said, already halfway to the lift as he harshly pressed the buttons in attempt to get a move on, faster. Niall gave harry a smile and nodded. He had to know exactly what Harry was feeling, he was a shit liar and could see right through him.

Harry sped off to Y/N’s apartment, making no stops and pushing the gas a little extra to get to her as fast as he could. He almost ran up the flight of stairs to her apartment, out of breath as he knocked on her door.

And there she was. Still the most beautiful person he’d ever known, despite the tears staining her face, her messy hair and pyjamas still on. It was like another wave of tears hit her the minute she saw Harry, it was like now that he was here, she was going to be okay. “Hey, doll, I’m so sorry.” Harry said as Y/N crashed into his arms, her body heavy and limp from the crying, panic and absolute bottomless darkness she found herself in. Harry had shivers running down his back, just being able to hold her like this, comfort her. His arms wrapped around her, his cheek pressing to the top of her head as he breathed her in and continued whispering affirming words to her. Without letting go of her, Harry stepped them inside her apartment, closing the door behind him with his foot. “Shhh, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, love.” He continued, pulling her head out of his chest and tear stained shirt, his thumbs drying her cheeks and looking her in her eyes. “I know it’s difficult right now, but I’m here to help, alright? C’mon, let’s get you settled, yeah?” He continued. She couldn’t have possibly missed his loving gazes and soft language. She couldn’t have possibly missed how he without any doubt took her into his chest to calm her down. She couldn’t have possibly missed how Harry’s heart was beating out of his chest when he held her so close.

Harry took her into her lounge, witnessing a mess of tissues, her open laptop and a now ice-cold cup of tea on the table. Y/N was still burrowed in Harry’s chest, searching for any kind of comfort she could find. In this moment, she didn’t care that he was her boss, that he had hired her months before to be an addition to his very successful team of workers. She knew it was a strange situation to be in, and to be such good friends with your boss, but with her being so new to the London, sha wanted to grab and hold onto the people she had. And Harry was a very special friend to Y/N, she really liked him as a friend, but it was difficult to not harbour feelings for the man, affectionate, kind and clever as he is. She tried her best to keep things as casual as possible between them, but she was stumbling in the dark right now, looking for whatever lifeline she could grab, and Harry showed up. Of course he did.

Harry settled her down in the lounge, now on a mission to do whatever he could to make her feel at least a little bit better. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, kiss her, stroke her wild hair and paint soft circles on her skin with his fingers but he had to draw a line. He couldn’t use this situation to his advantage, this wasn’t about him and his feelings.

Harry knew her well by know, she couldn’t function in a messy environment, so he took the first step, that was deemed appropriate enough, and started cleaning up and cozying up her lounge area. He removed all the tissues, wiped down her table and made her a new steaming hot cup of tea. He lit a candle, and put on some soft, but not too sad music for her in the background. She protested, of course, not wanting to bother him, it was almost embarrassing that he had to take care of her in this way; but for Harry it was an act of pure love. Of course he would do absolutely everything and anything for her, even if it was picking up her snotty tissues.

As he finished, he settled down on the other side of her sofa where she was laid down. Her crying had settled, she didn’t have a single tear left in her eye. At this point he was just staring at the candle in front of her, trying to focus her energy on something else other than the trainwreck that was her current situation. Harry sighed as he looked over at her. “Thank you for being here, Harry.” Y/N mumbled quietly, not letting her eyes drift away from the flame. “You don’t have to thank me; you know I’d do anything for you.” Harry answered her, his warm hand coming to give her a comforting squeeze around her ankle. She just nodded.

There they sat, Harry’s hand still on her ankle, at loss for action or words. “Is there anything I can do, at all, to help you? I know it’s a stupid question, I know there’s physically nothing I can do to make this any better, but if there is anything, please let me help.” Harry said into the still air of the room. A few more tears welled up in her eyes; he was so kind to her. “C-can I have a hug? I know it’s not proper but I coul-” Y/N said quietly, almost ashamed to be asking such a thing from him, but she really needed him right now. Harry let a puff of air escape his lungs, almost relieved at her words as sat up slightly and opened his arms for her. “C’mere, sweet girl.” Harry let the words slip from his mouth so easily, he couldn’t help but call her those sweet names when she was like this. And Harry often did call her those names, she didn’t seem to mind.

Without another word she turned over on the sofa, crawling her way up into his arms, and letting his scent embrace her and calm her down. His warm chest and comforting strokes to her back. Harry was trying hard to keep his cool with her so close to him, and tried to emit calmness in hopes that she could feel it too. And it wasn’t just a hug, it was more of a cuddle. But in that moment, they both needed it more than anything else.

---

After that day at her apartment, Harry and Y/N had become even closer. Y/N had gone to see her family for the weekend, and Harry had assured her that she could stay longer if she needed to. She was slowly coming out of her hazy mind, thinking more clearly, but she was still barely functioning. Grief is hard. It’s cruel, dark and endless. Y/N’s mind was constantly racing between the final time she saw her dad, their memories, and all the things she had to do that was piling up over the week. Harry was checking in on her constantly, texting, calling, showing up with dinner or helping her with the most simple tasks, that felt huge and impossible in her state of mind.

Y/N was going back to work tomorrow, and although she dreaded the pitying looks and comforting hugs, although she really wanted to get back to her life. Not to forget what had happened with her father, but more to kickstart herself, she knew she didn’t want to lose herself in this grief, so she had to at least try and do something about it.

Harry was taking up a big chunk of her mind as well. As if she wasn’t falling for him before all this, she was now hopelessly lovesick over someone she couldn’t have. She didn’t want it to turn out this way, and she had thought about all possible scenarios for them to maybe, just maybe have a chance together, but was constantly reminded of the one thing that made her heart ache more than anything – he probably didn’t want her. He was just the best human alive, supporting and cheering for his friends, she knew he was like this with all of his friends, he couldn’t possibly not be. She shouldn’t mistake his kindness and generosity for being in love with her.

---

Harry felt like he was going to explode at any given time. They had spent so much time together in the last few weeks, and now that she was coming back to work, full time, he wasn’t sure if he could handle just seeing her without giving her a good cuddle or asking how she’s doing. He knows that as a boss, this is the last thing he should be doing and thinking about, but Harry had never felt like this. It had been months of torture not having her the way he wanted, and he felt completely blinded by the love he felt. Even so far as considering leaving pleasing to Niall just so he could maybe be with her. That was an insane thought though, he was still pretty sure that Y/N didn’t even reciprocate those feelings for him, and he was weighing his options of telling her what he felt or if he was going to take it to his grave. He didn’t want to risk her career, and if they actually got together, he wasn’t sure how the company would take it. HR would hate it, even though it wasn’t forbidden to date a coworker.

This was what his mind was racing on and on about, and he felt like he was going to accidentally expose himself soon if he didn’t say anything.

He had to talk to Niall. He was his best friend, his COO. Harry knew that he was blinded by the love he had inside of him, he needed someone with a clear mind.

“Niall, I need you here for a short meeting, it’s personal though so don’t bring anyone with you.” Harry texted Niall after lunch that day. He wasn’t functioning properly, he felt incapacitated from all of this love that he had nowhere to put, and it was time to come clean to someone, although Niall already knew some of the feelings he was harbouring for Y/N.

Not even 2 minutes later, Niall popped into Harry’s office, closing and locking the door. His office at leas had some frosted glass, so they wouldn’t be totally exposed. “What can I do for you, lad?” Niall said as he sat down across from where Harry was sitting, at his desk. Harry looked deep in thought, his arm leaning on the armrest of his chair, chin supported by his hand. He didn’t even know how to say it, but he could feel a word vomit coming up his throat as the silence grew bigger. “I don’t know what to do, Niall.” Harry said, eyes glazing over as the iceberg finally tipped over, and everything came to the surface. Niall instantly looked worried about his friend, not yet knowing where he was going with all of this. Niall leaned forward in his seat, eyes on Harry as he watched him rub his eyes to rid them from tears coming through.

“I’m so in love with her and I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel like I can’t do anything without thinking of her, I feel totally incapacitated. But I know that if I tell her this, her career could be at risk. I want to let her know, I need to, but it could go wrong in so many ways. She probably doesn’t even feel the same way I do, and I don’t think I could live with that. I’d rather not tell her and keep her in my life for as long as I can…And I know it sounds dramatic, but I’m desperate at this point, Niall, It’s been seven months and I-“ Harry trailed off as he rubbed his eye once again, refusing to let another tear fall for this girl. He was rambling, almost incoherent at times, but Niall listened to him.

Niall knew, he knew without Harry even mentioning her name. It was obvious that they were both in love with each other. The whole office basically knew, except for Harry and Y/N. And for this, Niall wanted to almost laugh at this immensely dense friend of his, but he kept it to himself, aware that this was probably paining Harry more than he knew.

“Harry, I’m going to tell this to you straight and you need to listen to me.” Niall said, no readable look on his face. Harry readied himself for a proper metaphorical fist to the face. He knew this wasn’t right, he was her boss for chirst’s sake. Niall continued. “I think the whole office knows that you’re both in love with each other except for you two. And I need you to get your house in order because I can’t watch this anymore. You’re going to tell her, and you’re doing it tonight. Y/N just left for her half-day and I suggest you call her up right now and see her tonight.” Harry is just staring blankly at Niall, not completely sure that he heard him right. He just starts nodding. And then the tears come. It was relief in some way, and although he still wasn’t sure about her response if he told her, there was still something there for them to build on. “Niall, I-. What if it all goes wrong, I’m her fucking boss, what do I do if she becomes uncomfortable at her own workplace, she’s a genius, I’m going to have to be the one that leaves.” Harry stuttered. “You’re not going to spend a single second thinking about that just yet, because it might not even happen. In fact, I don’t think it will. You know, she’s talking about you all the time. And she has these disgusting puppy eyes every time you just walk past or even glance at her direction. This needs to end. Call her.” Niall continued, supporting his friend. Niall really did think they were endgame, he could already see it when she had her interview here, all those months ago. Harry nodded. And in a moment of bravery, he got out his phone and pressed her contact information.

Y/N’s heart grew when she saw Harry’s contact on her phone. She didn’t waste a second picking up. “Hey, there bossman, everything alright?” She chirped on the other end of the line. Harry’s heart was beating out of his chest. “Y/N.” He just said, as her blood ran cold. She felt like she was in trouble. Had she forgotten something important? Did she do something to offend him? Y/N was thinking at a million miles per hour, every thought she had ever had about Harry was coursing through her brain at the same time. Harry continued. “I was just wondering if I could come see you later, I have something I need to speak to you about.” Harry said, trying his best not to let his emotions spill into his speech. “Harry? Are you alright? I’m free now, do you want me to come back to the office? I just left.” Y/N said. She could tell this wasn’t the regular hang out or check in like in the past two weeks. “I’m alright, love. And don’t turn around. Can I pick you up at 6 and we could go to mine?” Harry said, looking at Niall who was still sitting across from him, nodding and giving him a thumbs up like a child doing a prank call. Harry’s nicknaming made her slightly calmer, maybe he just had a stressful day. Although, he’d never offered her to come to his, if they were hanging out they were always at hers. “Of course, that sounds good. I’ll be outside by 6, then?” Y/N replied. “Yeah. I’ll see you later, okay?”. Harry said and then hung up the phone.

---

Harry’s hands were shaking on the steering wheel of his range rover. When he had gotten home from his office he stormed around his penthouse, cleaning up any mess that he could detect. He made sure he had something to serve her, and some snacks in case they wanted some. Every thought he had about telling her, he tried to steer away. Instead he cleaned up, took a shower, did some nervous pacing around, and now finally, he was behind the wheel, minutes from Y/N’s apartment. It was all or nothing, now. And he thought about every likely outcome for what was about to happen, he just couldn’t stop stressing out about it.

He didn’t want to mess this up. That thirst, longing, yearning feeling for connection had immediately been quenched the minute he met her. The person he had been waiting for. And maybe, if it didn’t turn out the way he was hoping, all those dreams of a love so deep maybe wasn’t meant for him. And maybe it would be okay if that was the outcome. Harry wasn’t sure he wanted anyone else but her.

Y/N was stood outside her apartment complex as harry drove up. She looked heart-stoppingly beautiful, like she always did. She had been getting a little better sleep and routines for the past few days, which had been nice to see for Harry. He was such a worry wart when it came to her.

Y/N enthusiastically threw the door open to his car, stepping in as if it was nothing.

“Hi, doll.” Harry said sweetly. “Hi, H.” She replied. “So, what’s this mystery topic you can’t talk about over the phone, huh? Top secret business?” Y/N continued, wiggling her eyebrows in suspense. A smile crept on Harry’s face for maybe the first time today. “I’ll tell you when we get to mine, yeah? You might be surprised, who knows?”

Y/N stepped out of the elevator that led directly into Harry’s penthouse. Her chin was on the floor, she didn’t realize he lived somewhere like THIS. She was almost ashamed of the fact that he had ever hung out in her neighbourhood. She was absolutely well paid as a senior creative at Pleasing, but this was a whole other level. “Sit down, cuppa tea?” Harry led her to his lounge, overlooking the city skyline. “Mhm, yes please.” She said, instead going over to the windows rather than sitting down. Harry disappeared for a second and she could hear him put the kettle on. You could see the office from his window, just barely.

Y/N zoned out in some kind of philosophical thought, looking at the skyline, thinking about her current life. But at the forefront of her mind, she was always thinking about Harry. And now she was at his place.

“Cuppa tea, for you, love.” Harry mentioned, putting their two mugs down on a table by the sofas. Y/N stood still, looking at all the lights as she could feel Harry’s presence behind her. She felt his eyes looking at her, and she craned her neck to take a good look at him. Y/N is thinking that he is getting more beautiful by the day. His defined features lit up by the twinkling lights of the city, and his perfectly unperfect chestnut brown curls, framing his face in the most delicious looking way. A pang of adoration fought it’s way into her chest, but she couldn’t let him know.

“Y/N, I really need to tell you something. And before you say anything I really need you to listen to me and let me explain. Can you come sit down?” Y/N was shaken out of her daydream with his serious words. Y/N could just nod, plopping down on the sofa, facing him as he tried to relax against the back of the sofa. Y/N did her best to put on a calm and settled look, smiling at him when she could tell that he was getting nervous. This was going to be way worse than she was expecting, she’s sure now.

“I don’t even know how to say this.” Harry started. It took everything in Y/N’s body to stay still and not question those words from him, he had told her to just listen at first. Her thoughts were racing, as she stared at him, waiting for more words to come out of his mouth. He doubted his voice, trying to get words out and then it was like he was changing his mind. Over and over again. Y/N reached for his hand that was resting on his thigh, fingers lacing together as she gave him a long, hard squeeze. Harry looked to their interlocked hands, carefully stroking her hand with his callous fingers. He gained courage enough to look straight at her. ”I’m in love with you. I have been since the day I first saw you.” The words left Harry’s mouth as he gauged her reaction to them in real time. Harry continued, “And I feel like an asshole, because I know I’m putting you in a tricky situation with me being selfish and telling you this. But I also want you to know that if you want nothing to do with me, or this situation, that’s okay. I-I just had to tell you, because I felt like I was going to drown If I didn’t.” Harry looked right into her eyes. “I was fucking drowning.” He said, almost like he was all out of air, or breathing oxygen for the first time. Y/N couldn’t believe a single word coming from his mouth. This had to be a prank, it couldn’t be. And if it is true, maybe she wouldn’t feel sad ever again. “Harry…” Y/N got out before he stopped her again, grabbing her same hand with his other one. “I’ve been realizing a lot of things lately, and one of them-.” Harry continued. Y/N could see the gears turning in his head, trying to get the right words out, but she couldn’t wait another second for her lips to collide with his. Her eyes glazed over as she realized that he wasn’t going to let her speak. So instead, she took control. “Harry!” She said loudly. Moving from her position on the sofa, towards him and settling herself in his lap. “Shhhh, I don’t want to hear another word about that, just tell me again.” Y/N said as she got closer to his face. Lips calling out to one another. Harry couldn’t breathe. Not with her this close, with her breath on his lips, her thighs hugging his, his hands around her back. It was Harry’s turn to get teary eyed. It just dawned on him what her answer to his speech would be. “Just tell me.” Y/N breathed against his lips. “Please.” She was almost begging to tell her those words again. Just to know if they were true. “I love you, I’m in love with you.” The words left his mouth like they had been sitting on his lips for his whole existence. Y/N let a watery smile overtake her features, and a chuckle left her mouth. “Thank god.” She whispered as she finally pressed her lips against his. His pink, puffy lips danced with hers as their tongues licked into each other’s mouths. It wasn’t like any first kiss; this was a long time coming. It was desperate, passionate and everything they had been craving. Their wet lips then collided in a smattering of pecks, one after the other being placed on their lovers’ lips. Wanting to do absolutely anything except speaking words right now. “I love you, H.” It was Y/N’s turn to speak, in between desperate kisses. Harry was seeing stars as she said those words loud, her nickname for him feeling like it’s burning a hole through his heart.

It was hard for Harry to be vulnerable. He only really was with his family, and Niall. He couldn’t even remember how it felt to have a possible partner to be vulnerable with. Someone he could pour his heart out to, someone who listened, and who vowed to take care of him. Y/N has stepped into his life and cracked open his whole being, it felt like he was on fire from top to toe from all the emotions and tenseness releasing. Y/N let go from his lips as she felt wetness smeared onto her cheeks. Harry was full on crying now. Y/N put her hands around his cheeks, drawing soft patterns on his cheeks with her thumbs, strategically removing the tears from his eyes. “I-I’m so happy, I promise, I ju-st…” Harry breathed, looking at her with wet, wild eyes, his face leaning into her hold. “I know, it’s alright. It’s been a long time coming, yeah?” Y/N chuckled out, in attempt to lift the moods. Harry nodded, smiling to her. His hands moved to her wrists, holding her in place. “I’m going to tell you everything I’ve been feeling these past few months, but the girl I love just told me she loves me too, so I just need to breathe for a second. Take a good look at her.” Harry joked, eyes still focused on Y/N’s face, his gaze bouncing all over her features, drinking her in. Y/N just nodded to him, her love for the man in front of her glowing in her chest. It had been a long, long time since she had felt like this.

This wasn’t at all what Y/N had in mind when he had called her earlier that day. She really had no idea that he was in love with her, she really had no idea that he felt the same way she had, especially in the last few weeks, with them becoming extra close since her father passed away.

Y/N agreed to stay over at Harry’s that night. She didn’t bring a single thing with her to prepare her for an overnight stay, but Harry had convinced her that he had everything that she would need. And she really didn’t want to let him go, not when their night had turned out like this, maybe she would just stay here, always.

They had barely stopped touching since the moment he told her. Always at least one hand on one another; they had a lot of time to make up for.

As they settled in his bed for the night, it was still early, barely 10. They had changed into soft, comfortable clothing, and Y/N got to borrow a set from him. There they laid, Harry was behind her, strong arms wrapped around her frame, fingers lightly touching and playing. Harry breathed in her scent, burrowing his face into her neck and soft, lavender scented hair.

They talked for hours, pouring their hearts out about the past months that they had known each other. But the tears had since long left their eyes, they had each other now, and there was not a single broken heart in sight.

“I still feel like this is all in my head. Like I’m going to wake up from this dream and I’ll be as fucking lonely and sad as I always am.” Harry said into her neck, placing a light kiss after he finished his sentence. “I know. But it isn’t a dream, although my mind is definitely trying to tell me otherwise.” She replied to him. Her eyes focused on the lights from the city dancing on the walls. Suddenly Y/N turned around in his arms, so that they were facing eachother. “Hi.” She said. “Hi, sweet girl:” Harry’s reply came so easily, and he was finally able to say it whenever they wanted to. “I think we need to talk about work, what do we say to HR, do we even say anything? I know it’s all still so new, but I want you to know that I’m all in…if you want that as well.” Y/N continued, a worried look on her face. The thought was bothering Harry as well, but as things had turned out well for them, his positive mindset was telling him that it was going to be alright. And work, HR and people’s opinions was about the last thing he wanted to talk to her about. At least for tonight.

They talked for hours, kissed for hours. In this room, it was just them, Harry and Y/N. They had both been craving this for so long, Y/N had thought of him so much. How it would feel like to be loved by him, what it was like to feel his hands on her body, in her hair, on her cunt. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking about it some nights when she was all by herself in her apartment, with her hands between her legs. Heavy breath lingering in the air as his name left her lips in a desperate call for him to do anything to her, anything he wanted. She had felt guilty about it, of course. But now that they were in his bed together, those illicit thoughts were starting to creep back into her head. Now that he was touching all over her, she wanted more.

Her lips reached for his neck, leaving wet kisses and small bites around his soft spot, as Harry’s breathing got a little heavier. “Love, what are you up to, hm?” He said in the gentlest voice, knowing where this was going as her kisses had suddenly changed from pure and loving, to slightly more sexual. “Tell me what you need, pet. I’ll give you anything, do you know that?” Harry continued, as he brought his lips to hers. Y/N almost mewled out a reply, mind fuzzy from his scent and sweet talking. “I need you, everywhere. Please. Just do anything, I’m yours.” Her eyes closing as Harry placed kisses all over her face, nose, cheeks and corners of her mouth. “You’re mine now, huh? I love to hear those words from you, you have no idea. But I need you to tell me what to do pet, what do you want?” He tried again, wanting to make sure that she knew what she was asking for, and wasn’t just caught up in her hazy mind. “I need you to touch me, k-kiss me, I just want you, H.” Y/N said desperately, in an almost whisper. Harry chuckled at the sweet girl in front of him. Of course he was going to take care of her. “Alright, love I’ve got you, yeah? But I need you to tell me if there’s something you need or if you want me to stop, do you understand?” Harry spoke clearly to her now, looking into her eyes to make sure that his message got through. “Yes. Yes, H, I want you.” She got out, her hands now underneath his t-shirt, nails scraping against his stomach. Harry’s hands touched her all over, keeping her close to his body, his hands travelled south and dipped into the waistband of her borrowed sweatpants. He stroked her soft skin over the thighs, bum and finally stopped on the outside of her underwear. Their mouths connected, and Harry was trying to stay focused on her pleasure, on the ques and clues she was leaving him with her touches and the way she moved. “Please, H” She moaned out, so zeroed in o finally getting a little taste of him on her tongue. “Shhh, pet, you’ll get all of me, don’t worry.” He tried to reassure her as his hand grazed over her underwear, laying soft and gentle strokes over her underwear, right on her clit. He moved devilishly slow, and Y/N was aching for more, higher pleasure from him. A moan slipped from Y/N’s lips and it was like all of the blood in Harry’s body rushed to his cock, almost making him lightheaded. Harry’s fingers that were moving on the outside of her underwear was now moving said underwear out of the way, being able to fully feel how wet she had become just from a few touches. Y/N had started to tug on his t-shirt. “Off, I want it off” she said to him in the dimly lit room, wanting to see all of him. Harry chuckled at the silly, sweet girl in his bed and removed himself from her, pulling his shirt over his head aswell as removing his sweats, just in his underwear mow. His next mission was to get Y/N out of her kit. He tugged on her t-shirt. “Is this alright? Wanna see you.” Harry whispered in her ear as his large hands were already underneath the t-shirt she was wearing, massaging her soft sides. Without a word from her, she sat up, and pulled it all off, discarding the t-shirt and her bra on the floor. “You’re so fucking beautiful, love.” Harry said, without tearing his gaze away from her breasts. His mouth instantly coming towards her belly and kissing up towards her boobs, wrapping his lips around one of her nipples, fingers tugging and rolling the other one. A moan ripping out of Harry’s chest the second he got a taste of her. “Shit, H, that feels…” Y/N moaned out, fingers running through Harry’s hair, slightly tugging on it. Harry continued kissing her chest, any skin he could to touch or kiss, he was there. Desperate to taste every inch of skin that she’d offer him.

Harry’s mouth started to travel down Y/N’s belly, teasing at the waistband with his green eyes looking into her’s for permission to remove them. Y/N slightly lifted her hips to make it easier for him, and her underwear and sweats were on the floor in barely a second, his body falling in between her legs, as he continued to kiss anywhere he could get to. “Are you going to let me have a taste, pet? Yeah?” He said to her, eyes still looking into hers. Another “please” fell from her lips, eager to get him on her. “Hmm, so kind to me, yeah? I’ll show you my worth, I promise you.” Harry said with a gentle tone, leaving her even more needy and ready for him to do something; anything. His lips finally met with her wet cunt, licking broad, strong swipes over her entrance and clit. Harry moaned at the taste of her, his eyes falling shut; he’d been dreaming about tasting her like this, but this was way better than anything he could’ve imagined. Y/N was writhing in her place on the mattress, her hips chasing after his tongue and heavy moans escaping her throat as he continued to kiss, lick and poke at her with his tongue. “You’re so goo-d, Harry, fuck! You’re mine, please,” Her moans encouraged him and simultaneously made his cock even harder, if that was even possible. Harry’s arms came up, one arm over her hips to slightly still her, and one over her breast, teasing her nipple. “I’m yours, don’t worry pet.” He replied to her, letting go of her messy, wet cunt for just a second before diving back in. Y/N’s hand flew to his hair, searching for anything to hold on to in her intense amount of pleasure. “Please, I’m going to come, you’re gonna make me com-e, please” Y/N was moaning out, almost screaming at this point, to deep into her pleasure to realise how loud she as being. Harry didn’t mind it at all. The hand that was previously on her breast moved down to her cunt, a finger playing at her entrance before pushing two of them inside her, slightly curving his fingers as he could feel her clenching around them. Y/N could almost black out at this point. She could barely remember the last time someone else had made her come this hard, it wasn’t usually happening at all with her previous partners. Her breathing started to get heavier as she came closer to her climax. “Come for me, pet, let me taste what I’ve worked so hard for. Look at me.” Harry let out, having to rut his hips into the mattress to get some kind of relief, he felt like he could come just by looking at her in this immense state of pleasure. With her eyes locked to his, she came, orgasm ripping through her body, legs trembling as Harry worked her through her orgasm with his mouth and fingers. When she slowly started to come down, Harry’s touches became lighter and more gentle, not wanting to overwhelm her after such an intense orgasm. As Harry’s lips let go of her, he moved to crash down on top of her, kissing her puffy, swollen lips. He had already missed her mouth. “I think I’m going to have to keep you forever, if that’s how you’re going to make me come.” Y/N admitted with a smile, her flushed face close to his and lips lingering on each other. “Darling, you know I wouldn’t mind, I’m here for as long as you want me.” He said back. Now it was her hands that started to travel down to his boxers, slipping inside of his boxers and gently stroking over his cock. “Shit, doll, I’m not going to last if you put your hands and me and I’m planning on at least two more orgasms for you.” Harry shakily breathed against her lips. “Mmmh” Was Y/N’s only reply, instead ridding him of his underwear and mumbling. “Are you clean, please tell me you’re clean I just want to feel you. I have a Nexplanon.” She almost begged him, it felt like too much to just get out of bed in search of a condom. “I got tested after my last partner, I’m clean as well, do you trust me? I could go get a condom, it’s no trouble, pet.” He replied in between kisses.

“No condom, I want to feel all of you. Please?” Her wide eyes looked into his for any kind of regret about it. She trusted him, he had already proven himself to be loyal and trustworthy, and she couldn’t find a single reason not to believe him although Y/N religiously always wore a condom with new partners. “Of course, pet, give you everything, you can trust me. Always so good for me, yeah?” He said, loving her reaction to the words that came out of her mouth. He turned them around, so that he was on his back, with her on top. “I want you on top to start with, okay? You can go as fast or as slow as you’d like, pet, it’s up to you.” Her heart trembled as he encouraged her to feel good with his body, completely trusting her and wanting to go at her pace. Although, her face fell slightly as her confidence wore thin when she had been on top with previous partners. Harry could read her immediately. “Shhh, no frown on that beautiful face, just to start and then I’ll take over when you’re ready, yeah?” He said, sitting up so their naked, upper bodies were flush against each other. “C’mon, doll, take what you want.” He encouraged her as she lined him up and slowly sank down onto him. She was slightly worried about taking him, he was above average in comparison to others and she wasn’t a fan of the pain that it could bring. But as sank down and took all of him, and she had never felt such a spark of pure pleasure as he filled her up. “Fuck me, pet, you feel so good around me, never had anyone feel this good on my cock.” Harry praised her, as she started to slowly grind her hips for some friction. Harry held her close, arms clasped around her upper body for support, as he attached his lips to hers. They moaned into each others mouth as Harry’s encouragement made her more brave and she moved more freely, her hips desperate for more, more of him. She had never felt this good during sex. Y/N’s thighs were burning from the work out she was getting, her belly on fire from him, so deep inside of her. “You feel good, baby? You’re taking my cock so well, look at you.” Harry praised her. She could barely think straight, not even being able to form a single word as more moans escaped from her lips and spilled into his mouth. His lips went to her neck, leaving lovebites, kissing, sucking, not for a second thinking of any marks he was leaving, deciding that he liked it like that. “Harry…” Y/N let out a tired whimper of his name, feeling so close to another orgasm already, but her legs felt like jelly, and she was frustrated that she couldn’t keep up her pace to chase after her climax. “I’ve got you.” Harry replied, giving her a big smile as his hands came up to her sweaty face to get some hairs away from her eyes. He just wanted to see her properly. “Going to let me take care of you? Make you come, again?” Harry continued, a proud, cocky, smile on his lips. Y/N just about had time to nod as he pushed her onto her back onto the mattress, getting up after her and getting on top of her. “This is my favourite…” Harry said into her neck, proceeding to put both of her legs over his shoulder, Harry leaning over her. As he pushed himself back into her, Y/N could swear she was seeing stars, the angle made up for her almost lost orgasm as after just a few strong thrusts, she was barrelling towards her orgasm again. Her hand attempted to slip in between them, to rub her puffy clit, she could taste her orgasm, it was just right there. Harry had realised quickly pulling up her arm and replacing her hand with his. “You’re going to come for me, again, pet? Spoiling me, aren’t you?” Harry laughed, pressing and pinching her clit, as Y/N’s lips attached to his neck. His scent was grounding her as another orgasm rolled through her body, causing her to grip on to Harry hard, pressing herself against him as if he would vanish at any given moment. Y/N’s nails pressed into his biceps, his shoulder blades, earning a grunt from Harry. Every nerve ending in her body was exploding, wanting more him, needing him like water or air.

Harry’s pace didn’t falter, he worked her through her orgasm and continued. The pleasure was so overwhelming, but she didn’t want to stop, she wanted more. “Darling, look what you’re doing to me. Promised you another one though, didn’t i? I’m so close, pet, be gentle with me, alright? Harry stuttered softly to her, kissing her lips as he released her legs from his shoulders, pulling out of her. Wordlessly, he turned her to her side, placing a pillow under her head as he got in behind her and pulled Y/N’s leg up for him to enter her again. Y/N was lost for words, she was in some hazy dream state driven by her lust for him, and not thinking a single thought besides him. “There we go,” Harry whispered to her, his arm encasing her shoulders as his other hand find it’s way back to her clit, in hopes of luring her into another orgasm. Y/N sighed as he picked up his pace again, her head falling back on his shoulder as she let him manipulate her to wherever he wanted. She was almost pissed at this point; she had gone her whole life without having sex that was this could? She had no idea that this is what it could’ve been. And she’s also pissed at herself for missing out on so much time with him, when he had been in love with her this whole time.

“Pet, you’re going to make me come any moment, where do you want it?” Harry’s voice was strained, trying to keep his composure as he neared his end. Y/N could barely get her words out, already feeling her next orgasm growing from those words he said to her. “Inside, come inside me.” She manged to say into the air as she turned her head slightly to catch his lips.

Harry let out an otherworldly moan from that sentence. “So good to me, Y/N, i’m going to come, are you with me?” He grunted out, his thrusts quickening as did his hand on her clit. Y/N was sure she was going to black out by the time they were done, as she felt her orgasm triggered by Harry’s cock steadily poking her g-spot. Y/N just about screamed, hands clawing at Harry’s arms, writhing around in the bed, wanting to get closer to him and get away from him at the same time. She could feel Harry’s cock twitching inside of her and his cum filling her as his pace faltered, giving deep, hard thrusts into her. They were both moaning out, breathing laboured, as they had just ran a marathon. Y/N was now shivering in her post orgasmic state, Harry’s cock still inside of her as he had caught up to reality, placing soft kisses on her neck, jaw, and cheek.

“Did so good for me, you feel okay, pet? I’m honestly kind of pissed that we didn’t get to do this earlier, best I’ve ever had.” Harry mumbled, nose grazing her cheek. Y/N smiled, slowly coming back to reality; their minds had to be connected somehow. Y/N turned around in bed, now facing him on their sides as she clung on to him. Sweaty bodies embracing each other, heartrates still way too high to be healthy. “Mm-hmm.” Was all she could reply to him, as she closed her eyes, taking in his scent, a mixture of sweat, his cologne and pure man, peppery, citrusy. “I don’t even think I could form a proper sentence; you’ve absolutely wrecked me.” Y/N manged to get out, a teasing smile on her lips as their eyes made contact. “Yeah, I was kind of hoping I’d ruin everyone else for you, you’re mine now, huh?” Harry winked at her, an almost comedic tone to his voice, although Y/N could see the hopeful glint in his eyes as he had repeated those words back to her. He can’t fool her that easily. “I am yours. If you’ll be mine.” She said to him, watching a glowing smile spread over his face, a puff of air escaping his lungs, full of all the love he had for her. “I’m all yours, and I have been for a long time.”

[cleo-fox]

Close Quarters

Part 1 of 2

Summary: “You don’t have to like it,” says Fury, “you just have to do your job.”

Your job, as it turns out, is to go undercover at a luxury resort.

The only problem? Your fake husband is Loki Laufeyson—the infuriatingly handsome Norse god turned Avenger who delights in making you flustered. What could go wrong?

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ (Minors DNI), dirty talk, praise kink, fingering, elevator sex, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, a hint of dom/sub, Dom Loki.

A/N: there will be a part 2. Also have a handful of related one shot ideas, so if people like this, I may post those. This is also posted on AO3.

Your self-sufficiency has always been a point of pride for you, both personally and professionally. The highlight of your career was overhearing Nick Fury say that he didn’t need to send in a team of people for a mission so long as he had you on the payroll. You are calm, competent, and ruthlessly efficient; you are used to relying only on yourself.

So it comes as something of a surprise when Fury informs you that Loki Laufeyson will not only be accompanying you on this undercover mission, but will also be taking the lead.

It takes a lot to render you speechless these days, but this does it. You gape at Fury for a moment before you’re able to speak.

“You never send me in with anyone,” you say.

“This mission requires a unique skillset.”

You scoff. “He can’t do anything that I can’t.”

Fury raises an eyebrow and folds his arms across his chest. “Really? How’s your conversational Sokovian?”

There’s, of course, no argument to be made with this. Your lips press into a thin, hard line. “I still don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it,” says Fury, “you just have to do your job.”

*

Your job, as it turns out, is to play the part of Nina Pine.

Nina Pine is bubbly and vivacious, the sort of person you’d see in the society pages. She wears designer clothes and owns jewelry that is so ostentatious and expensive that it looks like it must be fake. She is not particularly bright or talented; she is the product of good luck and generational wealth.

Three weeks ago, Nina married Jonathan Pine, who she met six months ago at the home of a mutual friend. Jonathan does something in finance that sounds like it’s just a tarted up version of gambling, but with more complicated rules and less oversight. It is Jonathan’s higher tolerance for risk (and healthy trust fund assets) that has him considering an investment in KorolCo, a company owned by Ivan Litvinchuk. Litvinchuk uses KorolCo as a front to launder money from illegal arms deals.

Loki would be going undercover as Jonathan. Your new husband.

You are not particularly happy about this little detail (a detail that Fury mysteriously failed to mention when you met with him), in no small part because Loki has already started leveraging it to annoy the shit out of you.

“How are you already this annoying when we’re still in prep?” you say after a particularly exasperating meeting.

“I’m simply overcome by my love for you,” says Loki with a cloying faux sincerity that makes you yearn for the sweet release of death.

Fury, you note, is suspiciously unavailable during all of this. After ignoring three of your (admittedly lengthy) emails on the subject, he sends you a frustratingly short reply:

Do your job, Agent.

Maybe you’ll take up meditation.

If there’s a bright side to what appears to be a massive clusterfuck in the making, it’s that you’ll at least get a free vacation of sorts

The mission will be taking place at The Indigo, an absurdly expensive and exclusive hotel on a private beach not far from La Jolla Cove. The Indigo is the sort of place that you’d only read about—the kind of hyper exclusive resort that is only ever mentioned in damning Pro Publica reports about the questionable actions of high ranking public officials. Rooms start at fifty thousand a night and you are staying in one of the suites, which likely costs more. Your room information was included in your briefing materials and it all sounds too good to be true: a soaking tub and waterfall shower. Private terrace with an infinity pool. Private bar. In-suite chef and spa services by appointment. Ocean view.

One Norse god who delights in irritating you (non-negotiable).

You suppose you’ll try and make the best of it.

*

The first problem is your sleeping arrangements: there’s only one bed. Granted, it’s a big bed, but still—it suggests a level of intimacy that you had not thought about and are not at all prepared for.

“Well, Agent, this isn’t how I envisioned taking you to my bed, but I suppose it’ll have to do,” says Loki on your first evening there.

You chuck a pillow at him, which he easily dodges.

“Keep it up and you can magic yourself a pillow and sleeping bag and sleep in the hall,” you say.

“Even if that were an appropriate accommodation for someone of my rank and title, I rather think it would do some damage to our cover.”

He has a point and you don’t like it. You decide to ignore him and start getting ready for bed.

The pajamas that had been packed for you are a little fancier than what you’re used to—satin and lace instead of cotton tees and shorts. Normally, you’d relish the opportunity to feel a little fancy—it’s an unexpected indulgence, a splurge on the company dime.

But with Loki now thrown into the equation, you are suddenly hyper aware of the fact that the fabric will likely cling to your curves, that the hem of the skirt is just a little too high. You choose the most demure one of the lot—a pale rose colored thing hemmed with lace—and head to the bathroom to change.

Even with the matching robe, you still feel a little awkward and oddly nervous. You avoid looking at Loki—if his gaze is lingering on your legs or your hips, you don’t want to know about it right before you hop into bed with him—and go about your normal routine. You manage to have a relatively normal conversation about your plan for tomorrow and you read a couple chapters of your book before you start to drift off.

It’s a king sized bed with plenty of room, but somehow you wake up perched near the edge of the bed with Loki pressed up against your back.

He’s got one arm wrapped around your waist so that you’re pinned against him and the deep, even breaths brushing against the back of your neck tell you he’s still asleep. You’re pretty sure this must have been unintentional on his part: Loki doesn’t seem like the sort to willingly allow himself to be seen seeking out human contact. It’s too vulnerable, too soft for the sharp and sarcastic veneer he presents to the world.

He shifts slightly in his sleep, his grip on you tightening. Something hard pokes against the curve of your ass.

You can’t help the responding ache between your legs. You should feel embarrassed—and you do, just a little—but there’s a competing feeling of warm curiosity that makes you press your thighs together. It’s been a while and you miss being held like this. The silk of your nightgown is cool and slippery against your skin, and you feel oddly restless and alert despite the early hour.

You should put a stop to this—that is the professional and sensible thing to do. So you carefully lift his arm from your waist and gently extricate yourself from his embrace. You pad to the bathroom, leaving the light off to spare your eyes.

In the bathroom, you run the tap as cold as it will go. You cup your hands and drink before splashing some water on your face in an effort to quell the restless heat building between your thighs.

It doesn’t really work. You’re not entirely surprised—if you were by yourself, you would simply take care of it, but that’s obviously not an option now. Out of curiosity, you slip your fingers between your thighs to assess the state of things and you immediately regret it: you’re soaked and just the feeling of your index finger glancing against your clit is enough to undo the admittedly minimal effect of the cold water.

You splash your face again and shut off the tap, taking a few deep breaths and smoothing your hands against your hair.

You exit the bathroom and slide back into bed. Loki reaches for you in his sleep and you are only half surprised when you let him wrap his arms around your waist and pull you to him. The throbbing ache between your thighs intensifies and before you can think about it, your back is arching and your breath is hitching.

He pulls you closer and suddenly his breath is warm on your ear. “You know, if you wanted me, all you had to do was ask,” he says, his voice deep and smooth, only a little husky with sleep.

“This is a bad idea,” you say, even as your back arches again and you press yourself against him.

Lips press against where your neck and shoulder meet. “But you want it.” His fingers toy with the hem of your nightgown. “Yes?” he asks, his voice husky against your ear.

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Agent.”

“Yes. Please.”

“Agent.”

Your eyes flutter open. Loki is standing at the foot of the bed, hair wet, and wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist.

“It’s eight o’clock,” he says. “You need to shower and dress if we’re to make it to breakfast on time.”

It takes you a moment to process this information. Partly because he just woke you up from a sex dream about him and partly because wearing only a towel should be fucking illegal when you look like that. You try to keep your eyes trained on his and not let them drift to his flat stomach where you can see a faint smattering of chest hair that gathers in a line that trails directly to his cock. And definitely not to any of the muscles that are on tantalizing display and dotted by drops of water that are begging to be licked away. Nope. Not looking at any of that. Just at his devastatingly handsome face. 

Fuck.

“Agent?”

You shake your head. “Sorry. Bit groggy this morning. Finish up what you were doing and I’ll go jump in the shower.”

He gives you a bit of an odd look, but mercifully walks away without further comment. 

This gives you an opportunity to stare at his broad back as he walks away. Goddammit, even his ass looks good in that towel.

Fuck.

You have a feeling this is going to be a long week.

*

It’s only day one and it’s becoming clear to you that you are not really prepared for some of the practicalities of being Loki’s wife.

Specifically: being the primary focus of his flirtations and little gestures of affection. His hand on the small of your back, his fingers lacing with yours, the brush of his lips against the back of your hand or the shell of your ear—it’s all a little overwhelming in a way you don’t expect. It was one thing when he was razzing you in your prep meetings—he was quite clearly doing it to be irritating. But at The Indigo, he has to appear sincere for your cover and that particular detail makes it a different beast entirely. 

The fact that both his regular appearance and the blond-haired, blue-eyed glamor he’s adopted for the mission are both devastatingly handsome certainly doesn’t help. Nor does the additional baggage of your sex dream this morning.

Unfortunately for you, Loki quickly ascertains that he now has a great and novel way to fluster you. Equally unfortunate is the fact that he seems to find this as hilarious as he did back in prep meetings, which prompts him to be only more outlandish.

“Are you trying to sabotage this?” It’s later that afternoon and you’ve gone down to the pool with the plan of schmoozing with Litvinchuk and his associates. Loki has clearly decided that this needs to be more difficult than it is and has fully committed to the bit, as they say.

(You’ve also gotten very good at whispering threats under your breath and making it look like you’re flirting; the timing of this is not a coincidence).

“I don’t know why you’re so distraught about sunscreen,” says Loki, rubbing a generous amount between his palms.

“It’s not the sunscreen, it’s that you’re going to find some way to be inappropriate about it.”

“I’d never.”

“You are so full of shit.”

“You wound me.” He places his hands on your shoulders and begins rubbing in the sunscreen, going much slower than you think is strictly necessary. “Perhaps this trip is merely bringing out our natural chemistry.”

“You wish.”

“Is it the hair that does it for you, Mrs. Pine? Do you have a particular fondness for blonds?”

“Do you have a fondness for being murdered in broad daylight? Because that’s the fate you’re headed towards, buster.”

He tuts at you as his hands slide to the small of your back. “Temper, temper. You really need to work on that.”

“Have you considered working on not annoying the ever-loving shit out of me?”

His breath is suddenly warm against your ear. “Now where’s the fun in that? And before you answer, be advised that Tarasevich is looking right at us.”

Fuck. Tarasevich is the most suspicious and paranoid of the lot—years in the Sokovian mafia paired with recreational drug use will do that to a guy. You turn so that you’re facing Loki. He looks at you fondly, looking for all the world like a loved up newlywed just smitten with his new wife.

“One of these days, I’m going to drop kick you into the motherfucking sun,” you say in the sweetest voice that you can muster.

“Now, now, Mrs. Pine, let’s keep the foreplay in the bedroom.” He rests his forehead against yours, reaching up to stroke your cheek. “There’s such a thing as public indecency laws, you know.”

You sigh heavily. “Why are you like this?”

“Oh, because it’s so much fun.”

“Is he still looking?”

“Yes and I’m going to kiss you to put him off, so do try to contain yourself.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll manage.”

You catch a flicker of a smile before he leans in and brushes his lips against yours. You intend for this to be brief, but his mouth is so warm and inviting and before you know it, he’s gently coaxing your lips open and leading your tongue in a slow and seductive caress that has your mind drifting straight to the gutter.

His hand slides to your thigh and you can’t bring yourself to be mad about it.

“Ah, Pine. Mixing business and pleasure, I see.”

You pull back from Loki to find Ivan Litvinchuk standing in front of you, wearing the smug, congratulatory smirk that you often see men like him trading with one another when they think they’re getting somewhere with a woman.

“Normally I try not to, but I’ve found it rather impossible these last three weeks, haven’t I, darling?” Loki takes the opportunity to loop his arms around your waist and pull you into his lap, nuzzling your neck.

You give a good natured laugh. “You’re insatiable.”

“Oh, I don’t think anyone would fault me when I have such a tempting little wife.”

This, paired with the squeeze of his hand on your thigh, sends an unexpected rush of heat to your cunt. Fortunately, the effects of this are quickly tempered when you notice that Litvinchuk is eyeing you rather appreciatively. The wardrobe team has really outdone themselves with your clothes, but the swimsuits they’ve sent are definitely more revealing than you are used to—today’s choice is a bikini with a split sweetheart neckline that dips a lot lower than you’d like and a fucking underwire in the top. Underwire! The bottom is no better—it’s both low rise and high cut, the perfect way to ensure that half of your ass is exposed at any given time. Even in the matching translucent cover up—which of course you’ve left on the chair that Litvinchuk is standing in front of—you feel a little more bare than you’d like, a fact that Litvinchuk seems to be appreciating, if the path of his gaze is any indication.

“You’re a lucky man, Mr. Pine,” he says, his eyes flicking briefly to your cleavage.

You expertly tamp down your disgust and smile at Litvinchuk before turning around to bat your eyes at Loki.

“You are, aren’t you?” you say, twining your arms around his neck and planting a brief, chaste kiss on his lips.

He gives you a dazzling smile that’s so sincere it makes your stomach flip. “Very much so.”

Another squeeze of your thigh, more heat to your cunt. Fuck.

“Well, Pine, when you are ready to discuss more business—” Here he switches to Sokovian.

This is the part you dislike the most about this particular mission: whenever anything of substance comes up, Litvinchuk and his cronies immediately switch to Sokovian, leaving you in the dark.

To add insult to injury, Litvinchuk still seems infatuated by your cleavage.

Litvinchuk says goodbye a few minutes later and you manage to bite your tongue until he’s out of earshot.

“I really don’t love the fact that he spent half of that conversation sneaking looks at my boobs,” you say quietly.

“Well, to be fair, they do look spectacular,” says Loki. “I’ll have to send a thank you note to the wardrobe team for that.”

Heat stirs hopefully and unhelpfully in your hips at that comment.

“This is what I meant by being inappropriate, you know. Did he have anything interesting to say?”

“He’s invited me to a game of cards this afternoon.”

“Do you need me for that? I could go try and talk to the wives, see what I can find out.”

“Originally, I’d thought no, but since dear Ivan seems so enamored of your assets, it might not be a bad idea to have you come along.”

You sigh. “How am I now at the point in my life where letting an illegal arms dealer stare at my tits is a fucking mission objective?”

Loki laughs quietly. “We’ll keep that out of the final report.”

*

The card game ends up being a lot worse than you thought it would be. And not because of Litvinchuk’s wandering eyes.

They’ve set up the game on the pool deck tables and chairs. As best as you can tell, it’s a Sokovian twist on a combination of rummy and poker. You’re not the only woman at the table: a few of the other men have their girlfriends or mistresses draped over them like strange human scarves, though their roles seem to be largely decorative.

Loki makes a big show of pulling you into his lap, saying how he just can’t bear to be apart from his new wife for terribly long.

“Ah, young love,” says Mikhnevich. “I remember when my Irina and I were like this.”

“Now she begs for him to leave the house!” says Litvinchuk. There’s a hearty round of laughter—it’s not a particularly funny joke, but you suppose that’s one of the benefits of moving up in the world of crime: people will laugh at your jokes because they’re afraid you’ll kidnap their families or something. It’s all very dysfunctional.

Loki makes an effort to teach you the game, but Nina is not the sort who pays very close attention to that kind of thing, so you find yourself giggling and letting him steal kisses or whisper in your ear as he explains some strategy or another.

There are several problems with this arrangement. The first is that you are positioned on his lap in such a way that you can feel his cock nudging your ass or your thigh, depending on how he’s sitting. And it’s close enough proximity for you to ascertain that he is long, thick, and semi-erect.

The second problem is his thigh; specifically, how it presses against your cunt, how every time Loki leans forward to draw a card, he inadvertently rocks you against the firm muscle. Each time, it feels better than the last; each time, you clench and ache and talk yourself out of riding his thigh until you have a screaming orgasm right on the pool deck. Each time, the idea becomes more and more tempting.

The third problem is his hands. Specifically, where and how they are wandering. He plays it off like it’s unintentional, like he’s just absently fidgeting with the part of your suit that lays against your hip or idly drawing lazy circles on your thigh. You can’t help but think that it must be calculated. He’s spent the last twenty-four hours intentionally trying to drive you crazy–there’s no way that he would pass up an opportunity to play his little games without you scolding him or rolling your eyes.

The fourth problem is that the first three problems are turning you on a lot.

Your clit seems to swell with every pass of his fingertips on your bare skin, no matter how casual. It drags against the slick material of your swimsuit every time you shift on Loki’s muscular thigh. You can feel yourself growing slicker and slicker with every moment. Eventually, it becomes too much and you try to shift in his lap, crossing your legs to give yourself a little relief.

This does exactly nothing useful. Instead, your movement causes his cock to twitch against you, which only escalates your growing arousal. He hooks the elastic of your suit at your hip onto his thumb and pulls, letting it snap back against your skin. His expression is playful when you look up at him, but there’s a fire in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

You are throbbing, your cunt practically weeping with slickness. And you’re pretty sure he knows.

And you’re pretty sure you don’t mind.

You lick your lips.

He hooks his thumb back into your suit at the hip, and this time he leaves it there, his fingers splayed along the curve of your hip. It’s casually possessive and ridiculously hot and the polar opposite of helpful.

He definitely knows.

Your heart is pounding. Can you go into cardiac arrest from being too turned on? You wish you could use Google. At a minimum, some sort of visual equivalent of a cold shower would be helpful. Pictures of Henry Kissinger or something. Budget reports. Taxes. Anything to get your mind off your aching cunt and the mess that you’re making in your swimsuit.

“I think you could do with a bit of a lie down, Mrs. Pine.” Loki's voice is low in your ear. “You seem…warm.”

You would have thought that Loki knowing about your current state of arousal would be cause for humiliation, if not irritation. Instead, it only seems to add fuel to the fire, especially with the way he’s talking to you. You’re not sure how he’s doing this, but it feels like his fucking voice is vibrating in the cradle of your hips, sending a fresh wave of slick arousal to your dripping cunt.

“Yeah,” you say. “Very warm.”

It’s perhaps a testament to your current state of mind that you can only manage this sentence and not some smart remark.

“Would you like my help with that, darling?” he asks. The phrasing is innocent, but the question is loaded. And sincere. You take in a shaky breath. You know all the reasons why this is a bad idea, but you also can’t bring yourself to say no. He may be wildly irritating, but you suspect he’s likely a good fuck…and you really need to be fucked.

You nod. “Yeah…I’d like that.”

“We’ll go up to the room after this game ends,” he says. “And then I’ll take very good care of you.”

It takes everything in you not to whine. Fuck. You didn’t think it was possible to be this wet, this turned on. 

Loki shifts slightly, pulling you close against him, his cock now fully erect and pressing hard and thick against your ass. 

“Do you feel me?” he asks, his lips grazing your ear. “Do you feel what you’ve done?”

You nod and wiggle your hips slightly, partly to situate yourself and partly because you want a little bit of payback. His grip on your hip tightens.

“I’d advise you not to play games, little wife,” he rasps in your ear.

More heat builds in your hips. You can’t remember the last time you were this turned on. Maybe never. You throw a look at Loki over your shoulder. “It’s not a game,” you say. “I’m just very warm.”

His eyes are dark. “Burning up, I suspect.”

“You have no idea.” You lean back against him, turning so you can nuzzle your face against his neck. God, he smelled good. “Please,” You say it so quietly that only he can hear, “I’m aching.”

He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and you feel his cock throb. He clears his throat. “Gentlemen, I’m afraid I’m going to have to take my leave a little early—Mrs. Pine is feeling quite unwell.”

Fuck yes.

If Litvinchuk and his men suspect there’s anything untoward about your departure, they don’t say so—and you imagine you must look a little unsteady anyway. Loki slides an arm around your waist as you leave.

“Now Mrs. Pine,” he says once you’re out of earshot, “tell me exactly what ails you.”

You let out a shaky sigh. “Are you seriously going to do this?”

“I only want to ensure that we are on the same page,” he says with a smirk.

“Like hell you do. I already told you, you just want to hear—” You cut yourself off, realizing that you’re playing right into his hands.

He smiles like a cat with a bowl full of cream. “What do I want to hear, darling?”

You press your lips together. This is infuriating.

“I’m waiting…”

You blow out a shaky breath. Fuck it. “You just want to hear me say that I’m fucking soaked because you’ve been rubbing me against your thighs and touching me for the last two hours and if I don’t come soon, I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.”

He smirks as you approach the hotel lobby. “Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting to hear you say all that.”

“You absolutely were.”

The air conditioned air in the hotel lobby feels extra icy against your sunwarmed skin and your sandals seem to clack particularly loudly against the marble floors.

“You have a smart mouth, do you know that?”

“You like it,” you say as you approach the bank of elevators. “That’s the reason why you pull half of this shit with me.”

“Perhaps.” He gives you a smile that feels a little dangerous and sends even more heat to your aching cunt. “But do you know what my favorite part of your smart mouth is, Mrs. Pine?”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

The elevator door opens. It’s empty and your cunt clenches at the possibilities this presents.

“My favorite part about your smart mouth,” says Loki in a low voice as you step into the elevator, “is that it will sound that much sweeter when I make you beg for me.”

The elevator door slides closed and you barely have a chance to react before he’s backing you up against the wall and pressing his thigh between your legs.

“You’re a disobedient, wicked tease, Mrs. Pine,” he growls, sending a thrill through you. “I think you could benefit from a firm hand.”

“You like it,” you breathe, rocking your hips against his thigh, trying to capture some of the same friction that was driving you wild earlier.

“Rutting yourself against my thigh in public like a common slut,” he purrs. “You must be desperate.” He slides a hand between your legs, slipping his fingers under your bathing suit. His expression changes the moment his fingers dip past the fabric—almost like he expected you to be wet, but not this wet.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purrs as you keen. “You’ve made a mess of yourself, haven’t you?”

“I need to come so bad,” you gasp.

“I know you do.” He reaches over and slams the emergency stop button and the elevator shudders to a halt. “And you’re going to. Right now.”

“I can wait until we get to the ro—”

He spins you around and pulls you to him so your back is pressed against his chest.

“No, you can’t.” He curls his big frame over yours, sliding his hand back into your bathing suit and stroking the full length of your sex and making you cry out again. “You need it too badly.” He starts rubbing your clit with his middle and index fingers. “And I don’t think it’s going to take all that long, darling,” he growls, sucking your earlobe into his mouth, “because you’re already so fucking wet.”

There’s a small, distant part of you that resents the fact that he’s right about anything, let alone anything pertaining to your orgasms.

The larger part of you is focused on the fact that he’s right: you’re going to come and you’re going to come hard.

Your legs are shaking and you brace your arms against the elevator wall to hold yourself up. You moan loudly and arch your back as the feeling starts building in your hips.

“You need this so badly, don’t you?” He nips hard at your earlobe. “You’re desperate for it. I felt you tense up every time your sopping cunt rubbed against my thigh, every time I touched you just right.”

You whimper, pressure rising in your hips as you rock with his hands.

“You’re so close,” Loki purrs in your ear. His hips are thrusting mindlessly against your ass, like he can’t wait to be inside you.

“Fuck, I need to come,” you whimper.

“Oh, I’m going to make you come, darling, but I think what you really need is to be fucked.”

You moan as your orgasm starts to crest.

“You need to be fucked properly and hard,” he murmurs. “You need me to take care of your sopping wet, needy little cunt. You need to be filled to the brim with my cock and my come like the good girl that you are. You need to come over and over on my cock until you can’t take it anymore.”

This is what pushes you over the edge. The muscles of your cunt clench and then pleasure is blooming in your belly as the tension of the last two hours comes to a peak and you come hard. You cry out, your hips rocking against Loki’s hand, chasing the shimmery aftershocks.

“There she is, that’s my good girl,” he purrs. He holds you as you shudder and shake, his fingers still moving, still coaxing out those final waves of pleasure. But just when you think he’s about to pull his hand away, he starts massaging your clit again, one long finger slipping inside you.

“You don’t think you’re going to be satisfied with just one, do you?” he growls in your ear. “Not a needy girl like you, not when you’ve been dripping for hours. You need more, don’t you?”

“Oh fuck—” You can feel that pressure growing again and you know it’s going to be different this time.

“You’re going to come for me again, pretty girl,” he purrs. “And this time, I want to hear you scream.”

Everything is coiling up so tight and tense and suddenly two of his fingers are inside of you and they’re curling just right and the edges of your vision go white as everything inside you fizzes and releases and a sharp cry falls from your lips as you come.

“Good girl,” his voice rumbles low over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.

His hand finally stills once the final aftershocks roll through you. Your legs are shaking, but his grip on you is still firm. Boneless, you turn to him and he presses his slick fingers past your lips. You suck and lick his fingers clean and then he’s kissing you, sucking your own essence from your lips and tongue.

“Fuck,” you breathe as the elevator shudders to life. “Fuck, that was so good.”

Loki laughs quietly and scoops you up into his arms as the elevator arrives at your floor.

“Oh, we’re nowhere near done, darling.”

Continued in Part 2

[thef1diary]

While It Lasts | L. Norris - 1

Summary: Lando expected nothing more than relaxation and fun for two weeks during his summer break. What he didn’t anticipate was meeting you, someone who felt like a perfect match in every way. As the days quickly passed, he found himself falling deeply for you, only to be confronted with the heart-wrenching reality that your time together was far more limited than he ever imagined.

Part 2

PLEASE READ: This story contains themes of loss, morality, fear, death, relationship strains, mental health struggles, including significant emotional impact related to the reader’s journey with a chronic illness and some scenes are set in hospitals. Reminder that this is simply a work of fiction, please don’t take it to heart.

a hugeee thank you to @chilling-seavey @thefourthln @faithshouseofchaos for proofreading this and constantly reassuring me that this isn’t shit 😭 I wouldn’t have posted this fic without your support 🫶🏻

pairing: lando x fem!reader

wc: 15.9k (because tumblr won't let me post the whole thing at once)

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate or repost any of my work.

“C’mon, you’re gonna love it there,” Lando attempted to persuade his best friend. 

Max Fewtrell rolled his eyes, asking incredulously, “mate, are you seriously considering taking us to a small town over partying all day, everyday in the city?”

Lando shrugged, holding his finger up for a moment, asking him to wait while he scrolled through his phone to find the photos that Carlos sent him earlier. “It’s not just a small town, look at this.” He turned the phone around to show his best friend the photos of their potential home for the next two weeks. 

Max scoffed, still not believing that Lando was changing their pre-made plans at the last minute, “and why would Carlos just give you the keys to that villa looking thing?” 

“It’s his uncle’s vacation home, and it’ll be empty if we don’t go. You don’t want to leave this beauty empty, do you?” 

Max sighed, rolling his eyes at his best friend’s antics. As soon as he saw the photos, he was convinced to discard the previous plans and take the opportunity to live in that home, but of course he wouldn’t admit it straightaway. 

“Show me the photos again,” he simply muttered, earning a laugh from Lando as he swiped through the pictures. 

“There’s literally only one other house nearby, we won’t get that in the city now, would we?” Lando commented, watching the cogs turning in Max’s mind. 

Despite Max's initial reluctance, Lando could see the spark of curiosity flickering in his friend's eyes as he examined the photos. He knew he was close to winning Max over.

"So, what do you say, Max? Are you in?" Lando pressed, a hopeful tone in his voice.

Max hesitated for a moment, weighing his options before finally letting out a resigned sigh. "Alright, fine, you win. Let's give this small town adventure a shot," he conceded, unable to resist the allure of the stunning villa.

Lando grinned triumphantly. "Trust me, mate, you won't regret it," he assured him, clapping him on the back.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see about that. When are we leaving?” He asked instead, still not wanting to get his hopes up in case he would be left disappointed. 

“Tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow?” Max asked, eyes widening when Lando nodded. 

“Go pack your bags, mate,” Lando shoved him with full force once he noticed Max wasn’t leaving the room.

He laughed when Max finally regained his sense of motion and scrambled out the room, muttering to himself while packing everything he thought he needed for the next two weeks. Despite having a habit of travelling, it wasn’t any less stressful to pack, especially with a short notice.  

Lando sighed and leaned back into his chair, holding up his phone in front of him. He admired the picturesque view of the villa in the photos, containing his excitement because he would be able to see the same view in person soon enough. 

Perhaps this was what he needed, especially after the stress that continued to build up over the first half of the season. While he had a better start to the season than he was used to, it didn’t ease any pressure. He was constantly thinking about what he can do as a driver to improve the car while having to face the media at every race weekend and answering the same question over and over again. It was too much for him to handle. 

It was part of the reason why he was adamant on convincing Max to take a break in a place where they wouldn’t be seen as much as they usually do in Monaco. It would give him a chance of exploring a new town while also staying under the radar. 

When Carlos first suggested the idea, Lando instantly agreed. The promise of two weeks of relaxation and exploration ahead sounded like a dream to him. Lando couldn't wait to leave the pressures of the racing world behind and immerse himself in the beauty of the coastal town. Little did he know, amidst the winding streets and sun-kissed beaches, he would find more than just a temporary escape.

— 

As the taxi pulled up to the gates, the driver turned to them with a grin. "Here we are, gentlemen. Enjoy your stay," he announced, gesturing towards the grand entrance of the villa. 

Max and Lando exchanged glances, eager to explore the town. They thanked the driver before stepping out of the taxi, and their eyes widened in awe at the sight of their temporary abode. The grand villa stood just up ahead of them, its white walls gleaming in the golden light of the setting sun. The only barrier slightly obstructing their view were the large steel gates, shut to prevent any trespassers. 

"Whoa!" Max exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement.

Lando nodded in agreement, already reaching for his phone to capture the moment. "This place is insane," he remarked, snapping a quick selfie, giving a cheesy smile while holding up his thumb with the villa in the background.

Max chuckled, watching as Lando posed for the photo. "Gonna send that to Carlos?" he asked, a grin spreading across his face.

Lando nodded, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Yep, just to make him jealous," he replied, tapping away at his phone before sending the selfie to Carlos with a playful message: ‘You’re missing out!’

“Where’s he anyways?” Max asked but his gaze never left the sight in front of him. 

Lando’s thumbs moved across the screen as he typed out another message, possibly replying to Carlos who always texted back within minutes. 

Moments later, he turned the phone to show the screen to Max. Carlos had responded to Lando’s selfie with one of his own, showing off the view he was enjoying in the background. A pair of blue goggles covered his eyes and he held his thumb up in a playful manner as well. It was evident that he was standing on a yacht, surrounded by a form of nature in its entirety. 

“Guess he’s not exactly missing out. When is he not on a boat?” Max asked jokingly. 

Lando shrugged, “when he’s not cycling I guess.” 

When he turned the screen back towards him, he noticed another text from Carlos. ‘Don’t break anything’

He scoffed, shaking his head before pocketing his phone, ignoring his message. He was mature enough to know that, even if a few broken trophies claimed otherwise. 

The taxi drove off, leaving the men standing with their luggages in front of the gate. The breeze passed through Lando’s curls, causing him to turn around and squint his eyes to look up at the leaves on the trees swaying around. The setting sun pierced his eyes, but his gaze didn’t waver from it, a smile growing on his face since he already began liking the peaceful environment. 

“Mate,” Max’s voice broke the silence. When Lando looked at him expectantly, he gestured towards the gates. “Are we just here to look at it from outside or do you know the code to get in?”

Lando’s eyes widened, “oh yeah, Carlos told me the code, hold on.” He fumbled for his phone, quickly locating the message from Carlos with the access code. 

Before he could punch in the code, the sound of a car door slamming loudly took their attention away from the villa. 

Max and Lando simultaneously spotted another home further down the street across from theirs, the only one apart from the villa for miles. It stood in stark contrast, a quaint cottage nestled amidst a grove of cherry blossom trees. It looked smaller, but they knew not to be fooled, knowing the cottage only appeared smaller since it was further away. 

"Looks like we've got neighbors," Lando remarked, pointing towards the distant cottage. 

“So much for silence,” Max mumbled. 

As soon as Max’s words were spoken out loud, their attention shifted to the cause of the sound; you. 

Unlike Lando and Max, your day hadn’t been going well. Actually, you don’t believe that you’ve experienced a single good day in the past couple years; not since the day you received your reports. 

You remember that day vividly, the memories playing out in your mind like a horror movie. Despite many efforts from your close friends and family to cheer you up, you don’t believe that any smile you’ve given was genuine. Not a single one. 

You shut your eyes tightly, but it only intensified the memories, causing you to find a way to shift your attention. Your gaze was attracted to the sun that was moments away from slipping underneath the horizon. 

Contrasting to Lando’s thoughts from earlier, who smiled at the sunset because watching it cemented the fact that he was away from the chaos in cities and his world of racing, you thought of the guarantee that the sun will rise again tomorrow, one certainty you never had about yourself. 

Once you slammed the car door shut, a surge of frustration and anger coursed through you, making your brother, Isaac, who was also getting out of the car, wince in discomfort. It was his car, after all, and you knew you shouldn't take your frustrations out on one of his most prized possessions, but the weight of your own mortality pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket.

Another visit to the hospital had left you feeling drained and defeated, the latest round of test results delivering yet another blow to your already fragile health. The doctors' words echoed in your mind, their somber tones a stark reminder of the grim reality you faced.

You were angry – angry at the world for dealing you such a terrible fate, angry at your own body for betraying you, angry at the uncertainty that loomed over your future like a dark cloud. Would you live another day, another year, or was each moment you spent on this earth merely borrowed time?

Your hands trembled with a mixture of fear and frustration as you struggled to make sense of it all. You’ve been in this situation multiple times over the past couple years, wondering why the doctors always gave you a false sense of hope until the facts proved otherwise, but every time still felt like the first. Your illness was something you could never wrap your head around. The questions swirled in your mind, unanswered and unanswerable, leaving you feeling helpless and alone.

As you leaned against the car, your breath coming in ragged gasps, you felt a sense of despair wash over you. The world seemed cruel and indifferent, its vastness stretching out before you like an endless void.

Despite looking at the sun until it made your eyes water, or perhaps those were just your tears caused by your anger turning into sadness, your mind was still filled with all sorts of thoughts while your heart held various emotions. 

The one thing that did divert your mind was the sound of rackety steel gates opening further down the street. Those gates hadn’t been open in about a year, making it in desperate need of oil on the hinges. 

You remembered the family that visited very often once upon a time—the Sainz family—but those visits became less and less frequent as the years went by. 

However, once you heard laughter echoing down the street, you couldn’t place a name to the sound. You squinted your eyes to focus on the scene since you had forgotten your glasses inside your home. Your eyesight was one of the first things that started deteriorating, making it hard to believe that you once had perfect vision.

You could make out the shape of two men, seemingly young and nowhere near a part of the family that owned the villa. 

With a heavy heart, you turned away from the villa, knowing it was time to spend a quiet night in. The sun had long gone beneath the horizon, turning the orange skies into hues of blue as you made your way towards your small cottage.

Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of stale coffee from the early morning hours before you rushed to the hospital. The unmistakable scent of antiseptics mixed with coffee, a reminder that your home was slowly becoming similar to the emergency rooms. 

Your brother hovered nearby, his expression etched with concern as he watched you sink into a worn armchair. He had moved in once your health didn’t show any signs of improvement, taking on the older brother role even if he was a few years younger. 

"Are you okay?" Isaac asked, his voice filled with worry.

You nodded, forcing a weak smile as you tried to push aside the weight of your own fears. "I'm fine," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

But deep down, you knew the truth. You were anything but fine. The uncertainty of your future loomed over you like a dark cloud, threatening to consume you whole.

“Do you need anything before I make dinner?” He stood in front of you, fidgeting with his hands. 

The mention of dinner made you look up at him, shifting in the armchair as you prepared to stand up. His hands instantly shot out in case you stumbled over your feet. 

“Let me help you make dinner,” you spoke, placing your hand on his shoulder to stabilize yourself. 

He began shaking his head but your eyes pleaded with him. 

“Please, I’m not completely useless yet,” You added, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to deny you since it was a trick you used when you were both younger. 

He sighed, wanting to tell you that you weren’t useless at all, but it would open another can of worms. “Don’t push yourself too hard,” he settled instead. 

You firmly nodded, and threaded your arm around his as he led you to the kitchen. He knew that he shouldn’t have let you help, especially after an appointment, but he also knew that if he left you alone, your thoughts would drown you. 

All you needed was company, and he was more than willing to do anything to help you especially since he felt helpless otherwise. 

The rhythmic chopping of vegetables filled the air as you and Isaac worked together in the kitchen. He hovered nearby, his presence a silent reassurance that you were not alone in your struggle.

"Need any help with that?" he asked, gesturing towards the cutting board where you were slicing tomatoes with unsteady hands.

You shook your head, trying to hide the tremor in your voice. "I've got it, thanks."

But he could see through your facade, his eyes filled with concern as he watched you work. "Are you sure? You seem a bit off today." 

He had made it his responsibility to take you to your appointments, and he noticed that your mood deflated even more than the last visit.

You forced a smile, hoping to alleviate his worries. "I'm fine, just tired from the hospital visit."

He didn't look convinced, but he didn't press further. Instead, he moved closer, offering a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Well, let me know if you need anything. I'm here for you, okay?"

You nodded, grateful for his support. "Thanks, I appreciate it."

As you continued to cook together, the tension in the air eased, replaced by the familiar rhythm of sibling banter and shared laughter. 

“Oh, did you see our new neighbours?” You asked once you sat down to eat. 

Your brother nodded, a muffled sound leaving his mouth since he was in the midst of chewing. 

Your face twisted in disgust, “ew, eat your food, don’t show it.” He playfully smacked your arm before swallowing and you had to hide the wince that almost overtook your expressions. You rubbed your arm once he was distracted, already knowing that it’ll bruise even if the smack was light. 

“As I was saying,” he glared at you for a brief moment before continuing, “I noticed them coming in.” 

“How long do you think they’re gonna stay?” 

He added, making you shrug, “no idea, a couple weeks?” 

Meanwhile, down the street, Max and Lando were immediately struck by the grandeur inside the villa. They had already explored the surroundings outside while the sun was setting, and were greeted by a scene of serene beauty and tranquility. 

The sprawling grounds stretched out before them, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. Lush greenery enveloped the landscape, with meticulously landscaped gardens and manicured lawns spreading out in all directions.

Tall palm trees swayed gently in the breeze, their fronds rustling softly as if whispering secrets to the wind. Vibrant bursts of color from exotic flowers and fragrant blossoms added splashes of brightness to the landscape, while the sweet scent of blooming jasmine and lavender hung in the air.

A cobblestone pathway wound its way through the gardens, meandering past secluded alcoves and hidden nooks waiting to be explored. Stone benches and wrought iron chairs provided inviting spots to sit and enjoy the beauty of nature, while the soothing sound of a trickling fountain added a sense of serenity to the atmosphere.

In the distance, the shimmering surface of a swimming pool caught the last rays of sunlight, beckoning with promises of cool refreshment on a warm summer's day. Beyond the pool, a charming gazebo nestled amidst a grove of trees offered a secluded retreat, its elegant structure inviting relaxation and contemplation.

Inside the villa, Max and Lando found themselves immersed in a world of luxury and refinement. Marble floors gleamed underfoot, their polished surfaces reflecting the soft glow of crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. The air was infused with the scent of subtle hints of vanilla and sandalwood, creating an atmosphere of opulence.

Plush furnishings adorned with rich fabrics and intricate patterns beckoned invitingly, promising comfort and relaxation. Oversized sofas and armchairs offered sumptuous seating, their cushions plump and inviting, while ornate coffee tables and sideboards showcased exquisite craftsmanship and timeless elegance.

Large windows framed breathtaking views of the surrounding countryside, their sheer curtains billowing gently in the breeze. Soft, ambient lighting cast warm pools of light in every corner, creating a sense of coziness and intimacy that enveloped the space.

Throughout the villa, works of art adorned the walls, adding a touch of sophistication and culture to the elegant surroundings. Paintings and sculptures, each one a masterpiece in its own right, spoke of a life of privilege and refinement, while delicate vases filled with fresh flowers added a touch of natural beauty to the lavish interiors.

In every room, from the grand foyer to the luxurious bedrooms and bathrooms, attention to detail was evident at every turn. From the intricate carvings on the furniture to the delicate lace trim on the curtains, no expense had been spared in creating a sanctuary of unparalleled beauty and comfort.

As Max and Lando explored the villa, they couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder and awe at the sheer magnificence of their surroundings. For a moment, they forgot about the outside world, lost in the splendor of their temporary home and the promise of adventure that lay ahead.

While Max’s gaze wandered around in amazement, Lando nudged him with a mischievous smile of his own. “Told ya it’ll be worth it.” 

He rolled his eyes but still agreed, “yeah I guess it is.” 

Then, Max bursted into a sprint, running up the stairs while yelling loudly, “I get first pick!” 

Lando shook his head, disagreeing immediately while chasing behind him. After all, they were two men who were kids at heart that were given a huge home all for themselves. 

The next morning dawned bright and clear, filling the villa with a warm golden light that spilled through the windows and danced across the marble floors. 

Lando had been awake for the past couple hours, his internal clock still set to his racing routine. He had woken up to the melody of birds chirping away and light filtering through the sheer curtains, basking for a moment in the change of scenery. 

He had gone for a morning run, relishing the fresh air and serene beauty of the surroundings. On the way back, he picked up some pastries from a local bakery, their aroma enticing and warm. 

Returning to the villa, Lando hummed a tune as he walked towards the kitchen. He paused for a moment, his eyes widening at the amount of natural light coming in through the big windows. The morning sun added a fresh, beautiful touch to the villa, reflecting off the furniture and transforming the space. 

As he placed the pastries on the kitchen counter, Max emerged from his room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, taking in the sight of the sun-drenched villa. “Morning, mate,” he greeted, his voice still laced with traces of sleep. 

“Morning, Max,” Lando replied, holding back a chuckle at his messy morning hair. 

He was lured by the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, mingling with the scent of freshly baked pastries. 

“Mm, smells amazing but where did these come from?” He asked before popping a pastry in his mouth. His eyes closed as it melted in his mouth, savouring the taste for a moment. 

Lando grinned, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Glad you like them, I picked them up on my morning run,” he admitted. 

Max raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You went for a run?” he asked, his tone filled with amusement. 

Lando nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, figured I’d explore the area a bit and see what’s around,” he explained. 

The first thing Lando did when he laid in bed last night was bring out his phone to search for things to do in this small town. Unfortunately, the internet wasn’t much help, so he decided to take a look around by himself, and perhaps even ask a few locals for advice. 

Then he ducked his head and rubbed his palm on the nape of his neck, “and Jon told me to keep training while we’re here.” 

Max chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well, thanks for bringing back breakfast,” he added, reaching for another pastry. 

Lando picked up one for himself. “Yeah, no problem, but don’t expect it everyday,” he said with a cheeky smile. Max rolled his eyes, ignoring his comment as he sipped on his coffee. 

“What are you planning on doing today?” Max asked after a moment of silence. 

“I saw this market on my run earlier, and was thinking of going to go check it out,” he hummed, thinking back to the beautiful scenery during his short cardio session. 

Max laughed, “look at you, living the small town life already.” 

Lando reached over to smack the pastry out of Max’s hand that he was about to eat. “Hey!” He exclaimed, looking at the fallen treat. 

There was a beat of silence, before Max and Lando made eye contact and then they bursted out into giggles. Amidst their laughter, Max reached down to pick up the fallen pastry, dusting it off before stuffing it in his mouth. 

“Five-second rule, mate,” he muffled. 

“What are you gonna do?” Lando asked, ignoring his best friend’s antics.

He simply shrugged, “I don’t know, mate.” 

“Wanna join me?” Lando suggested, earning a nod from Max, a teasing smile growing on his face. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

Lando rolled his eyes, “you don’t have to wait for me to ask.” 

With their breakfast antics over, Lando and Max quickly finished their coffee before deciding to venture out into the town. As they stepped outside, the warm rays of the sun enveloped them, casting a golden glow over the quaint streets. 

The scorching sun bore down upon them, turning the cobblestones into radiant paths of heat. Lando and Max, feeling the intensity of the sun’s rays, walked with beads of sweat forming on their brows. 

Max shielded his eyes from the sun with a hand since he had misplaced his sunglasses. 

Once they were a couple minutes into the walk, they realized that the market they planned to visit was further away than they initially thought. The narrow streets, lined with colourful houses and blooming flowers, stretched out before them, inviting them on a leisurely stroll. 

“Why are we walking?” Max asked, still holding his hand up for a shade. 

Lando raised his own sunglasses to the top of his head in disbelief, “why don’t you have your sunglasses?” 

“Forgot ‘em at the villa,” he grumbled, which only made Lando laugh louder. 

“Check your pockets, mate.” 

Max’s eyes widened when he did in fact find his sunglasses in his pocket. He slid them onto his face with a sigh of relief, finally able to open his eyes properly. 

Just as they began to feel the discomfort of the sweltering weather, a gentle breeze swept in from the nearby seaside, bringing with it a cool and invigorating relief. The breeze, infused with the scent of salt, tousled their hair and kissed their skin, providing a much needed respite from the heat. 

After a few more minutes of walking, Max and Lando finally stumbled upon the market. It was nestled in a quaint square lined with vibrant stalls, each overflowing with a colourful array of fruits, vegetables, flowers, and artisanal crafts. 

They wove their way through the crowded square, taking in the sights and the sounds of the market. The air was alive with the chatter of vendors and the laughter of shoppers, creating a lively atmosphere. The breeze was stronger as the market was closer to the seaside, blowing close to harsh wind in their faces, but it was welcomed due to the strong sun. 

As they browsed the stalls, Max sampled a couple local delicacies first and Lando waited for his approval before trying them as well. 

“Does it have fish?” Lando asked, hesitant in taking the sample from the vendor. 

The vendor chuckled, “no, sir, it’s a dessert filled with cream, topped with hardened sugar.” 

Lando’s mouth dropped open in understanding before taking the sample from him. 

Max couldn’t resist picking up a few souvenirs to take home, like a proper tourist, while Lando struck up conversations with other locals, wanting to find out some details about the town. 

As he held a couple bags of items he bought to remember this trip, Max’s eyes lit up when he spotted a bakery on the other side of the market. 

“Hey, I’m going to check out the bakery over there,” Max pointed. “Grab a couple more treats,” he added. 

Lando nodded, his attention drawn to a colourful display of ripe fruits nearby. “Sounds good, I’ll catch up with you in a bit.” 

The two friends parted ways, Max was enticed by the scent of warm pastries waiting for him while Lando’s mouth watered at the sight of juicy fruits. His trainer had wanted him to stay healthy throughout the break anyways, and this was the perfect opportunity. 

He greeted the vendor and began eyeing the various fruits; plump oranges, crisp apples, perfectly ripe bananas, and more. 

“Good morning! What can I get for you today?” The vendor asked, and Lando thought for a moment before replying. 

“I’ll take some of those oranges, grapes, and oh some apples too, please.” 

The vendor nodded and began putting the fruits into the paper bags, but paused once he bagged both the grapes and oranges. “Forget these apples, get these ones instead,” they said while showcasing another tray of apples that looked very similar. 

“It’s our premium organic apples, the best ones of the bunch.” 

Lando hesitated for a moment, but the vendor’s persuasive tone convinced him that it was a steal. 

To persuade Lando even further, the vendor added, “these ones are special, organic, freshly picked this morning. I’ll give you a good deal, just five dollars for one.” 

Lando blinked in surprise at the price, wondering if a single apple was genuinely five dollars, but then again he never had to do any grocery shopping on his own. Jon would usually bring it for him, or do all the work if they went together. 

Then he reasoned that it must be a rare variety or exceptionally fresh. “Alright, sounds good, give me a couple.” 

Lando happily handed over the money, and thanked the vendor once they passed over the bags. He paused for a moment once he returned to the main street, inhaling the breeze, feeling the tension of his usual everyday life slowly melt away. 

He spotted Max, noticing that he held even more bags than when he previously saw him. As Lando and Max regrouped near the bakery, the latter raved about the variety of treats he bought. “Mate! I think I bought everything.” 

They scanned the bustling market once more, wondering if they should take another look or return to the villa. Max’s gaze wandered towards the seaside, where tranquil waves lapped against the shore. 

“Hey, isn’t that our neighbour from the villa? The one who lives in the cottage?” Max asked, gaining Lando’s attention. 

He followed Max’s gaze and spotted you sitting alone on a bench gazing out at the sparkling sea. Recognition dawned on Lando’s face as he remembered you from yesterday. “Yeah, it is, should I go say hi?” 

Max considered it for a moment, glancing back at the path towards the villa before turning to Lando with a shrug. “Sure, why not? I’ll head back to the villa; catch up later yeah?” 

Lando nodded, grateful for Max’s understanding. “Are you sure you’ll be fine with carrying all that?” He asked jokingly, gesturing at the bags he held. 

“Shut up,” he muttered, nudging him with his shoulder. 

Lando walked off with a chuckle, “see ya.” 

His laughter died down as he approached you, noticing that your gaze was still fixed on the horizon as if you were searching for answers in the endless expanse of the sea. Perhaps you were, and he felt slightly guilty for approaching you, especially since you were far away from the rest of the crowd. 

However, before he could abort the idea, you glanced to the side, looking at him with confusion replacing your previous expressions. 

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, flashing a friendly smile as he stood there, pointing to the empty space next to you. 

Your eyes clouded with a mixture of weariness and suspicion. "Suit yourself," you replied, your tone curt.

Undeterred by your guarded demeanor, Lando took a seat beside you, his curiosity piqued by the enigmatic stranger before him. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" he ventured, attempting to break the ice.

You scoffed, a bitter edge creeping into your voice. "I suppose," you muttered, your gaze returning to the horizon.

Sensing the walls you had erected around yourself, Lando decided to tread carefully, unwilling to push too hard too soon. He placed the bag of fruits on the grass before extending his hand in greeting. "I'm Lando," he introduced himself. 

You hesitated for a moment before reluctantly accepting his handshake and introduced yourself, offering a tentative smile that failed to reach your eyes.

He repeated your name, wanting to become familiar with the way the vowels wrapped around his lips because he had a feeling that he would be saying your name a lot more often now. 

Despite the initial awkwardness, Lando found himself drawn to you, intrigued by the mystery that shrouded your presence. He wondered why you were sitting here alone when there was a crowded market not too far away from here, but he didn’t have the strength to ask just yet. 

He leaned against the bench, sighing as he watched the horizon just like you were. However, it became difficult to choose if the seaside view was prettier or you. He didn’t want you to think he was a creep, so he stole some glances at you every couple of moments without you knowing. 

As you sat in companionable silence, the gentle sound of waves lapping against the shore provided a soothing backdrop, preventing the situation from feeling awkward. 

“How long have you lived in this town?” Lando asked, but the moment he did, he thought that it was too intrusive. 

He waited, one beat, two beats, before you responded. “I’ve lived here my whole life,” you admitted. 

A small smile threatened to grace your lips as you thought of the happier memories you’ve spent here, the ones before the news that turned you into a shell of the person you were once. 

“This town has always been home to me,” you added. 

Lando’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Really? That’s amazing,” he exclaimed, genuine interest sparkling in his eyes. But then his brows furrowed, “have you never felt like leaving this place behind? Move somewhere in the city?” 

You pressed your lips together in a tight smile, thinking of a response that wasn’t along the lines of I did want to leave. I had plans and dreams of studying abroad, living in the city, but fate had a different plan. Instead, you shrugged, “no, I’ve never thought about it before. I guess I like the community here, you know, everyone knows everyone.” 

He chuckled, “that can’t be a good thing all the time though.” 

You shook your head, “not always, news travels around pretty fast.” Feeling a tad bit intrigued by him, you asked, “so what made you come here?” 

“The villa. It’s my friend’s family’s villa and he lent it out for a couple weeks,” he explained, causing you to widen your eyes. “Oh, so you’re my neighbour?” 

He ducked his head and smiled sheepishly, “yeah, that’s, um, kind of why I approached you in the first place.” 

As the conversation ebbed between you and Lando, a comfortable silence settled over the two of you, punctuated only by the rhythmic sounds of waves crashing against the shore. 

After a while, Lando cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Hey, I was wondering… since you’re a local and all, would you mind showing me and a friend around town?” he asked, a hopeful smile on his face. 

When you didn’t answer right away, he continued explaining. “We’ve never been here before, and since we’re here for two weeks, I want to know every hidden gem and secret spot here, something less touristy.” 

You could tell that he was beginning to become nervous, especially based on your expression which you assumed wasn’t kind. You forced a smile on your face, instinctively grazing his knee with your palm that wouldn’t stop bouncing up and down. 

“Yeah, I’ll show you guys around,” you responded, and the warmth of your tone sent a ripple of excitement through Lando. 

His smile widened, “thank you! I went by the market today but I feel like I should have someone giving me a little bit more direction on what to do here.” 

“Oh you went to the market? Buy anything?” You asked, wanting to keep the conversation flowing as well, especially since you liked hearing him speak. 

Lando gestured to the paper bag resting on the floor, “I got a couple fruits. Max, my friend, stocked up on the pastries from the bakery there. He already fell in love with them.” 

You didn’t stop the smile growing on your face. “I totally get that, anything from that bakery is to die for.” 

But then you glanced at the bag he held, and watching your gaze, he elaborated. “I got these organic apples, the vendor said they were giving me a pretty good deal, five dollars each.” 

Your jaw dropped, “five dollars each? You totally got scammed.”

Lando’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Scammed? What do you mean?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. 

“No one sells a single apple for $5, Lando, no matter how ‘organic’ they tell you it is,” you explain, but based on his expression, he still didn’t understand why. 

Although his eyes did widen as he examined the contents. Now that he thought about it, the prices on the fruit seemed exorbitant, far beyond what he thought Jon paid. 

“Everyone in this town bargains, especially in the market,” you added, and he frowned. 

“I don’t need to bargain.” 

You shook your head. “I’m sure you’re rich enough, but the point is that every vendor marks up the price because they know the locals bargain. The public is happy because they bargained, and the vendor is satisfied because the products still sell at a good price.” 

He nodded in understanding, “oh, that’s weird, usually you just pay the price on the tag.” 

“Well that’s the thing, there aren’t any tags, the vendors just set the prices, and they also mark it up if they know that you’re a tourist.” 

His jaw dropped in surprise, “what? That’s not fair.” 

“And that is why you need to know your way around here,” you added, earning a smile from him. 

“That’s why you’re my tour guide.” 

You looked at the horizon as his gaze felt too intense in that moment. He still looked at you, a soft smile on his face mixed with lingering curiosity about you and this town that seemed to draw him in instantly. 

Just then, a familiar voice called out from behind you. “Hey, I’m all done, let’s go back home now?” 

You turned to see Isaac standing with his hands full of produce he bought for dinner, but a curious expression on his face as he noticed Lando next to you. 

“Um, yeah, did you get everything?” You ask as you stand up, and your brother immediately holds out his arm so you can loop your own with his. 

“Yes ma’am, I bought everything on the list,” he said playfully. 

Before he could lead you away, you patted his arm and glanced at Lando, “oh, this is Lando, our neighbour, at the villa.” 

Your brother’s eyes flickered with recognition as he glanced at Lando. “Ah, yes, nice to meet you, I’m Isaac.” 

The corner of Lando’s lip turned up briefly, before he nodded, “same here.” 

The afternoon sun was shining, yet it was cooler than earlier, making the journey back towards your street easier. The market had an influx of visitors since many preferred to stay at home when the morning heat was ablaze. 

Since the three of you were headed in the same direction, you decided to walk together. You walked side by side with your brother, your arm still looped with his. Lando had taken the liberty to carry a couple bags that Isaac held. 

Lando walked a couple steps ahead, as if he was the local and you were the tourist. You didn’t mind it though, because his gaze confused you. Every time he looked at you, he was either close to figuring out your secrets or he was just blissfully unaware.  

He was still a stranger, and you had no plans on telling him anything more than you had to. 

As you walked, the lively chatter of the market gradually faded into the background, replaced by the soothing sounds of the occasional rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. 

Despite the tranquility of the moment, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the back of your mind. Lando’s presence just a couple steps in front of you felt both comforting and disconcerting, his easy demeanour belaying the mystery that seemed to arise at times. 

You thought back to your conversation at the bench, not finding anything concerning about the questions he asked or the responses to yours, but you couldn’t help but still feel on edge. Perhaps you wanted to trust him, but your mind didn’t allow it as easily as your heart willed you to. 

Isaac couldn’t resist teasing you, nudging your side with his elbow and tilting his head towards Lando. 

“So what’s the deal with you and the new neighbour, huh?” he whispered, keeping his voice down to prevent Lando from hearing him. 

You rolled your eyes, playfully swatting at his arm. “Oh, please. There’s no deal, we just met today.” 

Isaac raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Uh-huh, sure. But I think you’ll be seeing him a lot more often now, don’t you think so?” 

You nodded, “well he does live nearby, and he wants me to be a tour guide for him and his friend, Max, for the time they’re here.” 

He chuckled, his grin widening. “That’s very convenient. But I think you’ve got an admirer.” 

You scoffed, trying to brush off his teasing. “Don’t be ridiculous, he’s just being friendly.” 

“Keep telling yourself that, we’ll see what happens in the next couple of days,” he stated as he draped an arm around your shoulder which only lasted a couple seconds before you pushed him away. 

Since he wasn’t satisfied with just teasing you, he joined Lando’s side, instantly striking up a conversation. “So, Lando, enjoying your stay in our little town so far?” 

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Definitely, it’s been a refreshing change of scenery.” 

They continued on, speaking as if they knew each other for years.

As you neared the cottage, Lando handed Isaac the paper bags and bid you farewell. “Thanks for the company today, I’ll see you guys around.” 

With a nod and a wave, you and Isaac made your way inside, leaving the events of the day behind you as you retreated into the sanctuary of your shared abode. 

—

As the late morning sun filtered through the curtains, you stirred from your sleep, greeted by the familiar routine that marks the start of another day. The soft chirping of birds and faint chatter outside your window served as your alarm, nudging you gently into wakefulness.

You slid out of bed and padded over to the window, drawing back the curtains to reveal the tranquil scene outside. The small seaside town unfolded before you, bathed in the soft glow of morning light. It was a picturesque sight, one that you've grown accustomed to over the years.

With a sigh, you turned away from the window and began your morning routine. It's a well-worn pattern by now – first, you head to the bathroom to wash up and brush your teeth, the sound of running water a familiar soundtrack to your mornings.

Next comes the more clinical aspect of your routine. You reached for the small plastic organizer on the bathroom counter, filled with an assortment of medications neatly arranged in separate compartments. Your brother's voice echoed in your mind as you recalled his daily reminder to take your pills – a routine that has become as routine as brushing your teeth.

You dutifully pop each pill into your mouth, washing them down with a gulp of water. It's a mundane task, but one that is essential to your well-being. You've grown accustomed to the bitter taste of the medication, the lingering reminder of your illness that you can't escape.

Once the pills are swallowed, you move on to the next item on your checklist. Your brother's voice drifts in from the hallway, asking if you've taken your medication yet. You respond with a simple "yes," the words slipping easily from your lips.

As you go about your morning routine, there's a sense of detachment that settles over you – a feeling of going through the motions without really being present. It's a coping mechanism, a way to distance yourself from the reality of your illness and the uncertainty that comes with it.

But despite the clinical nature of your routine, there's a quiet determination that drives you forward. Each pill swallowed, each task completed is a small victory in the ongoing battle against your illness, however it’s a battle that you’re not sure if you’ll win or not. 

You finish your morning routine and join Isaac in the kitchen, where he’s already preparing breakfast. He glances up at you as you enter, a warm smile on his face. 

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he greets you, handing you a mug of steaming coffee, your one and only cup a day according to doctor’s orders. 

Still lost in your thoughts, you burn your tongue as you take the first sip. Isaac eyes you carefully, a hint of concern in his gaze as you grab an ice cube and stick it in your mouth. 

“You doing okay?” he asks, his voice soft. 

You force a smile, hoping to reassure him. Pushing the ice cube towards your cheek, you speak, “yeah, just another day.” 

“Just another day? Don’t you have to show Lando and Max around?” He asks, but quickly shifts his gaze to the egg on the pan. 

You nod, grateful for the distraction from your thoughts. "Yeah, I do. I almost forgot," you reply, mentally shaking off the lingering unease that had gripped you earlier.

Isaac watches you closely, his concern evident in his furrowed brow. "Are you sure you're up for it?" he asks, his tone gentle.

You give him a reassuring smile, trying to push aside the gnawing doubts that linger at the back of your mind. 

"I'll be fine," you insist, though the words sound hollow even to your own ears. “I’m thinking of showing them around some of the touristy spots first to get it out of the way, and then some historical sites if they’re up for it,” you explain, making a mental checklist. 

He nods, accepting your answer for now. "Just take it easy, okay? And call me if you need anything," he says, reaching out to squeeze your hand.

You squeeze his hand back, grateful for his unwavering support. "Thanks, Isaac," you murmur, feeling a sense of warmth wash over you in his presence.

Together, you and Isaac finish your breakfast in companionable silence, the weight of the upcoming day lingering in the air. But there was a hint of excitement brewing in your mind once you were reminded of your neighbours, and perhaps it’ll distract you from your usual thoughts. 

Meanwhile, Lando dashed around his room, wearing only a pair of pants, his movements quick and purposeful as he rummaged through his suitcase, searching for the perfect shirt for the day ahead. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table, his brow furrowing in frustration as he realized how quickly time was slipping away.

"Max, are you almost ready?" he called out, his voice tinged with urgency.

From the living room, Max's relaxed voice drifted back. "Yeah, just taking my time. No rush, right?"

Lando rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath as he continued his frantic search for the right outfit. He held up a full sleeved sweatshirt against himself, judging the shirt in the mirror.

“No, too hot,” he muttered to himself and tossed the garment aside. He continued shuffling through the suitcase, not having the time to unpack completely. 

Then he held up a simpler t-shirt, considering it for a moment before shaking his head. “Too casual,” he mumbled, discarding it onto the growing pile of rejected clothes. 

With a sense of growing frustration, Lando finally spotted a light, airy button-down shirt that seemed suitable for the warm weather. He quickly slipped it on, feeling a sense of relief wash over him as the fabric settled comfortably against his skin. 

Satisfied with his choice, Lando turns his attention to his hair, running his fingers through his unruly curls in an attempt to tame them into some semblance of order. After a few futile attempts, he huffed and searched around for his beloved bucket hat, placing it on his head to prevent putting more effort into his hair. 

Glancing at himself in the mirror, he straightened his shirt and adjusted his hat. As a final touch, Lando grabbed his sunglasses and hastily shoved them in his pocket, then grabbed his phone and wallet before heading out of the room. 

As he entered the living room, Lando found Max lounging on the couch, seemingly unperturbed by the passing time. "C'mon, mate, we're gonna be late because of you," Lando chided, his tone laced with exasperation.

Max shrugged nonchalantly, a lazy grin playing across his lips. "She didn't give you a time."

Lando resisted the urge to roll his eyes, his frustration mounting with each passing second. "I know, but she's taking time out of her day to show us around. We need to be respectful."

Max chuckled, propping himself up on one elbow as he regarded Lando with amusement. "You asked her to show us around, you didn't need to."

Lando sighed, his patience wearing thin. "She's a local, Max. It's important to make a good impression."

Max's grin widened, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Is that all what she is?"

Soon enough, Max decided to spare his best friend from further frustration and went upstairs to get dressed. 

While he did so, Lando thought about Max’s question, which he left unanswered. You were a mere stranger, yet after meeting you yesterday, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. 

Lando instantly sat up after a moment, looking around the room and spotting his digital camera sitting on the table nearby. He picked it up by the straps of the bag, wanting to take as many photos of the events of today as he could. 

The sound of footsteps echoed from upstairs, and soon Max reappeared, clad in a fresh set of clothes. He flashed a grin before taking his phone back from Lando. 

“Finally ready?” Lando teased, looking up at him. 

Max rolled his eyes, “yes.” He ran a hand through his tousled hair before asking, “what’s the plan for today?” 

Lando shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “that’s for our lovely tour guide to decide.” 

With a nod of agreement, Lando walked beside Max as they left the villa together. 

Their footsteps crunched echoed softly against the cobblestone path. The afternoon sun cast a golden hue over the landscape, illuminating the streets as it was at the highest peak. As they made their way down the path, they spotted you stepping out of the cottage, a faint smile on your face as you headed towards them. 

“Hey, look who’s here,” Max remarked, nudging Lando with his elbow. 

Lando grinned in return, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. “Hi,” he muttered as you stood in front of him. 

You were quickly introduced to Max, and exchanged greetings before leading the way down the street. 

“So, where are we off to today?” Max asked, his gaze looking around before returning back to you. 

“Well, I thought we could start with a stroll through the town square,” you suggested, gesturing towards the many narrow streets. “Then, I’ll show you around a couple historic spots?” You asked, pausing and looking at them for a reaction. 

Lando nodded in agreement, “sounds like a plan, lead the way, tour guide.” 

With a playful grin, you set off towards the heart of the town, Lando and Max falling into step beside you. 

As you lead Lando and Max through the winding streets of the town, each building you pass enveloped you in a sense of nostalgia. Each cobblestone path seemed to hold a story, whispered through the intricate architecture and vibrant colours of houses. 

“You see that old bookstore over there?” you pointed, a smile playing on your lips. “It’s been here for generations, and they have the most fascinating collection of rare books.” 

Lando’s eyes sparkled with intrigue as he glanced at the bookstore. “I’ll have to check it out then,” he stated. 

“Avid reader?” You asked, walking side by side. 

He shook his head, “not at all, but there has to be something fascinating if you like it.” 

You chuckled at his response, focusing your gaze ahead as you felt your cheeks redden. “Well, I worked there as a teen, and from my experience, it’s always worth exploring.” 

Lando nodded in agreement, his gaze lingering on the bookstore as you passed by it. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Max fell a couple of steps behind as he watched the interaction between you and Lando. Then he quickly caught up to his best friend, nudging him gently to gain his attention. “You know I’m here too, right?” 

Lando rolled his eyes, “yeah, yeah, I know.” 

As you led the way through the bustling crowd, Lando and Max trailed behind you, keeping close to ensure they didn’t lose sight of you amidst the throng of people. Along the winding streets, you were greeted by familiar faces, the locals calling out your name and exchanging warm greetings as you passed by. 

Lando eagerly captured every picturesque moment with his camera. Occasionally, he would lower the camera to observe you as you engaged in conversations with strangers, raising the camera to his eye once more to capture candid moments of your interactions with them.

Amidst the lively atmosphere, you pointed out hidden gems nestled in the nooks and crannies of the town. From cozy art galleries adorned with vibrant paintings to antique shops filled with treasures of bygone eras, each discovery added to the tapestry of the town’s charm. 

With each step, you shared tidbits of local history and anecdotes, painting a vivid picture of life in the town. Lando and Max listened attentively, their eyes alight with curiosity as they soaked in the sights and sounds of the vibrant community. 

Walking down the narrow streets, you pointed out the historic clock tower and the old, abandoned church beside it. You mentioned that it was the oldest structure in town and pushed open the wooden doors.

Max looked around, intrigued. The interior had a musty scent mixed with faint incense, and sunlight streamed through stained glass, casting colorful patterns. He admired the architecture, understanding why it was cherished.

As you explored, you shared the tower’s history, noting its construction by skilled craftsmen from distant towns. The vaulted ceilings and stone pillars added to the sense of reverence. You paused, letting Max and Lando roam.

They were captivated by the church’s history and beauty, momentarily forgetting the outside world. Emerging into the sunlight, they exchanged awed glances, touched by the experience. It was a moment they would remember.

“So, what’s next on the agenda?” Lando asked, glancing down at his camera and scrolling through the photos before looking up at you. 

You grinned, “well there’s a garden not too far from here. It’s the perfect place to unwind and enjoy the beauty of nature.” 

Max’s eyes lit up with excitement, “yes, please, that sounds amazing.” 

With a laugh, you led them along winding pathways lined with vibrant blooms leading towards the tranquil garden. 

Max let out a contented sigh, “this place is amazing.” 

You smiled, gesturing towards a cluster of vibrant flowers. “There’s something magical about it.” 

Lando nodded in agreement, his eyes scanning the picturesque surroundings. “Definitely worth the visit,” he remarked, raising his camera to capture the beauty around him. 

The tranquility of the garden seemed to envelop you, wrapping you in a sense of peace and serenity. Tall trees cast dappled shadows across the well-tended lawns, providing relief from the midday sun. The air was alive with the melodious chirping of birds and the occasional buzz of bees flitting from blossom to blossom. 

The garden was a lush oasis, meticulously landscaped with winding pathways that meandered among vibrant flower beds and verdant shrubbery. 

Max glanced at the pond, where a family of ducks paddled lazily. "Hey, check out those ducks," he exclaimed, pointing towards the water. "They look so peaceful."

You chuckled, nodding towards a nearby bench. "Let's take a seat and enjoy the view," you suggested.

As you sat on the stone bench, a sense of calm washed over you, the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds creating a soothing melody. Max and Lando joined you, their expressions reflecting a similar sense of contentment.

Water lilies floated gracefully on top of the clear waters, their delicate blooms adding a touch of elegance to the scene. 

"This is nice," Max remarked, leaning back against the bench. "Thanks for bringing us here."

Lando nodded, his gaze drifting across the garden. "Yeah, it's a hidden gem," he agreed. "I never would've found it on my own."

You smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction at sharing this special place with your neighbours. "I'm glad you both like it," you said warmly. "There's so much beauty to discover in this town if you know where to look."

As Lando admired the blooming flowers around him, his eyes settled on a particularly vibrant flower. With a grin, he plucked it from its stem, carefully holding it between his fingers.

"Hey, can I?" he asked, gesturing towards your hair with a playful twinkle in his eye.

You chuckled, nodding in amusement. "Sure, go ahead," you replied, tilting your head slightly to give him better access.

Lando leaned towards you with a grin, gently tucking the flower behind your ear. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his fingers brushing against your skin as he adjusted the placement of the bloom.

"There," he said with satisfaction, leaning back to admire his handiwork. "Looks perfect."

You couldn't help but smile at the gesture, feeling a warmth spread through you at the simple yet thoughtful gesture. "Thank you," you said softly, meeting Lando's gaze with appreciation.

You picked out another flower, holding it in front of him with a small smile. “My turn?” 

Lando chuckled, leaning forward and allowing you to place the flower behind his ear. His gaze remained steady on your face, watching as you stuck the tip of your tongue out between your lips in concentration. 

Leaning back, you looked at him with a smile. “There, now we match.” 

“I see how it is,” Max grumbled from beside you, earning a chuckle from you and Lando. 

Simultaneously, you and Lando picked out a couple of flowers, and placed them in his hair, his curls holding it steady. 

“Cute,” you commented once you completed the masterpiece with the last flower. Max laughed as he looked at himself in his phone camera, snapping a selfie for memories before telling you and Lando to join. 

Your face was squished between Lando and Max’s faces, both men displaying a cheesy grin for the photo, making you join in as well. 

As the gentle breeze ruffled through the garden, Lando turned towards you with a curious glint in his eyes. “Are there any other magical places you want to show us?” 

You pondered for a moment, considering the myriad of hidden gems scattered throughout the town. “Well, there’s one more spot I have in mind,” you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. 

Max perked up at the mention of another adventure, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “I’m in, lead the way.” 

With a nod, you rose from the bench, the flower in your hair swaying gently with the movement. “Let’s go,” you said, gesturing for Max and Lando to join you as you embarked on the next part of your journey. 

As you led Max and Lando out of the garden, the thought of another special place lingered in your mind. The lighthouse, with its storied history and breathtaking views, beckoned to you like a beacon in the distance. 

Lost in thought, you considered whether to reveal this cherished spot to your neighbours. The lighthouse held a special significance for you, a place of solace and reflection that you rarely shared with others. But something about Max and Lando’s genuine curiosity and enthusiasm stirred something within you, prompting you to entertain the idea of introducing them to this hidden gem. 

With a flicker of determination, you made up your mind. The lighthouse would be the perfect finale to your tour, a fitting conclusion to a day filled with discovery and adventure. 

As you neared the lighthouse, it stood tall against the sky, looking sturdy and ancient. Lando seemed really excited, his eyes wide as he took it all in. Max looked a bit unsure, especially when he saw the stairs leading up. 

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” you said softly once you saw Lando’s expression, feeling a sense of awe yourself. 

He nodded eagerly, clearly impressed. “Yeah, it’s really cool,” he said, his voice filled with excitement. 

“Are we going up there?” Max asked, a hint of apprehension creeping into his voice as he surveyed the towering structure. 

You nodded, a sense of reverence washing over you as you gazed up at the weathered bricks and the solitary lateen perched at the top of the lighthouse. “Yes, it’s probably my favourite spot in this entire town.” 

But Max seemed hesitant, eyeing the stairs with doubt. “I’m not too sure about this,” he admitted quietly. 

You understood his feelings and wanted to reassure him. “That’s okay, Max,” you said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We don’t have to climb all the way up if you don’t want to. We can still explore around here.” 

Max glanced at Lando, “actually you know what? you guys should go up.” Max said suddenly, giving you a nod, “I’ll stay down here.” 

You frowned, “are you sure? I can show you around elsewhere.” 

But Max shook his head, “yeah, I’m sure. I know Lando really wants to check it out and I don’t wanna hold you guys back.” 

“You’re gonna miss out, mate, just c’mon it’s a couple stairs,” Lando tried to convince his best friend. 

He shook his head, “a couple? Looks like a lot, no, I’m good.” 

With a final nod of reassurance, you and Lando headed towards the first couple of stairs, leaving Max behind. As you began the trek upwards, your comment from earlier intrigued Lando. “Why is this your favourite spot?” 

“People don’t come here often, perhaps it’s because of the story behind it,” you replied, your words tinged with a hint of mystery. 

“What, is it haunted or something?” He asked, a skeptical look crossing his face. 

You shook your head, a wistful smile playing on your lips. “Legend says that this lighthouse is haunted, but I believe it’s just a tragic love story,” you explained. 

“A love story? Do tell,” Lando urged, his curiosity piqued. 

“It was decades ago, the story passed on from neighbour to neighbour, so I’m not exactly sure which parts are true,” you forewarned. 

Lando smiled, “and you’re passing it on to your neighbour.” 

You glanced back at him, pausing for a moment so he could catch up, standing on the same step as you, just a tad bit taller. You didn’t realize how narrow the staircase was until he was standing beside you, since you’ve only ever come here alone. 

The air was heavy with the scent of salt and sea, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore echoed faintly in the distance. Lando's eyes scanned your face, patiently waiting to hear the story. 

You cleared your throat, looking away from him. "You see, there was once a young couple who sought refuge in this lighthouse," you began, your voice tinged with a hint of melancholy, recounting an old tale. "They were not from noble families or romance novels, but rather ordinary people with ordinary lives."

Lando leaned in closer, his curiosity piqued by the hint of mystery in your voice, causing you to shift on your feet but still remaining in the same spot, almost pressed against the wall beside you. 

"The young man was a fisherman, his days spent toiling away on the sea, his hands calloused from years of hard work," you continued, your words painting a picture of a life marked by struggle and perseverance. "And the young woman was a seamstress, her fingers nimble with the needle and thread, her dreams tempered by the harsh realities of life."

Lando's gaze softened with empathy as he imagined the challenges faced by the young couple. 

"But despite the hardships they endured, their love burned fiercely, a flame that refused to be extinguished by the storms of life," you said, your voice tinged with admiration for the resilience of the human spirit. "They would steal moments together in the quiet solitude of the lighthouse, finding solace in each other's arms amidst the chaos of the world."

Lando's heart swelled with warmth at the thought of such a simple yet profound love. You cleared your throat once you saw a hint of his smile, turning away and continuing your trek up the stairs while continuing the story. 

"But their happiness was fleeting, as life has a way of testing even the strongest of bonds," you continued, your voice growing somber as you recounted the challenges faced by the young couple. "Their days were filled with hardship and uncertainty, their dreams overshadowed by the harsh realities of poverty."

Lando followed after you, his breath caught in his throat as he listened, his heart heavy with the weight of the young couple's struggles. 

"And so, when tragedy struck and the young man was lost at sea, the young woman was left alone to face the cruel hand of fate," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the sound of the wind howling through the lighthouse. "Her grief was a burden too heavy to bear, her tears a testament to the depth of her sorrow."

Tears welled in Lando's eyes as he imagined the young woman's pain. 

"And though the years passed and the world moved on, the lighthouse remained standing as a silent witness to the love that once flourished within its walls," you concluded, your voice tinged with a sense of reverence for the enduring legacy of the young couple. "Their spirits may have faded into the mists of time, but their love lives on in the whispers of the wind and the crashing of the waves, a reminder that even in the darkest of nights, love can be a guiding light."

Lando remained silent, his heart heavy with the weight of the young couple's story, as he pondered the fragile nature of love and the enduring power of human resilience in the face of adversity.

“You’re not making this up, are you?” He asked, just to be sure, but once he didn’t see you burst out laughing, he knew the answer. 

"Legend has it that their spirits linger within these walls, bound by an eternal love that transcends the confines of time," you explained. "They say the light still flickers on stormy nights, a beacon of hope in the darkness, as if she's searching for her lost love amidst the crashing waves."

As you and Lando continued climbing the spiral staircase, the wooden steps creaked beneath your feet, each groan echoing through the hollow chamber like a whispered secret. The air grew cooler as you ascended, a faint scent of salt lingering in the air, a reminder of the vast expanse of ocean that stretched out beyond the horizon.

With each step, the world outside faded away, replaced by the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the narrow windows, casting intricate patterns of light and shadow on the worn stone walls. Lando's footsteps fell in sync with yours, his presence a comforting anchor in the midst of the swirling emotions that stirred within you.

As you reach the top of the lighthouse, a sense of awe washed over you, the panoramic view of the coastline stretching out before you like a painting come to life. The sea stretched out endlessly, its surface shimmering in the sunlight, while seagulls soared overhead, their cries mingling with the distant roar of the waves. It’s a sight you’ve seen many times, but every time still feels like the first. 

Lando stood beside you, his gaze fixed on the horizon, his expression a mixture of wonder and awe. For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the weight of the young couple's story hanging heavy in the air, a reminder of the fragile nature of love and the enduring power of human resilience.

As the light of the setting sun bathed the world in a warm golden glow, you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over you, a quiet acceptance of the mysteries that lay hidden within the depths of the human heart.

With a soft sigh, you turned to Lando, a small smile playing on your lips. "Isn't it beautiful?" you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando nodded, his eyes shining with a newfound appreciation for the simple beauty of the world around him. "It's breathtaking," he agreed, his voice tinged with emotion.

As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting vibrant hues of orange and pink across the sky, you couldn't help but lose yourself in the breathtaking beauty of the sunset. The world seemed to slow down, the cares and worries of the day fading away as you stood transfixed by the natural spectacle unfolding before you.

But as the sky darkened and the first stars began to twinkle overhead, a pang of realization cut through the tranquil moment. It was almost nighttime, which meant it was time for your pills. You glanced at your watch, a flicker of anxiety fluttering in your chest as you calculated the minutes ticking away.

For a brief moment, you considered the consequences of being late in taking your medication. The regimen was strict, the consequences dire if you missed a dose. But as you looked at Lando standing beside you, gazing at you,  his eyes reflecting the colors of the setting sun, a different thought crossed your mind.

Maybe, just this once, it was worth it to be a little late. Maybe, in this moment of shared beauty and connection, the rules could be bent just enough to allow you to savor the fleeting magic of the evening.

With a soft smile, you tucked the thought away, allowing yourself to linger a little while longer in the warm embrace of the sunset. 

“Stay like that,” Lando instructed with a pointed finger at you. 

“Like what?” You mumbled. 

“Don’t move a muscle,” he hastily replied, holding the straps of the camera that was hung around his neck, quickly turning it on and pointing at you. 

“You look beautiful in this light,” He stated, slightly gesturing to his camera before raising it. 

A tint of blush covered your cheeks but you didn’t prevent him from taking a photo of you. 

Remaining still, you heard the shutter click, once, twice, and even a third time before he was satisfied with the result. 

“What are you going to do with those photos?” You ask, remembering that he’s taken quite a lot of them today, of all the different sceneries. 

“Put 'em in an album, you know, for memories, and I can’t forget my favourite tour guide,” he said with a cheeky grin. 

“Favourite? That’s quite a title for only the first day,” you teased with a smile, leaning against the railing, choosing to look at Lando instead of the setting sun. 

“You know how to make a good impression, it’s hard not to call you my favourite.” 

You chuckled softly, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "Well, I'm glad I could leave a good impression," you replied, a hint of playfulness in your tone.

Lando grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You've done more than that," he said, his voice softening. "You've shown us a side of this town that we never would've discovered on our own."

You felt a swell of pride at his words, grateful for the opportunity to share your hometown with new friends. "I'm just happy I could show you around," you said sincerely.

As the last rays of sunlight faded into darkness, you reluctantly tore your gaze away from Lando's, the moment of connection lingering in the air between you. "I suppose we should head back now," you said, a hint of regret coloring your voice.

Lando hesitated but nodded in agreement, “can’t keep Max waiting this long.” 

But before you could move, he reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Thank you, for everything," he said softly, his eyes searching yours.

You felt your heart skip a beat at his touch, a rush of warmth flooding through you at the intimate gesture. "You're welcome," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

With a lingering smile, Lando turned and started back towards the path, leaving you standing alone on the balcony, your thoughts swirling with a heady mix of emotions. Shaking your head to rid yourself of those thoughts, you followed him down the steps. 

“Mate, it’s good that you didn’t come, she said it’s haunted.” You heard Lando’s voice, speaking to Max. 

When you came into his view, Max looked at you with widened eyes, “haunted?” 

You shrugged, looking at Lando, “it’ll make for a good bedtime story, don’t you think?” 

Max started shaking his head, but Lando nodded, “I’ll be sure to tell him right before he gets a good night’s sleep.” 

On the way back home, Lando had been so impressed by your touring skills that he had already started asking about your plans for the next day. With no responsibilities on your schedule, the three of you decided to go hiking on a nearby trail.

As you reached your cottage, the familiar sense of fatigue washed over you, dulling the edges of your excitement from the day’s activities. With a wave and a promise to meet again tomorrow for more adventures, you bid farewell to Lando and Max, watching as they walked off to the villa. 

Once they were out of sight, you allowed your smile to fade, the weight of the day settling heavily on your shoulders. The ache in your joints intensified, a reminder of the illness that lurked beneath the surface, threatening to consume you if you let your guard down. 

Stepping inside the cottage, you were surprised to find Isaac waiting for you in the dimly lit living room. His expression was a mix of concern and mild frustration as he looked up from his book.

"You didn’t take your nightly pills on time," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "You know you can’t skip it."

You sighed, the heaviness in your chest feeling almost unbearable. "Isaac, stop acting like our mother," you mumbled, moving past him to the kitchen.

Isaac followed you, not willing to let it go. "I’m serious. You’ve had a long day, and you need to take care of yourself. I don’t want you to overdo it."

Grabbing the bottle of medication from the counter, you turned to face him, irritation mingling with the fatigue in your eyes. "I know, okay? I just wanted one evening where I didn’t have to think about it. Just one."

He watched you with a mix of empathy and helplessness, understanding your need for normalcy but unable to ignore the reality of your condition. "I get it, I really do. But skipping your meds isn’t the way to do it."

With a heavy sigh, you filled a glass with water and downed the pills, the bitter taste lingering on your tongue. "Happy now?" you muttered, setting the empty glass down.

Isaac's expression softened, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. "I’m just worried about you," he said quietly.

You nodded, the weight of his concern settling heavily on your shoulders. "I know. I appreciate it, really. It’s just… sometimes it’s hard to keep going like this."

He reached out and squeezed your shoulder gently. "We’ll get through it, together. Just promise me you’ll take it easy tomorrow, okay?"

A faint smile tugged at your lips as you nodded. "Go get some sleep. You’ve been waiting up for me."

Isaac gave you a small, reassuring smile before heading to his room. As you settled into bed, the weight of exhaustion dragging at your limbs, you couldn’t help but wonder how many more days like this lay ahead. The uncertainty of the future loomed large in your mind, casting a shadow over even the simplest moments of joy.

As you drifted off to sleep, your thoughts lingered on Lando and Max. Their arrival felt like a breath of fresh air, a chance to momentarily forget about your illness and embrace a semblance of normalcy. They didn’t know about your condition, which meant they wouldn't look at you with pity or treat you like a fragile doll. Their presence offered a respite from the constant reminders of your limitations, an opportunity to live in the moment and savor each day as it came.

For so long, your life had been governed by routines and restrictions, every decision weighed against the backdrop of your illness. But with Lando and Max, you felt a sense of freedom, an invitation to break away from the chains that bound you. They saw you not as someone fragile, but as a capable guide and a new friend. You wanted to hold onto that feeling, to let their presence remind you of who you were beyond the confines of your diagnosis.

Their energy and zest for life felt like a tonic; lifting your spirits and reigniting your desire to experience the world beyond your illness. With them, you could laugh freely, explore without fear, and simply be yourself without constantly worrying. Yet, there was a lingering guilt that gnawed at you, a silent whisper that you were using them, exploiting their company to escape your reality. 

Despite the joy they brought, this guilt cast a shadow over your newfound happiness. You didn’t want to deceive them or yourself, but the allure of living fully and freely, even for a short while, was too tempting to resist. You resolved to make the most of their visit, using their company as an excuse to live as vibrant as you once did. 

—

The next morning, you moved with practiced stealth, careful not to make a sound as you gathered your hiking gear. The house was still and quiet, the early hour providing a perfect cover for your escape. You knew your brother would disapprove of your plans to go hiking with Lando, so you hoped to slip out before he noticed.

Just as you reached the front door, the sound of footsteps halted your progress. Turning, you saw Isaac standing there, a backpack slung over his shoulder, clearly ready to head out himself. His eyes narrowed as he took in your gear.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Isaac’s voice was tight with concern.

You sighed, knowing this confrontation was inevitable. “I’m going hiking with Lando. It’s just a short trail, nothing too strenuous.”

Isaac’s expression darkened. “Didn’t I tell you to take it easy? When are you going to take care of yourself?”

“What more do you want me to do?” you snapped, your frustration bubbling over. “Should I wrap myself up in bubble wrap and stay in bed until I inevitably die?”

“Don’t say that,” Isaac’s voice wavered, his concern morphing into something deeper and more painful.

“I have to!” you shouted, the dam of pent-up emotions finally breaking. “I have to acknowledge it, to you, to our parents, because while you guys are doing everything in your power to ignore it, it’s still gonna happen whether you like it or not.”

He took a step back, his face pale. “I just want you to be safe.”

“I’m going to die anyways,” you continued, your voice trembling with the weight of your confession. “Whether it’s tomorrow or a couple of weeks later, I’ve accepted that by now. You know why? Because even if I’m alive right now, I’m treated like a fucking corpse. I cannot do a single thing without our mother’s voice in my mind. ‘Oh, don’t stand for too long, don’t walk for too long, take your meds, don’t let your heartbeat speed up, don’t eat this, don’t eat that.’ It’s fucking tiring. Forget her, I can’t even be an older sister anymore for you. For god’s sake, you make breakfast, lunch, and dinner for us. You’re acting as if I can’t lift a single spoon.”

Isaac’s eyes were filled with tears now, but you couldn’t stop. The words poured out, each one a release of years of pent-up frustration and pain. “The entire town knows, Isaac. Any time I go out, I see the pity in their eyes. You know who doesn’t know? Lando and Max. And I have no plans on telling them because they actually treat me like a healthy human, something you guys won’t ever do again.”

You didn’t wait for his response, not allowing him to speak. You walked out the door, letting it close behind you with a finality that echoed your determination. 

When you reached, Lando was already waiting for you by the trailhead, leaning casually against a tree with his backpack at his feet. He waved when he saw you approaching, his smile faltering slightly as he noticed the tension in your posture and the slight frown on your face.

"Hey, there you are!" he called out, his voice bright. "I was starting to think you'd changed your mind."

"Sorry, I'm a bit late," you replied, forcing a smile.

Lando's brow furrowed with concern. "Everything okay?"

You waved it off, not wanting to delve into the argument with Isaac. "Yeah, just had a rough morning. Let's get going, shall we?"

He nodded, still seeming a bit unsure. "Alright, if you say so." He hoisted his backpack over his shoulder and fell into step beside you as you started down the trail.

“Max isn’t joining us today?” you asked as you started the hike.

Lando shrugged playfully. “Nah, he’s not really the hiking type.”

In truth, Lando thought back to the moment he convinced Max to do something else. He had wanted this time alone with you, to get to know you better without any distractions. The way your face lit up when you talked about your favorite places made him want to see more of that joy.

You laughed, shaking your head. "Yeah, he doesn't seem like the outdoorsy type. I guess we'll have to find something else to drag him into."

As you continued along the path, Lando’s closeness became even more evident. He would occasionally place his hand on your back to guide you over rough terrain or hold your hand to help you across a stream. Each touch was gentle yet charged with an energy that made your heart race.

The path wound through a dense forest, dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy above. The air was fresh, filled with the scent of pine and the sound of birds chirping. As you walked, the tension from your argument with Isaac began to ease, the peaceful surroundings and Lando's infectious enthusiasm slowly lifting your spirits.

"Maybe we can convince him to join us on a beach day or something," Lando said, his thoughts lingering on how much he enjoyed these moments alone with you. "But honestly, I'm kinda glad it's just the two of us today. More time to get to know my favorite tour guide."

You felt a flutter in your chest at his words, the compliment warming you from the inside. “Still your favorite tour guide, huh?”

He shrugged playfully. "The competition is tough, but you’re always coming out on top. Besides, I figured I needed some one-on-one time to really experience what this town has to offer."

As the trail began to climb, you focused on your breathing, matching your pace to Lando's. The conversation drifted to lighter topics, and you found yourself relaxing more with each step. The forest opened up to a meadow filled with wildflowers, the colors vivid and bright under the morning sun.

Lando knelt down to take a photo of a particularly vibrant patch of flowers. "This place is incredible. How do you know all these hidden spots?"

"I've lived here my whole life," you said, watching him as he adjusted the focus on his camera. "Spent a lot of time exploring."

"Must be nice," he said, standing up and looking around. "Having all this beauty right in your backyard."

"Yeah, it is," you replied, though your thoughts drifted back to the times you wanted to leave this place. "Sometimes you take it for granted until you share it with someone else."

Eventually, you reached a lookout point with a breathtaking view of the coastline along with the lighthouse you explored yesterday. The ocean stretched out endlessly, waves glittering in the sunlight. Lando pulled out his camera again, capturing the scene and a few candid shots of you taking in the view.

"This is amazing," he said, his voice filled with awe. "Thanks for bringing me here."

You smiled, feeling a sense of accomplishment mixed with a pang of guilt. Lando didn’t know the real reason behind your determination to hike today, nor the weight you were trying to escape. 

"You're welcome," you replied. "I'm glad you're here to share it with me."

As you stood there, side by side with Lando, your words said to Isaac still lingered in the back of your mind, wondering if you'd said the wrong thing. You knew that you had to take a stand for yourself, otherwise you’d be pressured into regret, but he’s also your brother and he’s always wanted the best for you. You pushed those thoughts down, determined to make the most of this day as if it was your last. 

With Lando's enthusiasm and the beauty of the surroundings, you found it easier to forget, even if just for a little while, the shadow that always loomed over you.

"So, what's next on our adventure?" Lando asked, breaking the silence.

You laughed softly. "Let's just see where the trail takes us."

Once Lando was satisfied with the amount of photos he took, you began to descend the trail from the lookout point. The path became steeper causing you to walk carefully, trying to focus on your footing. 

The trail wound through another section of dense forest with the ground covered in a thick layer of fallen leaves. You and Lando continued to chat, touching upon all sorts of topics. 

Just as you were starting to relax, your foot caught on a hidden root and you found yourself losing balance. Panic surged through you as your ankle twisted painfully. Before you could hit the ground, Lando was there, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you upright. His grip was strong and steady, and you clung to him for a moment, trying to catch your breath and process the sudden burst of pain. 

“Whoa, are you okay?” Lando asked, concern etched on his face as he steadied you. 

You winced, trying to put weight on your ankle and finding it difficult. “I think I twisted my ankle.” 

Lando’s brows furrowed with worry. “Let’s sit down for a minute. Here, lean on me.” 

He guided you to a nearby rock, helping you sit down gently. He knelt in front of you, examining your ankle with a careful touch. “Does it hurt a lot?” 

You nodded, biting your lip to keep from crying out. “Yeah, it does.”

Lando looked around, his face serious. “I think we should head back. I don’t want you to make it worse.”

You sighed, feeling a wave of frustration mixed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Lando. I didn’t mean to ruin our hike.”

He shook his head, his expression softening. “Hey, don’t worry about it. Your safety is more important than the hike. Besides, we can always come back another time.”

He helped you stand, supporting your weight as you gingerly tested your injured ankle. With his arm around your waist, you felt a mixture of gratitude and awkwardness, acutely aware of his closeness and the concern in his eyes.

As you slowly made your way back down the trail, Lando stayed close, his grip on you firm but gentle. His presence was comforting, and despite the pain, you felt a sense of connection with him that was hard to ignore.

Back at the trailhead, Lando leads you towards his car, surprising you. “When did you get a car?” 

“Figured I’d rent one while I’m here, just so we don’t have to walk everywhere,” Lando shrugged as he explained. 

He helped you into his car, making sure you were comfortable before getting in himself. He started the car, casting quick glances at you to ensure you were alright. The engine’s hum was a soothing background noise as he navigated the road back to town. 

“You know,” he began, trying to lighten the mood, “I think this might be the first hike I’ve been on where we didn’t make it to the top.”

You chuckled softly, appreciating his effort to keep things light. “There’s a first for everything, I guess.”

He smiled, eyes focused on the road. “Yeah, and now we have an excuse to do it again. When you’re feeling better, of course.”

You leaned back, the pain in your ankle dulling slightly with the rest. “I appreciate that, Lando. And I promise, next time, no hidden roots.”

He laughed, a genuine sound that made you feel a bit better about the whole situation. “Deal.”

As you pulled into the town, Lando’s concern was still evident. “Do you want to go straight to the clinic, or should we stop by your place first?”

“Home is fine,” you replied. “I’ll just need some ice and rest.”

Lando nodded, driving directly to your house. He parked and quickly came around to help you out. With his support, you hobbled across the driveway to the front door, quickly finding your keys and entering. 

Inside, you settled on the couch while Lando fetched some ice from the kitchen with your directions. He elevated your foot, resting it on a cushion before gently placing the ice pack on your ankle. “Keep this on for a while,” he instructed, earning a chuckle from you. 

“Okay, Doctor Lando.” You winced slightly at the cold but knew it was necessary. “Thank you,” you muttered softly as he joined you on the couch. 

“Hey, what are friends for?” He shot back.

You raised your eyebrows. “When did we become friends?” you asked teasingly. 

Without a beat, he responded, “from the moment you told me I got scammed.” 

You shook your head with a smile on your face. His genuine care and the connection you felt during the hike was undeniable. Despite the pain and the day’s mishap, you still enjoyed it all. 

As you both sat there, the sun beginning to set outside, you felt a strange sense of peace. Maybe you couldn’t control everything about your condition, but you could control how you spent your time. Right now, with Lando by your side, you felt like you were making the most of it. 

“How about we watch a movie?” Lando suggested, breaking the comfortable silence. “Something to take your mind off things.” 

“That sounds perfect,” you agreed. 

As the movie started, you felt the tension of the day begin to fade, replaced by a warm sense of contentment. As the soft glow of the television cast a warm light across the room, you heard the front door creak open. You tensed slightly, knowing it was Isaac. The memory of your heated argument from earlier that morning returned to your mind like it was fresh, and you weren’t sure how he would react to finding Lando here. 

Isaac stepped into the living room, his eyes flicking between you and Lando, and then down to your ankle propped up with an ice pack. His brows furrowed in surprise, and his look spoke volumes — a silent “I told you so” about taking it too far.

“Hey,” Isaac said, his tone carefully neutral as he addressed Lando. “What’s going on here?”

“Hey,” Lando responded, sensing the tension but keeping his tone friendly. “We went hiking, and she twisted her ankle.”

Isaac’s eyes narrowed slightly, a mix of concern and frustration flashing across his face. “I see.”

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling the need to explain but also not wanting to escalate the situation. “It’s just a sprain, Isaac. Lando’s been helping me out.”

Isaac nodded curtly, his gaze softening slightly but still clearly worried. “Thanks, mate,” he addressed Lando. 

He started towards the kitchen, clearly not wanting to prolong the conversation but not ignoring your presence either.

You watched him go, feeling a mix of relief and lingering tension. The argument had left a mark, but you could see that he was making an effort to understand your perspective, even if he wasn’t ready to talk about it.

Lando glanced at you, sensing the undercurrent of emotion. “You and your brother… everything okay?”

You sighed softly, not wanting to burden him with the details. “We had a disagreement earlier. It’s complicated.”

He nodded, not pushing further but offering a supportive presence. “Well, I’m here if you need anything.”

Isaac reappeared a few minutes later with a glass of water, which he handed to you without a word. You took it with a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

He simply nodded again and headed to his room, leaving you and Lando alone in the living room. Despite the brief interaction, you felt a subtle shift in Isaac’s demeanor. He was trying, in his own way, to respect your wishes and not overdo his concern for your illness.

As the movie continued, you found yourself relaxing again, the earlier tension easing away. Lando’s easygoing nature and the quiet understanding from your brother provided a much-needed sense of balance.

The minutes ticked by, and you found yourself growing more comfortable and drowsy, especially with Lando’s warm presence beside you. Earlier, you had mentioned feeling cold, due to the ice, and he had fetched a blanket, draping it over both of you. As you nestled into the couch, the combination of the movie’s soft soundtrack and Lando’s steady breathing lulled you into a peaceful sleep.

Lando noticed when your head gently rested against his shoulder, your breathing deep and even. He smiled softly, careful not to move and disturb you. As the credits began to roll, he glanced at his watch and realized it was getting late. Reluctantly, he decided it was time to leave.

He gently shifted, trying to move without waking you. Before he got up, he couldn’t resist the urge to lean in and press a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for just a moment. It was an instinctive gesture, filled with affection that he hadn’t fully acknowledged until now.

Carefully, he adjusted the blanket to ensure you were snug and warm. He stood up quietly, casting one last fond look at you before making his way to the door. Lando left silently, closing the door with a soft click, leaving you to your dreams.

An hour later, Isaac retreated from his bedroom, finding you fast asleep on the couch. Instead of waking you, he went to the kitchen and fetched your evening medicine and a glass of water. Returning to the living room, he placed them gently on the table beside the couch, ensuring they’d be the first things you saw when you woke up.

Isaac stood there for a moment, watching you sleep peacefully. Despite the argument earlier, he understood your desire to live fully, even if it scared him. With a sigh, he retreated back to his room, hoping that you’d find a balance between living your life and taking care of yourself. The quiet house seemed to settle around your sleeping form, a brief moment of peace amidst the whirlwind of emotions and challenges.

Taglist: @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @mehrmonga @nikfigueiredo @wonnou @jointhehunt67 @sya-skies @dreamingonbed @oliviah-25 @heylookwhoitis @unabashedkoalawasteland @inejghafawifesblog @poppyflower-22 @charizznorizz @booksandflowrs @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @randomnessis-mine-me @whatever7justchillin @kagome45 @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @timmy-wife1 @writtenbykirs @lew444 @kansas-kisses @barackosteaa @hellof-1 @itsbwokenln4 @nixily @reengard @candyeollies @customsbyjcg-blog @heeseungthel0ml @sweate-r-weathe-r

[sihtsisdrowkcab]

DP x DC prompt - Villainess AU

Hey! So I found this promt and just had to write something with it!

https://www.tumblr.com/kuroishuuha/714717053010984960/dp-x-dc-prompt-villainess-au?source=share

Prompt

-Danny is transported into a novel/game where he is the villainess fiancé of the male lead.

Knowing that only death awaits him at the end, Danny tries to end the engagement (who knows if death will stick this time - Danny is not gonna risk finding out)

Meanwhile, Jason finds himself as the male lead of a novel/game he never read/played

The system in his head is telling him that the only way to get back home is to have a happy ending with his fiancé

So we have Danny who is desperately trying to end his engagement and a Jason who is trying to woo his fiancé (and cursing the original male lead - because the guy must have done something horrible for his cute and nice fiancé to be desperate to break up with him)-

Story

Danny was so over this. He thought this would have been easy, maybe not on his parents part god knows they don't give up without a fight, but his fiance has shown nothing but disdain for him his whole life (even if he wasn't here for 90% of that life) He thought he'd only have to tell his fiance that he didn't want to marry him, his fiance would be ecstatic and run into the sun with Ophelia and he'd get the weight off his shoulders and wouldn't have to worry about dying anymore and yet...

"No."

Danny just looked at him with horror "What do you mean no?" He practically yelled.

"No, I won't break off the engagement."

"Why not!? You hate me! You've hated me since the moment we met! I know you want to be with ophelia!"

Daminan looked like he was trying to read his face which makes no sense, if anyone should be trying to read the other's face it should be him!

Danny grabbed Damian's shoulders and shook them, he knew he wasn't acting like a proper gentleman, but his life was on the line! "Have you lost your goddamn mind? What in the world is wrong with you?" He paused, took a breath and let go of his shoulders. He was sure this had something or the other to do with politics, he just couldn't wrap his mind around it at all. He took another step back, he had to appease Damian somehow. "Look, neither of us wanted to get married and neither of us really knew what we were getting into when our parents signed the agreement and had us agree to this, my parents won't back down but from what I know of your parents they'll let you back out of this no problem. My parents will be pissed but that's neither here nor there. There is really no reasonable excuse for why we shouldn’t break off our engagement." Danny said smugly, crossing his arms over his chest. There was no way Damian could deny all of that.

-

How could Jason deny all of that?! He was acting completely out of character, which was funny because he hardly knew what his character was like at all besides from second hand accounts. When he was told he just had to get a happy ending with his fiance he had thought this would be a piece of cake, he had brushed everything else off and took this as a really weird miny vacation, how hard could it really be to marry your fiance? Everything was already set up, it couldn't fail.

Except for the fact that apparently he was a dick and hated his fiance and she was done with all that, which he would have cheered on the fiance any day, get rid of that dick 100%. But now he was here in that dick's place and having to deal with his stupid problems and his fiance wanted to divorce him! How was he ever going to get a happy ending out of this? He did eventually want to get home no matter how annoying Bruce could be at times.

His fiance huffed drawing his eyes to him, he really was very pretty, he had no idea why Damian seemingly hated him. Sure he was being annoying as hell right now but really that was all Damian's fault.

"look i don't know why you seem to be fighting for this, it seriously seems like you just forgot everything!"

Jason froze, should he go with that? It really would be rather convincing seeing as he really didn't know Damian at all.

Danial paused, his eyes widening as he fixed on Jason's hesitance, seemingly picking apart all that he was and assessing him not adequate.

"You really don't act like Damian at all..."

He froze again, was that a good thing? Was this gonna be what gave him away?

"Did you hit your head or something? Temporary amnesia?"

"Y-yes!" Was he messing this up, would Danial believe that?

"Then why are you fighting so hard to keep the engagement? You don't know me at all."

Shit. shit what did he say? How did he convince Danial to keep the engagement if his other self hated him and this self didn't know him?

"I-I heard how wonderful you were from my parents and- and fell in love!"

Danial backed up with a distured look on his face, fuck he shouldn't have said that. "Love? After just hearing about me? That’s… kind of creepy."

“I just want to get to know you!”

Danial looked at him, his shoulders slumped and he looked resigned as he said "fine we'll keep up the engagement for now.” yes! “But when you get your memories back, we're breaking it off.”

Not great, but at least he knew that wasn’t going to happen. 

 He turned around to leave, oh wait. "I haven't told anyone else I've lost my memories so could you keep that one to yourself?" He asked, turning back around.

Danial looked at him suspiciously. "Why haven't you told anyone else? Not even your family?"

Fuck again! Why couldn't he just get this right? "Of course my family knows!" He really hoped Danial never met them because they absolutely did not. "but no one at this school does, i don't want them to treat me like i'm made of glass like my parents." Not completely off base, they've been tiptoeing around him all summer, probably because he was acting so weird.

"that makes sense." Danial sighed, he looked suddenly like the whole weight of the world was upon his shoulders. 

Jason screwed up his face, he had definitely been the one to place it there. He wanted to go over to him and tell him that they could break off the engagement after all but he really couldn't do that. "I'm sorry." He settled for instead.

Danial looked surprised. "You’re apologizing?"

"Yeah, I've made this so much harder for you than it really had to be. And you don't really know me anymore and I really don't know you."

Danial looked at him with something akin to empathy. "It's hard being thrust into a world that's unfamiliar to you isn't it? No one you trust or know around you and having to be something your not."

Jason looked at him in genuine shock. "H-how?"

Danial looked panicked for a second before he gave a light laugh. "I may not have amnesia but I do have expectations from everyone around me." He rubbed his arm. "Everyone says you're way out of my league and that I'm lucky to have you." This time his laugh was bitter.

"If anything you said about the old me was true it was really the opposite."

Danial gave a snort that Jason couldn't help feeling was the prettiest thing he's ever heard. "oh believe me i down played it."

Jason looked at him aghast. "Downplayed it!? Just how bad was I??"

Daniel gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and a smirk, "Now that, my friend is a talk for another time. Danial moved past him brushing his shoulder, what felt like a shock passed through him and he went stiff. When he finally came to his senses he was all by himself, What had just happened?

[yuwuta]

WHEREVER YOU WANNA GO, THAT’S FINE WITH ME — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO 

cw mentioned/talks about death but not like… in a serious way 😭 this whole thing is very unserious and stupid it’s just a thought i couldn’t get out of my head, megumi being… megumi, f2l but what’s new, also inspired by some clip from a tv show i’ve seen on tt but idk the name of it, if you do pls let me know

you ask megumi you make one of those marriage pacts with you—that if neither of you are married by thirty-five, you two will get married to each other—and he just hums for a moment before asking, “do you think i’ll be better suited for marriage at thirty-five?”

“what? n—i don’t know? maybe? it just seems like an appropriate age to get married if you’re not already, that’s all,” you explain.

more humming. he blinks, “i don’t think i’ll be all that different at thirty-five.”

“well, that’s concerning,” you joke, “you’re supposed to change—grow a little bit as a person and all that, megumi. even you are capable of it.”

“i won’t want anything different out of a marriage at thirty-five than i would right now,” he corrects you, then turns to you, and with all seriousness demands, “so, state your stipulations. what do you want from me, let’s figure out of this is gonna work now.” 

you scoff, and cross your arms. “what do i want from you? that’s not how a marriage works.” 

“that’s how this friendship already works.” 

you say, megumi does; he pushes it than he should have, you say to stop, and eventually he does, and the cycle continues. he’s always stubborn, and sacrificing himself beyond necessity, and you’re always pulling his ear for it. 

“okay. fine,” you settle, straightening your posture, “i want a house. three bedrooms, so nobara and yuuji don’t have to bicker about sharing when they stay over.” 

megumi considers it, then counters with, “four. gojo needs a bedroom, too. one floor, i don’t like stairs.” 

“where the fuck are we going to find a one-level four-bedroom house? i don’t want to live in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.” 

“we’ll find one,” he shrugs, doesn’t flinch when he promises: “or i’ll have one made for us. next: vacations.” 

“twice per year. somewhere tropical, and somewhere metropolitan.” 

“i don’t like the beach.” 

“then you don’t have to go on the beach.” 

“you’re responsible for me if i burn.” 

“i’m responsible for you either way, i’m your wife,” you taunt, “pets, next. i want dogs. two. maybe three. and a bunny.” 

“no bunnies, they’re too much work.”

“but i want a bunny, megumi.” 

“you won’t have time for a bunny,” he rolls his eyes, “and you’re gonna get pissed when it chews up the expensive couch you’re gonna make me buy, and takes a shit in the expensive fruit bowl you’re gonna con gojo out of. no bunnies.” 

you pout and frown, but megumi doesn’t budge: “no bunnies.” 

you sigh, “no bunnies, but i want the dogs.” 

“i didn’t say no to the dogs. unless you want a golden, then i’m not raising that.” 

“why not? we already have yuuji.” 

“exactly, we already have yuuji.” 

“fine. i want a king sized bed. the really big, oversized ones you get in america.” 

“done. children?” 

“you want children?”

megumi shrugs, but you swear there’s a dust of pink on his cheeks, “maybe. maybe not. if i did, no more than two.” 

and suddenly you can’t help but feel heat in your own face, hot with the image of two tiny megumis running around. 

“that’s fine with me. maybe kids, but no more than two,” you cough, “i want one of those heated driveways for the house.”

“i’ll have it built. i’ll clean and do laundry and take out the trash if you cook.”

“what about days i don’t cook?”

“then i’ll do that, too,” megumi nods, “anything else?”

“yes. if i die first, you can remarry, but you visit my grave at least twice a year, and bring peonies. and that picture of me from prom where i look really good.” 

“no.” 

you stop. you blink. “what do you mean ‘no?’ you wouldn’t visit my grave?—kinda cruel considering i birthed your up-to-two future children and raised your dogs.” 

“i won’t remarry. and i don’t want you to if i die first,” he corrects you, again, “and there’s no dying first and leaving me behind, i’m going with you.”

he doesn’t leave room for debate in his declarations: won’t, don’t; not wouldn’t, shouldn’t, couldn’t—you have to pinch yourself to stop chasing the rabbit of temptation running through your mind. 

“i don’t… think you get to decide that,” you chuckle. 

“of course i do,” megumi grins, uncrosses his legs and leans over. he reaches a hand to the back of your head and pushes it forward until your foreheads meet gently; and as if the affection wasn’t shocking enough, he continues, “where you go, i go. that’s marriage, right?” 

he widens his smile a bit, before letting you go, leaning back into his seat again with crossed arms like nothing happened, and you’re left staring, blinking, breathing shallowly like prey that narrowly escaped being caught.

you don’t speak, so megumi does, “i have one more thing.” 

and slowly, you unthaw enough to let out a questioning hum. megumi tilts his head before telling you, “i want your last name.” 

“what? you—you would change your name?” you stutter, “but fushiguro is so pretty! and it’s your mom’s name, so few people get their mother’s names.” 

“yeah. this way, our up-to-two children get their mother’s names, too.” 

“i—okay… yeah, i guess they do,” you gape, then pout, “wait, what if i wanted to be mrs. fushiguro?” 

“tough luck,” he grins, “you get everything else.” 

you get me, instead, is what’s left unsaid. 

“okay, fine. sounds like a deal to me.” 

“great. we can’t have a spring wedding because gojo and toji will sneeze obnoxiously loudly, and we can’t have a summer wedding because the anniversary will conflict with our tropical vacation, and nobara will kill us if it’s too close to her birthday,” he says, standing up from the couch to head to the kitchen, “so i’ll see you at the courthouse in september.” 

you nod reflexively, sinking back into the couch with a satisfied smile. it’s a while before your brain processes his words, and when it finally does, you spring up in a fluster, “september? megumi, i said when when we’re thirty-five and if neither of us are already married! megumi? megumi fushiguro, come back here!”